by Willa Okati
Obedience could be plenty fun, if you only knew how.
“Such a brat,” Darius said, lifting Jory’s chin with two fingers, but so gently that Jory didn’t feel a bit of sting from the teasing insult. Darius’s smile went from lopsided to bright. “God, you are beautiful. The finest looking Omega around. And the one with the best ass, too.”
Jory burst into laughter, which made Darius chuckle too. Underneath the mirth, Jory’s heart jumped and almost seemed to fizz with excitement. This definitely wasn’t another let’s just be friends speech. But was it…
Darius laid his finger over Jory’s lips once again, and this time Jory let it happen. “My Jory,” Darius murmured. “I said before that we couldn’t go on like this. Do you remember?”
A dart of fear made Jory’s crazy heart thump a little too hard, but he trusted Darius. He nodded.
“And I was right,” Darius went on. “We can’t. But that doesn’t mean we have to go our separate ways. Or that we have to stop being friends. Or that we have to stop doing -- this.” He reached between them and tucked his fingers in the waist of Jory’s fortunately low-rise jeans, stroking him idly. “Or that we can’t have a baby together, Jory. There’s a way to have it all. Jory, your eyes. You can’t see them, but they’re like stars. The way you’re looking at me makes me want to take you on the floor here and now.”
Jory swallowed on a suddenly dry throat. “Then do.”
Darius moved his head from side to side. No. “Reach into my right front pocket,” he said instead. “Take a look at what you find there, and then tell me what you think.”
“Darius…”
“Do it, Jory. That’s my condition.” Darius kissed his temple. “Go on.” He watched Jory fumble, his hands clumsy with renewed nerves, and kept up his gentle stroking all the while.
A box. A small velvet box. Jory let out a shuddering breath.
“Doesn’t have to be much,” Darius said as Jory opened the box. “Just a yes. Or a no.”
A no? Jory snapped his head up. “Like hell I’ll say no,” he blurted. “When you’re giving me everything I ever wanted?”
“Then…” Darius’s smile widened, brightened. “Then you do love me. Don’t you?”
“Love you? Don’t I just? Haven’t I always? You really couldn’t tell?”
“Sometimes I’m slow,” Darius said. “Took me too long to figure out I loved you too, didn’t it?” He put his arms around Jory and wound him back in, pausing only long enough to slip the ring, a simple platinum band, around his finger and admire it for a second. “But I’m only slow sometimes. We might have forever ahead of us, but right now I’m feeling impatient. I’m taking you to bed, Omega, and it’s going to be fast.”
“No you don’t,” Jory replied in an instant. “You’re taking me right here. I was promised the floor, and I mean to have it!”
* * *
Darius hesitated for half a second, sizing up whether or not Jory really meant that. And oh, he did. Like he’d said moments ago, didn’t he just. His eyes were fathomless dark pools of adrenaline and lust and something deeper, something purely Omega that Darius knew he wouldn’t ever understand in a thousand years. He could only appreciate it.
And in the meantime, he could give Jory what he wanted.
He bared his teeth at his Omega, who fairly lit up with excitement. Jory bounced on the balls of his feet, ready for the takedown, and who was Darius to disappoint him. He pounced forward, all in a great rush that brought them tumbling down sure enough, but he managed to keep a guarding hand under Jory’s head. Concussions: not sexy. Jory laughed up at him as if he’d read Darius’s mind, and lifted that head of his to take Darius’s mouth in a kiss so deep, wet and dirty that if Darius hadn’t been half-hard already it would have gotten him there in a flash.
Darius rolled his hips down, letting Jory feel it, and gave his own, darker laugh when Jory gasped and writhed up against him. Liked that, did he? He guided Jory’s legs up around him, fiercely pleased when Jory locked them around his waist without prompting, and thrust again, grinding their cocks together. He could feel the wet slick dripping from Jory’s slit, soaking his jeans, threatening to pool on the floor beneath them. He wanted his fingers in there. He wanted his mouth in there. He wanted to taste, to lick, to eat Jory whole.
Jory threw his head back, already making keening noises. He caught Darius’s hand and tried to force it between his legs. “Please,” he begged. “Oh, please.”
But -- no. Not quite yet. Darius had a better idea. He shifted his hips until Jory made a complaining noise and unlocked his legs.
“Shh,” Darius soothed him. “You’ll like this.”
Jory grumbled, but then made a happier noise when Darius wriggled down between his spread thighs. He shoved them as wide apart as they could go, and pushed his face briefly between them. The crown of his head fit against the cradle of Jory’s Omega pelvis, only the crown, but he butted it hard against the swollen flesh there.
Yes. Jory came with a rush and a shout. He seized Darius by the hair and tugged hard enough to take out some strands, grinding his head deeper in his lust to be filled with a baby he’d bring out through that channel. It hurt, but Darius bit at the inseam of Jory’s jeans and worried him playfully until he caught his breath and let his hair go.
“Where,” Jory panted. “Where did you learn --”
Darius licked a stripe up the soaked crotch of Jory’s jeans and looked up at him, wicked as he could be. “Good imagination.”
“You’re doing that again,” Jory said, sounding dazed and drunk.
Satisfying words indeed, from a lover. “It’s a promise,” Darius swore. He caught the hand that wore his ring and gave it a squeeze. “But later. I’m not nearly done with you yet, Omega.”
“Oh, God. I’m not sure I’ll survive.”
“I think you will.”
“Promise?”
Darius grinned again. “Nope.” He found the fastenings to Jory’s jeans and made quick work of opening them, though it took longer to peel them off his hips and down. He rolled onto his back then and brought Jory with him, guiding him into a good wide open straddle.
Jory’s face lit up. “Oh yeah?”
Darius hummed his reply as he reached for Jory’s beautiful cock. He’d only just barely gone soft after that first orgasm, unusual but not something he planned to complain about. His slick dripped on Darius’s thighs with a soft pat, pat, pat so redolent of Omega pheromones that it made Darius’s cock jump in response, straining toward Jory.
Not yet though. Not yet.
There was too much to savor first. Jory responded so beautifully when Darius got his fist around that cock and pumped, but even better than that when Darius let go and pushed three fingers inside him. Jory’s greedy channel clenched at him, milking his fingers as if they were the real thing. Jory, knowing better, ground down hard and moaned in desperate yearning. He soaked Darius’s hand.
“What do you want?” Darius murmured, even though he knew damn well. “Tell me. Show me. I want to see.”
Dazed still, Jory somehow knelt up as straight as he could. His cock bobbed fat and fully hard and wet against his belly, and the opening to his channel was swollen as a rose in full bloom beneath it. Dark with engorged blood, gleaming wet. He rubbed both hands over his belly, clutching at the smooth skin there, letting go to finger himself, smearing slick over his skin. Darius had to close his eyes lest he come right then, right there. God, if he’d known how hot…
But it got better, oh yes it did. Jory had control of himself now, at least a little, and he knew what he wanted. He reached between them to take hold of Darius’s aching cock -- Darius opened his eyes for that -- and guide it inside him. He slid home smooth and sweet, tight enough to squeeze, hot as the fires of hell and wet as the water devils all yearned for.
Jory tilted his head back, mouth open in ecstasy. Darius could only clasp his hips at first to keep him balanced, but then he rolled his hips up once, driving deeper.
/>
“Oh, fuck!” Jory gasped. He rolled down to meet Darius’s next thrust up. “More. More, more, more. Harder.”
Darius gave him what he wanted. He couldn’t have not. He needed it as much as Jory did. His world narrowed to hot and wet and tight and nothing else until his balls drew up, full and heavy and ready to explode.
But just -- just -- as he would have come, Jory froze. He whimpered and bit his lip, shaking like an aspen in the breeze. “I can’t,” he panted. “It’s too much. I’ll come apart.”
“You can,” Darius said, hoarse through his lust. He caught Jory’s hand again and drew it between them, touching where their bodies were joined. “You can come -- for me -- you can…”
Jory quaked, the struggle to hold himself together visible and painful. “Darius,” he begged. “Darius, help me.”
Darius didn’t think, didn’t guess, only acted on instinct. Cock still buried inside Jory, their groins flush together, he barely had room, but he slid his fingers back into Jory’s channel. One. At. A. Time. Relishing Jory’s desperate keens, until he had no room for a fourth but made it happen anyway, cradling his cock inside Jory, round as an infant’s head.
Jory bellowed as he came, a full-throated battle roar, and came harder than Darius had ever seen before. He clenched so tight Darius didn’t have a choice or a second to think about coming too before it was happening, happening like an explosion, his come flooding Jory to saturation.
When it dripped down his fingers he thrust it back up inside and drove a third, aftershock orgasm out of Jory that made his eyes roll to white and dropped him like a discarded puppet when it let him go. He collapsed in a heap on Darius’s chest, heart going fast as a hummingbird’s and his entire body aquiver with ecstasy.
He wasn’t alone. Darius couldn’t stop shaking either, at least not until he wrapped his arms around Jory and held him close, tight as he could squeeze them together. “Mine,” he rasped, though he would have thought himself incapable of speech for a few hours yet.
He rolled them onto their sides, careful of the hard floor and over-sensitive muscles, then rolled once more to put Jory mostly beneath him. He wanted to look down and study Jory’s face, to marvel at what a lucky son of a bitch he was to have this Omega. “You’re mine, Jory. Now and always.”
Jory raised himself a little, only far enough to kiss him, a haphazard brush of mouth against mouth with a flick of tongue for spice. Irrepressible Jory. “Yours,” he agreed. “And you’re mine. Now and always. Now, here.” He wriggled forward on his belly until he could reach the pizza Darius had brought, somehow pulled the box onto the floor without spilling, and brought it back to them. “Eat. This is too good to waste. Then sleep.”
“As long as you don’t go anywhere. Deal?”
“Deal.”
Darius believed him, but still made sure Jory was cuddled against him while they ate. They were a mess, and they’d be glued together with sweat and come and pizza sauce as soon as their bodies cooled, but he didn’t care. This was his mate. This was his heart.
And he wasn’t letting go. He didn’t even loosen his hold when he fell asleep halfway through a piece of pizza, and neither did Jory.
* * *
Eventually they summoned the energy to crawl into bed. Hours passed, or they must have, though it seemed like less than a handful of seconds between the moment Darius closed his eyes and when he blinked them open again. The digital clock on Jory’s nightstand blared a bright red 2:15 am into the darkness, and though after a fuck like that they might have slept the clock around, it wasn’t likely.
Still barely half awake, Darius rolled onto his back. He and Jory had slid apart while they slept, and though he was as sticky as he’d imagined with dried fluids he didn’t really mind. What else were showers for?
Besides, he liked the smell. Raw, filthy-nasty-hot, fecund as fresh turned earth. What’d woken him, though?
Darius turned his head to peer at Jory and uncovered the answer. Jory lay on one side, but not comfortably, more like he’d curled shrimp-like into himself. He had one arm tucked under his pillow and one fist clenched in the comforter they’d half tossed off the bed between them. Darius didn’t think he was awake, but his face was pinched in a look somewhere between discomfort and outright pain.
A twinge of guilt stabbed at Darius. Hell, had he been too rough? They’d fallen asleep before he could check and make sure, let alone do any aftercare. But even as he watched, Jory flinched and his eyes moved fast enough to take note of behind his closed eyelids, and that likely meant one thing.
That, Darius could help with.
He nudged Jory gently, then shook him lightly by the shoulder. “Jory,” he whispered. “Hey, gorgeous.” And didn’t it feel good to be able to say that, now? “Wake up. You’re having a bad dream.”
Jory came awake with a flinch, but then slowly, eyes opening and closing several times as he frowned with confusion. “Darius?”
“No, it’s RuPaul.” Darius stroked Jory’s chest, over his pounding heart. Damn, that must have been one hell of a dream. “It’s your pick of the Hemsworth brothers. It’s a drunken sailor.”
Jory snorted, but he smiled, and lifted one hand to rub at his eyes. “God, you’re still such a dork. What is your obsession with that song?”
“Everyone’s got to have a theme. And -- dork? You thought that would change? C’mere.” Darius rolled and gathered the both of them, arranging Jory’s sleep-lax limbs and his own until they were both of their sides, Jory’s back pressed to his chest, comfortably spooned together. Just like all the years they’d tangled their legs together under pub tables, they fit exactly right now, as if they’d been made for one another.
Who knew? Maybe they had.
Jory sighed, but contentedly, and snuggled into Darius’s embrace. “How’d you know I needed that?”
“I know you.”
“Hmm,” Jory said, a sound of agreement. He rubbed absently at his chest, his abdomen. “The strangest thing.”
Darius tucked his chin over Jory’s shoulder. “Was it a bad dream?” he asked, curious.
“I don’t know. I don’t think so. Maybe? It was all just bits and pieces, the way most dreams are. Thinking I could fly, but I kept falling.” He nudged his elbow backward. “I was just starting to get some altitude when you woke me.”
Darius bit lightly over the pulse in Jory’s neck. “I’ll make you fly again later.” He laughed when Jory groaned and drove his elbow back harder. “What? I will. It’s a promise.”
“I have no doubt.” Jory’s hand drifted lower, massaging his stomach -- still absently, as if he didn’t quite realize what he was doing. “And I think I was… sword fighting? With rapiers, the narrow little swords about as big as hat pins. I kept getting poked in the gut. Like -- ow, ow!” He drew in a sharp breath and pressed his hand flat over his lower groin. “Ow. Like that. Like something’s…” He stopped.
Darius stopped.
Darius was fairly certain they both stopped breathing.
He made himself start again while Jory was still frozen, covering Jory’s outstretched fingers with his own and burying his nose deep in the crook of Jory’s neck. He drew in the deepest, lustiest breath he possibly could, and…
Smelled it. The change.
“Darius,” Jory whispered, twisting his hand to take Darius’s and to squeeze it tightly. “Oh, Darius. I’ve got the scent too. Oh, Darius.”
Darius took another breath, savoring every nuance, and knew they were both right. Fecund, like he’d thought before. Fertile. A pregnant Omega, even if only the tiniest bit pregnant, only just beginning to be with child.
But pregnant.
Jory twisted in his arms, frantic, pressing his belly to Darius’s, trapping their hands between them. Darius could taste salt in his wild kisses, and didn’t know who it’d come from. Maybe both of them. Did it matter? Hell no.
Because they’d done it. They’d done it. They were going to have a baby.
They were
going to have it all.
Epilogue
What did you do with a -- well, no, not a drunken sailor, though once this was over Darius had a bottle of the best whiskey he’d been able to buy, set aside for forty weeks, all ready to uncork as soon as Jory could share it again.
But that wouldn’t be for a little while yet.
He sat behind Jory, cradling his Omega between his spread legs so Jory could brace his own on them. He needed the assist. Twenty hours this had been going on! Twenty hours and counting and yes, it’d been easy at first, lots of walking and joking about it being more of a waddle than a walk and getting knuckled in his own stomach for that kind of remark. Twenty hours of holding Jory’s hand with every contraction, a little harder every hour, until his hands were stiff and purple and sore and he could barely bend them.
Twenty hours, by God. And not done yet. “I am never doing this to you again,” Darius swore in Jory’s ear between spasms, while Jory’s sweat-soaked head lolled against his chest. “Not in a hundred years. I’m going out and getting snipped tomorrow, you watch me.”
Jory, that impossible Omega, laughed. Not loudly or with a lot of air, but he laughed. “Oh, no, you won’t,” he said, confident as if he wasn’t currently engaged in turning his body inside out. “And oh, yes, you will.”
Darius wondered if his brain had finally started to jellify under the stress. “Which?”
“You won’t get snipped. I won’t let you. I --” Jory broke off in the middle of the sentence to squeeze Darius’s hand again. He bore down so hard Darius had to grit his teeth to keep from yelping, and longer than before. When he could pant again, he said, “And we’ll both do this again. I’ll make sure of it.”
For fuck’s sake. Darius picked up a cool, wet cloth from a stack he’d kept handy and toweled off Jory’s forehead. “Want to bet?”
Jory laughed again. “I’ll take those odds.”
“You’re insane,” Darius said, pressing his lips to Jory’s cheek and to his mouth. “Don’t die, all right? Don’t be stupid.”
