Milan almost reached for him when Raphael sat back, his hands landing with intent on Milan’s thighs. Milan could barely breathe at the feel of them, so much larger than his own. His heart was pounding against every inch of his sensitive skin, and out of his mouth trembled a moan as the hands started moving.
Up, excruciatingly slow, but up. The shift was dragged along as Raphael’s calloused hands moved across the length of his thighs. Milan’s cock, already obscenely hard, was revealed, and he did not know if the exposure was embarrassing or freeing. He did not have time to think, however, as Raphael’s hands continued. They grasped his hips, his waist, the cage of his ribs. Thumbs brushed against dark nipples, making Milan gasp and clutch at the white sheets beneath him at the mere intimacy of it. Milan had one moment to take in Raphael’s smile before he bent forwards, hot breath against Milan’s chest before his tongue came out to lick at one of the sensitive nubs.
“Oh, oh.” Milan arched his body, clutching at the back of Raphael’s shirt. At the hint of teeth, one of his hands pulled at Raphael’s hair, not knowing if he wanted more or less. Milan had always been abnormally sensitive there and was used to teasing them when he sought his own pleasure.
“Raphael. Raphael, please,” Milan said, having no idea what he was asking for, but sure he needed it.
Raphael must have known, because he pulled away, untangling himself from Milan’s arms and raising them so he could take the shift off.
Just like that, Milan was completely nude.
For a moment, Raphael simply looked. His hands were pressed into the bed on either side of Milan’s head, his body an arch over the pulsing river of brown, glowing skin.
Milan had never known vulnerability could feel like this. Breathless, wanting. He had forgotten every wrong Raphael had done. There was only his soft touch and heated gaze left.
“Don’t leave me at a disadvantage,” Milan managed to say, pulling at Raphael’s shirt.
They undressed him together, Milan taking advantage of every exposed inch of skin. It was the first real act of complete synchronicity, except for kissing, perhaps. Maybe they would know each other through their bodies.
It gave Milan hope.
Naked, Raphael was even more beautiful than Milan could have thought. A stereotypical Alpha through and through. Hard planes, pale skin soft where dark hair didn’t cover, thighs thick and strong between Milan’s splayed ones. His stiff cock made Milan blush, with its length and width. Even worse, it made Milan leak.
Raphael’s eyes were impossibly dark. “I can smell you,” he said roughly, and it was stunning how easily Milan’s legs parted further as a finger brushed against his wet hole.
Milan had done that to himself many times, of course. Stuffed his fingers desperately there, or an object that resembled an Alpha’s cock. But this, such a slight contact, was something completely different. It was his husband, his Alpha, their scent heavy with sex around them.
Milan let out a choked cry, more anticipation than pleasure, undulating his body to get closer to that curious finger even as he grasped Raphael’s hair and pulled him down. Milan pressed the flat of his tongue against the scent gland in Raphael’s neck desperately.
“And I, you,” he whispered across Raphael’s ear.
To Milan’s surprise, the move caused Raphael to tense all over before pulling away abruptly. Milan startled, dropping his hand. Raphael did not leave the bed, but it seemed to be a near thing as he leaned away from Milan, hand pressed against his scent gland. His eyes were squeezed shut as if warding something away.
“Raphael?” Milan questioned softly. His heart was pounding for an entirely different reason now. The vulnerability of his naked body no longer seemed as pleasurable as it had moments before.
Finally, Raphael opened his eyes with a shake of his head. “I’m sorry. I’m…”
Milan propped himself on his elbows, frowning in concern. “Did I hurt you? Did I do something wrong?”
Raphael shook his head again. “No. No. I’m just…sensitive there.”
Milan looked at him carefully. Raphael still looked aroused. Perhaps the intimacy of that touch had overwhelmed his normally rigid barriers, his need for control.
“I’m sorry. I’ll be careful. Do you want to take a moment? Or…?”
“No. No, I just—it’s fine.” Raphael removed the hand on his neck and leaned down again to kiss Milan very softly.
“If I do something you don’t like, tell me.” Milan echoed the words from before as they parted.
At that, the shadow that had been cast over Raphael’s eyes seemed to finally lift as a small smile graced his lips before kissing Milan again. Milan let himself drop down to the bed, hands cautious as they brushed up Raphael’s arms, his shoulders, his back.
The kiss was slow, deep, stoking the fire so that it grew again. When two of Raphael’s fingers touched Milan’s wet hole, any remaining concern was swiftly burnt away.
Milan made a soft, pleading noise, his hand rising to anchor itself on Raphael’s bicep. Raphael paused, but when it became clear that Milan was overwhelmed by lust, not fear, he pushed a finger in.
As an Omega, after all the twice-yearly heats he’d had since puberty, one finger should have been nothing. A mere prelude, something to skip over quickly. And yet, just that simple touch had Milan’s breath hitching. It wasn’t that Raphael’s finger was large—although it was—or that he was careful but confident—which he was—but that this was the man that he would spend the rest of his life with, inside Milan for the first time. This was the man he would bond his soul to. It was whom he would grow old with—whom his life would depend on.
Why this, and not their first kiss, or the sight of their naked skin together, Milan didn’t know. But it was then that everything crashed onto him.
Milan sat up slightly, squeezing Raphael’s bicep tightly. Raphael looked up suddenly from where his finger had disappeared into Milan’s body. He seemed startled by Milan’s unexpected reaction, and they both froze there, staring at each other before a soft, pleading sound left Milan’s mouth.
“Raphael…” He had nothing more to say, but he had to know: Was he making the right decision? Would this man use his power as Alpha to crush the spirit Milan was about to give him willingly?
With a finger still inside Milan, Raphael leaned forwards so that Milan lay back, still holding on to Raphael’s arm.
“You’re all right,” Raphael whispered as if he would make sure of it.
Milan bit his lip before letting himself ask, “You won’t…I’m safe with you?”
Raphael’s expression crumpled, eyes closing as if the question had been a lance through his chest. When he opened his eyes again, they were in turmoil, but his answer was strong.
“Yes.”
Milan felt himself relax. He let go of Raphael’s arm to stroke his fingers down the slightly stubbled cheek before moving his body slightly, clenching around the finger inside him. “More.”
Raphael took a quick breath before kissing Milan again, and then there were two fingers inside him. Milan moaned against the tongue lapping at his mouth, his body moving without thought so that the digits slid in and out of him. The wet sound of them was obscene, but even that disappeared completely when Raphael added one more finger, stretching him out, rubbing incessantly at the spot inside that made him arch his neck and tug at the sheets desperately for more. All he could hear were the sounds he was making, their panting breaths, the way his mouth begged without him.
Milan cried out and opened his eyes as the fingers were removed from inside him, but the sight of Raphael stopped him from protesting. At last, his expression had cracked open, his eyes dark and wild like the sea storms that ravaged the South. Milan had never seen lips so red, or an expression so conquered by desire. It made the air in his chest stop completely, even as he became dizzy with the need to breathe.
Milan reached up, framing Raphael’s face with his hands, before pulling him down for a kiss that was as deep an
d wet and desperate as that expression.
“Milan,” Raphael whispered as they pulled apart, their foreheads resting together.
For the first time since arriving, Milan felt at home.
When Raphael finally entered him, the large width stretching him fully, it was as if all his other senses disappeared. There was only his body, and Raphael’s, and the way they joined together. Milan clutched at him as Raphael curved over him, a shelter of breath and muscle. No object, not even in the peak of his heat, had ever felt so good inside Milan.
“Good?” Raphael asked, and Milan almost laughed.
“More.”
Before Raphael could comply, Milan started moving, the tide of an ancient instinct washing over him as his body undulated, barely catching his breath at the feeling of Raphael’s cock sliding in and out of him.
“Milan,” Raphael choked out, but he seemed to agree completely with Milan’s intention. He sat back, taking the furnace of his body only far enough to grip under Milan’s thighs to open him further.
It was then that Milan seemed to lose his mind. This is fucking, was his last thought as Raphael starting thrusting—slowly at first, and then harder, faster, as Milan writhed under him. He tried meeting Raphael’s rhythm and barely held on, letting sensation take his mind.
Milan knew Raphael wouldn’t knot him outside of his heat, and yet there was something just as potent building between them. The mix of their scents had Milan shaking. He opened his eyes to see Raphael just as affected. His eyes were taking Milan in as if he were the last thing he would see before death, his mouth open in supplication, skin covered in sweat and a bright flush. The candlelight flowed across his body as it moved, and Milan had one moment to remember the stories of visions that appear from fire or moonlight to guide lost souls to the beyond.
Milan did not know how they both knew the moment that the bond was ready to be completed. It went beyond the physical: it was a calling of the spirit by the earth and the body, and Milan didn’t even think not to listen.
His whole body arched, and then Raphael was on him, crushing and holding him, and the burst of pain from the teeth sinking suddenly into his neck was hot and piercing a moment before it was euphoria. A wash of light, of hope, of binding. Milan turned his head and bit Raphael back, tasting blood and sweat and then not being able to think at all as orgasm ransacked his body as well as his soul. A force at the core of him pulled, lighting up with something that shone beyond both of them.
At that moment, he could feel Raphael. His body coming inside Milan, the obliterating pleasure, the deep connection of the bond.
It was as if a circle had finally been completed. For better or worse, they were now joined in a bond.
Milan hadn’t a clue how long it took his body to calm down and return to earth, but he let go of Raphael’s neck as he did, lapping at the wound that was already closing up, as bond bites did. It was Raphael jerking away suddenly, however, that woke him fully.
Milan winced slightly as Raphael’s cock slid out of him, and he looked up with bleary eyes to see Raphael’s widen in pure astonishment. He held a hand to the side of his neck where Milan’s mouth had just been.
“You…you bit me,” Raphael whispered raggedly.
Milan frowned in confusion. “Yes, of course. As you did…for the bond,” he said slowly. Perhaps the ritual had taken more out of Raphael than was expected.
“That is not the custom here,” Raphael said.
“You mean for the Omega to bite the Alpha?”
“Yes.”
“Oh. I’m sorry, I assumed it would be the same as in my country. It promotes equality between bonded pairs.…Did I hurt you badly?” Milan asked, leaning up on his elbows. It was true that Raphael did not have a scar from his previous bond, but those tended to diminish after a separation, so Milan hadn’t thought much of it.
“No. You just…you surprised me.”
Milan went to lean up further, unconvinced, but Raphael slid out of the bed.
“I will get something to clean us up,” he said. Milan watched him go to the other side of the room before slumping on the bed.
Delicate Alpha sensibilities. They were difficult to navigate at the best of times.
It was not the time to worry about that, however. Milan’s body was deliciously sore and sated. Of course, he had suspected sex would be fun, but what had just transpired between him and Raphael had been more. Milan was sure of it.
He let himself doze in the warmth of the bed, his fingers tracing lightly at the bond mark that had already scarred over. The bond was nascent—it would take time and care to grow it to its full potential, but it was already terrifying and exhilarating to feel the warmth of it inside him, so full of possibility.
“Milan,” he heard from above him in a tone that suggested that it was not the first time his name had been called. He turned over and smiled sleepily at Raphael, in soft breeches and with a cloth in his hand.
“Oh. Thank you.” Milan took the damp cloth and hesitated a moment before cleaning his stomach and between his legs. It was strange to do so with Raphael standing there, so serious, but they had just been much more intimate. Milan chided himself for blushing at the thought.
Milan thanked Raphael again as he handed the cloth back before curling under the sheets. He felt like he could sleep for thousands of years after the tension and exertion of the day.
Having been listening out for it, Milan sensed when Raphael approached the bed again but lifted his head as Raphael made no move to get in.
“Is everything all right?” Milan asked, concern rising again. Raphael said nothing for a long time, his face a blank mask. Trepidation filled Milan, and he sat up to question Raphael further when he finally spoke.
“I trust your rooms are adequate.”
For a quiet, innocent moment, Milan was thrown by the sudden change of subject. He opened his mouth to assure his husband, but something in his stance and piercing eyes froze Milan. Very suddenly, as if doused by cold water, it dawned on him.
Raphael was throwing him out.
On the night of their wedding, after just bonding, after Milan’s first time laying with anybody, Raphael was standing in breeches whilst Milan lay there, exposed and vulnerable, like a whore being dismissed after fulfilling his duty, nude and still leaking slick and Raphael’s come.
Milan’s body started shaking without permission. Was this man mad, that he could swing from a promise to keep him safe and then banish him without feeling? Was only his body warm, and his heart as cold as winter stone?
Never in his life had Milan felt so humiliated. So small and worthless.
He scrambled out of the bed, trying to tug the sheets with him, but they were caught under the mattress. With shame burning his skin from the inside out, he let the sheets drop and found his shift with dizzy eyes, not caring that it was inside out as he put it on.
His hands were trembling as they scrambled for the handle of the door adjoining their rooms. He could not bear to look back at the man he had begged and moaned for just moments before. For once, he had no scathing remark to make. He fled, almost sobbing with relief when the door finally swung open, slamming it shut behind him.
Like a ghost, he drifted to his bed thoughtlessly. He sat there, his mind blank even as his body staged a revolt: muscles shaking, gut churning, his throat constricted so that barely any breath could squeeze past.
It was only when he stood up and started scrubbing himself with the water from the jug meant for drinking that he realised he was crying. Sobbing, like he had not done since he was a child, not even when he had been back on his own land and learnt what his fate was to be.
Even in his wild imaginings, he hadn’t imagined this…the sheer humiliation of being treated like an object to fuck and then discard.
He dried himself, willing his body under control. He shielded it with breeches, socks, a long tunic, before crawling into bed. He curled into a ball, leaving miles of mattress around him. He closed his
eyes and thought of nothing.
He was alone. He was utterly, utterly alone.
CHAPTER SIX
The dawn brought no respite. Even through the haze of waking, Milan didn’t have a moment to pretend he’d forgotten the events of the previous night. The foreign feeling of the new bond was the first thing he became aware of, an unfamiliar pull that would have been warm if it hadn’t filled Milan with such dread.
All his life, Milan had thought of himself as a fighter, but the current circumstances were something he hadn’t foreseen. Perhaps he had been naïve, expecting so much from an arranged marriage—his resolve to hope for the best had backfired.
Laying on his bed, used and alone, Milan craved his land and his people so dearly it was a physical ache even stronger than the bite on his neck. It was a sort of mourning, thinking of his family and home, but he refused to let Raphael be his death.
Milan refused to give up. He would make something of himself here—carve out a place to call his. He was resigned to the fact that he would have to withstand his husband’s presence and touch or suffer the consequences of a neglected bond. With the coldness between them, it would take time to fortify the bond into something that would withstand absence from each other, but it would get there eventually. When that happened, they would be free to go about their own business, sharing Milan’s heats and little else.
Despite what Milan thought of society’s expectations of Omegas, he wanted children and knew he would enjoy them and find love there. Not as a replacement for what he could not have in marriage…but as a means to create a future.
This land was partly his now. He would treat its people well. He would work hard. He would resist any attempt to change who he was at his core. He would not lose himself in this bond.
With that conviction, Milan got out of bed.
**********
“I apologise for interrupting your duties,” Milan said to the staff he had collected in their side of the manor. Except for Melissa, they were all staring at him with confusion and weariness, but he forged on.
Honeythorn: Alpha/Omega Page 5
