Page 53 of Ruined By His Alpha King
“I will not pressure you this night, my husband.” Stamel stripped and stood before him, bare as the day he was born. Seidrik brushed his fingers through Stamel’s ample chest hair, his eyes tracing his every feature.
“It is no hardship to love you. Nor is it one to make my body available for you. I do so willingly, because on this night, the one thing that held me back has gone.”
And likeThe Thalmsmith and the Merchant’s Son, Stamel realized a subtle nuance. The thalmsmith sought to fix betas, bringing a moral that they were whole as is. And in the omega, it meant they needed no goal other than to love their mate.
For the alpha?
Maybe there was no moral.
Or maybe, it meant that sometimes, it was okay to help an omega change their dreams.
Because once upon a time, an omega dreamed of being a beta, and with an alpha’s kiss, he changed his mind.
Chapter Twenty-One
Seidrik
Being pregnant was far more fun than he was led to believe. Virion complained of nausea and aching hips, but his nausea had lifted the moment the kitchens learned what a fucking spice rack was and made use of it. But not before he threatened to beat the head chef with it, first.
Violence was key. Violence solved many problems for a pregnant omega.
As for the aching hips and swollen feet? If he stood for more than a few minutes at a time, it might have been a problem, but Stamel had him in bed so often it wasobscene. Until the child was born, he had to abstain from the body chains that had grown too small for his form. As for the otherimplement… Nilla had warned that the experience might spur convulsions on that could quicken him early.
It was of no matter, because Stamel was fine with the more mundane acts as long as he could cradle his belly in one hand or kiss him endlessly. Or, that morning?
Seidrik glanced down as he woke to a hot, wet mouth engulfing his cock, not that he could see anything but a shock of Stamel’s red hair sticking up for the swell of his belly.
“Mff. Husband, what are you doing to me?” Seidrik cooed with pleasure, adoring the way his mouth worshiped his cock.
“Nothing at all, my love,” Stamel said, pulling back for a generous breath. “I’m simply getting breakfast.”
“I wasn’t aware that sausage was on the menu.” Seidrik hummed with pleasure as the rising sensation made his whole body tingle.
“It wasn’t, but I have a silver tongue and the chef is very pliant.” Stamel hummed and rolled his hips, adoring the way his mate’s mouth felt.
“Unfortunately, today is the day, my love.” Stamel resumed working thalm-free magic over his cock, head bobbing salaciously.
“Mmm…tell them I feel ill. We can stay inside all day and let the people celebrate.” Seidrik sighed in pleasure as Stamel’s tongue worshiped him.
“We’ve put it off long enough, dear.” Stamel’s deep voice hummed ever so delightfully when he spoke. Vibrations were a novel thing he utterly adored.
A few months prior, Alluin had been laid to rest and the crowning had been perfunctory, brief, and mired with the mourning of their beloved tyrant. From that point forward had been work to undo many years of damage.
“Fine. I suppose if we wait any longer, this one will be crowning…or being crowned. I’ve become remarkably sedentar—” Seidrik whined as pleasure shot through him, goose bumps crawling along his flesh. “I’m going to—”
Stamel buried his face down and suckled, tongue twirling as his fingers played at his entrance. Every nerve in his body lit on delicious fire before he released over Stamel’s tongue. “Come.”
Stamel licked him clean with hums of delight. “Precisely. Now rise with the sun and we shall greet this day and our people. You’re being lauded as a saint. I saw shirtless omegas running down the street this morning, waving white flags of freedom.”
“Five pents says they’re just bed linens.” Seidrik hummed as Stamel tugged him to the edge of the bed and kissed him wetly on the cheek.
Holding one hand to his belly, Seidrik rolled and sat up before making his way to the washbasin. A quickscrub had him presentable as Stamel tarried off to deal with Tyran.
By the time Seidrik had his robes and undergarments on—with considerable effort, his nursemaid, a timid omega with orange hair and dark eyes, came in. “Morning, Seidrik.”
“Good morning, Morda. How are you?” Seidrik lifted his arms as the omega flitted about, tucking and tugging at Seidrik’s robes.
Seidrik favored traditional male garb, but later in his pregnancy, the moreomegafitted garments were the easiest. Still, Seidrik defied their original meaning by letting his hair be loose and restrained only by two loose braids along his temples, as a male would. Omegas and women were to wear their hair in a plait to make sure it was kept out of the way for their more domestic duties—and spousal ones. Having inadvertently mouthed upon his own hair a few times trying to enamor Stamel had made him consider the plait, but that was not who Seidrik wanted to be.
