Caught by the Mad Alpha King-Chapter 231: Heat (2)

Dax hadn’t meant to lose the last thread of restraint. He’d sworn he wouldn’t. Sworn he’d keep his head, keep his discipline, keep the royal suite from turning into a battlefield made of sheets and instinct.

But one look at Chris: flushed, trembling, panting around the ghost of the last orgasm and something deep and merciless tore loose inside him.

The scent hit him like standing too close to a forge, heat coiling in the air and wrapping around him. Sweet, sharp, rain-warm desperation threaded through it, a lure meant to drop any alpha to his knees. It cut straight through every barrier Dax had ever built. His lungs seized. His blood roared. His vision narrowed until the only thing in the entire palace was the omega pinned beneath him, shaking.

He inhaled again without meaning to, and the effect was brutal: his muscles locked, his pulse thundered, and a guttural growl crawled up from the bottom of his chest.

Chris shifted on the sheets, a soft, wrecked whine slipping out and that sound did something unholy to Dax’s control. His rut surged viciously, burning behind his ribs, ripping thought from his mind. Every instinct dragged him closer, toward the heat radiating off Chris, toward the slick glistening along the inside of his thighs, toward the trembling body trying and failing to recover from the last round.

His knot pulsed deep inside his mate, swollen and locked, and Dax leaned over him, breath hot against Chris’s cheek.

"Look at me," he growled, the command thick and raw, vibrating through both of them. "Look at what you’ve done."

Dax held Chris against him, chest to back, their bodies still joined, the knot thick and pulsing inside him. The omega’s heat clung to his skin, soaked into the sheets, and wrapped around his senses until nothing in the world existed but the man trembling in his arms.

He tilted Chris’s chin toward the mirror because he needed him to see.

Not the mess they’d made, nor the sweat or the marks or the swollen lips. But to see what he had done to the king of Saha.

Chris’s reflection looked dazed, ruined in the most devastating way, his hair damp and sticking to his forehead, pupils wide and glossy, neck marked with fresh bites Dax barely remembered giving. Each one throbbed in Dax’s memory like echoes of instinct he hadn’t been able to hold back.

The violet in his eyes was gone. Rut had burned it clean out of him.

What stared back was molten gold, bright enough to shimmer in the low light, a predator’s glow sharpened by the overwhelming scent of his mate. He saw the hunger in them, the possessiveness, the raw instinct tugging at his muscles to take Chris again even though he was still locked deep inside him.

Chris shuddered at the sight of it: that gold, those eyes, and the way Dax stared at him as if claiming him was the only instinct left in his body.

Good.

He wanted him to feel it and know exactly what he’d unleashed.

"See?" Dax murmured against the shell of Chris’s ear, his lips brushing the sensitive skin there. He rolled his hips once, just enough to make the knot drag inside him. Chris gasped, body tightening helplessly. "This is what you do to me."

He watched their reflection, watched Chris struggle to keep his focus as another wave of heat rippled through him.

"You drown out everything else," Dax growled, his voice low enough to vibrate through Chris’s back. "There’s nothing in my head but you. Your scent. Your sounds. Your body around me."

Chris’s breath stuttered, the sound sharp and thin. Dax felt him tighten, instinct reaching, begging without words.

Eventually the knot softened. The release of pressure made Chris gasp, his hips twitching involuntarily as Dax slid free. A warm spill followed, tracing down the inside of Chris’s thigh.

The sight stirred a fresh spike of hunger in Dax’s gut.

He didn’t give him time to collapse into the haze. Rut flared again, and he moved before he thought, flipping Chris onto his back, pinning him in the mess of their ruined pillows.

His golden eyes swept over Chris’s face. Heat flushed his cheeks, lips parted, breath uneven. Want poured off him like steam.

"You’re still empty," Dax said, the words rougher than he meant them to be, pulled from somewhere deep and territorial. He dragged his fingers through the slick on Chris’s thigh, lifting the glistening evidence of their last climax.

Chris’s eyes followed the movement, dark and unfocused.

Dax painted the omega’s lips with it, slow and deliberate.

"Taste what you take from me," he murmured. "Taste what I give you."

Chris’s tongue flicked out instinctively, and the soft moan that followed went straight to Dax’s spine. His rut snarled awake all over again, demanding, clawing at what little control he still had.

Chris looked up at him, pupils blown wide, voice wrecked and trembling.

"Dax... please. Do it again."

The plea wasn’t even finished before Dax’s body moved.

The sound of Chris saying again with that raw, trembling voice hit him harder than any scent marker, any pheromone spike, any conscious invitation. It ripped straight down his spine like instinct being uncaged, demanding he fill the empty heat he had just left.

His hand slid beneath Chris’s thigh, lifting it easily, spreading him open. The omega’s breath hitched at the motion, his hips arching, seeking friction like his body didn’t care about exhaustion or soreness or how many times he’d already shattered.

He leaned down over Chris, nose brushing along his throat, inhaling him like oxygen. The scent of heat was thick and sweet, soaked into Chris’s skin, the sheets, and even Dax’s own chest. It made his pulse hammer, made his jaw tighten, and made the muscles in his back coil with the urge to claim and fill until nothing in the world could compete with this.

"Dax..." Chris’s voice broke as he lifted his hips again, legs trembling. "Please... I can’t... it hurts not to..."

"I know," Dax growled against his skin. The sound vibrated down Chris’s throat, pulling a helpless whine from him. "I feel it too."

He did. He felt that hollow ache through the bond almost as sharply as Chris felt his own heat, a call-and-response pull that dragged at his muscles and made his rut pulse behind his ribs, urging him to make the omega go pliant and limp with satisfaction again.

He slid his hand down between them, guiding himself against Chris’s entrance.

Chris gasped at the first touch, thighs shaking, fingers clawing weakly at the sheets. "Please hurry. Please, Dax, I can’t..."

"You’ll have me," Dax rasped, his voice dropping lower, rougher. "You’ll always have me."

He pushed in slowly at first, watching Chris’s face, watching the way his lips parted and his lashes fluttered and the heat glazed his gaze. The slick heat welcomed him instantly, pulling him deeper without resistance or hesitation. Chris’s head fell back against the pillow, a broken sob of relief slipping out.

Dax’s control buckled.

His hips snapped forward with a force that made the headboard slam softly against the wall. Chris cried out, a sound so sharp and needy that Dax’s vision flickered dangerously.

Golden eyes locked on him, Dax braced his hands on either side of Chris’s head, rut taking over completely. His hips moved in deep, powerful thrusts that made Chris gasp with each one, his body arching up in desperate surrender.

"Dax... oh god..." Chris writhed beneath him, nails dragging down Dax’s arms, leaving faint red lines. "Don’t stop, don’t stop..."

"I’m not stopping," Dax growled, voice shredded. "You’re mine. As long as you’re burning, I’m here."

Chris pulled him down into a kiss, sloppy, desperate, tasting of heat and exhaustion. His legs wrapped around Dax’s waist, dragging him closer, demanding more, deeper, now.

"I need you," Chris whispered against his lips, voice trembling with fever. "I need you again... I need you to fill me..."

Dax’s mind snapped completely free of reason. He thrust harder, deeper, letting rut drive every motion, chasing that burn in his spine until he could feel Chris tightening around him, shuddering, body preparing to break again.

Chris dragged his fingers through Dax’s hair, tugging him closer until their foreheads touched, black eyes half-lidded and shining with heat. "Dax... I’m close... please..."

"I’ve got you," Dax growled against his mouth. "Come for me."

Chris’s back arched off the mattress, thighs tightening, a desperate cry breaking free as his body convulsed around Dax. The pleasure hit Dax at the same moment, that squeeze, that sound, that scent exploding like lightning through his nerves.

His rut surged violently.

He bit down on Chris’s shoulder, deep enough to hold him while he thrust once, twice, and came with a low, guttural groan that echoed against Chris’s skin. Hot pulses spilled inside him, filling him again, claiming every inch of space the heat demanded.

Chris shook through the entire release, clinging to Dax as though letting go would undo him.

Dax stayed inside him, breath rough, body humming with leftover instinct, unable to move away even for a second. He dragged a hand along Chris’s jaw and chest, grounding both of them as their breathing slowly synced.

Chris was trembling, overstimulated, and exhausted, but still burning.

Dax pressed his forehead to Chris’s, golden eyes dimming only slightly as he whispered, low and raw:

"Don’t close your eyes yet, my moon. Rut’s not done with you."