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The thick slick was bubbling from his rear to the back of his thighs as he knelt on the bed. It was a humiliation unlike any he’d experienced before - he was stuck in Nevarra, Knight-Commander Zhukov positioned behind him, his heat unexpectedly brought on by the presence of the alpha. The man’s hands were grasping his buttocks, ready to plunge in and take him for himself.

It was degrading, Cullen knew, to be reduced to nothing but a leaking and whimpering pile of flesh in front of his ally, but such thoughts hardly mattered right now. The wolf inside of him demanded to be filled and claimed; to be owned by the pack leader. His entire body convulsed with need, well beyond the point of pain, aching to be touched and bruised. Sweat pooled on his bowed back, muscles quivering as he forcibly held himself from pushing against Zhukov's body. His scent was maddening; a drug that seemed to compromise the little self-control he had left, lifting what remained of his humanity.

"Please," he whined, "please, please, Alpha. Do it!"

And just like that, Zhukov pushed into him, meeting no resistance from the muscles that were well past ready. Heavenly relief flooded his body, a long moan tearing from his mouth, his eyes closing of their own accord. Only it was not enough. It would never be enough, unless. Unless.

He couldn't quite finish that line of thought, knowing what he needed was unspeakable - impossible. Instead he met the Knight-Commander's moves, squirming as he took what relief he could get, far beyond the point of caring for his dignity. Zhukov's hands came to grab at his shoulders, pulling him upright, his back against the man's chest. The change of angle made him mewl, every thrust hitting his prostate, Zhukov's arms trapping him in place.

"You're mine. Mine," the man growled, his hold tightening as he drove in deeper and faster.

"Y-yes, yours," Cullen responded, half mindless with pleasure, the pain inside of him dissipating with every passing moment. "Please, please..."

Zhukov's lips hovered on his shoulder, his hot breath teasing at the skin as he slid upwards. "Please what? Please this?" he kissed a spot on his neck, his teeth nibbling and tucking.

"Yes, please," Cullen begged, offering better access, his head tilting to the side and his mind fixed on that one spot, and that one spot only. If Zhukov was only teasing him now, he would never be able to look him in the eye again. He would run from Nevarra, never to be seen again, even if it meant every alpha and beta under his command taking turns with him as they traveled.

Teeth sank into his neck and interrupted his concerns. A bright jolt of pleasure ran through him as he came, his spend spurting off in ropes as Zhukov kept fucking him, his swollen knot stretching his rim. Cullen's consciousness waned, sparks flying at the edges of his vision, barely hanging onto reality. Suddenly the Knight-Commander halted, his knot fully bloated, locking him in place as he came inside of him, filling him with endless bursts of come.

"Mine, Omega," he hissed, holding onto him tight as he lapped at the bloody bite with his tongue.

"Maker, yes," Cullen managed, his knees shaking with the effort of staying upright.

The Knight-Commander started pushing him down with his body, mindful of the spot where they were still joined. He turned them on the bed until they were on their sides, their erratic breaths in tandem, sweaty skins pressed close together.