by Leta Blake
Xan’s voice shook as he rasped out, “Show me.”
The pain was rough but laced with gold. Xan dropped into it, opening up to a glowing, empty place that seemed brighter than the sun and infinite. He burned in it happily, surrendering to the twitching, sharp thud of the belt falling on him again and again. He melted into a hot puddle of tears, sweat, and saliva as control evaporated and he breathed between the strokes.
“Who does your hole belong to?” The question pierced the brilliant, hot place where Xan sobbed and breathed in ragged, rushing gasps.
“You,” Xan whimpered, his heart swelling with pride. “I belong to you. Your omega.”
“My omega,” Urho said, dropping the belt and rubbing both hands over Xan’s trembling flanks and down over his flaming ass cheeks. “When you sit on this delicious ass of yours, you’ll remember who you belong to—who you are. No matter what the world says, no matter what your father claims, you’re not weak. You’re strong. My omega is strong as wolf-god’s love and braver than wolf-god’s own apprentice.”
Xan wept softly into the bed, his body aching through and through. He let Urho pamper his ass, rubbing lotion and other creams into it. And then he crawled up the bed to collapse on his stomach, spreading his legs and inviting Urho in. “Fuck me,” Xan whimpered. “Use me. Make me your hole.”
“I’ll decide what to do with my omega’s hole,” Urho muttered, gently pushing Xan’s burning cheeks apart and leaning in to kiss and lick his most intimate spot.
Xan groaned, his body shaking as Urho’s tongue penetrated him. With each wet flick against the rim, followed by a deep press in, his legs trembled and his cock twitched. He grew unbearably aware of the thudding in his cock, still stiff and growing stiffer, pounding with the beat of his heart.
Urho pulled back before returning with oiled up fingers, pressing two inside immediately. Xan hissed at the slight burn, but then got up onto his knees to push back for more. “Hurry,” he whimpered. “I need it.”
Urho moaned and tapped Xan’s sore ass, making him clench and cry out. “Mouthy pup. Do you need to feel my hand?”
Xan groaned and nodded wildly. “Yes. Do it. Spank me.”
Urho slapped his ass twice, fucking in and out with his fingers as he did, and Xan shuddered all over, pain and pleasure rocking him. He almost came when Urho smacked his ass again just as his fingers pushed against Xan’s prostate.
Xan gripped his own nipples, pinching them firmly, trying to hold back and teetering on the edge. He didn’t want to come without Urho’s dick inside him.
“Please, Urho,” he begged. “Please.”
It was the magic word, just as he’d believed as a child, because Urho oiled up his cock and shoved the massive head into him, holding Xan’s hips steady as he forced it inside.
“Fuck!” Xan shouted, head tipping back, lost in the pleasure-pain and shuddering all over. The pressure on his prostate grew as Urho pushed unrelentingly deeper, his cockhead shoving over Xan’s gland, and then the fat shaft rubbing it with each inch inside.
“Mmm,” Urho murmured approvingly. “Open up. So tight around me. Look at your hole sucking me in. Such a good omega. My omega.”
Xan clenched the blankets and bore down, taking Urho as fully inside as possible until the scratchy crinkle of his pubic hair was pressed into Xan’s sore ass cheeks.
“You’re going to remember who you belong to,” Urho said, sliding out and then shoving in roughly. Xan jerked and spurted pre-come onto the bed, his cock jolted by the shock of pleasure. “You’re going to keep this hole just for me.”
Xan whimpered. “Always.”
“You’re going to remember what’s important, who’s important.”
“Yes.”
“This is important, Xan. This. Us.” He fucked him rough and steady, his hips pushing pain through Xan with every slap of body against body. “Fuck everything else,” he grunted. “You’re mine.”
Xan reveled in the words, the possessive fuck, and the way Urho held him firm to take every single inch with each thrust. His legs twitched and kicked in spasms as he rode the delicious and rough thrusts, and his asshole convulsed in pleasure that echoed all over his body in waves of bliss so intense that it left him crying out. His cock pulsed and spurted pre-come, and his heart pounded faster and faster, until he braced himself against the swell and push of oncoming climax.
He reached for his cock, gripping it as Urho fucked into him roughly. His vision whited out, his nipples tingled, and his balls drew up tight. His orgasm ripped through him, copious jets of alpha come streaking the bed, splattering his thighs, and slicking his stomach.
Behind him, Urho shouted his joy. He pressed in deep, his cock swelling and firing off loads of come into Xan’s aching ass. Urho kissed his shoulders madly, his whimpers of pleasure like little bits of soul that Xan could take in, swallow down. Urho’s cock shuddered deep inside, and the sensation triggered an echo of Xan’s climax, so that he quaked and came again too.
“Let me see,” Urho murmured when they had calmed down. He carefully withdrew from Xan’s body, and then spread his cheeks wide, looking for the sweet evidence of his pleasure leaking from Xan’s ass, as he always did these days. “That’s my good omega.” He swiped at the leaking come and rubbed it into the skin of Xan’s sore buttocks. “Anti-inflammatory properties,” he muttered. “It will help.”
Xan whimpered and let Urho turn him over. “Wow,” he whispered. “You know how to use that belt.”
Urho smiled lovingly. “You have tender skin. I wasn’t as rough as I could have been. I’d say that by tomorrow you won’t even have bruises. Maybe a little sensitivity is all.”
“It felt rough,” Xan said, a bit of embarrassment flaring that he’d cried so hard over what, it turned out, were soft blows.
“I know.” Urho kissed his mouth and settled in beside him, cuddling close. “And you’re strong enough to take more, but I didn’t want to leave you hurting on your trip. I don’t ever want to hurt you, Xan. Not like…”
“It would never be like that.” Xan turned to Urho urgently. “Because I love you. And…” He swallowed. He hadn’t ever said these words aloud, even though Urho had admitted to the feeling, yet somehow it felt like a bigger thing to own. “And you love me.”
“I do.” Urho scented Xan’s hair and neck. “You smell happy—like come and bliss. Like a little bit of pain enhances your pleasure.”
“Yes,” Xan gripped Urho’s face. “It does.”
“Because you’re brave and strong and mine,” Urho said, as if Xan’s love of intense sensations and determination to experience them were something he could own.
“I won’t forget.” Xan clenched his anus, relieved to feel the twinge that he knew would at least follow him into the next day even if the spanking didn’t.
“Nap now.”
“Or I could ride you,” Xan suggested, his cock jerking helplessly at the idea, but still not ready to return fully to life. Urho’s was also soft again, and a part of Xan was saddened by that, but relieved too.
Urho tucked Xan in next to him, keeping an arm around him. “Sleep. The time will come to leave for the train and I’ll have left you more worn out than ever.”
“You leave me full of you.” Xan squeezed his hole around the slip of come that still leaked out of him. “Full in my heart and my body. Strong in my soul.”
Urho kissed his hair. “I love you, my strong, brave man. Now sleep.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
The house Xan was raised in loomed large. It was three stories and two wings of solid brick and full of mixed memories. He’d arrived too late the night before to dare go straight from the train station to his parents’ house. So he’d spent the night in his own home, pulling the dust covers from his old bed and ignoring the drafty, creaking, lonesomeness of the entirely empty house. The residual soreness of his ass had provided a good distraction, though, and he’d rubbed it until he’d fallen asleep.
He’d called several tim
es that morning and had finally spoken with the groundskeeper, a man named Berst who’d been working for the Heelies family since Xan was a child.
After confirming that Ray and his pater were both under quarantine in the house and not admitted to the local hospital—apparently for privacy reasons—he’d headed directly over, the morning sun shining pale on the unnaturally quiet city streets.
He’d managed not to think about it too much on the way over, but now, with the weight of worry, shame, and foreboding on his shoulders, he didn’t know if he had the courage to ring the bell.
Time it was he had his own key and called this place his home. Then he’d contracted with Caleb and made a new home with him on the other side of town. But surely there was no home like the one that held all the memories of his youth. How he’d missed it! But once the rumors of Xan’s perversions reached his father’s ears, he’d been banned from visiting the Heelies house at all, or from meeting his pater outside of it.
He hadn’t come all this way to stand outside the house and stare. He lifted his hand and rang the bell. It played the same chiming notes he remembered.
“Young Mr. Heelies!” Joon, the old, bald butler, glanced quickly over his shoulder after opening the door. Stepping onto the front stoop, he shut the door behind him. “Mr. Xan, you can’t come inside.”
“I want to see my pater and Ray.”
Joon swallowed hard, clearly conflicted. “Your father expressly ordered that you’re not allowed in the house. That’s been true for months now, sir. And, well, the orders haven’t changed.”
“They’re very sick,” Xan said. It stood to reason that should change things.
“Yes.” Joon’s eyes cast down and his ruddy skin paled.
“I want to see them.”
Joon wiped at his brow, his eyes blinking rapidly. “Your father is with your pater every moment of the day.”
“I’m not afraid of my father.” Xan’s voice quavered, and Joon’s skeptical expression let him know that he hadn’t sounded convincing enough.
“I’d be fired, sir, if I let you in the house.”
“So you won’t let me see him? Or Ray?”
“Your brother’s very poorly as well.” Joon frowned. “But your father only visits him in the mornings.” He scratched behind his ear nervously. “I could probably sneak you in to see Ray with no one the wiser. Though it’s a dangerous mission, sir. The contagion is severe and your love for your brother won’t necessarily protect you from catching it.”
Xan studied Joon, taking in the familiar fond worry etched in the old beta servant’s eyes, and nodded. “I’d like to see him, please.” He’d make sure Ray was being cared for and then he’d see his pater, come hell or high water.
Following Joon through the marble-floored foyer and up the grand staircase, he noticed the sepulcher-like quiet of the mansion that was usually bustling with servants. “Where are the others?” he whispered.
Joon glanced back over his shoulder. “The ones not too sick to come in to work are needed at home caring for family members who’ve come down with this virulent, horrendous flu. There’s only me and the cook left well enough to care for the house and your family.”
“Aren’t you worried that you’ll get sick too?”
“I’ve never had the flu once in my life,” Joon said, as though the insinuation that he might take ill was an insult. “And Cook, it seems, is immune to it as well. He’s been helping feed all the sick families in the neighborhood, but he remains healthy as an ox.”
“It’s that bad here in the city then?”
“It’s a wave of death, Mr. Heelies.” Joon glanced at him curiously. “It hasn’t reached Virona?”
“Only just. Janus brought it with him. We’ve been advised to keep him isolated so it doesn’t spread to the town.”
“If they keep the trains running, it’s only a matter of time before Virona is down with it too. The doctors are run ragged here. They’ve brought some in from the countryside to help out, but this strain is too strong and moving too quickly for them to keep up.”
Xan thought of Urho in Virona, and he could clearly imagine the mixed feelings this knowledge would bring up for him. He’d want to be here helping, but he would also want to ensure Vale and the baby’s health first.
Once that was taken care of, though, there was no doubt in Xan’s mind that Urho would put aside his sworn promises to stay in Virona with him and Caleb. He’d want to leave for the city immediately to do his duty as a doctor. And he should. But Xan hated the idea of Urho walking into the heart of this contagion like an armorless warrior into a lion’s den.
But wasn’t that exactly what he’d done himself? He wondered if Urho was worried about him. The thought gave him a warm glow. How strange to think he might be cared for even in his absence, and how sweet to feel certain that he was.
“Your brother was brought here last week by his omega friend who had found him passed out on his apartment floor. He’d already tried the hospitals, but they were full, and no doctor could be reached.”
“What friend is this?”
“He didn’t leave his name, sir.” Joon cleared his throat awkwardly.
Xan suspected there was more to the story, but Joon put his finger to his lips as they passed the wing to his parents’ rooms. Xan held his breath until they were behind the door of the “nursery wing,” as they still called the hallway of rooms that had belonged to the Heelies children.
They stepped silently down the corridor past Xan’s old room, then his long dead brother Jordan’s still-intact room, and stopped in front of Ray’s room—usually only used during Autumn Nights feast weeks—at the end of the long length of blue carpet.
Joon nodded at the door. “He’ll likely be asleep, sir. I’ll leave you to it and don’t linger too long. I’d hate for your presence to upset Mr. Heelies. He’s already quite distraught over your pater and brother being so very sick.”
“Thank you for letting me in, Joon.”
The old man hugged Xan and patted his back, bringing a flood of fond memories of childhood. “You’re a good boy. I’m sorry for all of this…this….” He shrugged, obviously not sure how to encompass all that he was sorry for in the lives of the Heelies family. Then he hustled on down the hall and closed the doors to the wing behind him.
Coughing came from Ray’s bedroom, and Xan pushed the door open, stepping in carefully. It was gloomy and close inside, with the scent of sweat and sickness rising up all around him. It filled his nostrils and he gagged slightly, holding in the horror at finding his brother so very ill. He wondered when his sheets had last been changed, though he hated to doubt the dedication of Joon’s care.
He crossed to the windows and opened the curtains slightly, letting fresh, morning light into the room. Ray stirred in the bed, coughing and moaning softly.
“Ray?” Xan asked, crossing to him.
Beneath layers of sheets and blankets, Ray shivered violently. Xan gasped. Ray was sweaty and sickly, with dark circles like stains beneath his eyes. His nose was red and sore-looking, and his lips dry and crusty. “Wolf-god,” Xan swore under his breath.
Ray’s cheeks blazed with fever, and his eyes as he blinked them open were glassy. “Xan?” He sounded so uncertain that Xan wondered if he’d been having hallucinations from his fever.
“It’s me. I’m here. Let me help you drink some water.” He turned to the pitcher and glass beside the bed.
“You can’t—” Ray shook his head, coughing hard. “You can’t be here. You have to leave.”
“Father can’t keep me away from you and Pater. Not when you need my help.”
“Joon takes care of me,” Ray said. His voice was a rasping version of its former warm, thick tenor. “The heirs need to stay well. This isn’t a typical flu, Xan. People are dying.”
“But not you,” Xan said, touching his brother’s cheek and almost hissing at the heat. “You’re going to be just fine.”
Ray shuddered and coughed again. Xan
hustled into the bathroom and ran the tap. Once he had a cold, wet cloth, he hurried back to his brother. “What are they doing for the fever?”
“Elderflower tea and tablets.”
“I’ll get more for you.”
Ray didn’t protest, clearly too sick and weak to argue. Xan’s heart ached and his fingers shook as he stroked his brother’s hair off his forehead with the cool cloth. “I’ll be right back. We’re going to get this fever down. No arguments.”
Ray said nothing, his eyes so glassy and distant that it made Xan’s insides quiver.
The house was still quiet as he took the back stairs down to the hall where his pater’s study and the telephone resided. He paused outside the doorway, listening for any sound, but there was nothing. Unsurprising since his father was, according to Joon, with his pater every moment.
Standing next to the massive oak desk, he dialed the house in Virona. It rang five times before Ren picked up and Xan sent him for Urho.
While he waited, he gazed around the room, taking in the family portrait across the wall. His father stood tall and proud, his big hand resting on his seated pater’s shoulder, while Xan and Ray stood off to the side. It had been made when Xan graduated from high school, before his failures became too well-known for his father to ignore.
Xan stared at the painting. His father’s dark, curly hair, so like Xan’s, and his bright blue eyes were striking. He was bigger than Xan could ever hope to be, muscular and handsome, with a strong jaw and a masculine cruelty to his features. His pater, though, was nearly opposite in his looks: slight and short, with light brown hair and hazel eyes. Almost unremarkably bland in appearance. Handsome, yes, but in a dull, easily overlooked way. Of course they were both older now, in their early sixties, but they were much the same.
Xan’s eyes drifted next to the portrait of his pater when he was young, and the photograph of Jordan, an alpha, given a place of pride over the fireplace.
He wondered about Jordan sometimes. Xan had been so young when Jordan died that he didn’t remember him. And his pater never spoke of him, not even when he made his yearly visits to the graveyard to leave flowers on the stone. His father, on the other hand, spoke fondly of his lost son—memories of swimming in the sea together in the Lofton house, and Ray teaching Jordan to ride a bicycle while Father ran uselessly behind saying, “Pedal! Pedal!”
