Page 55 of The Drama King (The University Players Duet #1)
thirty-eight
Corvus
I waited until Dorian and Oakley had left—gone to coordinate with the household staff for supplies, food, and fresh clothing for our newly discovered fated Omega—before making my move.
Their protective instincts had kicked in with biological predictability, all that systematic torment transmuted overnight into something resembling care.
Fascinating, if somewhat disappointing.
The staff had been discretely dismissed from this wing entirely, leaving us complete privacy in the master suite.
Dorian had given explicit instructions that we were not to be disturbed under any circumstances.
The soundproofed walls ensured our activities would remain contained, while the climate control maintained perfect conditions for heat management.
Strategic advantages, all.
Vespera was dozing in the elaborate nest, temporarily sated after multiple rounds of claiming.
The heat still lingered in her scent, but the edge had dulled, giving her brief periods of lucidity between waves.
The silk and cashmere that surrounded her spoke of resources most could never dream of—a not-so-subtle reminder of what she'd gained through this bond.
Perfect for what I had planned.
I approached with deliberate quietness, observing her with genuine interest. Even in sleep, the evidence of our claiming was obvious: bite marks decorating her throat and shoulders, bruises in the shape of fingers on her hips, her scent thoroughly corrupted by our combined markers.
Dorian's sandalwood was strongest, of course, marking his primary claim, with undertones of Oakley's cedar and my dark chocolate forming the secondary bonds.
And beneath it all, the unmistakable signature of fated compatibility. Not as strong with me as with Dorian, but significant enough to be valid.
Time for a more... thorough assessment.
I moved to the dresser, quietly gathering what I needed: silk ties from Dorian's collection, the leather belt from my discarded pants. Improvised, but effective.
I settled beside the massive bed, close enough that my scent would register even in her sleep.
As expected, her body responded instantly—pulse quickening, breathing shifting, the sweet notes of arousal threading through her jasmine.
The imperative was beautifully predictable, even in an Omega who had fought us for months.
"I know you're awake," I said, my voice deliberately neutral. "Your body gives you away. Always has."
Her eyes opened slowly, that familiar wariness flickering to the surface despite the claiming bond. Good. I would have been disappointed if all her delicious defiance had vanished completely.
"Where are the others?" she asked, voice rough from sleep and hours of use.
"Coordinating with the staff," I replied, reaching out to trace one finger along the curve of her throat where Dorian's bite stood out most prominently. "Ensuring we have everything needed for proper care. We have some time alone. For a more... controlled exploration."
Fear sharpened her scent, cutting through the heat-haze and arousal. "What does that mean?"
"It means I'm curious about how you respond to certain... parameters." My touch moved lower, following the path of her collarbone with deliberate precision. "Fated mates are exceedingly rare. Your responses to controlled stimulation even more so. I intend to map your limits properly."
She tried to pull away, but I was already moving, silk ties in hand. "What are you—"
"Testing boundaries," I said simply, catching her wrists and securing them to the bedframe with efficient knots. The silk was gentle against her skin but utterly inescapable. "Both physical and psychological."
She tried to pull away, but the nest constrained her movement, and her heat-weakened body betrayed her with fresh slick at my continued proximity. I could smell it—her body preparing for another claiming despite her mind's reluctance.
"I'm not a fucking experiment," she snapped, that defiance I'd found so entertaining during our months of breaking her.
"Everything is an experiment if approached with the right mindset." I smiled, letting my hand settle around her throat with calculated pressure. "But perhaps 'study' is a better word. I want to understand the parameters of our new arrangement."
Her pulse jumped beneath my palm, fear and arousal battling for dominance in her scent. The contradiction was delicious— her mind still fighting while her body surrendered completely to imperative.
"The others have become rather... sentimental since the discovery," I continued, my thumb tracing small circles against her rapid pulse. "Dorian especially. It's quite the transformation—from systematic tormentor to protective mate in the space of a breath."
"And you haven't?" she challenged, those green eyes sharp despite her vulnerable position.
"I remain... analytical." My other hand moved beneath the sheets, finding the warm skin of her thigh with precise intent. "The fated bond is significant, certainly. Worth preserving and protecting as a rare resource. But I see no reason for it to fundamentally alter our dynamic."
Her breathing quickened as my hand moved higher, finding the slick evidence of her body's readiness despite her mind's resistance. "Our dynamic was you torturing me for months," she reminded me, though the words came out breathless as my fingers found their target.
"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 drive your 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 my system. 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 different advantages. Dorian's dominant protection. Oakley's nurturing support. My strategic assessment."