Borazʼs Girl💜

Dark. Cold. Lonely. Eerie. So silent that you can hear your footsteps echoing and the crunch of stray rocks on the sidewalk under your feet. 

All were ways you could describe your walk home after working overtime into the late night. You were originally only supposed to work until the early evening, when the buses still ran and the sun would be just beginning to set, but your boss asked you to stay late because one of your coworkers had a family emergency to tend to. Stupidly, you agreed, knowing that by the time the additional shift was over it would be completely dark out and the buses would have already come and gone. 

You never really had a problem walking at night. But something feels off about tonight. 

Maybe it’s the fact that you’re exhausted after unexpectedly working a double. Or maybe it’s the fact that the streetlights are on their last leg, flickering rapidly and unpredictably, not providing a sufficient light source for your long walk home. And your phone battery was low—you didn’t think to bring your charger with you, because you went in thinking you’d work your normal shift, which your battery usually lasts for—so you couldn’t use it as a flashlight. Nor did you have enough battery to trust that you would be able to call a taxi and have it handy should they need to call you. So you were stuck walking, despite your feet hurting and back aching, the entire distance. Or until your body gave out. Whichever comes first. 

Deep down, though, it feels like something else could be the reason that the walk feels so…creepy…tonight. You can’t put your finger on it. 

Were you delusional? Had almost twenty four hours without rest gotten to your head? Ah, but you swear you can hear an extra pair of feet crunching along the sidewalk behind you. It was far enough back that you can’t tell if it’s following you, whatever it was, but every time you stop, it stops. When you start walking, it starts again. You want to turn around and look, to see what it is, but every time you do, something stops you. A sinking feeling in your chest, a pit in your stomach, a chill running down your spine. All prevent you from confronting whatever is following you, or finding out if there even is anything. 

You keep telling yourself to just keep going. That it’s all in your head. You’re just tired. There’s nothing or nobody following you. You’re scaring yourself for no reason. 

But you feel eyes on you. 

They don’t go away. 

The feeling of being watched continues. 

It burns into your skin. 

There’s only a few blocks until you’re on the home stretch. You’ll be fine. Keep counting your steps. One, two, three, four—fuck, what was that noise? 

The streets seemed to only get darker the closer you were to being home. A feeling of unease bubbles in your stomach, spreading across your body and making a lump form in your throat. You’re trying not to focus on the sound of footsteps behind you, but other than your own, that’s all you can hear over the incessant thumping of your heart. 

Passing by dark alleyways scares you. Makes you nearly sprint to get past the ominous openings. Ones that are seemingly endless and only get darker the deeper you go, with the large, industrial sized steel garbage bins and other miscellaneous items strewn about that are easy to get dragged behind and have god knows what done to you. Squeezing your eyes shut, you shake your head to try to get rid of the thoughts. You’re scaring yourself, you thought. Nothing is going to happen. 

You can see the glow from your apartment building’s lobby down the street. Knowing that you were almost home gives you a feeling of relief, tense shoulders relaxing momentarily. That is, unfortunately, until you feel a hand in your hair. You freeze as the fingers grip your hair at the scalp and begin tugging. You’re pulled into one of the very alleys that you were afraid of—pulled in just far enough that the darkness completely covered you, but not far enough that you couldn’t see the exit. 

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing walking alone?” The voice is soft and sickeningly sweet, which only makes your fear root deeper into your nervous system. “Don’t you know it’s dangerous? Something bad could happen to you.”

Your scalp tingles from the touch, sending chills down your spine and making little goosebumps texture your skin. You want to fight back, to throw an elbow back and jab it into this person’s stomach so you can run away, but it feels like there’s some force nailing your feet to the ground. 

They press closer to you. You lean away from the touch, but leaning forward only pushes your chest against the brick wall in front of you, arching your back. “I would never hurt you, though.” Their breath fans across your skin as they dip their face into your neck. “As long as you—mm, you smell so good—don’t fight it.” 

Your body involuntarily tenses as their words vibrate against your skin, almost as if they were purring. Even when their mouth opens and teeth scrape against your skin, you don’t move. Instead, you just squeeze your eyes shut and hope that by not moving and reacting, they’d get bored and let you go. That’s what they want, isn’t it? A reaction? A struggle? For you to scream and cry? 

Cold hands trace the curvature of your body, and you fight the urge to shiver and curl away from the touch. You just wanted whatever this was to be over. 

“I could just eat you up, you know?” Their mouth opens and they nip at your skin, sharp teeth threatening to puncture the surface. “In all of the ways. You smell absolutely delectable.” 

For a moment, you wonder if you had the misfortune of running into a cannibal. You’d heard stories about recent deaths, bodies being mangled beyond recognition, but those attacks were always described as violent. Despite how scared you are, something about this person, this creature, whatever it is, seemed calm. They’re rather gentle for dragging you into a dark, empty alleyway in the middle of the night. 

Their icy fingers reach around to grip your face, sharp nails like claws grazing your skin. They use their hold to turn your face toward them, and you briefly open your eyes, only to be met with a beautiful man. Your eyebrows furrow as you take in his features—from his pretty, catlike eyes to his full cheeks and his plump lips—but then he smiles at you and you see what he’s hiding. 

A set of sharp fangs are framed by rounded, perfectly aligned teeth. A vampire.

You'd never encountered one in person before. All of your knowledge was based on fiction, stories where the protagonist was swept away to live a life of luxury and safety with her vampire lover. This was not like that.

There were rumors floating around that vampires existed, and you weren't sure you believed them, though that would explain a lot of the unsolved mysteries and crimes recently. But now? You're a firm believer—being face to face with one makes you realize that vampires are real. They aren't just a figment of your imagination, and although beautiful, are actually terrifying.

Fear and adrenaline course through your veins, making you squirm and try to get out of the creature's grip.

This only makes him grip you harder. "Wrong choice." He tilts your head to the side, exposing your neck to him, and he nearly moans at the sight.

"Please…" you manage to whisper. "Please don't."

He chuckles. "Oh, sweetie, I'm not going to hurt you." He still uses his hold on your face to manipulate your body and move your head around, like he was gauging just how pliant you'd be, or if you'd put up a fight. "I'll make you feel so, so, so good."

Your neck cranes uncomfortably, but you don't dare move. It's like your fear paralyzes you. Even when you can feel the overwhelming urge to run, all of your survival instants screaming at you and boiling your blood. Something weighs you down and you feel like your feet have become one with the ground, cemented into the cracked asphalt. You didn't dare move—you can't.

His lips are as cold as his fingertips when they finally touch yours. He'd pulled your head back enough that he could kiss you with ease.

All will to fight and free yourself—to make a run for it until you're locked securely in your apartment, alone, to survive—leaves your body the moment he claims your mouth in a kiss. You practically go limp, and if it weren't for him holding you up, you'd have fallen to the ground. Your limbs feel both heavy and weightless at the same time, a weird mix leaving you feeling like you'd been subdued or even tranquilized, simply from his touch and his kiss.

He uses the hand grasping your face to force your mouth open. He presses the tips of his fingers into your cheeks, right between your rows of teeth, to push them apart. When your lips part, he licks into the open space of your mouth and kisses you deeper.

Your body leans totally against him, back pressing against his front. Though your mind is fuzzy, you can feel something bulging against your back and something deep settles within your soul. Your heart was still beating fast, and your stomach was still twisted up in knots, but beneath the fear is something else.

Excitement? Arousal?

The thought disgusts you.

His teeth—his fangs—scrape against your lips, sharp enough to draw blood to the surface, which he eagerly licks up. He moans into your mouth as the coppery, metallic taste coats his tongue. "Tastes even better than it smells."

He parts from the kiss and shifts, bending his body in a way to be able to bury his face in your neck. With a deep inhale, he hums against your skin. The contrasting temperatures, of your skin burning hot and his on the colder side, though it has warmed up slightly and no longer feels like icicles prodding at your skin everywhere he touched, causes goosebumps to prick at the surface of your body.

You hardly have any time to react when he sinks his teeth into your neck. The stinging, stabbing sensation of his fangs piercing your skin is so sudden that you can't even cry out in pain, mouth dropping open in a silent scream.

But contrary to what you may have thought, he doesn't suck your blood. He doesn't drain you dry. At least not yet.

His eyelashes flutter against your skin as he closes his eyes. Both of his hands now rest on your hips, confident that you wouldn't move your head or try to pull away from him, and he squeezes with his long fingers. He moans and hums and sighs and huffs in satisfaction as he lets the blood drip into his mouth, savoring the sweet taste that he'd been craving for longer than you realized. Since he'd seen you walking home alone at night sometime last week, or maybe the week before, when he and one of his companions were in the middle of their meal. The scent of your blood wafted through the air and caught Jiho's attention, even as he was actively feeding from someone else, and he craved you since then. No other blood tasted right to him anymore.

After a little bit, the pain suddenly subsided, stopped even. You could hardly feel the sensation of your blood slowly flowing from the wounds anymore. The dull, throbbing ache of your pain receptors screaming at your mind went away. That faint feeling lingering beneath the surface, overpowered by your fear, shifts forward and plants itself firmly in the bottom of your abdomen.

The vampire finally licked your wound one final time, almost as if he were trying to clean it up, but it just smeared on your skin as he encouraged your body to start the healing process.

Your mind feels even more fuzzy than before. Maybe from blood loss, or the sudden pain and trauma. Or maybe it's from the confusion of why you feel so…aroused right now. You aren't sure.

Before you could get a headache from trying to form a clear thought through the mental fog, you feel his fingers hook in the waistband of your pants. Part of you, the rational side of you, wants to still fight back and attempt to escape, however, your limbs still feel like jelly and you wouldn't be able to fight off this creature much stronger than you in your current mental and physical state.

Your pants and underwear are pulled down within an instant and the Kindred dives in. He shoves his face between your legs and brings to eat you out. His tongue licks, lapping up your arousal, and he briefly thinks that the only thing that tastes better than your blood alone is this—tonguing through your folds with remnants of your blood in his mouth, creating a unique and utterly intoxicating experience. Something that is so euphoric to him. Orgasmic.

Jiho wants to make you cum on his tongue and succumb to the pleasure, but his cock straining against the front of his pants was making it hard to focus. He'd already been half hard when he first spotted you walking home. He waited outside of your workplace, hiding in the dark shadows, watching for you. He knew that when you worked these late night shifts that you had to walk home; there were no buses running this late and you were unwilling to ask a coworker to give you a ride home. He didn't intend to follow you for so long. He wanted to make his presence known much earlier, but his own mind was hazy from the smell of your blood pumping through your veins. It was like your blood was made specifically for him to feed on. He craved it so badly, before he even tasted it, and now that he had, he was sure he'd never feed from anyone else again.

He'd starve to his final death—not the kind where he can be reborn—before he accepted blood from anyone that wasn't you from now on.

He wanted to mate with you, claim you and have you be as obsessed with him as he is with you.

It's all he can think about.

Disappointed because he really wanted to eat your pussy until you were shaking, which is one of his favorite things to do when he's not hunting his next meal, he stands from his kneeling position. He uses his body to press you against the brick wall of the building in front of you and you let him. His frigid fingers move from your hips to between the plush of your thighs. The temperature shock makes you jump, but he pays you no mind.

With one hand, he holds your legs apart as the other reaches around to slide through your folds. He collects wetness, a mix of your slick and blood and his saliva, and drags it upwards to roll his fingers over your clit. The cool touch on your sensitive bundle of nerves feels so new but so…good.

He rubs over your clit in experienced, calculated circles with just the right amount of pressure that already has you trembling. But then he removes that touch, instead slithering his hand further down and plunging two of his fingers inside you without warning.

You can't help but cry out at the sudden intrusion. It's not that it hurt—his long fingers actually feel rather good, and they started working to untie the tense knot in your lower abdomen, the fuzzy feeling in your pelvic area—you just weren't expecting it.

Jiho's hand, the one that was holding your thighs apart, flies up to your mouth. While he would love to hear every little sound you let out, he can't risk another graveyard worker walking by and hearing you.

"Shh, don't be so loud." He purrs. "Just need to make sure you can take my cock. I'll fuck you and mark you and you'll become my mate."

You start to shake your head, but he holds your face tighter, holding you in place. Tears prick at your eyes, despite the increasing wetness between your legs and the squelching sound of him fucking you open with his fingers.

"It's okay, you'll love being my mate." He curls his fingers, brushing against your sweet spot, making your thighs clamp down on his hand. "I'll protect you. Make sure nobody can ever hurt you—never again. I'll spoil you. You can have whatever you want, sweetheart. I'll only drink from you sometimes, but you'll start to love it. You'll beg me to bite you. To drink your blood. To turn you into a vampire just like me so that we can love each other forever."

He still fucks his fingers into you. Not too fast, not too slow. Just the right pace. Rubbing against all of the right places. The pads of his fingers continuously massage the spot inside you and the palm of his hand rubs against your swollen clit.

"You'll be obsessed with me, and I'll be obsessed with you. I'm already obsessed with you."

When he feels you clenching around him, he pulls his fingers out. You whine against his hand, mourning the loss of the pleasure, but the sound is caught in your throat as he maneuvers your body again. He arches your back for him and kicks your legs apart just enough. His hands briefly leave your body for a moment, only to push his own pants and underwear down to his thighs, before returning.

He slides the tip through your slick folds, gathering wetness to lubricate his dick. Every now and then, it would catch on your entrance and you anticipated the stretch.

The fire that burns in your body when he finally starts to slide in is hot with lust and desire, refusing to be put out by the cold fear that was once the most prevalent. It stretches you out so perfectly with every inch that he pushes in. Your thighs quiver as he carves out a place inside you just for his thick cock until he's buried to the hilt.

You don't have any time to adjust before he sets a fast, brutal pace. His hips piston in and out of you quickly, skin slapping skin, fat cockhead prodding at your innermost pleasurable parts. Your body jolts with his thrusts, lurching forward with each time your hips meet. The only thing keeping you from hitting the wall is his hand that had snaked its way back up to cover your mouth, his strong grip pulling your head back just enough to avoid it.

It's rough. Dirty. Animalistic. Feral. And you wanted to fight so hard to stop it, to stop him, but it felt like the moment he sunk his teeth into your neck it created a desire that only seems to be satiated by him. By his cock deep in your cunt. By the idea of him sinking his fangs into your skin again as he cums deep inside you.

Before, you never really had to worry much about the perfumes you wore, or the candles you burned in your home. As long as there wasn’t an allergy for any of those you would be in close proximity to, you could have just about any scent that you liked. However, since moving in with your new roommate who is extremely sensitive to smells, you’ve had to take that into consideration a lot more. Not that you’re complaining, because you really wouldn’t want him to be uncomfortable or sick in his own home. 

The only issue is that after a while, it seems like it’s getting harder to find something that doesn’t bother him after a while. 

You can’t blame him though — he’s not just a regular roommate. He is, in fact, a rabbit-human hybrid, and they’re known for being sensitive to smells. It’s not his fault. It’s just rather unfortunate that you’d become accustomed to wearing perfume every day, to the point that you have this worry that you smell when you aren’t wearing it. Otherwise, you would’ve forgone it altogether. 

“You don’t like this one either?” This is the third perfume sample you’d gotten in the last month. Luckily you had figured out this system a while ago, but only after a few times of trying to quickly resell your like-new full-size perfumes. 

Brian pinches his fingers over his nose. “I’m sorry. I know it’s frustrating,” he says. 

You shake your head. “No, no, no! It’s okay. I know you aren’t doing it on purpose just to be an asshole. Unless you are?” There was an obvious joking edge to your voice which made both you and Brian crack a smile. 

“Don’t you wish I was just being an asshole?” He watches as you walk around the apartment, gathering a towel and a change of clothes from the pile of clean laundry that you had yet to put away, in order to quickly take a shower to wash off the offending scent. “Maybe then you wouldn’t waste so much money.” 

Humming, you pressed your lips into a tight line. “I don’t really think it’s a waste of money to try finding perfumes and candles that appease us both. Ones that don’t make you sick and also don’t make me think that I stink.” 

That was how things usually went. You’d even managed to find a subscription service for perfume samples that wouldn’t break the bank just in case your roommate didn’t like those smells. It’s not his fault and you’d never make him feel like it was, either. 

And although you’d never blame Brian for it — for having a sensitive sense of smell, as he is a rabbit hybrid, you are beginning to feel like you’ve exhausted almost all of your options. You were close to accepting the situation and learning how to live without perfume, trying to reason with yourself that Brian’s health is more important than smelling like sugary flowers. However, as you lay awake at night, you can’t help but think that you’d try just one more time. 

Opening your laptop, you quickly navigate to a forum where you can ask questions and other users like yourself can answer with their own thoughts and experiences. You create a burner account to post anonymously and quickly type up a post. 

Looking for rabbit friendly perfumes!!!

hi! i tried looking this up and doing my research but i found nothing :( i’m looking for rabbit friendly perfumes. well…more specifically rabbit hybrid friendly. i have this friend — he’s a rabbit hybrid and he doesn’t like any of my perfumes :( says they make him sick :( but i can’t find anything when i try to google it so i was hoping you guys could help me out by suggesting a scent that won’t make him sick or something 

You click post and then navigate to the community page to scroll through posts, trying to see if there are any similar in nature to yours. It seems like your specific experience is totally unique to you, however, as you find none. Sighing, you close your laptop and return to your bed, attempting to fall asleep once and for all. I’ll check the comments in the morning, you tell yourself. 

Sleep comes and goes, mostly dreamless, and you find yourself sitting hunched over your computer screen early in the morning, eyes still clouded with tiredness. You have to scroll through a multitude of comments that you can barely read, all insinuating something dirty about you being roommates with a rabbit hybrid. 

You’d never really looked at Brian like that before. Sure, you knew enough about hybrids to know that rabbits are known for their high sex drives, which means that they’re highly sought after and treated as some sort of commodity to be had. But Brian had never been that for you. He’d always just been Brian. He was just your dorky roommate, maybe a bit airheaded at times, who likes to steal your food and replace it later only to repeat the cycle. Sure, he had floppy, furry ears and a little cottontail that was usually concealed by his oversized shirts, but you never really paid much mind to that. None of that was ever important to you and you never treated him any differently because of it. Which is probably why the two of you get along so well.  

All of the comments were the same. Disgusting. Demeaning. You began to feel disheartened, thinking that you really would not get any sort of help with this issue and you’d have to go back to your previous method, that obviously isn’t working out, of buying perfumes and hoping for the best, only to have Brian pinching his nose and scrunching his face up every time. 

But then you see it. 

At the very bottom, hidden by all of the objectifying comments that have been upvoted for some reason, is an actually helpful comment. 

Hi OP! I was in a very similar situation before, only with a cat hybrid. He was very standoffish and would even hiss at me, but only when I put my perfume on. Any other time he would sit near me and sometimes I would even catch him purring. So I did some research and found an entire indie brand that makes perfumes specifically meant to be safe for hybrids! They’re made with organic ingredients — no harsh chemicals or anything that’ll make them sick. I think you should take a look at some of them! It might be worth it. 

They added a link in their comment, and while you were hesitant to click on a link from a stranger, you found yourself hovering your cursor over it and eventually navigating to the site. Once it loads, you’re met with a screen detailing how the co-owners of the brand were much like yourself — a human and a hybrid, trying to figure out something that worked for the both of them, because one liked collecting perfumes and the other had a sensitive sense of smell. You didn’t read the entire paragraph, and quickly navigated to the side bar. You searched and found that there’s entire sections dedicated to different species, such as felines, canines, rodents, et cetera. 

For a brief moment, you’re brought back to your biology and animal science classes as you try to figure out which category you’d find rabbit-specific perfumes in, and you ultimately click on the section that says Lagomorpha. 

It’s like you found a gold mine. There are a ton of product listings, at an affordable price, too, and many of the titles include inspired by sections. You click on one that claims to be inspired by one of your favorite perfumes before becoming roommates with Brian that you would wear all the time and begin reading the product description. They claim to be made by one hundred percent natural ingredients that are safe for these hybrids. You check the star rating and see that it had a bunch of reviews and an average rating of nearly five stars. This is enough to convince you and you quickly add it to your cart and check out without reading the rest of the disclaimers. 

Oh, how you wish you had read the disclaimers. 

It took about a week for the product to arrive at your door. Brian was sitting on the sofa when there was a knock, and he offered to get it. “No, I got it! I’m pretty sure it’s my package,” you rounded the corner before he could push himself off of the sofa. 

“Ooh, a package?” He teases. “Did you buy me a gift?” 

There’s a playful smile on his lips as you look at him. You roll your eyes before opening the door. The delivery driver had already left and placed the box on your welcome mat in front of the door, so you bent down to pick it up. “I guess you could consider it a gift for you.” Using your foot, you push the door closed. 

He hums, tilting his head at you. “Really? What is it?” 

You take the box and walk toward your bedroom. “It’s not really for you. But I did some research and found a new perfume to try. Hopefully it doesn’t make you sick.” Shifting the box to rest on your hip, you turn the knob to your bedroom with your free hand. “Just in case, I’m going to spray it in my room so that if you don’t like it, it won’t be all over the apartment.” 

When you got back to your room, you closed the door behind you and immediately tore into the package. Pulling the packing tape off and opening the flaps. The inside of the box was stuffed with packing paper, surrounding a slightly smaller box to prevent it from bouncing around and breaking during shipping. You pull that box out and pull up the panel to get the bottle out. 

It looked like normal perfume. The name and logo were printed on the front of the bottle. Not wanting to waste any more time, excited to see whether or not you finally found a perfume that you can wear around Brian, you quickly take the cap off and begin priming the pump, squeezing down until it finally sprayed out in front of you. 

You waft the scent toward you and you’re surprised by how good it smells. It really does smell like normal perfume, with maybe a hint of something else, which you assume is just from the natural ingredients. A few quick spritzes on your pulse points — where you would put perfume anyway — later, you calmly went to the living room, making sure to shut your bedroom door behind you. 

It takes a little bit for you to hear the telltale sounds of Brian discreetly trying to smell your perfume. By now, the scent has melted into your skin and mixed with your natural scent, which is when he usually turns his nose up at it. You sneak a glance at him, trying to gauge the look on his face to guess whether he liked it or not. While you were expecting him to scrunch his nose up again because it smelled too perfume-y, you got none of that. 

Instead, he looked fine. Like he was taking in the smell and really letting it marinate in his senses. 

He leans closer to you. 

You freeze. 

“Not bad,” he finally says. “It actually smells pretty good. I think. Can I get closer?” 

Nodding, you try to stay still when Brian scoots closer to you. He leans his face toward your neck, nose twitching as it all but presses right against the sweet spot along your jawline where you could feel your heart beat if you pressed your fingers to it. His floppy ears brush against your shoulder, making you tense up. Despite living together and sharing space with one another, the two of you had never been this close before. 

Brian makes a noise, deep and from the back of his throat, and you flinch at how close he was. The sound vibrated against your skin even, with only centimeters between you and Brian’s bodies. 

Subconsciously, you began to tilt away from him. And unfortunately, all that did was push you further against the edge of the sofa, leaving you trapped between his body and the cushions. The more you move away from him, the closer he gets. It feels counterintuitive almost. 

His nose is slightly cold when he finally pushes it against your neck. He presses his face against your skin and inhales. 

“D-Do…Do you like this perfume…?” Your voice comes out meekly. 

He shifts and you can feel something pressing against your legs. Instinctively, you want to open your legs so he can slot himself between your thighs. Instead, because you are still fully aware that this is your roommate and nothing more, you try to press your thighs together and get your knees between your bodies to get a little space between the two of you. 

Brian leans back, resting against the heels of his feet as he takes in the situation. When he finally moves far enough back, you slightly stretch your legs out and place your feet against his torso to keep him back from you. 

“We — I, hm, what?” 

His large hands grab your lower legs. “I really like this one,” the tips of his fingers knead your skin. It’s the closest, most intimate contact the two of you had in all your time of living together. Maybe he’s really touchy and just hadn’t been that way with you before because he didn’t like the way you smell? “Fuck,” he all but moans. “Did you put it here too?” 

He leans in and takes a long sniff. You did put some of the perfume on your ankles. It was a habit you just couldn’t break, like you didn’t feel complete without some there as well. 

Catching you by total surprise, his hands quickly move from your lower legs to grip you by the thighs and tug. He pulls you closer to him, legs staying in the air while your bottom moves toward him. This new position has the bulge in his pants resting right against your clothed core. 

Various thoughts flash through your mind. Was there something in the perfume? Had he always felt this way about how and he was just repulsed by your other perfumes? Or, and you felt bad for thinking this, even if it was a brief moment, was this some sort of set up to get you right where he wanted you? 

You can’t deny the way it makes you feel, however. The feeling of his bulge, large from what you can tell, just barely rubbing against you has your underwear dampening and a fuzzy feeling beginning to form in your abdomen. But this is wrong. It can’t happen. If it does, how are you ever going to act normally tomorrow? Or the day after that? How could you go back to being just roommates? 

Though space is limited here, Brian presses harder against your center and begins to roll his hips. He presses your knees closer to your chest and leans over you to get a better angle. The tent in his pants pushes your folds open through the fabric, making it cling to your slick and sticky skin, leaving an imprint every time he pulls back. You try to wiggle out of his grip, but that only gives you more friction. 

Brian doesn’t say anything. 

Neither do you. 

You just close your eyes as he frees one of his hands to pull at your clothes. He drapes his left arm over the back of your thighs to hold your legs up and tries to pull your bottoms down with his right. He has to push against the crease behind your knees to lift your hips up just slightly in order to pull them off. In awe, he watches as the soaked fabric peels away from your skin, thick arousal stretching from your body to the fabric until it breaks and smears against you. You must want it as badly as he does. 

Do pheromones work on humans the same way they do on hybrids? He wonders. 

He makes quick work of pushing the waistband of his sweats down just enough to pull his cock out. It’s leaking, hard and throbbing. He gives it a couple of quick, dry strokes before pushing it down, rubbing the head over your folds. You jolt a little when he touches you, but quickly throw your head back as the tip comes in contact with your clit. Brian does this a few more times, rocking back and forth and coating himself with your slick. Occasionally, the tip catches on your hole and you anticipate the moment he sinks in, but each time, he drags it back up. 

When he finally starts to push into you, it takes everything in you not to tense up, knowing that would make it far more uncomfortable. He was bigger than you were used to and you hadn’t had any proper prep to take a cock so big, so it had your body wanting to seize up and push him out. At the same time, though, you’d heard stories about the way rabbit hybrids are in bed. There’s a reason they’re so sought after, right? It would be a shame to not find out when the opportunity presents itself to you. 

So you focus on breathing through it as he pushes more and more of himself into your tight hole, carving out a space just for him, until he’s buried as far as he can go. 

Before you have time to process everything, he spreads your legs and leans forward. He drags his nose along your skin, inhaling, starting at your ankles and ending by burying his face in your neck. This changes the angle and shifts him inside you to brush against the most sensitive spots, which has you reaching to grasp at his broad shoulders. 

He begins to move his hips, starting off with slow, gentle rocks, before he can’t help himself and they develop into a more primal pace. His balls slap against your ass as he fucks into you and, for lack of better words, pounds your pussy. His movements are quick, rabbitlike, and he manages to hit every spot you need him to. 

Behind him, out of sight, his cottontail twitches, matching the pace of his fat cock bullying your cunt repeatedly. 

Your thighs begin to shake as he gets closer to pulling the fastest orgasm that you’ve ever had out of you. There’s something about the feral, primal way that he’s fucking you. The angle at which he’s drilling into you. You aren’t sure what it is exactly, but you can confidently say that this is already the best sex you’ve ever had, and you weren’t even planning for it. 

Reaching up with shaky hands, you thread your hands through his hair and attempt to push his floppy ears back out of his face. The touch on his ears sends Brian over the edge. His movements stop completely, still buried to the hilt, as he comes without warning. His tail still twitches and he can’t help but nip at your neck. 

The feeling of his cum flooding your insides triggers your own orgasm. You were already almost there, but that, combined with the slightly painful bites to your neck, sent electric shocks of pleasure straight to your core that you needed to finish. Your pussy flutters around his throbbing cock, squeezing around him and draining him of everything he has. 

You try to rock your hips to ride out your orgasm, but once Brian is spent, he flops down on top of you, pinning you beneath him. His length is still inside you, softening as the both of you attempt to catch your breath. The both of you were trying to come down from your daze and wonder what the fuck just happened between you two. 

That is, until Brian catches a whiff of your perfume again and his spent cock twitches in interest, hardening while still inside you as if he didn’t have a refractory period. 

You’re not exactly sure who suggested the game — an empty bottle being placed directly in the center of a circle of mostly sober or barely tipsy people in attendance at Brian’s birthday party for a juvenile game of seven minutes in heaven. Truthfully, you hadn’t played this game since high school, or maybe even middle school, when everyone would gather around acting far more drunk than they were, desperately wishing that they’d get paired up with their crush. Even if all you’d do was make awkward small talk, the important thing is what people thought you had done. That being said, watching the circle be set up and a random linen closet in the apartment being designated as the ‘heaven’ causes a wave of nostalgia to wash over you. You join the circle, sitting in an empty spot between a couple of acquaintances. 

The first few rounds go smoothly, other partygoers retreating to the linen closet and coming back seven minutes later. Some with lipstick smeared across their faces and necks, others returning the same exact way they left. You watch in anticipation, amused, as the bottle spins and picks the next couple to go into the room. 

After a while, just about everyone in attendance had their turn except for you and Brian. So, like any good friend would, they bent the rules a little bit. They passed the empty bottle to Brian, encouraging him to spin it. Rowdy cheering and shouting, encouraging him by chanting ‘Birthday boy! Birthday boy,’ until he stands up on his knees and leans forward to place the bottle back in the center of the circle. He flicks his wrist to spin the bottle and you watch it closely. You mentally count the full turns the bottle makes to distract yourself from what you’re feeling. Maybe jealousy? That everyone else has gotten their turn and you hadn’t yet, and probably wouldn’t, because no matter how hard you try, you can’t force the bottle to stop and point at you just by glaring at it. The thought of being jealous that you hadn’t been picked yet makes you feel childish, but perhaps you could blame it on the fact that you’d had a few drinks. Or maybe it’s hope that you feel — anticipating that the bottle would choose you, especially now, when Brian has spun it, and you’d be swept away to do whatever in that tiny closet. 

Truth be told, you harbored a little crush on Brian for years now. Ever since you’d met him a few years ago, actually. And admittedly, you could try to blame it on the alcohol, but you feel like deep down, there’d be an ugly jealousy bubbling in your throat if the bottle pointed at anyone other than yourself. The thought of Brian going in that closet with someone else makes you feel weird. Unhappy. 

But those thoughts are cut short, because as soon as you begin to get lost in your thoughts, the bottle stops spinning. And it’s pointing at you. 

Your friends in the circle all begin to cheer, clapping Brian on the back and pushing you to get up. You glance at Brian, whose face mirrors the shock on yours. For a second, you wonder if his shock was actually disgust, but then he moves and the light shines on his skin in a way that shows you the redness of his ears and the blush on his cheeks. Was he flushed from drinking or was he blushing from the situation at hand?

The two of you slowly stand up from your spots on the floor. Beside each of you, your tipsy friends scrambled up and began to shove you toward the linen closet, still cheering and encouraging you both. You’re not entirely sure if you willingly walked toward the closet or if your friends pushed you all the way there, but before you know it, the door was closing and you were left in the dimly lit space with Brian. You could hear your friends giggling outside, almost as if they had planned it. And maybe they had. But you can’t seem to be upset with them for planning this when you sit back and realize that you’re in there with your crush of all people. 

“Come on, birthday boy! Don’t be shy,” someone shouts from outside, which makes Brian visibly cringe. It’s quickly followed by someone else adding on, “Yeah, get some!” 

You stifle a giggle as Brian squeezes his eyes shut and makes a face. Get some? What exactly do they think the two of you could do in seven minutes?

Brian turns toward you, cheeks still pink and hot, an expression that you can’t quite read etched on his face. “Hi,” he breathes. “Sorry.” 

You whisper back, “Hi. Why are you sorry?”

“For being so awkward.” He shrugs and purses his lips. “Or the way they’re acting, maybe?”

Unable to stop the chuckle that escapes your mouth this time, you shake your head. “It’s fine,” your hand waves him off. “I mean, that’s what friends do. They tease each other. Especially so when they’ve been drinking and someone suggests a game like this — and you’re the birthday boy.” 

“Yeah,” he trails off. “And the fact that you’re my crush and I’ve never done this before.” The latter part slips out before he can stop it. He tries to whisper, but in the close, confined space, you heard it clearly. When he realizes what he said, the blush quickly spreads across his skin, reddening it even more than it already had been. The tips of his ears were now a deep, burning red that you were sure you’d be able to feel the heat from if you got any closer, and he flushes with pink from his neck up to his forehead. He can’t believe what he just said. He hopes you didn’t hear it, or you were too drunk to register his words, but your unwavering gaze on him, searing into his skin, lets him know that he wasn’t quite that lucky. 

He begins to open his mouth to apologize, but as soon as his lips part, you cut him off. 

“Are you being for real?” Brian looks at you with wide eyes. “That-That I’m your crush? And you’ve never done this before? Done what before?”

His face flushes even more, if that were even possible. You watch as he weighs his options. Should he tell you the truth? That yes, he’s had a crush on you for a while now and all his friends know? And that he’s a virgin, the furthest he’s ever gone in past relationships being just a kiss? Or should he pretend that he didn’t say that and claim that he’s drunk and doesn’t know what he’s saying, although he’s far from it? 

Suddenly you’re a lot closer to him, slightly crowding him against the nearest wall. He swallows thickly. His eyes flicker over your face, the dim lighting making it feel far more intimate. Before Brian could either answer your question or attempt to wiggle himself out of the situation, he’s not sure which one, you’re asking him a question that makes his breath catch in his throat. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

The next few moments are a blur. He’s pretty sure that he nodded, maybe, and within seconds, your lips are on his. For a second, Brian freezes. His body tenses, like he wasn’t expecting the sudden contact, and he has half a mind to pinch himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. But he isn’t dreaming. And you’re actually kissing him. And he’s being awkward by not kissing you back. 

You press closer to him and use your own mouth to part his lips, slotting your lips together to deepen the kiss. Since you got the go-ahead, you were going to kiss him like you mean it. Like it’s more than just a quick hook up in some random closet at his birthday party. Well, maybe like it’s like that, because you were desperate after years of silently crushing on him and his confession that he felt the same opened a dam that was holding back your feelings for him. All of your feelings. Including the now barely concealed lust for him. 

He finally kisses back when you tease your tongue against his plump bottom lip. His arms that were previously frozen at his sides reach out to touch you, finding your hips, large hands resting there like it’s where they’re meant to be. He tilts his head ever so slightly to get a better angle for the kiss and parts his lips enough for you to slip your tongue into his mouth. As you lick into his mouth, he lazily kisses you back, mouth mostly hanging open and letting you take the lead. Every now and then, he’ll move his lips in tandem with yours or brush his tongue against yours. 

“Five minutes left!” Someone shouts from the other side of the door. Had it really only been two minutes from the time the door was closed to now? It felt like so much longer than that, between the sudden confession and getting lost in finally kissing Brian’s lips like you’d wanted to do for ages. 

You pull away from him and take a step back. “Why don’t we get a little more comfortable?” Brian watches as you gesture to the, quite frankly small open space on the floor and squeezes past you to sit there. 

Once he’s settled, as comfortably as he can be in a space so small compared to his large frame, you quickly find purchase on his lap. Sitting on his thighs, knees on either side of them. This time, neither of you wasted a second and your lips connect again in a kiss, even more heated than before. There was no tongue. Only the desperate movements of your mouths trying to find a rhythm. His hands rest on your hips, yours draping over his shoulders. 

You tilt your head to kiss him deeper. Harder. Pressing closer and closer to him until your entire fronts are pressed together. Brian’s blunt fingernails dig into your sides through the fabric of your top, squeezing as he tries to keep up with your desirous pace. He can’t focus on anything except you — the euphoric feeling of finally kissing you after wanting to for so long, your scent flooding his senses, the feeling of you pressed so closely to his body it felt like you could meld into one, and the taste of your mouth as you kiss him. You were much the same, thirsting to be as close as possible and memorize every part of this moment. The rhythmic movement of your mouths, the smacking sound of your kiss, and the way his fingertips lightly dig into your skin and his thighs flex every now and then, a full body reaction to the way you’re kissing him. 

A tightness in your chest makes you pull away breathlessly. The sight in front of you is perfect — Brian panting, his lips slightly swollen and spit glossed as he looked at you with half lidded eyes, face flushed. Heat creeps up, blooming on the surface of your skin, all the way down to your chest and everywhere that your body is in contact with Brian’s. Unable to make eye contact with him anymore with how intensely he was looking at you, you dip your head to kiss at his jawline. 

He bites his lip as you mouth at the skin there. You attempt to scoot closer to him, which was nearly impossible, so now you’re seated directly over his crotch rather than resting on his thighs. The pressure, along with the gentle suction of your lips on the sensitive skin of his neck, makes Brian groan. 

For a while, you stay like that. Kissing and sucking little marks into Brian’s unblemished flesh. Listening to his muffled moaning through his lip tucked between his teeth. 

“F-Fuck, I—” he tries to speak, only to get cut off. 

“One more minute!”

You kiss your way back up to Brian’s mouth, cupping the other side of his face and using your thumb to pull his plump lip from between his teeth. Pressing your lips to his, you slide that hand back and thread your fingers through his hair, gently massaging his scalp. He grips your hips, alternating between cradling and digging the pads of his fingers into your supple skin. He’s torn between trying to kiss you back or attempting to pull back and telling you what he tried to earlier — that the pressure of your center on his lap as you kiss him, claiming his skin and mouth as your own, was beginning to be too much. 

He felt like he could come. Just like this. Just from you sitting on his thighs, directly on his clothed hard on. 

There’s hardly any time to warn you before it happens. You’re lost in the kiss, lips covering Brian’s own and hungrily swallowing every noise he makes, so you barely notice the way his thighs tense and his fingers flex against you, pressing so deeply into your skin that you’re sure it would bruise. The twitching of his cock goes unnoticed as well. He can hardly focus on kissing back when he’s this close to the edge. 

Brian had never felt like this before. Sure, of course he’d had plenty of orgasms before, though only by his own hand. He’d never had someone else’s body heat and weight sitting directly on his cock, even through multiple layers of fabric, sucking marks into his neck or kissing him like this. Everything is overwhelming to him. Even the way you smell floods his senses and he can’t focus on anything except you. So, before he can do anything, before he can push you off or pull back from the kiss to confess about just how affected he was by this situation, he feels himself slipping over the edge. 

You can feel his cock twitching against your thigh. Until now, you’d never really taken the time to notice his reactions to everything, though subconsciously your own body was responding. You were focused on finally kissing Brian after yearning for what feels like forever. But the incessant twitching of his cock brings you out of your kissing-Brian-induced-haze and you can’t help but notice it all. The way his fingers create dimples where the tips squeeze your skin. And how his mouth all but hangs open, hardly kissing you back and instead moaning against your lips. And of course, now, his hardness straining against his pants and twitching under your weight. 

It’s only a matter of seconds before it happens. All it took was you pulling back from the kiss, dragging your lips across his face to whisper in his ear. “Do you like this?” Goosebumps prick at his skin as your breath fans over his ear. “You gonna come like this?” 

It feels like all he needed was to hear your voice, feel your cool breath on his warm skin. A shiver runs down his spine and his thighs stiffen once again. The movement jostles you in his lap a bit, shifting you and making you briefly rub against him in a different way. Your center is seated right at the bulk of his bulge now, and he has to bite his lip, so hard he thought it would start bleeding to keep from moaning too loudly. 

Everything, all together, was too much for him and he couldn’t stop it. White hot pleasure floods his senses as he comes, creating a sticky mess in his pants. His eyes water as he holds back every pleasured noise, teeth digging painfully into his already swollen lips. His balls tighten and his length twitches. He feels slightly pathetic for it — spilling into his pants from this, not even any proper stimulation, just from being kissed and having your body pressed against him. No grinding. Only your body pressed against his and your lips on his skin, leaving a trail of fire behind where they touched. 

He’s not sure how long he was zoned out, pleasure clouding his mind and making him screw his eyes shut, but realistically it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds. And that few seconds was long enough. You watched the pleasure wash over his face, admiring the orgasmic expression as he tried his best to keep quiet. Although a few stray noises did seep out of the corners of his mouth where they weren’t tightly pressed together. A lone tear slipped out of his eye from how he was squeezing them shut and you watched as it trailed down his skin, wanting to lap it up, but instead watched. Observed. Pride swelling in your chest from the fact that he was able to come, that you were able to make him finish, just from your kiss and body weight. 

And you watched as the bliss began to wear off. His grip on your hips loosens, his teeth let go of his lip, leaving an indent from where he was biting down so hard, and his eyes finally open. He makes eye contact with you and you softly smile at him. His eyes were still watery and you can vaguely feel the wet patch in his pants from how you’re sitting. 

“Was that good?” 

wc : 668 words

warnings : suggestive, angst!! reader has trust issues, mentions of alcohol (no drinking), making out, cuddling, sexual innuendo (no smut), pet names (doll), slightly crying?? (not really)

author’s note : took a small hiatus — was gonna make this smut but i thoufht suggestive would’ve been better.. sorry if this is actually ass i haven’t written in a while & pls do tell if i missed any warnings!! ^^

the cold mattress made you shiver, almost as if you were scared. looking up at the pale ceiling, your mind wanders… you weren’t supposed to be here, no. your bodies weren’t supposed to be intertwined, but here you were, following the same pattern you did every week.. it’s like you couldn’t live without him.

that’s stupid.. you thought to yourself, you didn’t need him, he wasn’t like the air you breathed, no, he was much worse. he was a virus, invasive and made you feel like shit… but something about him was so addictive.

was it the way he touched you? the way he memorised every crevice of your body? the way he fit yours perfectly, as if you were puzzle pieces designed for each other? either way, you hated it.

you hated the way he made your stomach buzz, the same way the alcohol did to your head every time you met up with him. you hated how vulnerable he made you, breaking you into small pieces just to crack you open. and you hated how well he knew you… better than yourself sometimes..

“what’s wrong, doll?” concerned laced in his voice, he didn’t look up to see you, though. his head remained pillowed on your stomach while his fingers drew small circles on your thigh.

if the alcohol wasn’t enough to make you feel queasy, those three words surely sent you through a frenzy.

“we can’t keep doing this.” you wanted to sound confident, dominant — but all that came out was a fragile whisper.

“why? i love you, don’t you love me?” his words were laced with concern — did you really mean this?

“that’s why we can’t do this.. it was supposed to be no strings attached.. but here we are” your voice breaks slightly. it was small, but enough to make him look up at you, slightly caging you between his arms.

he gave you a knowing look, one that spoke more than he ever could. you knew it was useless trying to get him out of your life, the intoxicating scent of his cologne always clouded your overthinking.

he knew why you were like this, he knew your history with guys, constantly using you then discarding you like dirty laundry, but he also knew he wasn’t like them.. he was nothing like them.

fully caging you between his arms, he leaned in to whisper in your ear — “i’m nothing like them.. i know how to treat you right..” his voice cracks.

“what if you don’t? what if you end up just like the rest, huh?” tears prickling at your eyes.

he looked in your eyes, they were unreadable, but you could tell his next words were honest.

“do you really think i’m like that? i’m nothing like them. please.. just let me be yours… let me prove you wrong”

you wanted to say no, wanted to push him away and leave this as an unfinished chapter in your book — but you couldn’t. you knew he wasn’t like them, you knew he would treat you right.

so as you silently nodded, he took it as an invitation, no, a challenge. one to prove himself worthy of your love.

leaning in once again, his lips found yours. the kiss wasn’t like any kiss you’ve had before, it was electric, sending more shivers down your spine than the alcohol could ever do.

when his cold hands on your skin gave you a small shock, he took an opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. your muscles fought, not to prove dominance, but a way of showing devotion, a way to connect himself to you.

he was drunk on the feeling of your lips for a moment, loving the way you fit him like a glove. yet still, he knew he had to prove himself further.

When Kamden saw you last, you were eighteen years old. He had just turned nineteen, a few months older than you, and he had a certain aura about him. He’d presented earlier that year as an alpha, though you paid it no mind, and he carried himself much more confidently than he once did. You, on the other hand, still hadn’t presented yet. Which ended up being both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because you couldn’t smell his annoyingly strong scent, with him unable to control his scent when newly presented, and you were practically immune to his alpha charm. A curse because, well, as an alpha, Kamden had started getting a bit more attention. More than he already did. He was attractive, smart, and an alpha? He had omegas, male and female alike, throwing themselves at him. And you? You were in their way, though you knew that Kamden couldn’t possibly see you in that light. 

You’d both been friends since you were kids, grew up wrestling one another to play when you were bored, went to each other to talk about crushes — surely, Kamden must have seen you as a sister rather than a potential partner. In the end, you were simply Kamden’s friend. Kamden’s unpresented friend that had to play the part of being totally uninterested in him. Though you knew the truth, that you were completely, utterly, irrevocably, stupidly in love with him. You were in love with him. With Na Kamden, not his alpha, but himself. The dorky, awkward, silly him. Being unable to smell his scent like the others meant being able to create a meaningful bond outside of your societal roles, but it also meant being shoved into a totally platonic role. Always the best friend. The sidekick. Besides, there was also a chance that you wouldn’t even present as an omega. And if you did, there was still the chance of Kamden ending your friendship out of respect for his future mate, not wanting to be too close with another omega. But until then, you remained in the close best friend position. 

Which is how you ended up in the airport five years ago, sending Kamden off to Korea with high emotions. Tears welled up in your eyes as you held your arms open, inviting him for a hug. His lips are turned down into a pout, and he leans into your hold, putting his full body weight on you. You stumbled a little bit — he had begun to gain a little height and weight after presenting, growing into his alpha stature — but you held him tight. Instinctively, you shoved your nose in the crook of his neck, right where his scent gland should be and inhaled. You couldn’t smell much, but for some reason, you felt like you could smell him now a bit more than you could yesterday. Kamden nuzzled against you, mirroring your actions, trying to catch your scent, but he sighed in disappointment when there was nothing. It was as if he wanted to check one last time, as if he were going to savor your scent during his training period, but there was none. 

As if it were some twisted joke, you presented two days after Kamden left. Two days. It only took two days of him being gone for you to present as an omega. And suddenly, all of those times you snuggled closer to Kamden to share his body heat when you suddenly felt cold and began to shiver out of nowhere made a lot more sense. 

You hadn’t seen each other in person since then, though you regularly spoke on the phone. So, naturally, Kamden jumped at the opportunity to see you again. Somehow, though, it slipped your mind to tell him about being an omega. What could possibly go wrong by not telling your alpha friend that you were an omega? 

Neither of you had expected it to go like this. 

Kamden showed up when you were in the midst of tidying up your apartment, making sure that it was presentable enough for your longtime friend, though he had seen your bedroom at your childhood home in its worst state. It was different now. Back then, you were both teenagers with no responsibilities. But now, you were both adults with responsibilities and you wanted to look put together, and quite frankly, your omega would be very unhappy if you were inviting an alpha into your space and it wasn’t presentable. You were so busy cleaning up, making sure everything was clean and pristine, that you completely forgot about scent blocking. The scent neutralizing and blocking perfume and candles sat in the corner, untouched, forgotten about. Then Kamden was at your front door and you were leading him to your sofa in an instant.

“Do you want anything to drink?” You asked. “I have water, tea, a couple sodas, some beer?” 

Kamden shakes his head. “I don’t really drink alcohol. I’m okay. No drink for me.” 

Nodding, you make your way to sit on the sofa alongside Kamden, a comfortable distance away. Not too close, not too far. Despite him being your best friend, you still felt a little awkward due to the time spent apart. You anxiously rub your hands on your pants — ironically, a pair that you had bought while on a shopping trip with Kamden all those years ago.  When you look over, you see Kamden caressing his elbow, and you smile. Maybe it would be okay. Maybe things hadn’t changed as much as you thought. 

You quickly settle into comfortable chatter with Kamden, asking him how he’s been the past five years, how he’s liking his career choice, if there’s anything new in his life he hadn’t told you yet, and he directed those questions back to you as well. But somehow, some way, it continued to slip your mind to tell him about your presentation after he left. “It’s a little tiring, you know — I’m always busy. My life is just practice, sleep, practice some more, perform, sneak in a quick nap before we meet with fans, squeeze in a quick meal, rinse and repeat.” You hum, nodding along and resisting the urge to reach out and mindlessly twirl his hair around your finger like you used to when you were younger and his hair got shaggy in between haircuts. “I wouldn’t trade it for anything, though. How about you?”

“Me?” Kamden nods. “Nothing as exciting as your job. I just work a desk job now, making ends meet and trying to pay back my student loans. My life is just work, sleep, and more and more mind-numbing work. I still try to hang out with our friends sometimes, though, if we can all work it into our schedules. They all ask about you, by the way.”

“Really?” He can’t hide the excitement in his voice. Perhaps, all of this time away has him thinking about his high school friends, wondering if they ever think of him too, and now that you have confirmed they do, he can finally relax a little. “How are they? Has anyone chosen their mate yet?” 

You nearly jump in excitement, and scoot closer to him. Kamden can smell the faint scent of a spiced vanilla, but he brushes it off. Maybe it’s your shampoo or something. “You’ll never guess who marked each other as mates.”

“Who?” 

Kamden tenses as you get closer to him, squealing and excitedly gushing about your two friends claiming each other as mates. They had a friendship quite similar to the one you had, so his jaw drops and his eyes widen as you tell him all about it. He doesn’t miss the way the spiced vanilla scent gets stronger the closer you get to him, the more excited you get. In fact, he can’t miss it. It all but floods his senses and he can feel his stomach churning and he can’t focus on anything you’re saying. 

He tries to ignore it, tries to focus his attention on your words, but he just can’t. You keep getting closer to him and the scent gets stronger. You think about something new that makes you excited to fill him in on and the scent gets stronger. He begins to feel lightheaded. You get so close that he can feel your body heat and the scent gets impossibly stronger, and every time he takes a breath he feels a new sensation in his body. What is this new fragrance? And why is it making him feel like this? 

“You smell different.” 

You’re taken aback by his sudden statement. His voice sounded rather harsh, loud and raspy. It makes you flinch. “I-I don’t know why…I’m not,” A lump begins to form in your throat. “I still use the same shampoo and conditioner as before. And I’m not wearing any perfume or scent blockers right now so I don’t—.”

Oh. 

That’s your scent. 

Kamden takes a deep breath and immediately regrets it. The deeper the breath he took, the more he inhaled your scent, and the more he could feel it affecting him. The fuzzy feeling in his head, his stomach twisting up in knots, his body temperature rising. It had all suddenly begun to get overwhelming. All at once. He didn’t need to hear you say it. He knew. “You’re an omega.” 

You swallow the lump in your throat. You take a deep breath and nod. If you focused, you could smell traces of an oak wood scent. “Yes,” A deep sigh. “I, um — shortly after you left…I presented. As an omega….I meant to tell you, but I guess — I guess it just slipped my mind.” 

The woody scent gets a little stronger. 

“You don’t have a mate, do you?” You shake your head. 

The scent gets stronger. 

“A heat partner?” No. 

And stronger. 

Kamden begins to shift. It starts small — his leg bouncing, wrapping his arms around himself to rub at the skin of his elbow, which is a habit he’s had since you were kids. But it quickly turns into something different. He begins to twist his body, turning away from you, refusing to look you in the eye. The scent of oak wood, which you figured was his scent, fluctuates. It spikes and then it pulls back. You try to get closer, but he moves away. The scent fluctuates again. 

You can’t help but get a sinking feeling in your chest. “Did I do something wrong?” No answer, just Kamden trying to level his breathing while simultaneously seeming like he’s holding his breath. “Are you mad at me?” In all of the years you’d known Kamden, he never acted like this. Even when he first began to show signs of presenting, his mood swings were never this bad. One second he was fine, engaging you in conversation and catching up about your old friends that he hadn’t seen in a while. The next? Well, he was acting strange. There’s no other way to put it except to say that it’s strange. Here he is, your best friend, and he’s acting as if he’s uncomfortable around you all of a sudden. He’s still looking away from you, anxiously rubbing the palms of his hands on his pants, and trying not to inhale too deeply so he doesn’t inhale your scent. 

Did you smell bad? Or, oh, god, does he already have a mate? Is he mad that you’re an omega and you lied by omission? Even though it wasn’t on purpose, if he already had a mate, or if he was someone else’s heat partner, you could understand why he is upset with you. No alpha in their right mind would want to be around an unmated omega if they were already betrothed to another. Maybe that’s why his mood suddenly shifted and he was asking about your mating status. But, somewhere in the back of your mind, you can’t help but wonder if he was truly upset. If he was, why does the woody fragrance smell just so inviting? Shouldn’t it smell unappealing to you? 

You try to reach a hand out. To comfort him. To just touch him. The two of you had always been affectionate friends, nuzzling into the place where your scent glands should be, holding hands or laying with one another, or sharing his clothes even after he presented up until the day he left. “Kam, I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—.”

“Don’t touch me!” He barks. The sudden volume and bass in his voice causes you to flinch, again, and jerk your hand away as if he burned you. Kamden could smell your scent sour slightly in fear and he winces. He didn’t mean to scare you. But he’s afraid of losing control of himself. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to be an omega, and even if you were, he wasn’t supposed to be able to smell you like this. When he became a trainee, they put him on supplements for this very reason. So that he, as an alpha, didn’t get a whiff of a delicious omega scent and become feral. However, being on tour for a month straight, he’d let a few doses slip past him. Between the busy schedule of practicing and performing late into the night and traveling early the next morning, his once steady schedule of taking these supplements had fallen behind. And he’s really starting to regret it. 

At first, the cloudy feeling in his head and the heat in his lower abdomen confused him. He can’t remember the last time he felt these sensations at once — probably when he first began to present, his hormones being uncontrollable when he was going through his second puberty. Back then, he’d been able to fake being sick and isolate himself for a week. But running away and faking illness now would only make you worry for him. And the tightness in his pants is slowly starting to become unbearable. He’s caught between two difficult choices; to stay here and suffer smelling your scent when he feels like he’s dangerously close to popping a knot on his pants like some horny teenager, or to leave right now and risk upsetting you. He feels like both options would change the trajectory of your friendship and he’s not sure there would ever be a way back from either of them. 

Ultimately, he decided that he needed to get out of there. 

He abruptly stands up but he can’t move. Suddenly his feet felt heavy. As if they were bolted to the floor. He doesn’t know why he can’t move — why his feet won’t budge. He needs to leave before he does something the both of you will regret. 

“Where are you going? You just got here.” Kamden doesn’t respond. He doesn’t look at you. Tears well up in your eyes and your scent sours more, becomes bitter. “You’re mad at me.” 

“I’m not!” He sighs. “I’m not mad at you. I just need to leave.” 

Finally, he wills his feet to move. He takes one step before he feels you grabbing him. Your hands wrap around his wrist and you’re trying to pull him back to you, almost selfishly, because you didn’t want him to leave. He just got here! Kamden still doesn’t look at you, but you’re looking at him. Looking for any sign of something. You don’t know what. Part of you is afraid that if he does look at you, you’ll see contempt in his eyes. Like you disgraced him by not telling him you were an omega. You knew that if he looked at you, he’d see something else in your eyes. Tears, mostly. Fear from being afraid of losing him. Silently begging him to stay, apologies, promises that if he stayed you’ll go put scent blockers on right now. But deep down, you felt something else. There’s an uncomfortable stirring in your lower abdomen. One that you can’t exactly explain. One that, weirdly, you feel only Kamden could solve. 

“Why?”

He squeezes his eyes shut. “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

You blink. “Hurt me? Why would you hurt me? You won’t hurt me. Please, sit back down. We can talk about this.” 

Kamden tears his hand away from you. Your hands stay frozen, suspended in the air from where they were holding him. There’s a tingling feeling in your fingertips. His wrist feels like it’s on fire. 

He turns to leave again and you jump up, bolting in front of him to try to stop him with your body. It was ridiculous; he was much bigger than you, stronger, and could easily push you out of his way if he really wanted to leave. But you knew that he wouldn’t. He would never carelessly push you to the side. He’s still avoiding your gaze, even as you try to defiantly make eye contact with him, so you take this time to look him over. It had been five years. His body had changed. Gotten bigger. More…alpha. You trail your eyes down from his handsome face to his neck, unmarked and inviting, though you shouldn’t say that because he is — was? — your best friend, to his slightly more defined chest. His shoulders were wider, too, arms a bit bigger. You couldn’t tell if that was due to him working out or if it was from growing into his alpha stature. Then you let your eyes travel lower, naughtily, all the way down his torso. Truthfully, you just wanted to innocently check him out (could it be so innocent?). You weren’t looking for anything specific. But then you see it and it feels like everything makes sense now. Why he was so urgently trying to get out. 

“Oh my god,” you blurted. “Are you fucking hard?!” 

Kamden immediately tries to cover his, now very obvious, bulge in his pants. Instead, he minorly miscalculated the pressure and ended up squeezing instead of covering. He makes a noise, one in between a moan and a growl rumbling in his chest. His scent spikes again, triggering yours to release pheromones in response. Suddenly, the push-and-pull scent spikes and his eagerness to not touch one another and leave makes sense. He was horny. You can’t help but feel a sense of pride — your scent did this to him. You did this to him. 

He tries to go around you, but you step in front of him again. And again. And again. It became a battle, almost, blocking his way every time he tried to move around you. Kamden was beginning to get frustrated. The tightness in his pants was uncomfortable. He’s so painfully hard that he feels like he’s throbbing. And the more he breathes in your scent, the less he thinks he can control himself. He doesn’t want to make a mistake. He doesn’t want to change your friendship so drastically just because his alpha is trying to do the thinking for him. 

In a last ditch attempt, Kamden tries to gently push you to the side so he can leave. His skin immediately feels like it’s on fire from where he touches you and he immediately retracts his hand. But when he tries to step past you again, you grab his arm and pull. Despite the fact that Kamden is much stronger than you physically, the force of which you pulled him with managed to knock him off balance. The two of you took a tumble; luckily you were still close to the sofa, so you fell onto the cushions before sliding to the floor. You ended up on top of Kamden, trying to pin him down and get him to talk to you, to stay, to do something other than run away from you. There was a struggle as he attempted to push you off of him so he could crawl away on his hands and knees. You grab his ankle and try to pull him back. 

“Please, Kamden, talk to me.” I miss you, you wanted to say. Miss you, need you, want you. Don’t run away from me now. 

The amount of strength you gathered to wrestle Kamden into staying surprised you. But it still wasn’t enough, because just a moment later, you were the one lying on your back, struggling in his grasp as he hovers over you. He grips your wrists and pins them to the floor beside your head.  Your eyes widen and your jaw hangs open. As you look at Kamden, you can see that there’s an unfamiliar look in his eyes. Something dark, but not scary or evil. He still looked like himself, just with a new, dark, wild look in his eyes, though weirdly, you thought that it still looked soft and caring at the same time. A low growl rumbles in his chest again and he bares his teeth. Typically, growling and baring teeth would intimidate you, make you feel small and want to run, but this? This is different. This is Kamden. Your best friend. And even though he has a complete advantage over you, having you pinned beneath him, realistically unable to fight with physical strength alone, you aren’t scared. He would never hurt you. In fact, you’re actually incredibly turned on. You know that your scent must be spiking so much right now. 

The two of you were, quite frankly, in an uncomfortable position. Your legs were tangled awkwardly with one another’s and he was supporting his weight only on his toes and his hands on your wrist, which was beginning to get a little painful. You’re not sure how long you stayed like that, staring intently into each others eyes, but it feels like forever. Then Kamden changes the way he’s positioned and it set your body alight. 

He moves to where he was between your legs now, both of yours on either side of his. And if that wasn’t enough, he rests on his knees and lowers his hips, accidentally rocking his hips forward into yours. You can feel his thick bulge pressing against you but it’s gone as soon as it was there. Still, though, it has the both of you reacting. Kamden couldn’t help but let out a moan and it triggered your scent glands to release pheromones in order to entice him. You wanted to lock your ankles behind his back and pull him forward to grind against you, get him to let out more of those lustful noises, have him nuzzle his face into your neck to inhale your scent as the both of you come. 

“Fuck,” he whispers. He squeezes his eyes shut, the sight of you beneath him, looking up at him with a look that he’s sure mirrored his own, was beginning to get to be too much. He could feel himself slipping away, his sound mind starting to fade to the back and his alpha beginning to stalk forward. 

“Please, Kamden,” you whisper back. Afraid that if you spoke much louder that it would shatter the bubble around the two of you, the tense atmosphere, and he’d run away. 

He turns his head away. “I-I can’t. I don’t…” he sighs. “I don’t want to hurt you. You-You’re too important to me, and I don’t think I could—”

“You won’t hurt me. I’m sure of it, Kamden. You won’t…I trust you. More than anything.” 

He can feel his resolve slipping further and further away. The muscles in his arms are beginning to feel stiff from holding himself above you for so long and he’s not sure how much longer he can hold out if you’re practically begging him to rip your clothes off and fuck you. To claim you as his mate. He needs to make a decision, and he needs to make it fast. “God, what are you doing to me?” 

It was quiet. So low and quiet that you aren’t sure you actually heard him say that until he opens his eyes and the two of you make eye contact. There’s a fierce look in his eyes and almost as soon as you register it as need, he all but pounces on you. 

Electricity buzzes from your toes to your fingertips, all the way up to your mind, making it fuzzy, as Kamden lowers himself. He lets go of your wrists and rests on his forearms now, hips and heavy bulge getting dangerously close to where you want him — and he wants to be — the most. You rock your hips up against him one, two times before he pulls back. You begin to get worried that you did something wrong again. 

“Are you sure?” He asks one last time. Gives you one more chance to back out. But you didn’t want to back out. “Because if I start, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to stop.” 

You look at him and tell him firmly, “I don’t want you to stop. I want you to fuck me, Kamden. Alpha.” 

A shiver runs down his spine, making goosebumps appear on his skin and his cock twitch. He leans back, sitting on his knees to unbutton his pants and try to shuffle them down his thighs. You watch him closely, eyes trained on his fingers working. He has nice hands, and you can’t help but think that if the circumstances were different you’d like to feel them inside you. But, much like him, you were too horny and impatient for any of that right now. Only, you weren’t aware just how horny he was. And quite frankly, neither was he aware that he was so close to losing himself. He finally pushes his pants and boxers down and you watch as his cock springs free. It’s thick, heavy, bobbing from suddenly being freed of its confinements and it’s leaking. He was dripping precome, and if you had more time, you’d wonder how he tastes. Or how he feels on your tongue, if your jaw could even open wide enough for him. 

He hisses as you reach out to touch him, hips jerking at the pressure before he pushes your hands away. His fingers slip under the waistband of your shorts, pulling them and your underwear down at the same time. The fabric peels away, leaving a mess of slick all over your pussy and inner thighs. Kamden isn’t sure he’s seen anything so beautiful, so erotic. And with the fabric out of the way, he can smell your scent the strongest from your core. He continues to drag your bottoms down, rather calmly for how close he was to losing his mind. You help him get them off by lifting your hips and legs so he can pull them off and throw them to the side. 

Kamden spreads your folds and stares in awe at the slick leaking out of you. He uses two fingers to gather some, watching as it thickly coats his fingertips. He has half a mind to put his fingers in his mouth, to taste your slick and see if it tastes as good as you smell, but he refrains. Instead, he spreads your slick arousal along his aching length and loosely pumps his fist a few times. The light friction already has his mind reeling; he’s so worked up that he feels so sensitive and reactive, and he’s not entirely sure if he’ll even last long once he finally does fuck you. But that’s neither here nor there, because if he doesn’t do something now, he feels like he might burst at the seams. He puts both of his hands on your legs, pulling you closer and angling your hips so he can have easier access. The sudden movement and strength he used made your heart race (and more arousal to pool out of you.) 

He lets go of one leg and you immediately replace his hands with yours, pulling your knees up closer to your chest. You subconsciously hold your breath as he takes hold of his cock, guiding the tip up and down your slit. It takes everything in you not to rush him every time it catches at your hole, wanting nothing more than for him to push his way inside. Finally, though, Kamden seems to have had enough of his own teasing and begins to properly line himself up. He has to take a few deep breaths to hype himself up to do it. To finally push his cock inside you. 

The feeling is overwhelming. He watches closely as he breaches your entrance. His cockhead is thick, stretching your hole so wide that he can’t help but be amazed. The stretch of Kamden’s dick is unfamiliar to you, but not unwelcome, though it almost feels like it’s too much. It’s thick, heavy, big and you feel like it’s going to split you in half. You let out soft whines as he slowly presses into you, trying to remain relaxed so the slide is easier. 

“Fuck,” he rasps. “So fucking tight.” 

Your pussy is squeezing around him so tightly that he finds it a little hard to move. Had you never fucked your pussy open during your heats before? Was he the first? Or is it just that you’ve never had something this big inside you? Either way, Kamden feels himself slipping away from the front of his mind, his alpha desperate to be the first to ruin you, to breed your omega, to mold your insides to his shape. 

When his cock is fully sheathed inside you, Kamden stops. He notices the way your breathing is labored and wants to give you a moment to adjust to the feeling of being so full. So stretched. You drop your hands, now clawing at the floor beneath you, unable to get a good grip to ground yourself, the sensation being profound and mind-blowing. Your best friend, of all people, was hovering above you with his large alpha cock so deeply in your tight omega cunt. But still, somehow, it wasn’t uncomfortable or awkward for you right now. All you could think about was how it feels like you were made to take his dick with how perfectly it fits inside you. 

He leans down on his forearms and nuzzles into your neck. Inhaling, pressing his nose directly to the place where your scent gland is, familiarizing himself with your scent. It’s a bit sweeter now than it was earlier, more vanilla forward, enticing Kamden more than he already had been. He loves the scent of vanilla, and he feels it’s only fitting that you of all people had that natural scent. Your scent is intoxicating and he can’t help but rock his hips against you. Small, insignificant movements that grind his cock ever so slightly against your spongy walls. Your hands fly up to grasp his shoulders, nails lightly digging in through the fabric of his shirt that he still hadn’t taken off. 

“Keep-Keep doing that,” you whine. “More.” 

He ruts his hips into you again, this time with more purpose. Each and every time he moves, he stimulates a new part inside of you that you didn’t even know could feel this way. Your body is burning from the inside out, the feeling of being filled to the brim already beginning to get overwhelming. Kamden isn’t much better — he’s never been squeezed so tightly before, feeling like he can barely move. It’s such a tight fit that he’s not sure if—. No, he can’t think about that right now. The thought makes his cock twitch, which elicits a moan from you. 

The first real thrust feels like it punches the air out of you. Kamden changes his angle, propping himself up in a more comfortable way (though how comfortable can you really be after a while on the floor?) and he finally moves his hips. More than just subtle grinding. He pulls out until just the tip is all that’s left and pushes all the way into you at once. It knocks the air out of your lungs, leaving you gasping and squirming beneath him. He sets a slow and steady rhythm of thrusting all the way to the hilt and pulling out to just the tip. 

He grasps your legs again, pulling you impossibly closer and lifting your hips. The new angle shifts his length inside you, making him repeatedly rub against your sweet spot. He quickens his pace, the sound of skin slapping and lewd squelching from your slick getting louder as he does. Each sharp thrust jostles your body, and if it weren’t for the hold he has on your thighs, you’re sure you’d be sliding uncomfortably. But you’re not, because he’s got a tight grip on your thighs, holding them open and lightly digging his fingernails into them and leaving crescent-moon-shaped marks in their place. Almost as if he were afraid that if he were to let go even the slightest bit that you’d run away from him. Like he’s been waiting for so long to be able to have you like this. 

And unbeknownst to you, he has. For years, he yearned for you. Even when there were other omegas throwing themselves at him, he still held out hope that, maybe, even if you didn’t present as an omega, you’d still give him a chance. Now that he has the opportunity, he’s not letting it slip away from him. If that means that he has to hold you this tightly so that he knows it’s real and not one of his many dreams, then so be it. This may be the only time he gets to have you like this, so he’s not going to let it go to waste. 

Not that he has much of a choice, with his mind being clouded entirely by lust and instinct. You just smell so good, and your pussy is so warm and tight. Feels like it’s made for his cock. Though he’s not sure if you can handle his fat knot — not that he’s ever tried to knot someone before. He always managed to have good enough control over himself, but with you, he can feel that control slipping further and further away. All he wants to do is put you in the mating press and shove his cock so deeply inside you that you’re properly knotted and bred, maybe even sink his teeth into your neck to claim you as his mate. 

Kamden gets so lost in his thoughts that he hasn’t realized that he had moved his hands and begun to press your knees closer to your chest. The angle lifts your hips even further, giving him access to get deeper inside you. He’s so deep that it feels like his tip is breaching your womb. Your back arches at the feeling, head rolling back and exposing your neck. The vanilla scent feels like it gets much stronger, and Kamden can’t help but lean down, nuzzling into your neck yet again. This position pushes your legs even further apart, almost uncomfortably so. He lets go of the backs of your knees, propping himself up on his palms, and you let your legs slide down his torso and rest on his hips. 

His thrusts get a bit sloppy, losing their rhythm, beginning to pathetically rut into you at a quicker pace. It gets harder for him to move as his knot begins to swell up at the base of his cock, trying to lock him in place inside you. Neither of you realize just how close he is to finishing until he’s there. His knot swells and stretches your cunt around him until it couldn’t anymore, keeping him inside. He still tries to rock his hips, although it’s rather difficult, and his fat knot constantly rubbing against your sweet spot has you clenching around him even tighter. You’ve never felt so full before, he’s never been squeezed so tightly, but somehow it feels perfect. 

With him being stuck, for lack of better words, inside you, he couldn’t help but come just as deeply. You feel his warm release flooding your insides, his knot pulsing as he pumps you full of his cum. The feeling triggers your own release, muscles spawning and contracting around him, which in turn milks him dry. He shoves his face deeper into your neck, taking in the way your scent smells. It’s intoxicating. His teeth ache to sink into your skin and claim you as his mate, to leave his mark so that everyone knows you’re his, even when he’s far away. But there’s something deep inside him holding him back, despite feeling like he’s no longer in control of his body. So he settles for grazing his teeth on your skin. 

He nips and scrapes his sharp teeth against your neck, enough to have your mind reeling, but not enough to bite down and claim you. You whimper and whine, baring your neck for him, silently begging him to do it. But he won’t. Not yet. Kamden loves you, he does, and he wants you as his mate, but he would like to do it properly and not in a lust-induced haze. Not when he’s two seconds away from losing himself entirely to his alpha, which isn’t saying much because he’s about ninety-eight percent there and has been for a while. If he were of sound mind and thinking logically, Kamden wouldn’t be in this position with you like this — if his mind wasn’t clouded, he wouldn’t be knotting his best friend on her living room floor and fighting his instinct to leave his bite mark on her neck, but here he is, doing exactly that. All because he hadn’t been taking his supplements like he should, you forgot your scent blockers and you smell oh so good.

It’s been a while since Kamden has popped a knot, so he severely underestimates how long it takes for it to go down enough to be able to pull out. When he shifts to a more comfortable position and his hips move, it pushes his knot further into your cunt. He’s so deep it feels like he’s centimeters away from breaching your womb with the tip of his cock. The two of you are connected at the center most part of your bodies and if it weren’t for your shirts, you’d be pressing bare skin to skin from your head to your toes. 

He’s still pushing his face into your scent gland, inhaling so much of your natural scent that it feels intoxicating. He feels hypnotized by the way it draws him in — just how ironic is it that his best friend of all people is an omega and smells like his favorite scent? Growing up, he always mentioned how much he liked the vanilla smell of your favorite ice cream shops and bakeries, and here you are with that being your natural scent. Only a bit spicier. It’s unique, Kamden thinks, and it suits you. It draws him in. It led him to where he is now, fully sheathed inside you and being milked of all his come from your tight pussy squeezing around him. He can’t move, and honestly, he’s not sure he even wants to. 

Even as his knot begins to go down and his painfully hard cock starts to soften, he doesn’t want to pull out. He would stay inside you forever if it meant getting to have you. Part of him worries that once he pulls out, it’ll all be over and you’ll never want to acknowledge this again. But another part, the more feral and prominent part of him just doesn’t want to pull out of your hole that just sucked him in so well. Welcomed him like it was meant to be there. He wanted to stay connected like this as long as possible.

He huffs and tries to push his hips further into you, but had no luck because he was already buried to the hilt. Skin to skin, pelvic bones touching. There’s no way he could get any deeper, but he still tries, and it causes the both of you to cry out. 

“No more,” you whine, voice a little hoarse from before. “Sensitive.”

Kamden doesn’t respond. Not verbally, at least. Instead, he shoves his hands under your back and leans back, pulling you to sit on his lap as sits up on his knees. The sudden movement caused you to squeal and wrap your arms around his broad shoulders for support. This angle, despite already being as deep inside you as he possibly could, shifts him in a way that rubs against you just right. His half-hard cock twitches in interest as you whimper and clench around him, but you shake your head and nuzzle into his neck. 

You try to lift off of him, but your legs are so shaky that you couldn’t even hold your own body weight up. He uses his grip around you to gently lift you up and you both sigh at the feeling. His dick falls limply against his thigh as he pulls out and a disgusting glob of cum drips out of your quivering hole.you all but collapse against him in exhaustion. Much like he had been earlier, you shove your nose directly against the scent gland in his neck, inhaling. Because finally, finally, you could really smell it. It’s strong, woody and earthy, and you can’t help but think that it mixes perfectly with yours as the two of you embrace like this. 

He grunts and moves you around yet again. Only this time to maneuver the both of you to lie on the sofa rather than remain kneeling on the hard floor. Even in this dazed state, he could feel the ache in his knees from this position and he could only imagine your back felt the same from laying there for god knows how long. 

The two of you lie there in silence for a while, catching your breath and basking in the moment you’d both been longing for for a while without the other knowing. But the silence doesn’t last long, because once you feel Kamden’s dick twitching as it begins to erect you can’t help but laugh. Not mockingly, but somewhat in disbelief and humor. Lying there entangled with you after what you had just done, without even cleaning up, Kamden was getting hard again. 

“Again?” You asked, amused. “What, are you some dumb alpha in rut now? Losing your mind over your best friend being an omega?” 

A low growl vibrates your chest where it’s pressed to Kamden’s own and you gasp. You barely have time to react before he swiftly turns the two of you over, face pressed against the cushions of your sofa and hips up in the air. Your pretty pussy was still glistening with slick, almost as if it were enticing him, inviting him back in. His cock stands at attention now, eager to be squeezed by your perfect hole again. The thought makes your heart race. 

Somehow, you feel like you won’t be able to wiggle your way out of this one. Like he won’t be satisfied until he’s sure you’re properly mated and bred with his pups. Which, quite frankly, you wouldn’t mind. As long as it’s him.