Caught by the Mad Alpha King-Chapter 377: Lust (2) [Win-Win]

The challenge, the raw demand in his omega’s voice, had been enough. Dax’s laughter died, replaced by a predatory focus. "As you wish," he growled, and began to move.

He started with a deep, rolling rhythm that stole the air from Chris’s lungs. Each thrust was a powerful stroke, intended to fuel the already raging fire between them.

The room was a haze of scent and sound - the spiced rum of Dax’s dominance, the clean rain of Chris’s heat, and the dark, heady perfume of their bond twining together like smoke.

Chris met him thrust for thrust, his body a pliant, demanding force beneath him, his legs locked around Dax’s waist, pulling him far deeper.

Dax watched him, mesmerized by the sight of his strong, dominant omega lost in pleasure, his head thrown back, his throat a long, vulnerable line.

He could feel the change beginning. A deep, primal tightening at the base of his spine. His cock, already thick and buried deep inside Chris’s heat, began to swell.

Chris felt it immediately. His eyes flew open, a gasp tearing from his lips as the pressure against his rim intensified. It wasn’t just the familiar, pleasurable stretch of a knot forming, but something very different from what he knew. He felt himself being stretched to the very edge of his limits, a burning, aching fullness that bordered on pain.

"Dax," he breathed, his voice tight with strain and a sliver of uncertainty.

"Almost there, Chris," Dax gritted out, his own body trembling with the effort of holding back, of letting the transformation complete itself.

He could feel his knot growing, locking them together, but that was only the beginning. The true change was happening deeper inside him, a fundamental biological need taking over.

His length was thickening, elongating just enough to press against the deepest, most sensitive entrance to Chris’s womb. It was a pressure unlike any he’d ever felt, a painful, exquisite ache of being claimed so completely that no part of him remained untouched.

The pain was sharp, a searing sting that made Chris’s back arch off the bed. It was overwhelming, an unforgiving invasion that competed with the profound pleasure of being filled by his alpha.

Dax was giving him exactly what he’d asked for.

Chris let out a broken sob, equal parts agony and ecstasy. "More," he choked out, fists clenched in the sheets. "Give me all of it."

With a guttural groan, Dax gave one final, powerful thrust. He felt the last barrier give way, felt his cock seat itself fully against the gateway to Chris’s womb. The sensation was a blinding, white-hot surge of pleasure and pain for them both. And then it began.

Dax’s body seized, a powerful shudder running through him as his muscles contracted, pumping his seed directly into the place it was meant to go. It was a deep, pulsing pressure, a torrent of heat that flooded Chris’s core. It was a deep, cramping ache as his body was forced to accept the overwhelming volume and force of the insemination.

Chris cried out, his body arching, his vision whiting out as the sensation overwhelmed him. He could feel every pulse, every hot spurt of Dax’s release painting his insides, claiming him, marking him from the inside out. His own cock, trapped between their bodies, twitched and spilled a stream of release, the pleasure so intense it was almost a punishment.

Dax collapsed over him, his weight a welcome hold, his face buried in Chris’s neck. They were locked together, trembling and gasping, their bodies still in the grip of the violent, beautiful act. Chris’s abdominal pain subsided, leaving behind a deep, throbbing ache of satisfaction and a profound sense of fullness. He could feel Dax’s knot pulsing inside him, a steady, possessive beat that promised he would not go away.

For a long time, the only sound in the room was their ragged breathing. Dax shifted slightly, propping himself up on his elbows to look down at Chris. His face was flushed, his eyes dark with satisfaction and a lingering, fierce love. He gently brushed the sweat-damp hair from Chris’s forehead.

"Alright?" he asked, his voice a low, rough whisper.

Chris managed a weak, breathless laugh. He felt wrecked, used, and more complete than he had in his entire life. "I think," he said, his voice hoarse, "you successfully made your point."

Dax’s lips curved into a slow, possessive smile. He leaned down and kissed him, a soft, gentle press of lips, a contrast to the primal fury of their intimacy. "Good," he murmured against his mouth. "Because I plan on making it several more times before we leave this room."

—

Two days later, Chris decided that revenge, spite, and righteous moral outrage were, medically speaking, not a sustainable contraceptive method.

He lay on his back with the careful stillness of a man negotiating with gravity, staring at the ceiling like it had personally wronged him. Every time he breathed too deep, his body sent him a polite reminder that he had, in fact, made a series of decisions. Loud ones. Dramatic ones. Decisions that had included grabbing a king by the collar and announcing plans like a war declaration.

And somehow - somehow - Dax looked perfectly fine.

Chris shifted one millimeter and regretted it with the sincerity of a man facing consequences.

"How," he whispered, hoarse with betrayal, "am I the only one wrecked and sore?"

The mattress dipped. The air changed in that subtle way it did when Dax moved; his so-called silent footsteps had learned restraint for fear of waking Chris’s temper.

A blister pack landed on the nightstand with gentle precision.

Chris turned his head, squinting.

A blister pack landed on the nightstand gently.

Pills. Analgesics.

Dax’s hand brushed his hair back, slow and possessive.

"I already took some," Dax said, voice low with a satisfaction he didn’t bother hiding. "The only thing that is making you suffer is your own stubbornness."

Chris stared like he was trying to decide whether to be offended or impressed by the audacity of a man who had just wrecked him and was now giving medical advice like a responsible adult.

"I’m not suffering," Chris said immediately, because lying was free and dignity was expensive.

Dax hummed, amused. "You are actively negotiating with gravity."

Chris’s jaw tightened. "That’s... unrelated."

Dax’s thumb traced lightly over Chris’s cheekbone, the gentlest possible touch paired with the cruelest possible smile. "Take one," he murmured. "You don’t get medals for being in pain."

"I get moral superiority," Chris muttered.

"You get louder," Dax corrected, still calm. "And then you complain for three hours, and then you fall asleep angry, and then you wake up angry again, and then you pretend it’s principle."

Chris glared. It was a weak glare, weakened further by the fact that Dax was, infuriatingly, right.

"It’s not that bad," Chris insisted, because stubbornness was a personality trait and also a coping mechanism.

Dax’s gaze swept him, slow and clinical in a way that made Chris want to throw something. "Yet," Dax said softly.

Chris narrowed his eyes. "Don’t ’yet’ me."

Dax’s mouth twitched. "Then don’t tempt biology."

Chris made a small, offended noise and shifted like he could reposition himself into not being sore.

His body disagreed immediately.

Chris froze, then exhaled like the universe had personally betrayed him.

Dax laughed and slipped an arm around him, dragging him closer with careful strength until the ache dulled into something tolerable.

Chris let it happen because he was not stupid.

He just hated admitting it.

"I can’t believe," Chris muttered, staring at the ceiling like it could be blamed, "that there are omegas like this."

Dax’s laughter deepened. "Claudia?"

"Yes," Chris hissed. "Entitlement personified. She talks like alphas are decorative beasts, like the world is a leash, like-" He cut himself off, jaw flexing. "And the worst part is she believes it’s her duty."

Dax kissed his temple, soothing. "Some people confuse power with virtue," he murmured.

Chris’s mouth twisted. "I hate her."

"I noticed," Dax said, dry. "You proposed children out of spite."

Chris went very still.

Dax’s eyes gleamed in the dim light. "That was you, by the way. That was your idea."

Chris’s ears warmed. "I was provoked."

"You were furious," Dax agreed. "And very persuasive."

Chris exhaled through his nose like a man trying to keep his dignity from evaporating completely. Then, with a reluctant reach, he extended his hand toward the nightstand.

"One," he muttered, like he was granting a royal concession. "One pill."

Dax watched him with the satisfaction of a predator who had successfully convinced his mate to do the sensible thing.

Dax’s smile turned soft in a way that felt unfair. "There," he murmured. "See? You can be reasonable."

Chris stared. "Don’t push it."

Dax chuckled and pulled him closer, and Chris let his eyes drift, the hum of the jet somewhere beneath the silence. A jet Chris wasn’t even aware he had been moved in.