Page 34 of Real

Timothy let me mark him, and my marks are all over his body now.

For tonight, he’s mine.

He pulls off the sleeves of his shirt and then slides mine off too, until we’re both shirtless. The tenderness in his eyes makes me realize how intimate the act of being shirtless with someone is for him.

Dorian’s been inside my body, but he’s never been inside my heart. Not like this. Or maybe it’s that I was never inside his heart. My vulnerability was always one-sided.

Timothy wraps his arms around me and rolls on top of me. He doesn’t kiss or bite the scars on my chest. I’m relieved about that. I don’t want to accept the marks Dorian’s left on my body. Instead, he rocks his hips against mine. He’s hard, even without the pill Candlewick asked me to put in Dorian’s dinner every night he was scheduled to come over.

Candlewick said some alphas needed the pill to get hard, but they didn’t want to accept that about themselves, so they took it out on their omega lovers. He insisted there was nothing wrong with me. What if he was right?

Anything seems possible as Timothy moves on top of me.

“I want you so much, baby,” he says, even though he can see all my scars.

I slip my fingers under his jeans and underwear to the soft, hairy skin of his ass. “Please.” I don’t just want him inside my body. I want to connect with him.

He lifts off me just long enough to unbutton and unzip my jeans. I wriggle out of them, forgetting about the lace underwear until Timothy’s eyes lock on my cock, and I look down to see it straining against the light pink lace.

“Oh, Buddy,” he says rolling to the side and cupping my erection. Normally, I’d be self-conscious my cock is made of plastic and silicone, but the heat in his eyes makes it clear my body is just as perfect to him as his is to me.

What if I don’t have to be real to be good enough?

He grips my cock over the lace. The texture of the fabric and the warmth of his hand make me want to come right away, but I force myself to hold off. I don’t want to come until he’s inside me.

“The doctors… they said the virility meds I was given in the breeding pits messed me up. I can’t knot without a pill, and I don’t have that kind of pill with me. I won’t be able to knot you,” he says.

My eyes well with tears as I realize that this is how everything could have gone with Dorian. He could have just said, “I can’t get an erection without a pill.” It wouldn’t have mattered to me at all. I would have accepted him.

“It’s okay. It can still be special, right?” I say.

Timothy ducks his nose into my neck. “You have no idea how special this is to me.”

As he pulls off my underwear, I don’t know if I’m shaped the right way. It scares me but not as much as it did earlier. I accepted Timothy’s shape, right? He’s beautiful to me. What if someone’s shape isn’t the most important thing?

Timothy pushes my knees up to my shoulders. “You can always tell me to slow down or stop. You can say no, okay?”

Dorian never said anything like that to me. He never gave me any choices. He never cared how I felt.

Timothy pushes one finger inside of me. He’s slow, gentle, kind. Everything Dorian wasn’t.

“If that part of me doesn’t feel right, I can please you with my mouth,” I say. Not because I’m nervous, even though I am. I want to feel good to him. I want him to think that part of me is wonderful.

But if there is something wrong with me, maybe it doesn’t need to come between us. I can figure out a way to make him feel good. Or I hope I can.

Being intimate with him is more important to me than my own insecurities.

“Baby, no. Whatever that asshole said about you, he was wrong. Do you understand me?” He pushes his fingers in a second time, and I want more. I’m so wet and ready.

“I need you,” I whine.

He pulls out his fingers. Fear lances through me as yanks down his pants and lines himself up. This is it. I’ll find out for sure if I’m shaped wrong for sex. And here I am, naked and vulnerable before Timothy. If he rejects me, I don’t know what I’ll do.

He locks eyes with me as he pushes slowly inside. He feels hard and hot within me, and his stiffness doesn’t soften when he’s fully inside. He stays there for a moment, motionless and quiet, and somehow I know I’m not shaped wrong.

At least I’m not shaped wrong for him.

We fit. It’s an overwhelming thing to fit with someone like this. I don’t know how to handle all the emotions in my chest. It isn’t that he’s too wide, even though his cock is stretching me. And it isn’t that he’s too long, even though I don’t think I could fit another inch of him. It’s that he’s exactly the right size, and it feels like I was made for him when I know for a fact that I wasn’t.

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