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15

MATTEO

T he penthouse doors opened before me, silent on well-oiled hinges as I stepped into the space that had transformed from tactical fortress to something adjacent to home in the weeks since claiming had bound us together. The air carried Luca's scent—warmer now, richer with pregnancy hormones that had begun altering his natural honey-citrus notes into something both familiar and new.

I found him by the windows, silhouetted against the city lights spread below like territory already mapped and claimed. The moonlight silvered his profile, casting shadows that emphasized the subtle changes pregnancy had already begun manifesting—a slight fullness to his cheeks, a barely perceptible curve to what had been flat abdomen.

He turned at my approach, uncertainty and hope warring in his expression as he registered my return. The claiming mark at his neck—the evidence of the bond formed beyond legal documentation—pulsed visibly beneath his skin, resonating with my proximity through mechanisms neither fully understood but both had come to rely upon.

"It's done?" he asked, the question containing volumes beyond its simple syllables.

"It's done," I confirmed, crossing the space between us to kneel at his feet—the position a symbolic surrender of the authority I had claimed through ceremonial combat earlier. My hands settled on either side of his abdomen, warmth penetrating the light fabric of his shirt to connect with the life growing beneath. " I am no longer heir apparent but Don Corvino . My father has been... retired from leadership."

His eyes widened slightly, recognition of the magnitude of change achieved through single confrontation. His hand rose to touch my face, the gesture containing tenderness I hadn't anticipated from the analytical accountant who had entered my life through missing millions and paper claiming.

"What did it cost you?" he asked softly, perception cutting through triumph to the underlying sacrifice with characteristic precision.

The question penetrated deeper than expected, forcing examination of what had truly been surrendered through challenge and reformation. Not position or power—those had been gained rather than lost. Not material wealth or territorial control—those remained intact, enhanced even through consolidation of authority previously divided between Don and heir.

What had been lost existed in more intangible realm—connection to father, to family structure that had defined identity from earliest memory, to legacy conceived in traditional terms rather than evolutionary adaptation.

"What I told you I would lose," I answered honestly, remembering our conversation in the aftermath of heat, when claiming had bound us through biology as much as legal declaration. " My father. The traditions that shaped me. The legacy as it has existed for generations."

Understanding passed between us, molecular awareness carrying meaning where words proved insufficient—the claiming bond translating emotional complexities neither could fully articulate through ordinary speech. His scent shifted subtly, warmth threading through the sweetness as he registered the genuine cost behind apparent victory.

"And you chose this anyway," he said quietly, not question but recognition of truth. " Knowing exactly what you were sacrificing."

"I chose you," I corrected gently, hands spreading wider against his abdomen, seeking connection with the miracle contained within. " I chose our child. I chose future that exists beyond my father's limited vision or the political alliances he prioritized over genuine advancement."

Something shifted in Luca's expression then—vulnerability yielding to certainty that matched my own, partnership replacing hesitation as he recognized the weight of what had been sacrificed on behalf of what now grew between us.

"I'm choosing you too," he said, the declaration emerging with quiet intensity that registered through our bond with unmistakable certainty. " Not just because you protected me when I was vulnerable. Not just because your bite marked me. I'm choosing the man who sees beyond omega biology to capability, who offered partnership where others would have demanded submission."

His hand settled over mine where it rested against the subtle curve of our growing child—symbolism beyond words in the simple gesture of connection.

"I'm choosing the future we build together," he continued, voice strengthening with each word. " The world our child inherits because we refused to accept limitation as destiny. I'm choosing the partner who sacrificed legacy to create something better."

He leaned forward then, omega initiating contact where traditional dynamics would have demanded passive waiting for alpha lead. His lips pressed against mine with deliberate intent rather than biological submission—choice embodied in physical connection that transcended secondary gender or claiming protocol.

When he drew back, something had solidified between us—partnership given physical expression beyond claiming bite or legal documentation. Not just alpha and omega bound through biology, but two people choosing connection despite the sacrifices required, despite the risks inherent in challenging established patterns.

"Come with me," I said, rising from kneeling position to extend my hand in formal invitation rather than possessive claim.

Luca accepted without hesitation, fingers intertwining with mine as I led him through the penthouse toward the bedroom that had become shared territory through claiming and crisis alike. The claiming bond between us pulsed with awareness, with anticipation that had nothing to do with biological imperative and everything to do with celebration of what we had begun building together.

The bed waited, sheets already turned down as if in expectation of this moment—this confirmation of partnership forged through fire, through sacrifice, through choice preserved within constraint. I closed the door behind us, enclosing the space in privacy that belonged to us alone, separated from the world we had begun reshaping through challenge and consequence alike.

"Tonight I claimed leadership through blood drawn," I said quietly, hands moving to the buttons of my shirt with deliberate intent. " But the claiming that matters more was sealed weeks ago, when you chose to offer your throat despite heat manipulation, despite vulnerabilities neither of us had planned."

Luca's eyes darkened, pupils dilating as he registered the significance of what I was offering beyond mere physical intimacy. Not alpha claiming omega through dominance, but partner reaffirming connection through mutual surrender.

"Tonight we sealed a future neither family would have recognized as possible," he replied, his own hands moving to the clothing that separated us from complete connection. " Not through violence or manipulation, but through choice that transcended biology."

As clothing gave way to skin, as distance yielded to proximity that carried meaning beyond physical contact, the claiming mark at his neck pulsed visibly—evidence of bond already formed yet continuing to evolve with each shared experience, each chosen moment of connection.

My lips found that mark first, pressing against the raised scar with reverence, with gratitude for what it represented beyond biological ownership. His head tilted in deliberate offering rather than instinctive submission, choice preserved within biological response that had once seemed inescapable limitation.

The moment my mouth touched that sacred spot—that raised welt of tissue where my teeth had broken his skin—a current shot through us both. I felt him shudder, his honey-citrus scent intensifying, sweetening with arousal that spoke louder than any words could. The mark was hot beneath my lips, pulsing with our shared heartbeat, the physical manifestation of something science couldn't fully explain but that I felt in my fucking bones.

"Mine," I whispered against his skin, the word emerging rough and raw, stripped of pretense. My tongue traced the ridges of the scar, tasting the salt of his skin, the faint metallic echo of the claiming that had bound us. " Not because I took you. Because you gave yourself."

Luca's breath hitched, his slender fingers threading through my hair, not pulling away but drawing me closer. The subtle curve of his abdomen pressed against me—our child growing beneath my palm, miracle born of heat and claiming and choice that transcended both.

"Yours," he agreed, voice barely audible but resonating through our bond with absolute certainty. " Not because you claimed me. Because I claimed you back."

I growled low in my throat, primal satisfaction rumbling through my chest as I worked my way down his neck, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses across his collarbone. His skin tasted like possibility—like future untethered from the blood I'd spilled hours earlier, from the power I'd claimed through violence now channeled into something gentler but no less profound.

My hands moved with deliberate slowness, mapping the terrain of his body with reverent attention. The subtle changes pregnancy had already wrought fascinated me—the slight fullness to his chest, the barely perceptible softening around his jaw, the way his scent had deepened into something richer, more complex. My thumbs brushed over his nipples, finding them more sensitive than before, drawing a sharp gasp from him that shot straight to my cock.

"Fuck," I muttered, pressing my forehead against his sternum, momentarily overwhelmed by the intensity of need coursing through me. Not just lust—though God knew there was plenty of that—but something deeper, more consuming. The need to worship, to protect, to claim and be claimed in return.

"Too much?" Luca asked, those brown eyes wide behind his glasses, concern threading through his voice despite the flush spreading across his cheeks, down his neck.

"Never enough," I corrected, voice rough as sandpaper. I guided him backward until his knees hit the mattress, lowering him with careful hands that belied the urgency pounding through my veins. " I could touch you for years and it wouldn't be enough."

His body yielded beneath mine as I followed him down, skin against skin, heat against heat. The claiming bond between us vibrated with awareness, with recognition that transcended physical sensation. I could feel his arousal not just against my thigh but through the molecular connection that had rewritten us both at the cellular level.

My cock throbbed, heavy and aching, but I forced myself to slow down, to savor. Tonight wasn't about alpha claiming omega through dominance. Tonight was about partnership reaffirmed through mutual surrender.

I worked my way down his body with deliberate patience, pausing to press my lips against the slight swell where our child grew. The omega in him responded to my proximity with biological certainty—slick gathering between his thighs, the sweet scent of his arousal filling the air between us. But it was the man in him that reached for me, fingers tangling in my hair, guiding me where he wanted me.

"Please," he whispered, the word emerging not as omega submission but as partner's request. " I need you."

I growled my approval, sliding lower, spreading his thighs with hands that trembled slightly despite years of never showing weakness. The sight of him—flushed, wanting, wet for me—nearly undid my control. His cock lay hard against his stomach, smaller than mine but perfect, while beneath, his entrance glistened with slick that called to something primal in me.

"Fucking beautiful," I murmured, the words inadequate for what I felt but all I could manage as I lowered my mouth to taste him.

The first swipe of my tongue against his entrance drew a broken sound from him—half gasp, half moan—that echoed through our bond like lightning. His taste exploded across my senses—honey and citrus and something uniquely Luca , intensified by pregnancy hormones into something even more addictive. I lapped at him like a man starved, drinking down his slick, feeling him tremble and shake beneath my hands.

"Matt," he gasped, my name in his mouth sounding like salvation, like benediction. " Oh god, Matt , please?—"

I slid one finger into him alongside my tongue, finding him hot and tight and perfect. His body welcomed the intrusion, omega biology ensuring readiness even as his conscious mind struggled to process the intensity. A second finger joined the first, stretching him gently, preparing him for what we both needed.

When I finally raised my head, my face was wet with his slick, my control hanging by threads worn thin through violence and victory and the sight of my omega spread before me. His eyes were blown wide with desire, glasses askew, lips parted and swollen where he'd bitten them to keep from crying out.

"I claimed leadership through blood tonight," I said, voice barely recognizable even to my own ears. " But now I need you to claim me back. Not alpha and omega. Just us."

Understanding passed between us, molecular awareness carrying meaning where words proved insufficient. Luca nodded once, decision made, and reached for me with hands that no longer trembled.

"Come here," he said softly, authority in his voice that had nothing to do with secondary gender and everything to do with the man he was beneath biology's constraints.

I moved up his body, positioning myself between his spread thighs, the head of my cock nudging against his entrance without pressing forward. Waiting . Offering choice where claiming had once seemed to remove it.

Luca's hands framed my face, thumbs brushing across my cheekbones with tenderness I hadn't known I needed until it was offered. His eyes held mine, brown depths containing certainty that registered through our bond with unmistakable clarity.

"I choose you," he said simply, the declaration carrying weight beyond the three words that comprised it. " Now and always."

He shifted his hips then, taking me inside with deliberate intent, omega body welcoming alpha cock with biological certainty that couldn't diminish the conscious choice behind the action. I sank into him with a groan that seemed torn from the depths of my soul, the tight heat of him enveloping me in sensation that transcended physical pleasure.

Our bodies joined completely, his legs wrapping around my waist, my forehead pressed against his as we breathed the same air, shared the same space, existed for moments as single entity rather than separate beings. The claiming bond between us pulsed with recognition, with completion, with certainty that defied rational explanation.

"Move," he whispered against my lips, not omega begging alpha for release but partner guiding partner toward shared pleasure. " Please , Matt . I need to feel you."

I withdrew slightly before sinking back into his welcoming heat, establishing a rhythm that built gradually—not the frantic claiming of our first time but something deeper, more deliberate. Each stroke carried intention beyond physical pleasure, each movement an affirmation of what we'd risked everything to build.

His scent surrounded me, honey-citrus intensified by pregnancy hormones, driving my alpha instincts to a fever pitch while the man in me fought to maintain control. I wanted to devour him, to mark every inch of his skin, to lose myself completely in the omega who had become so much more than biology could define.

"God, you feel perfect," I groaned, my cock dragging against his most sensitive places, his slick easing the way as I filled him completely. His body welcomed me, omega anatomy designed for this connection, but his eyes—those intelligent brown eyes holding mine—told a different story. Not submission but active participation, not surrender but deliberate choice.

His hands roamed my back, nails occasionally digging in when I hit a spot that made him gasp. The slight sting centered me, kept me present when the claiming bond threatened to overwhelm us both with sensation that transcended physical boundaries.

"Harder," he demanded, voice breaking on the word as I complied immediately. Not alpha following command but partner responding to partner's needs. " Just like—yes, there, Matt , right there?—"

His cock trapped between our bodies leaked steadily, my stomach slick with evidence of his arousal. I shifted slightly, angling to press against the spot inside him that made his breath catch, that made slick gush around where we were joined.

The room filled with the sounds of our connection—skin against skin, broken moans, the wet sounds of my cock moving within him. Beneath it all pulsed something deeper—the molecular recognition of alpha and omega perfectly matched, of claiming bond carrying sensation beyond what ordinary coupling could achieve.

I felt the familiar tightening at the base of my cock—my knot beginning to swell, alpha biology responding to omega mate with instinctive certainty. But unlike our first claiming, driven by heat and necessity, this time I hesitated.

"Luca," I managed, voice strained with the effort of restraint. " My knot— I don't want to hurt?—"

"Give it to me," he interrupted, certainty in his voice that bypassed conscious thought and spoke directly to something primal within me. His hands gripped my hips, guiding me deeper, encouraging rather than submitting. " I want all of you. Everything ."

With a groan that seemed torn from the depths of my soul, I pressed forward, feeling the resistance as my swelling knot breached him. His body tensed momentarily before yielding, accepting this final connection with a shuddering sigh that vibrated through our bond. We were locked together now, alpha and omega joined completely, my release triggered by the tight heat surrounding my knot.

I buried my face against his neck as pleasure crashed through me, wave after wave of completion as I filled him with my seed. The claiming mark beneath my lips pulsed in time with my heartbeat, with the rhythmic contractions of my release. Beneath me, Luca's body tightened further, his own climax triggered by the pressure of my knot against places designed for precisely this connection. I felt the wet heat of his release between us, his cock pulsing untouched as he cried out my name.

Time suspended as we breathed through the intensity together, bodies joined completely, pleasure cycling between us through bond that had grown beyond paper claiming to become something neither family would have recognized as possible. Not possession but partnership. Not strategy but connection. Not alpha and omega but us.

"Mine," I whispered against his skin, the word transformed from possessive claim to recognition of partnership. " Mine to honor. Mine to protect. Mine to stand beside rather than behind."

"Yours," he agreed, the word emerging with certainty that registered through our bond with crystalline clarity. " And you are mine. The alpha who chose partnership over power. Mine to support. Mine to challenge. Mine to help build something beyond what either of us imagined possible."

My hands traced the subtle changes pregnancy had already begun manifesting in his body—the slight fullness to his chest, the barely perceptible curve to his abdomen, the richness of his scent that announced creation where traditional family structure would have seen only unexpected complication.

His hands mapped the tension that leadership challenge had left in my muscles, the subtle evidence of combat that would fade but which represented the tangible sacrifice made on behalf of shared future. Not alpha claimed by omega but equals recognizing what each had given to create possibility beyond traditional limitation.

Afterward, with the city lights painting patterns across skin still flushed with connection, with the claiming bond between us humming with contentment that originated from choice rather than mere biology, I held him against me with reverence that had nothing to do with traditional alpha-omega dynamics and everything to do with genuine recognition of what we had found together.

"What happens now?" Luca asked, voice gentle in the darkness as his hand traced patterns across my chest, across the heart that beat with certainty beyond political calculation or strategic advantage.

"Now we build," I replied simply, hand settling over his where it rested against the subtle curve of pregnancy, of future taking physical form between us. " Now we create something neither family could have imagined possible—organization that values capability over secondary gender, that measures strength through evolution rather than rigid adherence to tradition."

His scent—warmth and sweetness interwoven with notes of my own sandalwood and cedar—wrapped around us like physical manifestation of the bond that had grown beyond paper claiming to become genuine partnership. The air between us held the truth neither needed to voice but both recognized with bone-deep certainty:

I had sacrificed connection to father, to tradition, to legacy as it had existed for generations. I had surrendered the comfort of known patterns, of established hierarchy, of clearly defined expectations that had guided every aspect of existence since earliest memory.

In exchange, I had gained what no traditional alliance could have provided—partner who saw beyond alpha biology to the man beneath, future defined by possibility rather than limitation, legacy that would evolve rather than stagnate beneath the weight of outdated traditions.

Luca had chosen me—not just accepted claiming as necessity or protection, but actively selected partnership that recognized his value beyond omega biology or traditional hierarchy. He had risked vulnerability, had embraced connection despite the dangers inherent in our world, had matched my sacrifice with courage that continued to reveal itself in ways that defied conventional expectations.

Together, we had begun building something neither family would have recognized as possible—future based on capability rather than secondary gender, on evolution rather than rigid adherence to patterns that served tradition more faithfully than those living within its constraints.

Worth every sacrifice. Worth every loss. Worth the severance of blood ties that had become chains rather than connections, of legacy that had limited rather than elevated, of tradition that had constrained rather than strengthened.

As Luca's breathing deepened into sleep, as his body relaxed against mine with trust that had nothing to do with omega submission and everything to do with genuine partnership, I held what had become essential against my chest—the omega who had entered my life through missing millions and emerged as partner beyond what tradition would have permitted or politics would have arranged.

The price paid—in severed connection to father, to traditional legacy, to conventional power structures—seemed insignificant compared to the future growing between us. The child conceived through heat and claiming, through biology neither had fully anticipated yet both now embraced as opportunity rather than complication.

Worth everything.