Page 101 of Storm
"She reminds me of you," Fox says, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "All that fire and defiance, hiding a heart that cares too much."
I snort softly. "I don't think Storm would appreciate the comparison."
"Probably not," he agrees, his smile widening. "But it's true, nonetheless."
We fall silent. The only sound is our synchronized breathing in the quiet room. Fox shifts closer, his body fitting against mine in the familiar way.
His scent shifts subtly, honey and chamomile taking on warmer notes. Not the overwhelming sweetness of heat, that's still weeks away—but something similar, a quieter desire. I recognize it immediately, having learned to read the notes of his scent years ago.
"Fox," I murmur, my voice dropping lower. "What do you need?"
He doesn't answer with words. Instead, he tilts his head, exposing the elegant line of his throat in silent offering. The gesture sends a pulse of heat through me, alpha instincts responding to the omega's submission.
I lean down, my nose tracing the path from his collarbone to just below his ear, inhaling his scent deeply. He shivers against me, a small sound escaping his lips. My hand slides from his hair to the nape of his neck, cradling him gently as I place a soft kiss against his pulse point.
"This okay?" I ask, needing his explicit consent even after all this time.
"Yes," he breathes, his fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt. "Please, Jonathan."
The plea in his voice breaks something loose in me. I shift our positions, laying him back against the nest of blankets, my larger frame hovering over his smaller one. His eyes are wide and dark, pupils dilated with desire. I dip my head, capturing his lips in a kiss that starts gentle but quickly deepens as he responds with eager intensity.
Fox's hands move to my shoulders, then my back, pulling me closer. I comply, lowering myself until I can feel the heat of his body against mine. He's already hard, his arousal evident against my thigh, and a small whimper escapes him when I shift against him deliberately.
"Tell me what you want," I murmur against his lips, giving him the control he was denied for so long in that underground room.
"Touch me," he says, his voice breathy but certain. "Make me forget everything but this."
I trail kisses down his jaw, his neck, as my hands move to the buttons of his shirt. I open them one by one, revealing the pale skin beneath, marked with faint scars that still make rage simmer in my chest when I think of how he got them. I push the anger aside, focusing instead on the beauty before me, on the trust he's placing in my hands.
His skin is warm beneath my palms as I explore his chest, my touch gentle over the places where I know he carries the deepest scars. Fox watches me through half-lidded eyes, his breath coming faster as my fingers trace patterns across his ribs, his stomach, dipping just beneath the waistband of his pants before retreating.
"Jonathan," he says, my name a plea on his lips. "Don't tease."
A smile tugs at my lips as I move lower, my mouth following the path of my hands. I press kisses to his collarbone, his chest, pausing to pay special attention to the sensitive peaks of his nipples. Fox arches beneath me, a soft moan escaping him as I take one into my mouth, teasing with gentle teeth and soothing tongue.
His hands find my hair, fingers threading through the strands, holding me against him as I continue my journey downward. When I reach the waistband of his pants, I glance up, seeking final permission. Fox nods, his lower lip caught between his teeth, eyes dark with want.
I make quick work of the button and zipper, carefully sliding the fabric down his hips along with his underwear. His arousal springs free, flushed and hard against his stomach. I wrap my hand around him, feeling the velvet heat of him against my palm, and his head falls back with a groan that sends heat pooling in my own belly.
"So beautiful," I murmur, and mean it. Fox is beautiful in his vulnerability, in his trust in me to take care of him.
I lower my head, taking him into my mouth. Fox cries out, his hips jerking upward before he forces himself to stillness. I place one hand on his hip, steadying him as I work him with lips and tongue, establishing a rhythm that has him panting and moaning above me.
His scent grows richer, honey and chamomile infused with the unmistakable notes of omega arousal. It fills my senses, driving my own desire higher even as I focus solely on his pleasure. This isn't about me, it's about giving Fox what he needs, what he deserves.
I feel him tensing beneath my hands, his body approaching the edge. His moans grow louder, more desperate, and I increase my pace, wanting to push him over into ecstasy. When he comes, it's with a cry of my name, his body arching beautifully beneath me, his release hot against my tongue.
I work him through it gently, only pulling away when he begins to soften, when the tremors of pleasure have subsided to gentle aftershocks. I move back up his body, gathering him close as he catches his breath, his heart racing against my chest.
"Thank you," he whispers, his voice rough with emotion.
I press a kiss to his forehead, to his temple, to the corner of his mouth. "No thanks needed," I tell him, my own voice softer than I allow it to be anywhere else. "Rest now."
Fox curls against me, his body relaxed in the aftermath of pleasure. I hold him, one hand stroking idly through his hair, feeling something settle in my chest that has been restless for days.
As Fox drifts toward sleep in my arms, I find myself thinking of Storm and Reed, of the unexpected connection forming between them. Of Rook and Frankie, and how they fit into this strange family we're building. Alexander, who has carried so much for so long.
Perhaps Storm's accidental rebellion has given us more than just chaos. Perhaps it has given us a chance to reshape what pack truly means, to create something new from the ashes of a pack that has remained unchanged for years, trapped in traditions and hierarchies that no one dared to question until she walked through our doors.
