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But my body remembers this connection, omega biology welcoming its alpha home with slick heat and eager yielding.

"Breathe," he commands gently, one hand stroking my thigh while the other cups my face with infinite tenderness. "Let me in, little omega. Let me make you mine the way we were always meant to be."

I force myself to relax, to trust in his careful handling as he sinks deeper with incremental precision.

Each inch stretches me fuller, creates perfect friction that borders on overwhelming yet never crosses into pain.

When he's finally seated completely inside me, we both freeze—overwhelmed by the perfection of connection six years in the making. Nothing has ever felt this right, this complete, this absolutely inevitable.

"Fuck," he breathes, forehead pressed against mine as we adjust to the overwhelming sensation. "You feel like coming home."

Tears spill down my cheeks at his words, emotion mixing with physical pleasure until I can't distinguish between them.

This is home —not a place but a person, not safety but belonging, not peace but passionate completion that makes every hardship worthwhile.

I know if I get lost in the heaviness of emotion, I’ll lose this crafted masterpiece of hardened personalities. I have to keep thriving off my desires, then linger on how emotionally fulfilling this is.

At least until we escape this place together…

"Move," I whisper, the request carrying desperate need that transcends mere physical desire. "Please move."

His hips withdraw slowly before pressing forward again, each thrust measured and deep. The rhythm he establishes speaks of worship rather than simple claiming, reverent possession that honors what we're creating together rather than taking what he wants without consideration.

Water streams over our joined bodies as he sets a pace that builds slowly, each movement creating friction that sends electricity racing through nerve endings already singing with pleasure.

My nails dig into his shoulders as sensation builds, marking him the way he's marking me through this claiming that binds us beyond institutional categorization or designation dynamics.

"Mine," he growls against my throat, teeth grazing sensitive skin with just enough pressure to promise future marking. "My omega. My mate. My everything."

How ownership can be so fucking powerful.

Empowering, obessessive, and so fucking addicting.

"Yours," I gasp in response, the acknowledgment flowing from somewhere deeper than conscious thought. "Always yours. From that first moment in the cage, I've been yours."

His pace increases at my words, thrusts becoming more demanding as alpha instinct takes precedence over careful consideration.

Not rough but intense, each movement claiming territory with growing urgency that speaks to biological imperative, finally given free rein.

The building pleasure coils tighter with each stroke, pressure accumulating at the base of my spine with delicious intensity. I can feel my body preparing for climax, omega biology responding to alpha dominance with enthusiasm that would be embarrassing if I possessed any capacity for shame.

But shame has no place in this steamed sanctuary where institutional horror fades beneath perfect connection. Here exists only truth— the recognition of bonds that transcend time and circumstance, the acknowledgment of belonging that no amount of separation could truly sever.

"Come for me," he commands, voice shredded by his own unraveling restraint, raw with need and thunder. "Come on my cock like you were made for it. Show me how perfectly you were built to take your Alpha."

The words hit harder than any drug they ever forced into my bloodstream.

His hand slides between our bodies—rough, reverent, and devastatingly precise—fingers finding that swollen, overstimulated nerve with surgical purpose. He doesn’t tease. Doesn’t coax. He claims , working in perfect sync with the brutal rhythm of his thrusts, each one a demand, each one a promise.

My body betrays every wall I ever built.

There’s no fight left.

Not against him.

Not against this.

Not against us.

The sensation coils tight— too tight —impossibly so, until the world narrows to that singular, brutal edge. Until I can’t tell where his body ends and mine begins. Until there’s nothing left but instinct and oxygen and the primal need to break for him.

Pleasure detonates like an airstrike— no warning, no mercy, just pure obliteration.

I scream his name—not softly, not sweetly, but like it’s a commandment. Like if I say it loud enough, the walls of this place will finally come down.

My orgasm rips through me, white-hot and wild, my cunt clenching tight around him, spasming with violent ecstasy as every nerve collapses under the weight of it.

“Riot—fuck— Riot ?—!”

He snarls in response, a feral sound that shakes the air, and his rhythm stutters, then slams in deep. His hips grind into mine, and I feel it—the bulge at the base of him swelling fast, thickening, locking.

The knot.

His knot.

My vision whites out again.

He knots me with a roar, hips jolting forward as his body locks into mine, sealing us together with brutal finality. His cock pulses inside me, release flooding deep, thick, hot —a claiming no other Alpha could ever undo.

My name pours from his lips like prayer and war cry combined.

“JINX!”

His arms crush me against his chest as he empties inside me, and I feel it—not just the heat but the bond snapping into place with bone-deep gravity. It’s more than biology. It’s fate made flesh. Our bond, silenced for six long years, now reborn in blood and heat and choice.

The knot pulses again, deeper this time.

Perfect fullness stretching me open, keeping him seated so deep I swear I can feel him everywhere. It’s too much and yet it’s exactly right.

I sob against his shoulder, overwhelmed by the savage peace it brings.

He murmurs something against my hair, but it’s lost beneath the roar of my heartbeat and the low, growling hum vibrating in his chest as he rocks us through the aftershocks.

My cunt spasms around him with each wave, milking his knot, drinking in every drop of the future he pours into me.

We cling to each other as the tremors fade—his lips pressed to my hairline, my nails buried in the scarred flesh of his back.

Still joined… locked …still bonded.

Still ours.

His breath ghosts over my skin, reverent and uneven.

“No going back now,” he murmurs into the curve of my neck, voice husky with something bigger than victory. Something like awe.

“Good,” I breathe, lips brushing the line of his jaw. “I never want to go back.”

And I mean it.

With everything I am.

Because this— this— is what they never counted on.

What they couldn’t manufacture in a lab or control with a needle. This wild, impossible bond between Alpha and Omega was forged not by force or programming but by choice .

By us.

His knot holds me tight, and the warmth of his semen inside me anchors something that had been drifting for years. I close my eyes and let myself float in it—this impossible, sacred stillness that lives in the aftermath of survival and surrender.

The water cools, but we stay tangled, cocooned in each other and the claim we’ve reforged with our bodies.

Outside this tiled sanctuary, the institution still spins its brutal gears, Press still plays his rigged game, and the countdown on our next trial ticks mercilessly onward.

But it no longer matters.

Because we’re not alone.

We are bonded now—in heat and truth and rebellion.

And when we rise, we’ll rise together.

The revolution can wait until after we've savored what we've reclaimed.

Time flows differently in moments like these, minutes stretching into hours while hours compress into heartbeats. But eventually, reality reasserts itself through cooling water and the persistent countdown of institutional scheduling.

We'll have to leave this sanctuary soon, return to the careful game of survival and strategy that our circumstances demand. But we leave it changed, marked by a connection that no amount of institutional interference can truly sever.

Whatever Press has planned for us, he'll face a bonded pair rather than separate individuals.

And that makes all the difference in the world that yearns to destroy our unity.