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The term slips out without thinking. Your alpha. Not the commander, not the monster who claimed her, but her alpha. The possessive phrase hangs between us, loaded with meaning neither of us is ready to fully face.

"Your tongue," she finally whispers, surrender in her voice that has nothing to do with biology and everything to do with choice. "I need your tongue. Please."

Her surrender ignites something primal in me.

I dive back down with renewed purpose, tracing patterns designed to drive her toward release.

Her whimpers grow continuous, punctuated by sharp gasps when I find particularly sensitive spots.

The wet sounds of my mouth on her mix with her increasingly desperate moans, creating a symphony that feeds something deeper than mere rut instinct.

My tongue pushes inside her, tasting the source of her slick directly.

Another growling purr rumbles through me as I savor her most intimate taste.

Her body clenches around the intrusion, already adapting from our previous claimings to welcome penetration.

That evidence of her body changing for me only intensifies my satisfaction.

"You taste like mine," I tell her, my voice dropping to the deeper register that signals approaching rut. "Sweet and ripe and ready for claiming."

Her only response is a broken moan as I return to the sensitive bud that will trigger her release. My tail lashes behind me with anticipation I can't fully control anymore, the fur bristling slightly as my restraint begins to crack.

When her orgasm hits, it's glorious—her back arching off the bed, thighs gripping my head with surprising strength, a cry tearing from her throat that echoes off the stone walls.

My name falls from her lips over and over as pleasure wracks her body.

The unconscious submission of her bared throat—exposing my claiming mark completely—triggers a surge of possessive satisfaction that has nothing to do with my own pleasure and everything to do with her surrender.

I ease her through the aftershocks with gentler attention until she lies boneless and panting beneath me. This is what claiming should be. Not cold biological transaction, but mutual surrender.

My cock strains painfully now, fully emerged and already showing the beginning ridges that will become barbs once inside her.

The size would intimidate any human—thicker than her wrist and proportionally long to match my larger frame.

Pre-fluid glistens at the tip as I move up her body to position myself above her.

Unlike our previous claimings, I hold her gaze as I align our bodies, my larger form casting her into shadow. The trust in her eyes—fragile but definitely there—creates an unexpected warmth in my chest.

"Look at me," I command, my voice dropping to the rumbling growl of approaching rut. "I want you to see who's claiming you this time."

She doesn't look away, doesn't close her eyes like she did that first time. More progress.

"This will stretch you," I continue, letting her see my pupils contract to thin slits as rut takes hold. "But your body was made for this. Made to take me, made to milk every drop of my seed, made to breed with your alpha."

A shudder runs through her at the words, but her scent spikes with arousal rather than fear. Her omega biology responding to dominant alpha talk exactly as nature intended.

"Yes," she whispers, no longer fighting the biological truth that once made her so angry. Her hands reach for me, pulling me closer instead of pushing away.

I press my cock against her entrance, the head already much larger than any human male's would be. The heat radiating from her core is intoxicating, calling to the most primal parts of me. I push forward slowly, watching her face as I breach her.

The sensation nearly shatters my control. Wet, tight heat engulfs the head of my cock, her body yielding with reluctant ease. The slick from her arousal helps, but nothing can completely eliminate the stretch required to take my size.

"Fuck," I growl, the crude word escaping as pleasure surges through my body. "So tight. So perfect."

Her gasp holds pleasure alongside the inevitable discomfort, her body arching to better receive me.

I continue pressing forward, each inch claiming territory that belongs to me alone.

Her inner walls squeeze around my length, adjusting to the intrusion with increasing ease.

Her previous heat cycles have trained her body to accept me, to welcome dimensions that once caused her pain.

"That's it," I praise as she takes more of me, her body relaxing to accommodate what should be impossible. "Taking your alpha's cock so well now."

When I'm halfway seated inside her, I feel the specialized ridges along my length begin to emerge fully, barbs extending as pleasure triggers their development.

It's an involuntary response, biology designed to ensure successful breeding.

The barbs create friction against her inner walls with each subtle movement, stimulating her while ensuring my seed reaches its target.

She cries out at the sensation, her nails digging into my shoulders with surprising strength. "Fritz! What—it's different this time—they're?—"

"The barbs are fully extending," I explain through gritted teeth, fighting for control as pleasure threatens to overwhelm thought. "Your surrender is triggering my full rut response."

Her eyes widen at this revelation—learning that her willing participation has unleashed aspects of my biology that stayed partially suppressed during our previous claimings.

"Too much?" I manage to ask, shaking with the effort of holding still when every instinct demands I thrust forward and claim completely.

"No." Her answer comes between panting breaths, pupils blown wide with pleasure and need. "Don't stop. Please don't stop."

That's all I need to hear. The growl I've been holding back tears free as I drive forward, burying myself fully inside her in one powerful thrust. The sound she makes—part cry, part moan—sends another surge of dominance through my system. Mine. Claimed. Bred.

"Take all of me," I growl against her ear, my voice barely recognizable. "Every inch. Every barb. Everything I am."

I set a rhythm designed to maximize the sensation of the barbs—pulling back just enough to drag them against her sensitive inner walls before driving deep again. Each thrust pulls sounds from her I've never heard before, high whimpers mixed with broken moans that feed my alpha pride.

"So tight around me," I murmur, letting the words flow without filtering them now. "Perfect omega body, made to take my cock, made to be filled with my seed."

She responds with pleas for more, her body moving to meet my thrusts.

No longer just taking it but actively participating in our joining.

My inhuman flexibility lets me maintain deep penetration while still maneuvering to taste her claiming mark, to whisper filthy praise against her ear, to watch every expression as pleasure builds.

"You're mine," I growl, letting her hear the possession I've always kept carefully contained. "Say it. Tell me who you belong to."

"Yours," she gasps, the admission torn from her as my barbs stroke some particularly sensitive spot inside her. "I'm yours, Fritz."

My tail, no longer lashing with unacknowledged feelings, wraps around her thigh with deliberate purpose. The muscular appendage gives me additional control over our angle, positioning her for deeper penetration while creating another point of connection entirely foreign to human experience.

Her slick heat surrounds me completely, the wet sounds of our joining filling the room alongside her increasingly desperate moans and my continuous growling purr.

The scent of our combined arousal saturates the air—her omega sweetness and my alpha musk creating an intoxicating blend that feeds the rut instinct.

"Fritz," she moans, using my actual name rather than calling me "commander" or "feline" for the first time without anger attached.

The sound of it—breathless with pleasure rather than cold with contempt—triggers something deeper than rut, something I've carefully avoided acknowledging until this moment.

My pace increases as her responses intensify, my control fracturing further as her willing surrender triggers the full dominance of my nature.

My hands grip her hips harder, claws partially extended to create pinpricks of sensation without actually breaking skin.

I allow more of my weight to press her into the mattress, my larger form pinning her completely as claiming instinct takes over.

Even in this primal state, I keep awareness of her limits—easing the depth when I feel her tense slightly, adjusting angle when her scent indicates discomfort, allowing brief respite when intensity threatens to overwhelm.

The balanced control represents everything that separates claiming from mere rutting—the ability to dominate completely while still protecting what belongs to me.

"I'm going to knot you soon," I warn, feeling the familiar pressure building at the base of my cock. "Going to lock us together, pump you so full, make sure every drop of my seed stays deep inside where it belongs."

Her eyes, hazy with pleasure, focus on mine at these words. The knot remains the most alien aspect of claiming for a human omega—the expansion designed to ensure breeding success, to lock seed deep within the womb where it belongs. No human alpha could ever provide this.

I feel it swelling already, the base of my cock expanding with each thrust. Soon it will be too large to withdraw, binding us together for hours of continuous breeding. The thought sends another surge of savage satisfaction through me.

"Just breathe through it," I tell her, my voice barely recognizable through the rumbling growl of approaching completion. "Your body remembers what to do even if your mind doesn't."