Salvus: The Omega's Alpha #1 Read online

  He lost track of all rational thought, consumed now by the idea of sex, of fucking, of cock inside of him, of being knotted, of losing his fucking mind to all of it.

  Omar drove into him in one thrust, aided by the slick and his body’s utter willingness and need. He knew pleasure and completion, knew it felt good to be used in a way he didn’t like when he wasn’t in heat.

  Because unless he was in heat, Van didn’t want anyone to take his ass.

  2

  Omar

  Van’s ass was always good.

  To be fair, so were the asses of most of the guys he fucked, but there always seemed to be special about Van’s in particular. It wasn’t good. It was tight, hot, wet, and absolutely fucking perfect.

  Van moaned in his ear as Omar’s lips ghosted across the tender skin of his neck.

  With his teeth inches from Van’s throat, so close to being able to just claim him as his own, it was too big a temptation to think of Van’s ass as perfect. He wasn’t sure he believed in that mystical fucking connection between them any more than Van did, but there was always something different about Van.

  It wasn’t just the way that his cock fit so beautifully inside of Van with every hard thrust, so maybe it was the fact that they were fated to be together. Mates, even if it wasn’t soul mates. Because fuck knew Van would rather die than be with him, and Omar was fine with echoing that sentiment on any other day — days when he didn’t have Van grinding into him with the raging lust of heat, meeting his thrusts halfway as they rocked the furniture hard enough to pound the wall just as mercilessly.

  Maybe the fact that the guy was hot and always had been was what made the difference. Van was his type through and through. The perfect cut of his torso, lean and muscular without being buff, looked effortless, even though it likely wasn’t. The length of that mop of dark hair was perfect to tangle his fingers into, to pull on when Van was face down on the bed beneath him. Not to mention the way that it fell so perfectly in his face when he was fucked six ways from Sunday and trying frantically to catch his breath, like he was right then.

  Perhaps it was the way he surrendered so beautifully in the midst of his heat — heat which was reflected in his dark eyes when he looked up at Omar between deep, soul-searing kisses.

  Van never looked at him like that in their day to day lives, nor would he ever be panting, writhing and moaning in abject surrender under anyone. Especially not Omar, so he was left savoring moments like these, where his omega was lost to pleasure, driving himself further onto his cock, while making any number of sounds that seemed to set his alpha blood on fucking fire. He’d savor it before Van’s expression changed to vile disgust and annoyance, and the omega would snap and snarl at him again.

  Van wasn’t exactly the epitome of what his kind was supposed to be. He wasn’t submissive, he wasn’t deferential, he wasn’t docile, and he had no interest in bearing children.

  In other words, he was a freak.

  But if he was a freak, Omar was too, because it wasn’t Van’s ass he was always thinking about.

  No, it was Van’s cock and how it might feel to have it pounding into his own virginal ass. He wanted to be taken like he was taking now, to be the one face down and fucked senseless by Van’s rigid cock.

  He was an alpha, and no alpha should ever willingly let themselves be defiled like that. Yet there he was, stroking Van’s cock vigorously while thinking about being wrecked like he was an omega in heat himself, pounding away his jealousy by giving Van everything he couldn’t fucking have himself.

  Van would probably laugh and laugh. He’d get a kick out of telling all his omega friends, if he only knew the kind of filth that ran through Omar’s mind whenever Van’s heat-needy body was wrapped around his dick.

  He resisted the urge to sink his teeth into Van’s neck, because Van would never understand. Instead, he gritted his teeth and fucked the omega harder against the wall, fingers digging into his skin harshly enough to leave bruises. He knew Van wanted it hard and rough. He wanted to have those bruises, he wanted to feel sore after, and Omar wouldn’t be spared the roughness either.

  Van’s hands slid under Omar’s shirt, his fingernails sinking into his skin and scoring his back as he brought the omega to higher pleasure with his pounding cock. Omar groaned, certain that Van was drawing blood, and fuck, it felt so good. He nipped Van’s bottom lip in warning, acting the part of a proper alpha — like always.

  It didn’t stop the omega. If anything, it spurred him on, and Omar grunted as Van’s heels dug into his back and he used his nails to grip tighter.

  So good. So fucking good.

  He thrust in harder, faster, until the mirror hung on the wall threatened to fall down. He had to get them to a bed where they could fuck in earnest, where he could pound Van within an inch of his life and remind him he was an omega, whereas he was an alpha and that this was the way it should be between them.

  Freaks or not.

  He released his hold on Van’s hips after a particularly vicious thrust that pinned Van between him and the wall.

  “Don’t stop,” Van commanded sharply, wildly thrusting his hips.

  “I’m not,” he growled as he wrapped his arms around Van, holding him tight against his own body — because he wouldn’t give up that ass for anything now. He pressed a kiss against Van’s lips, who reciprocated with dying urgency, as if he wasn’t already getting pounded.

  Omar lifted Van up, cock still buried inside of him as he carried the omega to his bedroom.

  Van squirmed on his cock, and inadvertently, Omar slipped out of that all-too-perfect ass. He grumbled as he threw Van onto the bed like he was nothing but a rag doll, a whore for his cock to satisfy.

  Van scrambled once he hit the bed, his legs already spreading again, and he looked up at Omar past the sweaty hair stuck to his forehead and through beautiful long eyelashes. Van was no ordinary whore, no ordinary omega. Omar couldn’t resist his siren call, his body reacting on pure instinct as he got onto the bed as well. He crawled over and onto Van, all predator as he hovered a moment above the omega. Van whimpered and bared his throat to him, and his soft, begging whimper filled the air. Those wordless pleas resonated through Omar’s mind. What would it feel like to be him? To stare up at a predator about to destroy you, because you needed it?

  It didn’t matter what he wanted. He needed to be Van’s alpha, to help him through his heat, and he would act his fucking part — like Van was acting his.

  He rubbed the head of his cock against Van’s tight asshole, moaning as he was once again greeted with slick. The sounds his omega produced never got old. It was the pleading that appealed to everything truly alpha in him, and he relished every single moment of it. It wasn’t like getting Van through heat was a hardship.

  Omar closed his hand around Van’s cock and balls, cupping them close against that beautiful body. There was no finesse to the forceful groping, no attempt to stroke him sensually or jack him off properly. It was just stimulation to drive the omega wilder.

  “You want my cock…?” He breathed against Van’s lips, teasing him with just the tip, no matter how hard Van tried to squirm and writhe his way onto it. The omega wasn’t making any sense, his words constantly cut off by more unintelligible sounds of need and pleasure.

  Only when Van’s desperation turned into outright keening need did he finally thrust into the omega again, filling him in one deft stroke that left Van shuddering beneath Omar. There was such relief in the sound that escaped Van then, and his body seemed to — impossibly — open up even more for him.

  Van’s fingers clawed at his back, smearing the blood from his scratches across Omar’s back and letting the scent of it mingle with the scent of heat and sex. It drove Omar onward, thrust after thrust, time and again, until he was every bit as lost as Van was in the frantic fucking. He didn’t resist, giving himself over to the incredible feeling of a rapidly building climax.

  Van’s seed spilled over his belly first with a sharp
intake of breath and another cry against Omar’s lips followed by a harsh, desperate kiss. Omar sped up, grabbing one of Van’s legs and pushing it up to allow him to thrust more easily. He wanted more. He needed to fuck harder — and at the same time, there was the primal feeling of needing to care for the omega now that the start of his heat was fucked down.

  Alphas really could end up being slaves to omegas. They were dangerous like that.

  The absent line of thought cut off when Omar’s cock pulsed, warning him of impending orgasm in turn. He knew he needed to pull back before his knot could form and couple him inside of Van’s ass for who knew how long. The omega would hate it, but he didn’t want to pull away, and if he asked Van now in the throes of passion and heat, the omega would tell him to fucking knot him already—

  “Knot me,” Van whined, echoing his thoughts. “Fucking knot me, you asshole.”

  “Aren’t you sweet?” Omar asked in a rough growl. Fuck, but he couldn’t resist, even though he knew this would end poorly for him. He slowed his strokes, feeling the knot thicken the base of his cock. His thrusts became languorous and slow, deliberate as the friction between their bodies increased rapidly, until it was big enough to stretch Van’s ass.

  Van gasped, another full-bodied orgasm hitting his body as the knot expanded to rub against his prostate, to relentlessly press against him and leave him helpless against the pleasure that raced through him.

  They were both helpless then, knotted together and lost in the throes of pleasure, as Omar shuddered and groaned at the impossibly good sensations.

  Van’s body quivered beneath him under the onslaught of continued pleasure. Omar’s own knees grew weak, and he grabbed Van as he rolled onto his back. The omega seemed to startle out of his euphoria, but he let himself be pulled on top of Omar with little resistance. Van was breathing hard, and Omar slid his arm around him to hold him close, feeling the press of his rising and falling chest against his own sweaty body.

  Several long moments passed, the only sounds those of their breaths and soft sounds of residual pleasure as it slowly ebbed away.

  “I’m okay,” Van finally croaked out against his chest

  Omar nodded, running his hand along the omega’s back, feeling the way his shirt stuck to his sweat-slicked skin. “I’ll get you some food when the knot goes down.”

  Van sighed. “Do you have to knot me? It’s so…”

  His words trailed off, and Omar didn’t want to finish the sentence for him.

  It was so intimate.

  They both knew it, but neither of them wanted to say the word.

  “Maybe you should stop begging me to do it,” Omar retorted, sharper than he meant to.

  “I’m not exactly in control,” Van snapped as he jabbed an angry fist against Omar’s shoulder in a futile gesture of bitter resentment. “You’re the fucking alpha. You’re responsible for this.”

  Omar took the fact that Van had never actually tried to punch him in the face in these sorts of exchanges as a sign that he didn’t completely hate his guts, though the anger was always hard to stomach. Especially when all he wanted to do was laze and enjoy the aftermath of good, hard, fucking perfect sex.

  “I don’t exactly have much control when you start coming around my cock. You’re not the only one whose instincts go fucking off,” he grouched back, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

  “You don’t know shit about instincts,” Van snarled, trying to pull away from him, as if he could. The knot tugged at his ass and keep him tightly bound to Omar, unable to even face away from him.

  Omar tried to remain calm, like a good alpha should. He tried to understand that Van was embarrassed by his own body, humiliated even. It wasn’t easy though, not with an antagonistic prick like Van.

  The heat made omegas bitches to anyone who chose to sate their need, and they utterly lacked control. Alphas might’ve had trouble keeping it in their pants — and keeping their knots out of omegas’ sweet assholes — but it was nothing compared to their counterparts. He knew that much, at least in theory, but it wasn’t like Van was the only one who lost control.

  Yet Van was the only one who got to feel victimized.

  “Don’t I? I’m the one you keep using whenever yours get out of control, like I’m your personal fucking sex toy,” Omar snapped unkindly.

  Van recoiled from him and his touch as though slapped, his already flushed cheeks turning a darker shade of red. “Get your dick out of me,” he hissed. “I don’t even want to look at you.”

  “Too fucking bad,” Omar said, though his hand fell away from Van’s back.

  The omega sat up, still locked to him even though he tried to pull away again. “This is all your fucking fault.”

  “How is it my fault?” Omar demanded, aware he was about to piss Van off more. “You could’ve had Jacob instead of me, but you wanted me, remember? You texted me. You were ready to fuck him in the middle of the street. I got you away from that asshole, to safety and privacy, even to the fucking bed…! Fuck, Van. You begged me to knot you, and you want me to resist that too?” he muttered irritably, pretending he didn’t see how red with anger Van was slowly turning with every word. “By all standards, I’m a fucking saint. You should be thanking me.”

  “This is why I fucking hate alphas,” Van snarled, glaring down at him. “You’re such entitled, arrogant pricks. You think I should be thanking you? Forgive you for your lack of control? You don’t get points for not violating me in the street!”

  Omar’s knot started to shrink — thank fuck — and he unceremoniously pushed Van off of him. He withdrew with a plop, sending Van tumbling down onto the damp sheets beside him. “Fuck it. There’s no talking to you when you’re like this. I’ll bring you some fucking food,” he said coldly as he got up. “Just enjoy my bed until you need my cock again to sate your need, oh great omega.”

  “Fuck off,” Van muttered, curling in on himself and tugging at the sheet.

  Omar flashed him a chilly little smile, because he could be an antagonistic prick too if that was how Van wanted to play it. “Oh, don’t worry, sweetie. The only thing I’ll be fucking is you. You’re my omega, after all,” he sing-songed, even though the rage inside of him made it difficult to think clearly, let alone find ways to taunt Van.

  The heat of Van’s glare could’ve caused another to quail, but Omar only gave him a smug, unimpressed look. “I’ll serve you like a good alpha, Your Majesty, but you’d better believe I’m not touching you until you fucking beg for my cock.”

  Van’s cheeks were as red as a tomato. “You’re such a fucking dick.”

  “Good thing all you need is dick,” Omar retorted, thinking quick for a change. He left before Van could snarl anything else unflattering to him and headed to the kitchen, slamming the bedroom door behind him. It was petty and childish, but he didn’t give a fuck. The omega had gotten under his skin again. It was always so clear after sex that they didn’t get along unless Van was in heat and incapable of speaking.

  Why he always gave in to Van’s needy ass, he didn’t know. The sex wasn’t worth the verbal abuse from the ungrateful asshole, but the idea of leaving Van unsated or left to find other ways to quench his lust wrenched his gut.

  He was as much a slave to his instincts as Van, in the end, bound as omegas and alphas and to that fucking bond between him and Van — his fated mate.

  He hated it.

  He hated Van for making this all so fucking difficult. They’d been doing this for long enough to where it shouldn’t have mattered anymore, but their exchanges took something out of him every single time.

  He yanked the fridge open, only to be met by a dismally bare sight. A few beers, some browning lettuce, and a jar of pickles and mustard were all he had.

  Omar hadn’t planned on seeing an omega through heat. He might have time to go to the store before Van went into another cycle… If he was quick, anyway.

  But fuck it. The ungrateful little shit could wait. He was going to spoi
l said little shit to satisfy his heat anyway, so Van could suffer a little before getting to use his cock again.

  He stalked back into the bedroom, flinging the door open and ignoring the omega in his bed. He yanked his closet door open and grabbed a clean shirt and pants. He was halfway through his wardrobe change when Van finally spoke from behind him.

  “Where are you going?” he asked, his voice more subdued and apprehensive — and, Omar was almost pleased to note, a little anxious.

  “To get you food,” Omar said, grabbing his shoes. “If that’s okay with Your Majesty.”

  Van grimaced, flopping back onto the bed — next to the impressively large wet spot, Omar noticed. “Stop being such a prick,” Van grumbled.

  Omar gave him a look of blatant disbelief and shook his head. “Sheets are in the hall closet. Make yourself useful for a change,” he muttered.

  He could feel Van glaring at him as he exited the room again, but then, that was nothing new. He would get him fed and see him through his heat, like a good alpha should.

  After all, he had principles.

  Unlike Van.

  3

  Van

  “Make yourself useful,” Van mimicked the alpha’s voice once Omar had left the house. He hadn’t dared do it with Omar within earshot. He didn’t want to get himself kicked out when his heat had only just descended upon him — when it was sure to take a few more turns. Stubbornly, he didn’t bother to change the sheets though, not yet, because Omar didn’t get to tell him what to fucking do.

  Van wasn’t sure how long he could handle Omar and his victimized assholishness this time around. It was always stressful and humiliating, but this time felt even worse than usual. Maybe it was because Omar had a point in there somewhere. He did always come through — probably because he wanted to get his dick wet, most of all, but he hadn’t needed to interfere with Jacob.

  But he had.