Chapter Text
The house is dark when Kylo pulls up. Not even the porch light is on, and he relies on both instinct and familiarity as he makes his way up the path and onto the wide wooden porch. At least it’s neat and tidy, he thinks, rummaging in his pockets for his keys. Rey has been trying her hand at gardening, and window boxes and terracotta pots are stuffed with flowers that Kylo dismisses as soon as he lays his eyes on their shadowy, skeletal forms.
He’s not here for her flowers.
The key turns smoothly in the lock, and he creeps inside on careful, quiet feet. Kylo abandons his shoes in the entryway, kicking them towards a dark corner. The hall is lined with black and white photos: too many faces to count peer judgmentally down at him, but they’re easy enough to ignore, especially when his skin prickles in anticipation as he shuts the front door behind him.
Dropping his keys in the little ceramic dish on the hall table, Kylo is struck with the bittersweet thought that he’s playing at the role of husband, or better yet: mate.
He so desperately wants that to be the reality of his life, and he can’t help himself. He leans into the fantasy, rolling his shoulders and muttering, “Honey, I’m home!” His voice is pitched low, the sentiment for him and him alone rather than the inhabitants of the house, and he allows himself to pretend that he is, in fact, her person.
Her husband.
Her Alpha.
It makes the fire that had been simmering in his gut since he woke up that morning go molten, his Alpha stretching inside him like a sleeping dragon that has been merely biding his time until the exact right moment. This moment.
The house is mostly silent. There’s the low hum of the heater, the sound of his socked feet on the hardwoods, but upstairs—there’s a sound so quiet that were it not for his Alpha senses, he’d have missed it.
Mattress springs creaking as a body twists and turns. A soft sigh from sweetly parted lips. A near-inaudible buzzing that sets his teeth to grinding and his cock to swelling.
Kylo pauses with one foot on the first step of the stairs, and finally allows himself to take a deep breath while his Alpha comes to the surface to ask a single question.
Can you smell her?
Yes. Of course he can. She’s everywhere in the house, but tonight, her normal sea salt and lime scent is undercut with a deep musk that Kylo and his Alpha only know to be one thing: slick—and an Omega in heat.
Yeah , Kylo growls to his Alpha. Smells ripe. Smells ready.
His nostrils flare and a rumble of approval vibrates through him as he feels his chest expand, drinking in the scent wafting down from the second floor. His eyes, too, have changed—the dark hallway and stairs are no longer deep shadows of darkest grey and black. Suddenly he can see without squinting: the mahogany of the handrail, the blue and cream of the stair runner, the gold of the picture frames.
Biological changes left over from when Alphas were little more than savage hunters: keen vision, an excellent sense of smell, and an awareness that makes Kylo bristle as he takes step after step in search of the Omega he knows is upstairs, already in the throes of her heat.
Kylo is lucky, too, that he knows this house. Knows which room is the bathroom and which is the office where her husband occasionally works from home, knows where the light switch is, and where the trunk that holds the summer linens sits outside the laundry room.
Most of all, though, he’s lucky that he knows where the bedroom is.
Lucky that the door is already ajar, lucky that a beam of golden light streams out into the hallway.
He doesn’t need the light. Her scent is leading the way, making his muscles bunch in anticipation with the effort of holding his Alpha at bay. Kylo still needs a semblance of control, needs to not make her citrus scent turn sour with fear. Her Omega can’t be startled by his presence until he’s ready.
Part of Kylo—the Alpha of him, prowling barely skin-deep—would love the chase. Would love to circle and stalk, to watch how she’d keep her eyes on him, the whites clearly visible around her hazel irises as she’d try to get out of the bedroom, down the stairs, and into the assumed safety of her living room—or even her porch, if she could get the door open with her trembling, frantic fingers. Not that he’d let her get that far before yanking her back against him. He’d have her on her belly in the hallway, scrambling across the wood floor as he buried his cock deep into her, his Alpha fully and completely in control.
He hovers, relishing the way the air feels heavy and sticky even in the hallway leading to her bedroom. Kylo can taste it on his tongue, sweet and tart and fresh, and he smacks his lips, biting back a groan. The whole house is redolent of her life with her husband—their scents mixing together and making a cocktail that confuses, torments, and arouses Kylo’s Alpha all in equal measure. It’s heady, it’s maddening, it’s torture, but the longer he stands in the hall, the stronger Rey’s scent grows, overtaking his senses until it’s all Kylo can smell.
You were right, his Alpha pushes towards him. Ripe.
The confirmation makes Kylo’s cock stiffen further, the rough skin where his knot wants to swell is hot and sensitive against his zipper, and he hisses through his teeth, pressing a hand against his length to relieve some of the desperate need.
It doesn’t work. Of course it doesn’t—only one thing will, and his Alpha is already rattling around Kylo’s carefully built cage, pacing and growling and making every attempt at breaking free.
He lays his palm flat against the door, inching closer still, and he can hear her clearly now. Moaning, thrashing against her covers, and—most delicious, most infuriating—the squelch of a toy as she tries to replace her Alpha’s knot.
No Omega should spend a heat alone. Especially not when they’re mated, and that’s the thought that makes him move. Kylo slams the door open and watches with a sick, twisted glee as Rey startles, the toy slipping free from her already swollen cunt as she tries to pull the sheet over her naked body.
“Hello, pet.”
Kylo had debated what to call her as he waited for the date circled in red on his calendar to approach. Her husband calls her sweet names: honey, sweetheart, mine— but Kylo doesn’t get those names, so he has to find his own, and “ pet” is what he settled on. Because he wants to keep her for his own, but she’ll never be truly his.
Rey stammers words he doesn’t understand, her Omega grappling for control as the human part of her fights back. Kylo knows that Omega wants to show him her belly, to demand his knot, to maybe even beg for his bite. “You’re mine. My Alpha,” he can imagine her saying, and even the thought of that makes his cock twitch. He cups himself through his jeans, the denim already wet from where he’s leaked through the fabric.
“Your mate can’t even be here for your heat?” Kylo asks, his voice low and snide. He takes the hated sheet in his fist and rips it down the bed, exposing her naked, trembling body.
Rey is rosy pink and red everywhere, and Kylo slowly rakes his gaze across her body. An angry blush paints her cheeks and neck, but the way her chest is flushed tells Kylo that she’s had at least one orgasm with that hateful toy knotting her, stretching her wide. Her chest heaves, and he can see how her thighs are smeared wet as she presses them together, caught somewhere between righteous fury and tormented arousal.
“That toy isn’t the same as an Alpha’s knot, is it, pet?” Kylo asks as he yanks his shirt over his head, adding it to the soaked mess of fabric that she’s made her nest out of before he crawls up the mattress. He moves fluidly and decisively, and Rey can’t do more than roll to her side in a futile attempt to escape, the blankets tangling around her ankles like even her nest is keeping her in place for Kylo.
He gets Rey pinned under him in an instant, both of her wrists clamped in one of his hands as she twists, her body rubbing against him as she does, which makes her whimper and a fresh surge of slick-scent hits his nose.
Kylo sees the war waging inside her—her eyes go fuzzy and then sharp, aroused to the point of madness, and then half a second later, she’s furious, hissing and spitting as she tries to kick herself out from under him. Fear is sharp in the air now, toasting the limes of her scent over an open flame, and instead of it turning his stomach, both Kylo and his Alpha love it.
With his eyes glued to her face, Kylo reaches between them and pulls the silicone cock from between her soaked thighs. It’s still slick with her, and it's easy to imagine her scent as permanent. In his mind, it stains his palms, soaking through his skin and into his bloodstream like a virus, infecting him as her Omega stakes her claim.
Kylo can’t help but wink at Rey before he brings the plastic up to his lips, licking the length of it with the broad flat of his tongue. Her flavor explodes on his tongue, and for a moment, he’s battling his Alpha for control—his designation screaming at him to take, to bite, to claim— but if this is all he’s getting with Rey, then Kylo has to make it last.
He slurps the silicone into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the thick head of her toy, and watches as her eyes widen and then go heavy-lidded as he sucks the cock deeper. A dirty, hidden part of him wants to show Rey how well he can take it, all the way down until the knot wedges behind his teeth and tears make tracks down his cheeks. The delicious weight on his tongue sends him somewhere dreamy and far away and he has to blink furiously to bring himself back to the present.
His own cock is leaking steadily now, and Kylo flicks the button on his jeans open, just for a bit of relief, but that relief doesn’t come. It can’t, not when he’s barricading his Alpha in a pre-rut holding pen and all he wants to do is stuff Rey full of his knot, pumping into her pussy until she’s overflowing with him and begging for him to do it again.
Opening his mouth wider and relaxing his jaw, Kylo takes another centimeter or two of the dildo, his lips obscenely stretched nearly to the inflatable knot.
If only, his Alpha croons, trying to shove him to a point of no return, if only it were the real thing, and instead of plastic down your throat, it was a real cock, waiting for you to suck it dry—
Kylo ignores the inner voice and pulls the cock free, licking the tip clean until he can no longer taste Rey on it. He puts on a show for her; something to remind her now that he’s here, he’s the only one who’s going to give her pleasure. He’ll be damned if an inflatable knot would satisfy her.
(He’s damned regardless, but that doesn’t matter anymore, not when Rey’s mouth is open like she’s ready for him to offer her the fake cock next, her tongue darting out to wet her lips in anticipation.)
“If you needed a cock so badly, you could have called me.”
She couldn't have. Not really. She isn’t his and he isn’t hers, and there’s no reasonable explanation for any of this, other than Kylo is tired of not getting what he wants. What he fucking deserves.
“Kylo—”
The sound of his name on her heat-addled tongue, all syrupy and sweet and so needy makes his hips drop and he grinds his cock against her belly, and just for a moment, he lets himself remember…
&&&&&
He’s in a crowded restaurant, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with a group of people. Conversation is everywhere, but all Kylo can hear—all he can see—is Rey and her boyfriend. He watches as they laugh together, as she brushes a crumb off of his lower lip before giggling, as he swoops close and kisses her in thanks, nipping at her lip, and Kylo’s chest aches as he watches the blatant show of affection between them. Her boyfriend’s low laugh makes Rey’s face go pink, and Kylo stares sullenly into his lukewarm beer, hating everything and everyone.
&&&&&
Her sense of humor is one of the things he loves most about her. It’s dry and sarcastic, cutting when she wields it like a weapon, but amongst her friends? It’s honest and extraordinarily funny. Kylo has memorized the timing of her quips, knowing exactly when to slide his gaze her way so he can watch the way her dimples pop. It’s the same way he’s memorized the stubborn tilt of her chin, the way her shoulders roll back and she draws herself up as tall as she can when she wants to win a game or an argument.
Her scent, fresh and warm and salty like ocean air—and the way her mating gland is visible when she pulls her hair up into a ponytail, the wispy strands of her hair escaping and framing the pink mark in a perfect bullseye. Her ponytail, specifically, haunts Kylo’s dreams. It’s nothing special, just her hair secured with a plain black elastic, but he can imagine its uses: perfect for sliding over her shoulder to press kisses against the slope of her neck, perfect for threading through the back of a Chandrila Champs baseball cap, perfect for gathering into his fist while he fucked her from behind.
But no. She isn’t his. She’s happy, deliriously so, planning a goddamn wedding and a future with a man who isn’t Kylo—
&&&&&
Kylo wears a rented suit and stands dutifully next to her husband-to-be. He watches them dance and laugh, the matching rings on their fingers glittering under the lights of the dance floor as he eats hours-old canapés and picks at a beetroot salad.
He downs glasses of champagne, ignoring the pointed looks from someone’s grandmother, and gets up to give a speech. He stumbles through it, making some shit up about true love and forever mates while Rey and her husband exchange worried glances. Kylo slurs and leans heavily on the podium, but he still takes a bridesmaid home with him.
He can’t even remember her name, not when they share a Lyft, not when he’s bunching her skirt up around her waist, and not when he’s fucking her into his mattress. Kylo was lucky he could even get it up that night, so intent was he on thinking about how the newlyweds were doing the same thing in a posh hotel room across town.
Newlyweds, sworn and made legal with rings and a wedding license at the altar, and then made mates with blood on their tongues and matching bite marks on the backs of their necks.
And Kylo could only look on from afar.
So he fucked the Beta bridesmaid that night, and the Omega girls he met on the apps or in bars or once, somehow, at the home improvement store down on Fifth. It was something he was used to, by now: settling for second best. Not that any of the girls he’d fucked and forgot were anywhere near Rey’s caliber, but, for a few minutes, when he sank his cock in their wet heat, he could nearly pretend that it was Rey under him.
&&&&&
His Alpha yanks him so suddenly out of his memories that Kylo has to blink away the visions of naked limbs and pierced tits and lower back tattoos that definitely aren’t Rey. Alpha is bellowing at him that she’s getting away, don’t let her escape, Kylo, you can’t let her get away, and Kylo doesn’t believe it, scoffing silently as his vision clears, but yes—
Those few moments of pause are enough for Rey to wriggle free. She knees him, hard, in the gut and rolls off the bed, and then there are two: Alpha and Omega, and Kylo gets his wish.
The chase is on.
Rey’s on the other side of the bed in a flash, and as Kylo feints left, she takes the bait and sprints for the door in a wave of scent and slick, her skin dewy with sweat. Unfortunately for her, Kylo is faster—he snatches her around the waist and drags her against him, and she pedals her legs in the air, kicking and shrieking as she tries to twist out of his grasp. Rey’s fingers pry at his hands and she’s screaming at him, calling for her Alpha as tears track down her cheeks.
“Yes, pet, I’m here,” Kylo croons, bundling her close and squeezing her fingers tightly in his hands. “Alpha’s here…”
He’s doing the thing that a millennias-worth of Alphas have done before: calming a fractious Omega, lulling her into a sense of security so deep that she can be fucked, often and deep, just the way she was meant to be.
Rey wails, her cheeks wet with tears, and Kylo doesn’t even think, just noses aside the hair sticking to her skin and licks at the salty liquid. His Alpha wrinkles his nose, because it's not the tangy flavor he wants blooming on his tongue; there are no high notes of citrus or low, unctuous musk, and it’s stolen from the apples of her cheeks and not from between her thighs.
But still, it’s a taste of Rey and should be savored, Kylo reminds his Alpha. He licks along her jaw until his nose is buried in her hair, and yes, there— he can breathe deep now. So close to her scent glands that all he can smell is her. Great lungfuls of her scent fill his universe, and there’s no way she can’t tell how hard he is with the way he’s absently thrusting his cock between the delectable cheeks of her bottom. Every time Rey kicks in an attempt to escape, her rear grinds against him, and it’s maddening.
Kylo’s gums ache with the need to bite, to drink her scent from the source, to cover her husband’s bite with his own, but even after all of this, he knows that’s a step too far and he shutters away the thought, his Alpha already gnashing his teeth in despair.
Rey moans in his arms, her scent spiking again as she fights against the inevitability of her heat, and he bites into his tongue in an attempt to not come in his pants. Copper spreads across his tongue, and it’s wrong, it's all wrong, because it should be her scent and her blood he’s tasting, and he has to appease his Alpha—
It’s not the gland that he so desperately wants to lay claim to, but Kylo licks at her neck, and as he soaks her scent glands in his saliva, the combination of the two of them sets his Alpha to purring.
He staggers them back to the bed despite her kicking and screaming, and even when he tosses Rey into her nest and climbs back up onto the mattress with her, she’s scrambling away and trying to escape him, and that won’t do—
“Omega.” Kylo rumbles the Command like thunder, letting his Alpha break free for a single moment, and it works: Rey freezes, her limbs going still and her hoarse voice stopping mid-scream. The only sign that she’s not the docile, obedient Omega are her eyes: they flash with anger, glistening with the unshed tears of a terrified woman pushed to the brink.
Gathering her limp hands in his calloused ones, Kylo folds her fingers around his own, forcing their sensitive wrists together. He smears his scent across her gland, intentionally covering some of her husband’s as he goes, and his Alpha is pleased. It seems to do the trick, too, to soothe Rey: her eyes lose some of that terrified edge that Kylo hates and loves in equal measure, and her lips part not on a snarl but on a slow, lazy smile.
“It’s alright, pet,” Kylo croons at her, still chafing her hands in his. “It’s all gonna be okay. I’m gonna give you the one thing your husband can’t. Gonna fill you up until it takes, Omega. That’s what you need, it’ll fix everything…”
He whispers nonsense down at her, words and phrases coming to his lips as if he drew them up by the bucketful from a well of Alpha-speak, and just when he’s feeling confident that he’s finally got her where he wants her, all limp and needy and wanting, Rey blinks, and his Alpha manages to growl, She’s gonna— before she jackknifes off the bed in another bid to escape.
Rey nearly headbutts him, but Kylo slams his palm into her chest at the last moment, manhandling her back into her pillows with a forceful shove.
“Wanna play rough, huh?” Kylo demands as he grapples with her, clamping his fingers around her wrists and bringing them above her head.
“You don’t need to fight me, Omega. All I wanna do is make you feel good, give you the world. Don’t make me hurt you,” he warns as he gets a thigh between her kicking legs, dropping his hips and wrestling her back to complacency.
“See? I’m bigger than you. I’m stronger than you. We’re alone in this house, and no one who hears you scream is gonna think anything other than the dirty, filthy truth: That your Alpha is fucking his Omega through her heat, and she loves every goddamn second of it—isn’t that right?”
He punctuates each damning statement with a slow grind of his cock against her soaked center, relishing how he’s ruining his jeans with their combined wetness as his Alpha roars in his ears.
He gets her wrists in one of his hands and his other travels to her face, his fingers squeezing dimples in her cheeks to match the ones he’s long since memorized, and finally— finally— he watches as her heat pulls her under again, leaving only a restless Omega in its wake. Rey’s kicks and twists are less intense, and when she stops gouging her nails into his wrist, he gingerly lets go of her.
Kylo’s eyes follow her movements with the patient deliberation of a wolf tracking its prey: he watches the way her belly quivers as her fingers travel from her throat to her navel and then between her legs. He pushes up on his elbows, adjusting the thigh between her legs to offer her more room, and Rey immediately takes it, swiping at her clit before she sinks two fingers knuckle-deep into her cunt, easy as anything.
There’s slick everywhere: soaking under Rey and into the sheets, and his jeans are beyond destroyed. Kylo tugs his zipper down and peels the denim down his thighs, taking his briefs with his jeans until he’s kicking them off along with his socks. He grits his teeth and wheezes as his bare cock slaps against her skin, layering a smear of precum on top of the slick that’s spread up her hips and belly. Kylo is certain that his cock is so hard and hot that it could melt steel, and when the sensitive skin of his knot slides against her trembling belly, it’s enough to make his cock twitch and more precum to dribble from his tip.
Her scent is increasing, and the way they combine together to make something new makes Kylo want to wade into a vat of it and soak until his muscles don’t ache as much as they do now from the strain of holding back his Alpha: Vanilla and oak twist around her citrus notes, creating something earthy and rich and altogether new.
He lets Rey touch herself for a moment, watching as she works up towards an unsatisfactory, knotless orgasm, and relishes the feeling of her yielding body under his. She whimpers in need, squirming on her own two fingers, and only then does Kylo know that Rey has retreated, leaving behind only her Omega, pliant and wet beneath him.
“There she is,” he murmurs more to himself than to the Omega he’s caught. “There’s my good, obedient girl.”
And with his fingers still tight around her jaw, Kylo bends close and kisses her, rewarding her good behavior with his lips and his tongue. It’s taking all of his hard-won self-control for him to be gentle as he encourages Rey to open for him, to be sweet with her mouth—of course he wants her obedience, but he wants her participation even more. Rey is unresponsive— all Kylo can feel is her hand working away between her thighs—but when he slowly forces his tongue between her lips, her hips rocket off of the bed to grind against him and she moans into his mouth before kissing him back like a woman starved.
Kylo pulls away long enough to press hot, open-mouthed kisses along her jaw before muttering into her ear, “That’s right, Omega. Alpha’ll give you everything you need—”
His thick fingers replace hers, smearing slick circles around her clit before dipping into her tight heat: first one, and then two. He scissors them apart, searching for that rough spot that he knows is there, and then—finding it—he focuses his attention there, working her higher and higher as she grinds against his palm.
No matter how she squirms and begs, Kylo keeps his pace a slow and steady one. If this is going to be the only time (it has to be the only time, he tells himself, lest he truly fall into madness) that he’d take her, both he and his Alpha are going to do it right. And if that means putting off the exquisite feeling of his knot stretching her wide as she clenches around him, then Kylo can, and will, do it. He’ll do it, and he’ll savor every single moment of it.
Besides, he’s been tired of not being offered what he deserves for long enough. His only choice now is to take it, and to hell with the consequences.
&&&&&
Kylo remembers the long talks over beers and at dinner parties. Listening to people asking Rey and her husband insensitive questions, watching as their laughs turn to forced smiles and then into frowns and clipped tones. Kylo watches and listens and gathers information to add to his vault of knowledge about Rey.
Their mutual friends have babies, and they all watch as they grow into toddlers, and yet—Rey’s arms are empty, her stomach is flat, and her expression changes from contented awe to covetous want, until finally landing on a sort of angry sadness when she refuses to take a squalling infant in her arms during a ridiculously themed “sip and see”.
He gathers tidbits of information, hoarding every fact and rumor and adding them to his mental picture of her life: doctor’s visits, countless tests and needles and pills and supplements, and yet—still nothing.
&&&&&
Time passes and Rey grows withdrawn and pale, hateful and jealous. The need for someone to fix it for her, for him to fix it if her husband can’t, only grows. Kylo is desperate to be able to show her that he sees her, really sees her: that he knows what she wants, and if her husband can’t give it to her—why isn’t anyone else stepping in to help? He begins to wonder if he’s truly being driven crazy, because no one, not even Rose, seems to see how sick it’s making Rey, but his Alpha soothes him, telling him that no, he’s not crazy, he’s an Alpha, a good one, the only one who can fix it, wanting to provide for an Omega in his care—
&&&&&
Rey whines as her pussy flutters and clenches, but his fingers aren’t good enough, they’re not his cock or his knot, he isn’t leaking precum against her skin and he damn well isn’t pumping her full of him in the hopes that he manages to pup her.
Kylo wants to do this properly. Wants to kneel between her thighs and yank her close, her legs around his hips and his cock pistoning in a steady rhythm. He wants to roll over at night, already hard and aching for her for no other reason than it's her in his bed. It would be easy as anything to wake her up with his fingers between her legs, or (if he’s really lucky), his cock already buried inside her welcoming heat. He wants to pull her down the bed by her ankles, listen to her squeal as he settles on his stomach and teases her with his tongue and a single finger until he can’t stand it anymore and he seals his lips around her clit, pulling orgasm after orgasm from her until she’s crying and overstimulated, and only then will Kylo fuck her sloppy, used cunt.
But that won’t ever be his reality, and so he shuts down his imagination and chews on the inside of his cheek as he stares up at Rey.
She’s desperate now, her thighs clamping around his wrist while his fingers squelch in and out of her drenched cunt as she begs:
“Please—”
“Alpha, I can’t—”
“Need it, your knot—”
The syllables slide together into nonsense before separating and Kylo can understand once again: She needs his cock, his fingers aren’t enough, please Alpha, please, oh please—and he knows that she’s in it now, so deep in her heat that any Alpha will do for her. But he’s not any Alpha. He might not be her Alpha, but he’s the only one she’s got right now, and damn if he won’t do his duty to her the way her mated Alpha cannot. Frustration—and something else Kylo refuses to examine more closely—flares deep in his chest at the thought of her husband, and Kylo tamps down the feeling, refocusing all of his attention back on Rey.
She comes, a quiet whimper of an orgasm that isn’t nearly enough for an Omega in heat, and she whines at him, crying and moaning for more. Kylo slides his fingers free, admiring how slick runs down his palm to meet his wrist. Wrapping his fingers around his cock, he slides his hand up and down in short, hard strokes, her slick easing his way. He smears the head of his cock against her clit, watching in perverse satisfaction as her legs jolt at the extra bit of friction, but it’s not enough for her and it’s too much for him: He can feel his knot start to swell, and he makes himself let go, his length hanging heavy between his thighs.
His cum isn’t going to go anywhere but inside her, he tells Rey, and instead of the dreamy smile he wants to see spread across her face, her brow furrows and her lips part like she’s going to argue. Kylo needs to stop her; needs to shut her up before she can tell him “no” or call him by another name, and without thinking, he shoves two fingers into her mouth, mingling her spit with his precum and her slick. Rey gags as he prods her tongue, but when he lowers his head to her neck and suckles at a sensitive spot under her ear, her jaw loosens and she drools around his intrusion.
She’s easy to subdue, Kylo thinks as her tongue curls around his fingers. He takes her ear between his teeth, worrying the lobe and then soothing the bite, and Rey’s fingers are everywhere: toying with the ends of his hair, the cups of his ears, and then—the gentlest, most tentative stroke across his mating gland. That soft touch makes Kylo shudder and his cock jerk between them, dribbling more pearlescent precum across her belly.
“What do you need now, pet? You’ve come once already…” He plays as if to move away, his Alpha needing her to prove how much she wants him, and Rey passes his test with flying colors. She wraps her legs around him, rolling her hips against him as slick soaks his cock.
He feels as drunk as she looks: glassy eyes and wild hair stuck to her forehead with sweat, tilting her chin to expose her neck and her sweet-smelling gland to entice him further. As if he needed that encouragement. It’s still not enough: He has to taste her, wants her slick to seep into his beard and fill his pores—in a flash, he rolls her over and yanks her up onto her knees, and then he’s trundling down the bed behind her and his face is buried between her legs.
She shrieks in surprise as Kylo traces her pussy with his tongue, and he pinches her thigh when she squirms.
“Need you to be all sweet and soft for me, Omega,” he admonishes sternly. Rey whines quietly back at him before burrowing her head into her pillows, her ass wriggling in the air.
In another lifetime, maybe Kylo could be the one to call that perfect peach of an ass his. Maybe, in that lifetime, he could fuck her mouth, spilling his seed down her throat instead of saving it for her welcoming cunt. Maybe he could fuck her ass, shoving her face into the mattress with a wide palm on her neck. She’d beg him for his cock, his cum, his bite: And he’d give them all to her without hesitation, over and over again, until the only name she knew was his.
Even though this isn’t that lifetime, Kylo finds he wants to take his time with her, and so he carefully runs his thumbs up her seam, spreading her wide. She reminds him like nothing more than a flower in a rainstorm: pink petals and drenched folds, her entrance still sensitive and swollen from that twice-damned knotting toy and his own fingers.
“Gonna be a good Alpha for you,” Kylo tells her, petting her clit with a gentle thumb as he does. Rey shivers under his ministrations, and he continues. “Have to open you up and make sure this cunt is ready to take everything I give to it.”
Words die on his lips as she pushes back against him, and then he’s slurping at her, the flat of his tongue tracing her folds. He licks everywhere: the hard little nub of her clit and the tight hole he wants to bury his cock into. He drags his tongue up to the furl of her asshole, and when she starts to struggle, his fingers clamp around her hips and he focuses his attention on that forbidden place—partly because the act is just as filthy as he feels, fucking someone else’s wife, but also because he hopes it would make her beg him to go back to her cunt.
She does, in a warbling, tremulous voice that has his fist tightening around his knot with a vice grip in an effort not to come, and so, with one last regretful lick, he moves to suck her clit into his mouth, drenching his face in her slick.
Rey pounds the mattress with her fists, and Kylo loves—LOVES—how demanding she is in her heat, how unafraid she is of taking what she wants. Any plan that he might have had, to draw her to the edge over and over again until she suffered the way he’d been suffering since he met her, was gone as soon as the first taste of her slick exploded on his tongue.
The power is going to his head. That’s the only explanation he has for how lightheaded and dizzy he feels, like he truly is drunk on her. Kylo’s teeth ache and he rolls his jaw, the need to bite threatening to overwhelm him and pull him to a place he could never return from.
He can’t, though. Can’t take her gland in his teeth, can’t feel her skin break under his pressure, and it’s enough to drive him mad. He needs to do something, so he presses his lips against the meat of her thigh, just below the plump freckled curve of her ass, and he sinks his teeth in, careful not to draw blood. Rey howls, her feet kicking out and a fresh gush of slick spills from her cunt, when she just— somehow— comes without him even touching her. Kylo sucks her hot skin between his lips, intent on leaving a mark. It’ll be his own fumbling claim of this woman who isn’t really his, and it has to be enough.
By the time he finishes, her skin is a mess of purple and red, his crooked teeth clearly visible where he bit down, but it’s still not fucking enough, and Kylo fears it never will be.
Acting on instinct alone, he drags his fingers through her slick and reaches blindly to his own neck, smearing her wetness across his gland. He shudders as his biology reacts to the heady combination of pheromones, and it's the final push he needs to lessen the stranglehold he’s had on his sanity and truly let his Alpha take over.
Kylo yanks Rey against him with a strong arm banded around her belly, his cock a steel length against her lower back, and he uses his nose to his advantage, shoving her hair aside so he can growl in her ear.
“You already know what’s gonna happen, Omega,” Kylo starts, his teeth scraping against her flushed skin. Rey shivers under him and arches her back, offering him a show of submission that only spurs his Alpha on.
“I’m gonna fuck you. Knot you. Fill you so full you’ll fucking taste me on your tongue, and then I’m gonna do what your Alpha can’t do—I’m gonna pup you.”
Rey whines and shakes her head as if she’d like to argue the point that Kylo’s been chasing in circles inside his own head, but his Alpha has decided that enough is enough , and he bites down on the slope of her neck, stilling her motion and offering her a warning.
“Your Alpha can’t do his job.”
He flattens his palm against the plane of her belly, imagining his pup growing inside her womb, safe and warm and protected. It’s a primal need, to watch his child change her body: for her breasts to grow, her stomach to swell and her scent to soften in contentment.
“And if your Alpha can’t do the one job that he’s meant to do, I’m gonna do it for him. I've seen how sad you are, Omega. All these months without a baby of your own. I’m gonna fix it for you, I promise.”
Rey doesn’t say a word as she slumps flat against the sodden covers, but Kylo watches as tears escape her lashes and trickle down her cheeks again, and he shushes her as he strokes his palm down the smooth plane of her back. He can’t help but marvel as his hand moves over her body: the way his palm splays across her spine, his fingers connecting her freckles like he’s drawing lines between stars. He’s doing the right thing, taking her like this, Kylo reminds himself. He’s giving Rey what she deserves, and if his efforts pay off, her heat won’t be the only thing they end up secretly sharing.
“I heard you that night, you know.” Rey doesn’t say a word as he whispers in her ear, but he knows she remembers which one he means. They’ve never talked about that night, under the stars, but there’s no way she’s forgotten. Kylo knows he never has, and so he continues, hoping that his words infused with just a hint of his rarely-used Alpha Command will help soothe whatever hurt the Omega feels.
“You were calling to me, Rey. Begging. For me. I couldn’t come to you then, but I’m here now, Omega.”
Kylo presses his body against her and nips at her neck, tracing the outline of her sensitive gland with his tongue, before scraping his teeth across the rough skin. Rey shivers, her bottom wiggling against his bare cock and his lips part over her neck, sucking the skin that tastes like unadulterated her into his mouth.
“Beg for me now, Omega. Beg. For. Me.”
She’s almost silent, but Kylo watches as her lips form a single, breathless word, as if Rey can’t bear to let herself say what her Omega truly desires.
“Please.”
Rey struggles to rise back up to her knees, and Kylo moves with her, settling between her legs with his cock bobbing against her hot pussy. Slick soaks his length, and he bites back a groan—it would be so easy to just take and take and take, to sink knot-deep and fuck until he forgets where he ends and she begins.
“You can’t say “please” and leave it at that,” Kylo groans, running his thumb over her clit in rough circles. “Please what, Omega?”
“Please—” Rey moans, her voice throaty and ragged as she grinds her ass into Kylo, but he won’t adjust the speed of his thumb on her clit, not until she tells him she wants him just as much as he’s gone insane for her.
His voice is nothing more than a snarl when he prompts her again, and he’s shaking with the effort of holding his Alpha back from sinking into her waiting cunt. “Please what? Use your fucking words.”
Kylo’s being cruel and he knows it, but what’s one more ounce of cruelty in the grand scheme of things? He’ll be as mean as she expects him to be, if it gets her what she wants. She can lay all the blame at his feet and she can hate him forever, if it means he did what her Alpha could not: fuck her until it takes and she grows round and content with his pup in her belly.
In the end, though, it’s Rey who reaches between her legs and notches his cock at her entrance. She’s the one who growls in frustration after his first thrust slides messily through her slick folds and misses. She’s the one to sink back onto his cock in a single smooth stroke, her ass settling against his hips so firmly that Kylo is momentarily breathless.
Then it’s all instinct.
Kylo’s fingers curl around her hips as he hauls her back against him, their bodies slapping together lewdly as he fucks at a steady, relentless pace. Her fingers are on her clit, and Kylo is thankful for it, because the fingers not digging into her skin are twined in her hair, tugging her neck backwards at such an angle that he can watch her pant out her pleasure and see how her heartbeat makes her gland throb.
His mouth waters, and Kylo shuts his eyes, grinding his teeth and speeding up his thrusts in an effort not to bite her until the urge to fuck the memory of her Alpha and replace it with himself has passed.
Rey is incoherent, and her Omega is fully in control: she’s fisting the covers with one hand, the other between her legs, and Kylo can feel her fingertips against where his knot will expand. It’s torture, but he knows the longer he can hold out before filling her up, the better his chances at pupping her, so he sinks his teeth into his already-swollen lip and keeps up his pace.
She’s tight around him. Tight and wet and hot, and only getting tighter and wetter and hotter as she rockets towards orgasm, and all Kylo can think about is how beautiful she’ll be when she carries his child. Knowing that it’ll be his cum that will make a baby grow in her is heady stuff, and a brief thought strikes him, fast as lightning: that this can’t be the last time he fucks her, simply because when he sees her swollen with his child, Kylo knows that it’ll drive him crazy enough that he’ll stop at nothing to sink his cock deep into her lush cunt again.
“I’ll have to sneak into your bedroom again—gotta feel you bounce on this cock once your tits are full and our pup sleeps in that belly of yours—” Kylo manages, and Rey sobs her agreement, shuddering underneath him as he growls filthy things in her ear.
“I’m doing this for your own good,” He tells her as he pinches one of her nipples, imagining milk dribbling over his fingers, creamy and sweet.
“You’re gonna be the best mama,” He croons, pressing his palm against her belly where he can feel the thrust of his length when he’s burrowed it deep inside her.
His cock is a sticky mess of slick and cum, and Kylo half-wishes he was a beta, able to push his cum up where it belongs instead of having his knot stoppering it all up and waiting for it to take. He could use his fingers: scooping the cum up as it seeped out of her used pussy, plunging his fingers back inside her as he worked Rey up to another orgasm.
Rey quivers around him, her muscles tightening around his length and pulling a groan from his throat as Kylo snarls, “This is for all the times you look at me when you think he can’t see you—”
She sobs out another shaky orgasm, and Kylo grits his teeth against the powerful surge that’s threatening to take him too, but he just wants more time —just a little more time—
But he can’t stop his Alpha from barrelling through the walls he had hastily built up, and his knot is starting to catch at Rey’s hot entrance, the textured skin rubbing her to another orgasm as she collapses flat onto her belly.
“This is all for you,” Kylo groans, managing another thrust and then another before his knot is inside her, splitting her wide open and holding her in place. They’re both covered in sweat and fluids, but he’s got more to give her, his hips flexing as his cock paints her walls white.
It feels like it takes hours: Kylo’s brain is full of crackling static and every single muscle in his body tenses as his balls empty, and he can’t stop coming. Ropes of spend are squeezed from him and all he can hear is a faint roaring and a woman begging for more.
And he’s the one roaring as he keeps thrusting in too-short bursts, and it’s Rey who’s begging him for his cock, for his cum, for his bite, and it’s everything Kylo’s ever wanted…
Even if he wanted to stop, he can’t, and he comes again, as his palm makes its way back to her belly. Rey’s hand is there already, and he threads their fingers together and rolls them to the side, even as his other hand bends her leg over his hip so his fingers can find her clit again.
What a fucking world he lives in: buried knot-deep in a woman who’s someone else’s wife, someone else’s mate—but he’s going to be the one to watch her grow round with his child, he’s certain of it. It’ll be their little secret. Just theirs—something for him to hold onto when he can’t hold her. And besides, no one would tell her mate, anyway. Kylo wouldn’t say a word, and as for Rey? She’s still hungry for his cock, squirming back on his knot as she demands more from him—and that’s enough blackmail to tell Kylo that she’ll keep her pretty little mouth shut.
Slick covers his fingers as Kylo pinches her clit, pressing on that tight little bundle of nerves until Rey wails and trembles, her fingernails biting into his wrist as her thighs clamp around his hand.
“Another one, Omega,” Kylo begs. “Gimme just one more, make sure it takes—”
Rey comes for the final time, squeezing his knot in a delicious torture that earns her another spurt of cum as Kylo cups his hand over where his knot is stretching her wide, and Rey hums in sleepy satisfaction. She burrows back against him, nestling her head into the pillow he’s claimed as his own, and Kylo’s Alpha howls his approval.
It’s done.
A mix of satisfaction and pride fills Kylo’s chest as he pulls Rey closer against him, knowing that she’ll wake soon enough and her Omega will expect him to keep up with her needs. He’ll have to be cautious, to leave the house well before he risks being found by her husband—but that’s still days away.
Being reminded of Rey’s husband is a troubling thought, but Kylo tamps down the swirling nausea, swallowing hard as he burrows his nose into her tangled hair.
Focus, his Alpha reminds him. Focus on fucking her until the Alpha she remembers is you. She’ll be yours in all the ways that count: dripping with your cum and your pup in her belly.
Satisfaction blooms somewhere in Kylo’s gut, just like his Alpha said it would, but his eye catches on something on the little wooden table next to the bed: A portrait of Rey on her wedding day. Right now, as always, Kylo finds it hard to pull his eyes away from her, but his stomach churns again as he turns his focus to the man in the photo with her, his arm wrapped protectively around Rey’s waist.
Her Alpha.
Kylo’s twin.
Ben Solo.