Page 165 of Run Little Omega

"Shut up and let me have this," I interrupt, positioning myself above him with determined awkwardness. My enormous belly makes the logistics challenging, but I'm nothing if not resourceful. "Before tomorrow, before everything changes—I want to remember what this feels like. What we feel like."

Understanding dawns in his expression, along with something deeper that makes my chest tighten with emotion I still struggle to name despite acknowledging its presence. He helps me settle into position, his hands steady on my hips as I take his cock in my hand, positioning him at my entrance.

"You're still so wet for me," he murmurs, pupils dilating as I lower myself onto him with excruciating slowness. "So perfect."

The feeling of him stretching me, filling me inch by inch, steals my breath—not just the physical joining, though that sensation alone would be enough to make my nerves sing with renewed pleasure. His cock slides deep inside me, hitting places that make stars burst behind my eyes. It's the magical circuit completed between us, elemental patterns humming where our bodies meet, energy flowing in absolute harmony. It feels nothing like the claimings in the forest—those desperate, biology-driven encounters that marked the beginning of our journey. This connection carries intention, choice, mutual desire beyond mere instinct.

"Perfect," I breathe, adjusting to the fullness before beginning to move. "Gods, how did I ever hate you?"

His laugh rumbles through both our bodies, the vibration adding yet another layer of sensation as his cock throbs inside me. "As I recall, you had excellent reasons. I hunted you through a forest and claimed you against a tree."

"And now look at us," I say, finding a rhythm that builds delicious friction despite my awkward positioning. "You beneath me, at my mercy."

His eyes darken, pupils expanding until the ice-blue is nearly swallowed by midnight. "Always," he agrees, the simple word carrying weight beyond this moment, beyond the physical connection between us.

The pace increases as my need builds, my transformed body responding to his with a sensitivity that borders on overwhelming. Each thrust of his cock inside me sends waves of pleasure radiating outward, drawing whimpers from my throat that I would have been embarrassed by months ago.

"You feel so good around me," he groans, hands guiding my hips as I ride him, his voice raw with a vulnerability I'd never have believed possible from the Winter Prince. "So tight, so warm. Like you were made for me."

"Maybe I was," I gasp, surprising myself with the admission as I rotate my hips, taking him deeper. "Maybe we were made for each other."

Our cillae flare and pulse, colors mixing where our skin connects. Spring green spirals emerge where his winter blue touches my skin, summer gold streaks appear where my fingers trace his chest, autumn amber blooms where our thighs press together.

The Wild Magic flows between us, enhancing physical sensation until I can barely tell where my pleasure ends and his begins. Every movement, every thrust of his cock inside my pussy creates cascading waves of magic that ripple outward, transforming the chamber around us. Ice formations grow across the ceiling in intricate patterns, responding to our joined energy.

"Tell me what you need," he demands, his thumb finding my clit as I ride him, adding precise pressure that makes my inner walls clench around his length. "Tell me how to make you come again."

"Just like that," I moan, the dual stimulation building pressure impossibly fast. "Don't stop. I want to feel you when I come."

When his knot begins to swell, catching slightly with each movement, I feel a primal satisfaction. My body, changing to accommodate the quadruplets, responds to his with instinctive recognition—the lock that fits his key perfectly, despite all the transformations we've both undergone.

"After," I gasp as his knot grows, each thrust requiring more effort, more delicious stretching. "After the birth, when these little ones are safely here—we'll have this again. Properly."

He groans at the promise, hands tightening on my hips with careful restraint. "Your new body," he manages, voice strained with the effort of maintaining control as his cock throbs inside me. "Stronger. More resilient."

"No more careful handling," I agree, understanding exactly what he means, what he's been holding back since my pregnancy advanced. "I'll be able to take everything you've got for me."

The thought sends us both closer to the edge—the future possibilities beyond tomorrow's battle, the promise of survival and connection. His knot swells fully, locking us together as another climax tears through me. The sensation of being completely filled, stretched to my limit, triggers an orgasm more intense than the first, my inner walls clenching rhythmically around his knot.

"Fuck, Briar," he growls, hands gripping my hips as his own release overtakes him. "Taking me so perfectly. I'm going to fill you up."

I feel the pulse of his cock as he comes inside me, each wave of his release triggering aftershocks of pleasure through my oversensitive body. Magic explodes around us in a spectacular display, patterns rippling across the room in gorgeous designs that incorporate all four seasonal elements in perfect harmony.

I collapse forward as far as my belly allows, boneless with satisfaction and temporarily unworried about the precarious position of our court. Cadeyrn's arms encircle me, supporting my weight even as we remain physically connected.

"That," I say when I can form coherent thoughts again, "was considerably better than strategic planning."

His chest rumbles with quiet laughter beneath my cheek. "I concede your tactical approach superior to mine in this instance."

We shift carefully to our sides, still joined, my pregnant belly nestled against him. The position is surprisingly comfortable, a momentary island of peace before tomorrow's inevitable chaos. His hand rests protectively over the swell where the four little ones now rest quietly, their distinct magical signatures pulsing in gentle rhythm.

"They're quiet now," he observes, cillae on his fingers synchronizing with the movement beneath my skin. "Their magic growing stronger each hour."

I nod, feeling the subtle differences between them more clearly now that I'm relaxed. "The fire one is always most active when I'm worried or angry," I say, recognizing patterns I've observed over recent weeks. "The earth one settles when you're near, like it recognizes your presence. The air one never stops moving completely, just changes rhythms. And the water one..." I smile faintly. "The water one responds to music, to Mira's singing especially."

"Already individuals," Cadeyrn murmurs, wonder evident in his voice. "Already choosing their own paths."

The simple observation reminds me of everything at stake tomorrow—not just our survival, but the future these children represent. A future where Wild Magic flows freely rather than being locked in court-controlled channels, where omegas might wield power rather than merely serving as vessels.

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