Clarke lets herself in through Bellamy’s front door, the snow on her coat and in her hair already starting to melt. It’s not so bad out there now, just a light dusting, although it’s supposed to get worse later. Clarke plans to be home in front of the heater with a hot cup of coffee by then.
She works for Bellamy from nine until four, her official job title being his personal assistant. Her duties range from answering phone calls, keeping his calendar, and running errands, to making his lunch and washing his clothes. Whatever he asks her to do. Basically, her job is to do the one thing she’s spent her whole life trying to avoid: serving an Alpha.
The one consolation is that he doesn’t know what she is. No one does, except her parents, and the people who taught her how to blend in, how to pass for a Beta. She was fourteen when they realised what she was, and thankfully she was at home when she had her first heat. Her parents had locked her in her room for the duration of it, and Clarke swears she can still remember the pain.
After that, they sent her to a remote boarding school, specifically catering to Omegas, and teaching them how to fit in with the rest of society, without betraying what they really are. It requires constant vigilance, and a hell of a lot of technically illegal drugs. Because it’s illegal to hide your DNA. If you’re an Omega, you’re expected to be one, act like one.
Only, nobody wants to be one. Who would want that? They have basically no rights, and are expected to just serve whatever Alpha claims them, have their babies and stay out of sight. Which is why Clarke has been passing herself off as a Beta for the past four years, since she left school.
She’d been fired from her last job at a bank, after attacking a co-worker for saying some truly vile things about Omegas. Worse than being fired, she almost outed herself. She shudders to think about what would have happened had the Alpha she assaulted figured out what she was.
It was her ex-co-worker, Harper, who set up the job with Bellamy. And Clarke was obviously dubious about working for an Alpha, serving him, alone in his house, especially given her previous experience with Alphas, and what they’d told her about Alphas at her school. But with no college degree, and no experience save the job she was fired from, she couldn’t afford to be picky. And honestly, it’s better than serving customers all day.
Bellamy is a writer, and he spends most of the day in his office writing, or editing, or whatever it is that writers do. She only sees him when he comes out for lunch, or when she brings him coffee, or when he has an urgent phone call from his publisher or whatever. It’s nice, actually.
Even if, occasionally, despite the sensory dulling drugs she’s taking, she catches a whiff of his scent, and it makes her want to wrap herself up in his big, strong arms. Even if she’s disproportionately satisfied when she pleases him. Even if she spends way too much time making herself look pretty before she goes to work. There are some instincts she apparently can’t control. But as long as he doesn’t notice, as long as she’s not lusting after him (which she’s not, because she’s taking drugs that make sure that she’s not), then everything is fine.
She’s also taking drugs to mask her own scent, because without them, Bellamy would know what she was the second she walked into a room with him. Which doesn’t necessarily mean he would want her, or claim her as his. But she’s pretty certain he wouldn’t let her go around without an Alpha. They tend to stick together that way.
Clarke hangs her coat up by the door. She’s got on a grey turtleneck and thick tights underneath, since Bellamy doesn’t heat his house as well as she heats her own. She supposes he doesn’t feel the cold as much as she does. She slips her ankle boots off by the door before heading to the kitchen. First order of business is to make herself and Bellamy some coffee.
Except when she gets there, he’s already there, making it himself. Normally he’s already locked himself in his office by now.
Clarke freezes when she sees him, her breath catching. She forgets how good looking he is sometimes. And how big he is. His arms, his shoulders, his chest. His hands dwarf the coffee cup he’s holding. She tries not to think about how easily he could overpower her if he wanted to. How tiny she’d feel underneath him.
He frowns. “Clarke?” he says. “What are you doing here?”
“Am I not supposed to be?”
“I figured you wouldn’t come in today. There are severe weather warnings. There’s supposed to be a blizzard.”
“Oh,” Clarke says. “I’m sure I’ll be gone by then.”
Bellamy doesn’t look satisfied with that. “You need to be more careful,” he says, taking a sip of his coffee. “I don’t want you getting hurt.” His concern is touching.
“Sorry,” Clarke says.
Bellamy nods. His eyes linger on her chest for a moment, where her tight sweater clings to her breasts. He does that sometimes, which is perhaps why she’s taken to wearing tight clothes to work, or low cut if it’s warm enough. She glances down, noticing that a faint outline of her hard nipples is visible even through the thick fabric. Her skirt is pretty tight too, and short. It’s not something she’s doing on purpose, dressing up for him so he’ll look at her. But neither is she trying as hard as she should to fight the instinct that she needs to impress him, that she needs to look good for him. Her mother would be so ashamed of her. She’s ashamed of herself.
“I better get to work,” Bellamy says. He pulls out his business hours phone and hands it to her. “If anyone calls just take a message. Don’t answer if it’s Kane.”
“Because you’re behind on the novel?”
Bellamy shakes his head. “I don’t want him talking to you.”
“He’s a creep. Just don’t answer.”
“Yes, sir.” The word slips off her tongue too easily. It’s not the first time it’s happened, and Bellamy doesn’t comment on it, but his eyes flash. He’s never asked her to call him anything but Bellamy, but it’s obvious he has no objections to being called sir. Probably comes from him being an Alpha. He’s used to being in charge.
Bellamy gives her another nod, then heads towards his office, coffee in hand. She catches his scent as he walks by, and she has to close her eyes for a moment. He smells so good. She wants him to rub his scent all over her. Wants him to sink his teeth into her neck and mark her. She has to reassure herself that she remembered to take her pills last night. She’s not supposed to be able to smell anything, least of all an Alpha’s scent. Which means his is either much stronger than the average Alpha, or she’s just particularly attuned to him. Neither of which are good for her.
But it’s totally fine. She can handle it. She’s been defying her DNA, her instincts, since she was fourteen years old. She’s not going to jeopardise her freedom just because some guy smells good.
She takes a deep breath, then gets to making herself a coffee. She stacks his breakfast dishes in the dishwasher, tidying the kitchen, then moving on to the living room.
Bellamy actually keeps his house fairly neat himself, and she just does the occasional dusting or vacuuming. Not like the Alphas she’d been told about in school, that are complete animals, who only see Omegas as slaves to use for household chores, sex, and breeding. Although, being that Bellamy doesn’t know she is one, there is every chance he feels that way too and would start treating her completely differently if he found out.
She cleans until it’s time to make lunch, which is just sandwiches, as per usual, and he comes out into the kitchen to eat with her.
“Any calls?” he asks her as she puts his sandwiches in front of him.
“Kane once, and someone trying to get you to change electricity companies.” She sits down across from him.
“Did Kane leave a message?”
Clarke nods. “A long ranting one about how you never answer the phone when he calls and if you don’t send him the pages he asked for by tomorrow, he’s going to get someone else to write this book.”
“Typical,” Bellamy grins.
“How’s it going?”
“Better than he thinks. I just like to make him suffer.”
Clarke smiles, ducking her head. “You don’t like him much, do you?”
“I like him fine. Most of the time. When he’s not hassling me, or saying inappropriate things about my personal assistant.”
Clarke flushes. “He said something about me?”
Bellamy nods, studying her like he’s gauging her reaction. “What do you think of him?”
“He does… make me feel a little uncomfortable.” She’s only met him twice, but she’d be happy not to have to do so again. He never said anything inappropriate to her, but she didn’t like the way he looked at her.
“I’ll make sure you never have to be in the same room as him again.”
Clarke nods, then looks down to take a bite of her sandwich. Bellamy glances out the kitchen window. The snow is really coming down now, looking like just a sheet of white. The wind rattles the windows.
“I was going to send you to the dry cleaners this afternoon to pick up my clothes, but I think you’d better stay here. It’s not safe to be out in that.”
Clarke bites her lip nervously. He’s right, obviously. The blizzard has come on quicker than Clarke anticipated. She can only hope it will be over by the time five o’clock rolls around.
“What would you like me to do instead?”
Bellamy eyes her for a moment. “How do you feel about reading some of what I’m working on? I could use a perspective of someone that isn’t Kane.”
“Okay,” Clarke says. “I’d love to.” Bellamy nods, pleased, and Clarke feels warmth flood through her. Her stupid Omega reaction to his approval.
They make small talk as they eat the rest of their lunch, then Bellamy leads Clarke to his office. He hands her a hard copy of his novel so far, about fifty pages or so. Clarke settles herself into the armchair in the corner of his office while Bellamy continues working.
Clarke isn’t sure what she was expecting from his writing, but it wasn’t this. It’s a romance novel. It’s set in Ancient Rome, and from what she can tell it seems like he’s done a lot of research on the history of it, but the actual story itself is a romance. Are his other novels romance too? She’s never read one, but she’s seen the covers, and they just look like regular historical fiction.
He’s a really talented writer, obviously, and Clarke is hooked from the first word. It’s about a lonely Alpha who loses his Omega to an Emperor, and has to fight to win her back. There’s no actual sex in the first fifty pages, which Clarke is disappointed about, but it’s probably a good thing. Just the sexual tension between the main two lovers has her heart pounding and her cunt throbbing. Plus, she keeps catching Bellamy’s scent, only adding to her lust. A feeling she’s not supposed to have while she’s taking her pills. And yet, she can’t deny it. More and more she finds herself turned on when she’s around Bellamy. Is it possible she’s building up an immunity to the pills? Making them wear off faster, or causing their effects to weaken?
The thought makes her anxious. What if he can smell her arousal? She doesn’t flatter herself that he wouldn’t be able to control himself if he could, but even still, she can’t take that risk. She needs to get out of here.
She stands up abruptly, and Bellamy looks up from his computer.
“Done?” he asks.
Clarke nods. “It’s really good,” she tells him, setting the pages down on the desk. “But um—I should get going.”
Bellamy leans back in his chair, looking out the window. “I don’t think so, Clarke,” he says. “You shouldn’t be out in this. I don’t think it’s going to let up. And even if it does, the roads are going to be unusable until at least tomorrow.”
Clarke stares at him. “What are you saying?” she asks anxiously.
“I mean, it’s probably best if you stay here,” he says.
Clarke balks. “No,” she says. “I can’t. I have to get home.” That’s where her pills are. She has to take them every night before she goes to bed. She can’t afford to miss even one day. Once they wear off, her senses will be heightened and her scent will be exposed. He’ll be able to smell it on her, what she is, and she has no idea what his reaction will be.
Worse than that, if she doesn’t take her pills, within a few hours her heat will come on. She hasn’t had one since she was fourteen, and after six years of holding it off, she knows if she has to go through it, it will be unbearable. And to go through it here, in an Alpha’s house. Even if he doesn’t rape her when he finds out what she is, there’s no way an Alpha can resist an unclaimed Omega in heat. And there’s no way an Omega in heat can resist an Alpha who wants to knot her.
She really has to get out of here.
“Do you have a death wish or something?” Bellamy asks her. Clarke shakes her head. She wracks her brain for a suitable excuse for why she needs to go home, but nothing comes. Bellamy stands up and walks over to her. He doesn’t tower over her, but it’s not his height that makes him intimidating anyway. It’s the way he fills up the space with his body, his confident stance, the way he could easily overpower her if he wanted to, pin her down with his huge hands and have his way with her. The thought has her dripping.
“If you’re worried about being an inconvenience, don’t. It’s really nothing. I have a couple of spare bedrooms you can choose from. I’ll even cook for you. It will be nice to have some company for once.”
Her instincts tell her she has to please him. He wants her to stay, and if she leaves, she’ll be disappointing him. It will cause her undue stress, she knows that. But even if she feels pathetic and guilty all night, it’s better than him finding out what she really is. Risking her life in a blizzard is better than him finding out.
“I really can’t stay,” Clarke whispers.
Bellamy frowns, and Clarke fights the urge to beg his forgiveness. “Clarke, if I let you leave, and something happens to you out there, I’ll never forgive myself. Stay here.”
He says those last two words firmly. A direct order from her Alpha. She can’t disobey. Well, technically she can. But it’s difficult for her to deny her instincts that much, to go against her Alpha’s express wishes. And fuck, now she’s gone and thought of him as her Alpha. Twice. A stupid slip up. He doesn’t belong to her, and she doesn’t belong to him. She doesn’t belong to anyone. And yet, she finds she has to obey him.
Not only that, but his protectiveness of her sends a thrill right through her. Another one of her stupid Omega traits rearing its head. Her feelings of helplessness, her need to be protected. Whatever else Alphas may be, they will always fiercely guard what is theirs.
“Yes, sir,” she whispers. Bellamy nods, pleased. Relief washes over her. God, she wishes her emotions didn’t depend so much on whether or not he’s happy with her.
“Why don’t you go and pick a room?” Bellamy suggests. “I still have some work to do but you can go and relax for a while. Consider yourself off duty.”
Clarke nods, and leaves his office without another word.
She picks the room furthest from his. Which is still not far enough away, if she’s actually planning on sleeping here. Anxiety pools in her stomach at the thought of it. She’s still hoping it will stop snowing and she can leave. Even if she has to walk home.
Meanwhile, she sits on the middle of the bed, staring out the window at the whiteness. Thankfully, this room has no trace of Bellamy’s scent that she can make out. He probably has no reason to come in here. It’s a comfortable room though, cosy, and the bed is lush with pillows and cushions. Clarke lies back against them, her head sinking into the softness.
She isn’t aware of falling asleep, but the next thing she knows she’s waking up to the sound of Bellamy knocking on the door.
“Come in,” she says. The door swings open and Bellamy steps into the room. His scent hits her, and her head spins. It takes everything she has to remain where she is, and not drop to her knees in front of him in an act of submission.
“How did you know which room I was in?” she manages to choke out.
He shrugs. “Lucky guess. Dinner’s ready.”
“How long was I asleep for?”
“A few hours. It’s after six.”
Clarke nods. Bellamy waits for her to get up, then leads her downstairs and into the dining room, a room which usually goes unused while Clarke is there. They normally eat at the small table in the kitchen. Bellamy pulls a chair out for her at the head of the huge dining table, and Clarke sits down, feeling faint. Her heart is thrumming, her cunt pounding. Her panties are soaked. Her brain whirs with thoughts of Bellamy’s mouth, and hands, and cock. She’s blushing like a lovestruck teenager.
“Thanks,” she says weakly.
“I’ll be right back,” Bellamy says. He exits the room, towards the kitchen, and returns with two bowls filled with some kind of pasta. He places one of them in front of Clarke. “I hope you like seafood,” he says, and he almost sounds… nervous?
“I do, thanks,” Clarke says. Bellamy smiles. He surprises her by putting his bowl down next to her, and sitting at the chair to her left. She had been expecting him to go and sit at the other end of the table for some reason. His knee bumps against hers as he sits, and Clarke quickly jerks away. She can’t bear his touch right now. The smell of the pasta masks his scent a little, at least.
She picks up her fork and glances at Bellamy. She flushes when she realises he’s watching her.
“Go ahead,” he says. “Try it.”
“Are you going to watch me eat?” Clarke says, a smile tugging on the corners of her mouth. Bellamy laughs, ducking his head.
“Sorry,” he says. “It’s the first time I’ve made this. I just want to know what you think.”
It’s odd, but Clarke can’t help but feel like he’s trying to impress her. And that if she doesn’t like what he’s made for her, he’s going to be—not crushed, exactly, but severely disappointed. Clarke twirls some pasta around her fork and puts it into her mouth. He’s pretending not to watch her, but Clarke can feel his eyes on her.
“It’s really good,” Clarke tells him. He practically beams. Clarke can feel her heart beating erratically. This is not good. This is so not good. “You didn’t have to do this, you know,” Clarke says.
Bellamy shrugs. “It’s in my nature,” he says. “To provide and take care of people, you know. And I don’t really get to do it.”
“But you’re an Alpha,” Clarke says. “Aren’t you supposed to find and Omega to take care of you?”
Bellamy raises an eyebrow. “In other ways, maybe,” he says. “But it’s an Alpha’s duty to see that his Omega gets everything she needs. But since I don’t have an Omega, you’ll have to do for now,” he grins.
Clarke is sure her face is bright red. “Are you looking for a mate?” she blurts out.
Bellamy looks vaguely surprised. “I—” he starts. “Not actively. But—I do want someone.”
Clarke’s mind is whirring, her heart racing. She’s unable to stop the images that flood her brain, of him claiming her as his, taking care of her, doing the things he claims Alphas are supposed to do. Her panties are wet with her slick. Surely he must be able to smell it on her. Part of her wants him to realise, then knot her right here, giving her no choice in the matter.
“Someone to protect and take care of,” Clarke says slowly, as if she still can’t quite believe it.
Bellamy frowns. “Why is that so surprising?”
Clarke shakes her head slowly. “At my school… they taught us Alphas just want control.”
“And what school was that?”
Oh, now she’s annoyed him. And given him information that could lead him to find out she’s not actually a Beta. No proper school would teach such blasphemy about Alphas.
Clarke swallows, squirming under his scrutinising gaze. “I was home-schooled,” she says quickly. “My mom taught me that.”
“She must have had a bad experience. What else did she tell you about Alphas?”
“They’re violent. And possessive.”
The corner of Bellamy’s mouth curls upward into an almost smile. “Violent, not necessarily. Possessive, yes.” The admission makes something twist in Clarke’s gut. Something telling her she wants him to be possessive of her.
She says nothing, dropping her eyes to her meal and continuing to eat, though she’s not sure how she manages it with her stomach churning like it is. He doesn’t seem offended when she only eats half of what he’s given her. He takes her half-finished meal to the kitchen, and she agrees when he suggests they watch a movie, even though she’s desperate to get away from him, if only because she’s afraid of how much she wants him right now.
She knows her other drugs will start wearing off soon too. At the moment her only plan is to keep Bellamy placated until she goes to bed, and then sneak out when he thinks she’s asleep.
Bellamy puts a movie on, and Clarke sits on the other end of the couch from him, as far away as possible. She’s brutally aware of him. Her eyes are glued to the screen, but she takes nothing in. His scent surrounds her, overwhelms her. Her body yearns to be close to his. All she can think of is crawls into his lap and having him wraps his arms around her.
She wishes he would turn the heating up. Her nipples are so hard they could cut glass, although that’s perhaps partly because of her arousal. She shivers.
“Are you cold?” Bellamy asks. Clarke nods. She thinks maybe he’ll turn up the heating for her, or get her a blanket. Instead, he holds out his arm. “Come here,” he says. “I run hot.”
She shouldn’t, because he smells too good, because she wants him too much. But she shuffles over to him and settles in against his side, her head on his chest. His arm squeezes her tightly. Too tight, almost, but she doesn’t complain. She breathes him in, closing her eyes, losing herself in the feeling of being safe in her Alpha’s arms. She’s never felt quite so at peace as this.
The feeling doesn’t last long though, as she remembers all the reasons she shouldn’t be enjoying this.
She makes it to just after eight, slowly losing her mind for the hour she’s curled up by his side. It’s now reached the time she normally takes her pills, and the snow hasn’t let up. She can’t be in Bellamy’s presence anymore. If she has to be near him any longer, she’ll do something stupid, like lick his neck.
“I think I’m going to head to bed,” Clarke says, tentatively getting up off the couch. If he asks her to stay, she knows she will.
“So soon?” Bellamy responds, surprised. “It’s not even nine.”
“Early to bed, early to rise,” Clarke laughs nervously. Great, now she’s talking in clichés.
“Okay,” Bellamy says. “I’ll see you in the morning. I’ll make you breakfast.”
“Okay,” Clarke squeaks. She gives him a nod, and then she hurries upstairs. She doesn’t have anything with her, obviously, like pyjamas, or a toothbrush. She makes do with swishing some toothpaste around her mouth with her finger. She keeps her clothes on and gets into bed. If she’s planning to sneak out, she doesn’t need to get undressed anyway.
She lies there for an hour, wide awake, his scent still all over her. She keeps the lamp beside the bed on. It flickers a few times, and Clarke wonders if the power will go out. Looking out the window, it seems as if the storm has only gotten worse.
Her heart races when she hears Bellamy’s heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. He pauses outside her door, and she can hear her pulse pounding in her ears. She holds her breath. He pushes the door open, and she sits up.
He stares at her, jaw tight. “You’re an Omega,” he says, through gritted teeth.
“Bellamy—” Clarke whimpers. Fuck. Fuck, fuck.
“I can smell you from halfway down the hallway,” he growls. Clarke’s cunt throbs. “I thought I was going fucking crazy,” he says.
“What do you mean?”
“Couldn’t figure out why—” he cuts himself off. “Never mind. Whatever you’re taking—it doesn’t work as well as you think it does.”
“You never said anything.”
“I convinced myself I was wrong.”
Clarke bites her lip. What now? Is he going to fuck her? His pupils are blown wide. His whole body is tense, as is her own. His scent has changed slightly—stronger now, more alluring. She wants to wrap herself in it. He could tell her to do anything right now and she’d do it. She wants him to. She wants to submit to him, like a good Omega. Wants him to tell her to take off her clothes and get on her knees. Wants him to mark her, hold her down and fuck her, give her his knot, her first Alpha cock.
“I was going to offer you something to wear to bed,” Bellamy says coldly. “But you probably don’t want to be forced to wear my scent all night. I’ll leave you alone.”
Clarke says nothing. Her tongue is like lead. He’s angry with her, she can tell. Angry that she kept it from him, most likely. He’ll probably fire her in the morning. For now, he slams the door closed, and Clarke drops her head back to the pillow, burying her face in it. The lamp beside the bed flickers again, and then the room in plunged into darkness.
Bellamy’s scent lingers in the room, and somehow her sense of smell is heightened in the darkness. She wants to go to him, beg his forgiveness, make it up to him somehow.
It’s a pointless wish. He obviously doesn’t want her. He had no trouble resisting her scent, even now that the drugs have completely worn off. Why does that feel like the worst thing about this whole scenario? Not that he found out she’s an Omega, but that he found out and he still has no interest in her. She feels pathetic, and her body aches. Her head throbs in time with the pounding between her legs. Her skin itches, and she feels hot all over.
She throws back the covers, unable to take their stifling weight any longer. Her clothes stick to her skin, and she can feel herself sweating. Her clothes make her itch, and she wriggles out of her skirt and tights, then pulls her sweater off, leaving her in just her panties, hoping it will cool her down. Her breasts feel heavy, her nipples hard and sensitive. She rolls onto her stomach rubbing them against the sheets. Her pussy aches, and she’s practically gushing into her panties.
Fuck. She finally catches on. She’s going into heat. She has the brief thought of putting her clothes back on and getting out of here before Bellamy can realise. But it’s too late for that. Even without the snow, it’s way too dangerous for her to go out there alone now that she’s in heat. At least in here there’s only Bellamy, who has just shown her he has no interest in being her Alpha. In here she’s safe.
Clarke tries to lie still as the ache between her legs grows stronger. She feels so empty and pitiful. Abandoned by her Alpha when she needs him the most.
Soon she sheds her panties too, and slides her hand between her legs, cupping herself, pressing against her pussy, trying to dull the ache. She doesn’t want to masturbate, not with Bellamy just down the hall. She grabs one of the many cushions and wedges it between her legs. It doesn’t help. Her hips thrust against the pillow of their own accord, and she can’t seem to stop herself from humping it vigorously. She’s desperate. She can’t control her own actions. Her mind has turned to mush, and all that exists is her need.
She can feel the pillow getting soaked beneath her, and though her thrusts become faster, more desperate, it’s not enough. She throws the pillow away, groaning. She rolls onto her back again, and pushes two fingers into her cunt. She fingers herself until she’s a whimpering mess, and it’s still not enough. She needs him. She needs her Alpha. Needs him to come and take care of her like he’s supposed to. Fuck her good and hard, knot her, fill her with his come, make her pregnant with his baby.
She’s crying now, burning, aching, shivering, and her heat has only just started. She won’t get through days of this alone.
She doesn’t notice the door opening, but then his scent hits her, and she moans, long and low.
“Bellamy,” she whimpers. “Bellamy, please. I’m in heat—I need—I need—” she cuts herself off with a wretched sob.
“Shh, shh,” he says soothingly. “I know.” The bed dips with his weight as he sinks down beside her. She reaches for him, and then he’s on top of her, the heat of his bare chest pressed against her aching breasts, his knee between her legs. “You need your Alpha.”
She wriggles down slightly so her cunt is pressed against his thigh. The contact of his hot skin against hers makes her gasp. She rocks against him, desperate for friction. Why isn’t he doing anything?
“Please,” she murmurs again, barely aware of what she’s saying. Her slick coats his thigh, and hers. “I need more. I need you inside me. Knot me, please. Fill me.”
“Have you ever been with an Alpha before?”
“No. Just you, I only want you. Nobody else knows what I am.”
“I want to make you mine,” Bellamy growls. “Wanted it since you first walked in the door, but I didn’t understand why until now. You were made for me. For my cock.”
“Say you’re mine,” Bellamy says.
“You want me to mark you? Claim you?”
“You understand what that means, don’t you? You will live here. Stop taking whatever pills you’re on. Nobody else will touch you. Only me, whenever I want. You’ll have my babies.”
“And you’ll take care of me.”
“Yes. Say you understand, Clarke.”
She’d say anything if it meant he’d fuck her, end her torture. She does understand though, even through her delirium. Understands that she’s giving up everything she worked so hard to keep, her freedom, her rights. Understands that she doesn’t care about that at all, as long as she gets to have him.
He kisses her, capturing her lips with his mouth, and it’s the smallest taste of what’s to come. He doesn’t kiss her for long, and Clarke is glad of it. His mouth is intoxicating, only making her body more electrified, making her crave him more.
He kisses her neck, then licks her there, tasting her, breathing her in. She can feel his massive cock between her legs now, sliding between her folds as he coats himself in her arousal. She squirms, breathing heavy. Her skin is on fire as she grows more desperate by the second. She needs him inside her now.
She doesn’t know if she says it out loud, or if he just senses her need, but a moment later he thrusts inside her, hard, sucking her skin between her teeth at the same time, marking her. She cries out, a cry of pure pleasure. He fits her perfectly, fills her like she’s been aching to be filled, for longer than she even realised. He was right, this is what she was made for. Him, and his cock. Why has she been denying her nature for so long, when it feels like this?
He holds her down as he fucks her, making sure she knows her place is under him. Not that she wants to be anywhere else. She can feel his touch all over her, and yet it’s still not enough. She wants to beg him for more, but all that escapes her mouth are the whimpers and moans of a desperate woman.
With every thrust of his hips she feels herself growing tighter, hurtling towards a feeling she hasn’t experienced in years. When she’s close, right on the precipice, he stops. She whines in distress as his cock leaves her—just the tip remaining inside her pussy.
“You won’t come until my knot is inside you,” he tells her.
Clarke nods frantically, anything to have him back inside her. He gives her what she wants, ramming his cock back into her. She can feel his knot start to form now, growing inside her cunt, trapping his cock inside her.
“Look at how well you take my knot,” Bellamy says. “Just like you were meant to do. Come on now, come on my knot, good little Omega. I’m going to fill you with my come, just like you crave.”
He gives her a push, rocking against her, and that, along with his words, sends her over the edge. Her eyes roll back and she writhes against him as she comes on his thick knot. He comes with her, and she can feel him spurting into her, filling her up with his hot seed. The thought of it drags her into a second orgasm.
Her heat has ebbed now, her skin feels cooler, her desire sated, at least for now. She knows it probably won’t be long until she’s ready to go again. For now, Bellamy lies on top of her, his knot still inside her, making sure his come doesn’t leak out of her. She’s well aware she’s going to be pregnant by the end of her heat.
“You’re mine now,” Bellamy whispers.
“Uh huh,” Clarke agrees.
“Does that make you happy?”
She can feel his knot recede now, and he slips out of her. He slides down the bed and settles himself between her legs, then starts licking her slick from her thighs, cleaning her up with his tongue.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Clarke says, still feeling the sting of his annoyance at her earlier.
He looks up at her. “You don’t have to be sorry. I understand why you did it.”
“But you were mad at me.”
“I could never be mad at you. I was trying very hard to restrain myself, because I knew you didn’t want an Alpha.”
“But you came to me in the end anyway.”
“I could hear you calling for me. You needed me. I couldn’t not. I couldn’t fight my instincts or my desire that hard.”
Clarke bites her lip. She knows the feeling. He owns her now. The thought thrills her. As if to prove it further, Bellamy drops his lips to her inner thigh, and sucks a bruise there too.
“Do you need anything?” he asks her hoarsely. “Food? Water?”
“I’m thirsty,” she admits. “But I don’t want you to go.”
“It will only take a minute.”
Despair bubbles in her throat at the thought of him leaving her, even for a few minutes, and tears form in her eyes. She recognises that she’s being irrational, but she can’t seem to stop it. Bellamy is quick to pull her into his arms, kissing her all over face and her shoulders. “Hey, it’s okay,” he assures her. “I’m not going anywhere.”