Page 107 of The Drama King
"Was it torture?" I asked, genuinely curious as I explored her with methodical thoroughness. "Or was it preparation? Breaking down unnecessary resistance to reach this inevitable conclusion?"
Her back arched despite herself, her body responding to my touch with honesty that fascinated me. The heat was building again—I could smell it, could feel the fever warming her skin beneath my hands.
"You're still trying to break me," she gasped, fighting for clarity even as another wave of heat began to overtake her. "Different methods, same goal."
"I'm trying to understand you," I corrected, my fingers working her with clinical precision. "The imperatives that driveyour responses. The thresholds of pleasure and pain that trigger optimal results. The boundaries of our new arrangement."
When I pushed two fingers inside her, she made a sound that was half protest, half desperate need. Her body clenched around the intrusion, producing more slick despite the obvious soreness from multiple claiming rounds.
"Your mind may still resist," I observed, watching her face with scientific interest as I found the spot that made her gasp. "But your biology has accepted the inevitable. Fascinating contradiction."
"Fuck you," she managed, though the words lacked conviction as her hips began to move against my hand of their own accord.
"Soon," I promised, my free hand still maintaining pressure on her throat—not enough to restrict breathing, enough to remind her of her vulnerability. "But first, I want to observe how you respond to more... controlled stimulation."
I worked her with methodical precision, cataloging every reaction, every small sound, every micro-expression that crossed her face. Unlike Dorian's passionate claiming or Oakley's conflicted gentleness, my approach was purely analytical—a scientific exploration of cause and effect.
"Please," she whispered, the word catching in her throat as another wave of heat crashed through her system.
"Please what?" I asked, genuinely curious what she would request in this moment of vulnerability.
"Just... do it already," she demanded, defiance threading through desperate need. "Stop playing with me."
I smiled, pleased by her continued resistance even as her body surrendered completely to my ministrations. "Always so demanding, even now. It's what drew our attention initially—that stubborn refusal to accept your place in the natural order."
When I finally removed my hand, she made a sound of frustrated need that sent satisfaction curling through mysystem. My cock was painfully hard, had been since I'd first approached the nest, but unlike my packmates, I'd maintained perfect control of my responses.
I undressed with deliberate precision, folding each piece of clothing before setting it aside. The entire time, I kept my eyes on her, observing how her gaze tracked my movements with conflicted hunger.
"The heat is building again," I noted, seeing the flush spreading across her skin, the dilation of her pupils, the quick, shallow breaths she couldn't control. "Fascinating how the cycles shorten and intensify after initial claiming. Your body is desperate to complete the bonding process."
"Shut up and help me," she growled, frustration breaking through the haze of need.
I settled between her legs with calculated movements, positioning myself with scientific precision. Unlike the frenzied claiming of the previous night, I maintained perfect control as I pushed inside her, watching her face for every micro-expression of pleasure and discomfort.
"Interesting," I murmured, establishing a rhythm designed for optimal stimulation. "Your responses are even more pronounced with me than with Oakley, despite his generally more nurturing approach. Perhaps your body recognizes the value of analytical precision."
She turned her face away, but couldn't hide the way her body responded to each deliberate thrust, each calculated touch. My hands found her wrists, pinning them above her head against the pillows in a deliberate display of dominance that made her produce more slick despite her obvious desire to resist.
"Your secondary compatibility with me serves a specific evolutionary purpose," I continued, my voice steady despite the building pleasure. "Each pack member provides differentadvantages. Dorian's dominant protection. Oakley's nurturing support. My strategic assessment."
My hand moved to her throat again, applying precise pressure that made her gasp and clench around me. The breath control had been effective during our earlier claiming, and I found it produced equally satisfactory results now—her pupils dilating further, her pulse racing beneath my palm.
"Breathe when I allow it," I instructed, watching her response with fascination. "Submit completely."
The pressure wasn't enough to cause harm, enough to trigger the surrender that made her entire body shudder with unwilling pleasure. Omegas were beautifully responsive to controlled dominance, especially during heat when their imperatives overrode conscious resistance.
When she came, it was with a broken sound that might have been protest or surrender. The contractions of her body around my cock were methodical, efficient, perfectly timed to extract maximum response. I allowed my own release then, maintaining eye contact as my knot began to swell, locking us in claiming.
Unlike Dorian's primary bond, which required multiple knotting to fully establish, my secondary claim was completed with this single tie—a supporting thread in the complex web that now bound our pack.
"The secondary bond is now secured," I informed her as my knot reached full size, making her gasp at the stretch. "You'll find it differs from both Dorian's primary claim and Oakley's supportive bond. My connection is analytical, strategic—designed to assess threats and protect pack interests."
"Is that what I am now?" she asked, her voice steadier as the immediate heat receded, momentarily satisfied by the claiming. "A pack interest to be protected?"
"You're an asset of incalculable value," I corrected, adjusting our position to make the knotting more comfortable whilewe conversed. The sheets slid like water around us, another reminder of the luxury that now surrounded her. "A fated mate bond is exceedingly rare. Secondary compatibility with multiple Alphas, even more so. The statistical probability approaches zero."
She studied my face, those green eyes clearer now in the temporary reprieve from heat. "You don't feel it the way they do, do you? The emotional component."