Page 15 of This Fate That Guides Us
One of his palms digs into the bed beside me to keep his full weight off my body. The other stays in my hair, pulling my head back far enough to arch my neck so he can tease my scent glands with his tongue.
Electricity arcs down my spine with each slow glide of his cock. His pace neither falters nor increases. It’s torturous the way he slowly brings us both back to the edge of ecstasy.
“That’s right, Beta, take what your Alpha gives you.”
Sweat soaks his skin, sliding down his back. His warm tobacco and smoked vanilla scent mixes with my slightly floral cedar, soaking the room in our desire. It's a heady combination heightening my need for release. To feel his cum coat my insides and know he has marked me as his.
“Please, Alpha,” I sob. Every thrust brings my pleasure higher. Like Icarus, I’m flying too close to the sun. The feeling is too intense. I’m going to fall. To shatter into a million pieces. Never to be put back together again.
“Let go, Baby, I’ve got you.” Nebula breathes the words into my ear. His hand wraps around my length, his pace finally increasing until he’s nearly rutting into me.
I can’t hold back. Can’t escape the release barreling through me. A mix between a moan and a sob fills the air as I come, soaking our stomachs.
“You did so good. My good boy,” he praises. His hand falls to grip my hip as he slams into me harder. “That’s right Baby, keep squeezing me. Just like that. Gonna flood this tight ass with my cum. Watch you walk around all day with it leaking out of you.”
He stills, his knot pressed against me but not pushing inside. I can feel him pulsing. The warmth of his cum coating my insides is the glue piecing me back together.
We’re both panting when he pulls out. Sitting back on his heels, his eyes fill with a possessive look as he watches his release drip down to the bed beneath me. “Should have brought a plug,” he murmurs, using his fingers to push the mess back inside of me.
My head falls back against the pillow, a breathless laugh slipping out. This truly is the best way to wake up. It would only be better if my other mates were here too.
“Okay, time's up!” Nexus shouts as he slams the bedroom door open. If I wasn’t so madly in love with the alpha, I’d question his fashion sense more. He’s dressed in a silky black and white checkered button-up with only the bottom few buttons done leaving his chest and abs exposed. He’s paired the shirt with sparkly magenta skinny jeans. An outfit that screams ‘Nexus’, but would never work on any of the rest of us.
“Fuck off, Nex,” Nebula grumbles from where he collapsed face-first onto the bed beside me. His upper back and biceps flex as he throws a pillow toward our packmate.
My eyes trail over the tattoos covering both his arms and his back. The elegant female angel reaching toward the sun at the base of his neck reminds me why we need to get up. A memorial tattoo he had done shortly after his sister Elizabeth passed away. She was an omega who was rejected by her Fated mate.
A cruel act usually ending with the omega’s death. The depression caused by the denial of their bond is too painful; it cuts too deep for most of them to survive. While rejections are rare, they still happen. There are too many people in the world who still believe designations are a disease despite abundant scientific evidence proving otherwise.
“We need to get going or we won’t make it in time for the protest,” Nexus warns as he rifles through the closet. Clothes come flying toward us seconds later, barely missing the mess starting to dry on my stomach. Nebula grumbles under hisbreath when I push to my feet, but he accepts my hand when I pull him from the bed.
Nexus pulls me into a heated kiss when he steps out of the closet. “You’re stunning when you’re freshly fucked and leaking our Alpha’s cum, songbird,” he whispers against my lips. My cock twitches as I watch him adjust his very noticeable erection before walking out of the room.
“Those jeans should come with a content warning,” I mutter beneath my breath as I walk into the bathroom. My mate is one mishap away from a public indecency charge.
I rush through a shower despite my shaking legs, knowing Nebula will feel awful later if we miss the protest. Activist events became a regular occurrence for my alpha mate shortly after Elizabeth passed. Her death was the catalyst igniting his desire to fight, but we each have personal reasons behind our drive for equality.
We fight for the freedom of others who are stuck in similar situations to those we grew up in. Living in states where their freedom to be themselves is often taken away or suppressed. Where they may feel forced to reject their Fated connections in order to survive.
Everyone deserves to live without hiding their designation. To find their pack or mate without fear of persecution. To be free to follow the path Fate sets before them.
My mind whirls relentlessly during our drive. Notes and lyrics driven by the image of frigid winter waters and the vibrant scent of honeysuckle. A sense of urgency fills me, much like the moments before my release this morning. Pen must be put to paper to relieve this building intensity.
Inspiration sometimes strikes at the most inopportune moments. Luckily, I’ve adjusted to the need to put my words to ink in any situation. Including a bumpy car ride.
The music fades from my mind what feels like moments later. Sound slowly filters back in. I shake my hands out to fight the cramps I get from spending so long writing, wincing when a sharp pain shoots along my wrist.
Titan’s large palms wrap around them. Calloused fingers dig into the skin with enough pressure to alleviate the ache. Leaning back in my seat, I offer my packmate a thankful smile. He doesn’t reply as he focuses on working the tension out of my hands, but I can feel his love through our pack bond.
“How long was I working?” I question. My eyes fall to the window seeing we are in the city somewhere, but with the loss of time I experience when writing, I can’t be sure which city it is.
“A little under an hour. We’re almost there now.” Titan releases my hand now that the pain is fading.
Towering over me by nearly half a foot, I watch as he pulls his long hair into a tight bun at the back of his head. He prefers to leave the dark strands down, but we learned long ago having it pulled up during a protest is the best option. One too many times things turned heated and his hair wound up taking the most damage after it got caught in other protestors' signs or thrown hands.
Hopefully, the protest today doesn’t follow the same path, but given the Senator from New Hampshire, Adam Pierson, recently announced his intention to run in the upcoming presidential election, I have a feeling things may be even more intense than usual. New Hampshire is one of the more savage states regarding anti-pack policies. A crusade spearheaded by one of the state’s most popular figureheads, Pastor Grant Montgomery.
Nausea churns in my stomach thinking about the Pastor. If even a small portion of the rumors we’ve heard through friends at the DAU are accurate, the Pastor deserves much worse than a lifetime in prison.
