Page 8 of Red River (Eden’s Omegaverse #4)

I walked into my room like I was in a trance and started unpacking. My head was bloated with emotions and anxiety. I finished quickly, then went out to check on the kids since I could still hear noise coming from their rooms.

Of course, not everything was unpacked yet, but it was getting late, so I told them to leave the rest for later. Van didn’t need me, but Aiden and Lake liked it when I said goodnight and tucked them in. I felt like it wouldn’t be easy for them to fall asleep tonight. And honestly, it wouldn’t be easy for me either.

I wanted to check in on Igor, but his door was locked. I could hear the theme music from his video channel playing through the door. Maybe he was working on another clip?

Feeling a strange mix of stress and excitement in my gut, I went back to my room.

There was only one thing I needed to do next, so I headed to the bathroom and took a very thorough shower.

The bathroom Archer had set up for me was small but cozy, with all the essentials for daily grooming. I made sure to clean myself diligently, doubling my focus on my intimate areas. I also washed my hair, dried off, and let it fall naturally just below my waist, curling softly while still a little damp.

The perfect outfit for this occasion… it would have to be a single white T-shirt. It was long enough to reach halfway down my thighs.

I was in my new alpha’s home, and I planned to obey the rules for omegas who had declared their submission.

Part of me was feeling a lot of stress just thinking about it. My body didn’t look the same as when I was twenty; having five kids had taken its toll. I looked at my stomach. I was fairly slim, but the lower part of my belly showed faint stretch marks. My nipples also looked different from when I was in my twenties. They were much larger, and their tips were more elongated from breastfeeding all my children.

I carefully shaved the red curls from my private parts. I hadn't done it in years. It didn’t matter anyway—Thomas couldn't have sex with his obesity, so I took the liberty of neglecting myself a bit.

In the mirror, my body looked so pale, lacking the vitality it used to have. It was like I was slowly fading away, just like Thomas did.

Other needs of mine had been somewhat pushed aside, or at least I pretended they didn’t matter, over the past few years.

There were nights when, in desperation, I would take out a dildo from my hidden box and fuck myself with it, but most of the time, I fought off the temptation—only to feel even more dejected and depressed. I used to have quite a high libido—was that a thing of the past?

Maybe not?

Just thinking about what might happen today sent a thrill through me.

Was excitement winning over stress?

I didn't know exactly what Archer had in mind, how he was going to implement the whole you are mine statement, but I knew what I had to do.

Carefully, I approached the door, opened it, and peered out into the hallway, making sure none of my sons were around. I hoped they were already asleep. Although there was a faint light under Igor’s door, he was probably still awake, after such an emotional day.

I tiptoed as quietly as I could to Archer's door and knocked very lightly so as not to wake anyone or alert Igor.

There was a moment of silence. Then the door slowly opened. Archer stood there in just a T-shirt and boxer shorts, looking like he was about to go to bed.

Our eyes met.

The silence stretched on.

Archer took a step back to make room for me, and I walked past him into his bedroom. He closed the door behind us.

The door was very solid, and I had the impression it was reinforced to be soundproof, with a thin layer of spongy material, present on the walls as well. Had he prepared for what could happen, knowing we lived on the same floor as the kids? Or had these features been there since his uncle’s time?

I approached the bed and stood next to it, turning slowly to face Archer.

He was leaning slightly against the wall, watching me. He didn’t say anything—his blue eyes seemed to be studying my face.

"So here I am," I said quietly.

Archer just kept looking at me, making me feel a bit uneasy.

"As we discussed over the phone, I’m making myself available to you."

Still silence. It was killing me. What more could I say?

"I’m living under your roof—you took my family into your home. It’s the least I can offer in thanks for what you’ve done." I gestured toward my lower abdomen as I spoke.

Something flickered across Archer’s face, a shadow passing over his forehead.

"So, this is like an exchange of services?" he asked slowly, his voice calm but measured.

I realized how that might have sounded, but I had no idea how to respond. My thoughts spun, and my nails dug into my skin.

"I expect submission from my omega, River. Not prostitution. This is not what I want," he said sternly.

A wave of shock rolled over me, and I swayed slightly, my throat constricting.

"But… I—I am submitting to you," I whispered, feeling utterly lost.

"It’s not the kind of submission I want. And I see it differently from other alphas who think it means mindlessly following orders. I'm not a tyrant, River, and certainly not a rapist."

I stayed silent, still not understanding what he wanted from me.

Archer took two steps forward, closing the distance to less than five feet.

"You see, my colleagues thought I was primitive and conservative just because I tested omegas on our first date by opening the door for them and watching their reaction. If they were offended, the date was over for me."

I stared at him, trying to grasp his point.

"One piece of a belief system points to another. I’ve dated omegas who pretended to be submissive because it turned them on. But they weren’t. They were just waiting for the moment they could drop the act and show their true attitude when they got bored pretending."

Archer walked over to a chair by the desk, turned it to face me, and sat down, crossing his arms over his chest. He gestured toward the bed, so I perched on its edge, still watching him.

"For me, this is not a sexual game, River. It’s the only lifestyle I want to pursue. I appreciate you coming to my room tonight, ready for whatever I might have planned for you, but I know deep down you don’t truly want to submit—you’re just grateful."

I felt the need to protest, to correct his misunderstanding. "Archer, I am submissive. Maybe I’m just too stressed right now to act like it—"

Archer raised his hand.

"River, I'm not saying you’re not submissive by nature. I’m saying you’re not ready to submit to me yet."

My eyes remained fixed on the ground, somewhat mindlessly.

"I want you to want it—truly. With every part of you, in every cell. Not because you feel you must, not as an exchange of services. It has to fill you completely. You need to know it’s right. And to get there, you need to trust me."

"But… I do want it, Archer."

He shook his head. "Maybe I see your heart better than you can right now. You’re in shock from everything—recent events, the move. Feeling attracted to each other doesn’t mean you want to spend your life with me. You’re still unsure, River. I can feel it."

My head spun. I’d been certain Archer would just want to fuck me, without considering my hidden fears the moment I offered myself.

But… he seemed to understand my worries better than I did. It was unexpected. And… nice?

"So, what do you want from me, Archer? Tell me, and I'll try to do it."

"It doesn’t work that way. What I want can't be put into words; it has to be understood and felt deeply. But that takes time, River."

I shifted nervously on the edge of the bed, completely confused, still unsure of what to say next.

"I need a hint, Archer. I have a blank in my mind. I don’t know what you want now. Should I leave, or should I stay?"

"What do you want, River? Truly. Deep down."

I closed my eyes and tried to get a feeling. It wasn’t easy. The last month had been an emotional rollercoaster, leaving no time for reflection. Doing so now felt almost painful, like piercing through a fog. No wonder Archer saw doubt in me. In all this chaos, I couldn’t even make sense of myself.

"I don’t know, Archer. Honestly, I’m lost. I’m scared for the future. I’m afraid for Igor. I’ve forgotten what it’s like to want something just for myself, especially… these things. You know, Thomas was very obese, and we haven’t, you know, in a long time…" I trailed off, suddenly feeling stupid for opening up.

"On top of that, I’m terrified that I’m not the same as I used to be. That you might think it’s a bad deal. That you have five strangers under your roof and get nothing out of it—stuck with an old, useless omega with all his baggage…"

Unexpectedly, tears spilled down my cheeks. The stress I’d been carrying these past days surfaced, raw and suffocating. It was like no one cared, no one saw it. Even coming here, I’d thought, "He wants me to come, he wants me. So I’ll come." But what did I want?

Archer watched me with a look so deep, so perceptive, as if he could see straight into my torn, frightened soul.

A tear fell from my cheek onto my arm, and then he let out a low, soothing murmur—a sound in AO language meant to comfort omegas—then made a small gesture, encouraging me to come closer.

Unsure of what to do, I stared at him for a moment. Then he repeated the gesture. Slowly, I stood and moved toward him as he patted his thigh.

"Sit here, River."

Cautiously, uncertainly, I sat sideways on his lap. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close so that my head rested on his chest. He didn’t say anything. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

Wow.

A wonderful feeling!

His energy surrounded me, and suddenly, everything felt… lighter.

He simply stroked my hair gently, then his palm slid down my back, massaging it. It was so relaxing, so soothing. In an unexpected way, I felt… calm.

Like nothing could hurt me.

Archer’s embrace was safe—a home, a peaceful haven. His heartbeat had a deep, slow, powerful tone to it.

Blissful silence followed, and gradually, my need to cry subsided.

Archer smelled pleasant—fresh and clean. His body had a completely different scent than Thomas’s. I breathed in his fragrance, savoring it—it resembled the breeze over mountain valleys, the air after a storm, the scent of freshly cut grass. I immersed myself in it, knowing he was on suppressants and that it was probably just his shower gel, yet still feeling drawn to it. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to rest, half-sitting, half-lying in his arms.

It took quite some time as my anxious energy slowly adjusted to his vibration, and the space within me expanded—a calm space full of luminosity.

Archer's fingers played with my hair for a moment, then he said, "Never think of yourself that way, River. And don’t presume that I get nothing out of this situation. But what I want can’t be given in the way you tried today. True submission from you must be earned by me, River. No omega should give himself to the wrong alpha. But creating the reality I envisioned takes time. If I truly want you whole, I must be patient too, even though part of me would love to take advantage of this partial submission, River."

"You can, if you want," I muttered.

"No. Because you’d never trust me if I did. If I can’t control myself in this, if I can’t read your true needs, I won’t be able to control myself in other aspects or understand you in other situations. Sexual discipline translates more into life than people realize."

For quite some time, I sat there, still trying to process his words. They made sense—a lot of sense. And I was pleasantly surprised by how mature they sounded, though a naughty part of me felt strangely disappointed.

At the beginning, I thought what I came here for was downright crazy—maybe too crazy—and I had to gear my whole body toward this wild mindset. It was like I had turned a crank inside myself, and now it was bothering me.

The momentum it had given me felt almost physically tangible, my body still wound up.

Despite my efforts to snap myself out of this reckless mindset, it was in vain. I wanted to do something perverse, something completely out of character—maybe even provoke him.

"Do you wanna see my hole?"

Silence. Deep, deep, heavy silence.

Yeah, I really just said that. Crazy enough?

He probably couldn’t believe it either. That’s why he wasn’t saying anything.

So I kept going, still riding that wild, unhinged mood. "Thomas always said I had such a pretty little hole. Even after the births."

His heartbeat picked up. I had no idea what he’d say or do.

I was showing him something secret—this hidden, slutty part of me I had buried deep throughout my marriage with Thomas. I had spent years being the good, modest husband, but in the corners of my soul, there was something more.

To put it simply, I liked sex. I liked being fucked. And I resented Thomas for stopping.

After he got sick, he just… didn’t touch me anymore. I was hungry, frustrated—especially during that one heat I had without the heat suppressants. It had almost killed me, being left alone like that. I was so desperate that I medicated myself afterward, so my heats would stop, just to never feel that horrible, abandoned way again.

That neglected part of me still craved, still ached, frustrated, demanding to be satisfied, dreaming that he would just take me right here, right now…

"River, you’re making this hard."

"What did I make hard?"

Did I sound shamelessly hopeful?

His voice dropped, rough and strained. "You’re making it hard to deny you."

I swallowed. "I told you, I’m ready, Archer. I’m grateful for everything you’ve done. I want to… give myself to you."

"Only if you answer one question, River."

I swallowed. "W—what?"

"Do you love me?"

I froze.

A damn good question.

With Thomas, I’d fallen in love long before things got physical. Love and sex had always been inseparable for me, unlike some omegas who saw it as just fun.

Back in high school, alphas asked me out, pushed for more, but I always held back; something was missing—I wanted love.

Archer was right. Desire and gratitude weren’t the same as love. And if I was honest… I wasn’t ready. Not in this mess of a life where everything felt unsteady.

I guess my silence said it all.

Archer let out a quiet breath. "But… if you still just want to show me, you can. Watching and touching are two different things."

What? A spark of excitement flickered through me. Just a little bit of my naughtiness satisfied?

Slowly, I lifted my head from his chest, meeting his gaze. There was a slight, knowing smile on his lips. My heart pounded as I got up and moved toward the bed.

Kneeling on the mattress, I pressed my elbows down, pushing my buttocks up high in a way that felt both shameless and exhilarating.

This was something only Thomas had seen. Well… Thomas and the accoucheurs.

Flushed with excitement, I buried my face in the pillow, heat rushing down my neck as I heard Archer stand up and walk toward me. My pulse thundered in my ears. He was right there behind me. Less than two feet away. Watching.

Then, his voice came—low, smooth, and warm with something I couldn’t quite place.

"I have to agree with Thomas. Probably the prettiest hole I’ve ever seen."

My skin burned, my breath caught. And—damn—my dick twitched, filling with blood.

A mix of arousal and mortification swirled inside me all at once. The sheer realization that he was looking at me like this—that, in some strange, subtle way, I was giving myself to him. Not fully. Not yet. But this was a step, wasn’t it?

"I'm hard," I muttered into the pillow. Gosh. What the hell was wrong with me today?

Archer hummed. "Then touch yourself, River."

My entire face went up in flames. "What about you?"

"Do you want me to stare at your pretty hole and jerk off?"

I bit my lip. The idea was ridiculous. Brazen. But also amazing.

"Kind of…"

A pause. Then, a quiet chuckle. "Okay, River. Lead the way."

My heart slammed against my ribs as I slid my hand between my legs, wrapping my fingers around my aching cock. The second I started moving, I heard him do the same.

It was obscene.

It was delightful.

I was dying to look. God, I wanted to turn around and see him. But I didn’t dare.

Instead, I kept my face pressed into the pillow, body tingling with the knowledge that he was watching, that he could see the way my passage clenched involuntarily. He knew what that meant. I was so damn turned on it was ridiculous.

And maybe it was because of the situation—the sheer tension, the sheer filthiness of it—but it didn’t take long. Just a few minutes of desperate, erratic strokes, and suddenly, I let out a breathy, humiliating moan and came all over his bedspread.

I barely had time to process it before—thirty seconds later—I felt it.

Warm liquid splattered against my lower back, my ass, my thighs.

Heat pooled deep in my stomach at the realization.

Archer came on me.

The tension inside me eased just a little. My earlier worries—those creeping doubts about whether I could actually arouse him—disappeared. Because if he got off just from looking at me… he could definitely do it while in my hole.

"Wait a sec," Archer said, his voice still a little rough. I heard him leave the room, then return a moment later. I twitched slightly when I felt the soft press of a paper towel against my skin. He wiped me down gently, then tossed another one between my legs, cleaning up the mess I’d made.

Only then did I sit up, turning toward him.

He was already back in his boxers, his face still slightly flushed—but otherwise composed. When our eyes met, he smirked, a little teasing, a little amused.

"That was a very nice and informative inspection. I appreciate your initiative, River."

Flustered, I dropped my gaze, feeling both embarrassed and—oddly—cherished.

"Was Thomas the only one you let into your hole, River?"

"Yes, he was my first and only lover."

"Then I intend to be your last. But there will be time for that yet. You are tired from the many hours of travel, River. Now you should go back to your room and get a good night's sleep. So much has happened."

"Honestly, I feel pretty satisfied right now," I said, giving him a shy but slightly flirty look.

He chuckled softly. "I can imagine, but that'll wear off soon, and you'll crash like a toddler. Sweet dreams, River."

"Sweet dreams, Archer."

As I left his room, I was so excited I forgot to be careful. The door closed a bit too loudly, but I hoped no one heard it.

Back in my room, I stood there for a moment, feeling all over the place. I needed to do something—ground myself a bit—and there was one thing that always helped.

Going on instinct, I opened one of the closets I hadn’t checked before, and sure enough, I found exactly what I needed to build… a nest.

Colorful, soft pillows. Long scarves. Decorative silk ropes. A few blankets and wraps. It was the perfect setup!

How kind of Archer!

Something in my chest fluttered—it was sweet, knowing he’d thought of me again. I’d brought some things from home, but having new materials to experiment with felt… exciting.

A wave of primal instinct hit me, deep and pure. I pulled everything onto my bed and got to work, completely absorbed in the overpowering need to nest. It had always been my way of organizing my thoughts, balancing my energy, and recharging for whatever came next.

So I threw myself into it, shutting out the rest of the world.