Intuitively, I knew he was trying to suppress knotting. I couldn’t understand why he was so intent on preventing it.
But that puzzlement soon blurred out of consciousness. It was like shoving a hose into my belly and turning the tap on full—his ejaculation poured into me.
“Hah, haah, huh... hhh...”
I stared wide-eyed and just gasped for breath.
As soon as he started to come, he dropped the pants he’d had between his teeth, hugged my legs even tighter, and began racing toward the end of his climax. Shaken by the force of his thrusts, I groaned, hands tearing at the sheets, then ended up biting the back of my own hand. My body shook mindlessly as if I’d climbed onto some dangerous, violent ride and was slamming hard into something. Yet I didn’t fly off, and my body didn’t break. On a ride, impact doesn’t turn into an accident.
He set my two legs down tucked against his left side. My lower body twisted, and I felt his penis squeezed even tighter inside me. It was stimulating for both of us.
Without pulling out, he lay on his side. He tugged me into his chest and I stacked against him, our bodies aligned in a side-lying position. He pulled my bitten hand away and offered the back of his own hand for me to bite instead.
“Hah, ngh!”
I tried not to bite, but the moment he started rubbing inside after changing position, my thoughts snapped, and I sank my teeth into the clean back of his hand, blue veins raised.
Pressed together, our bodies turned every sensation sharper. Rubbing my chest against the arm that held me over my shredded T-shirt, I dipped my hips and, matching the upward thrusts from below, pushed my ass back and rocked.
His knee wedged between my legs and lifted my thigh. My groin opened, and, still on my side with one leg raised in a primal pose, I was pierced, rubbed, and shaken. With single-minded speed he speared upward, scraping my prostate mercilessly.
“Hah, ugh... huh... mmph. Ngh.”
It felt like bubbles boiling up inside a beaker finally surged over the rim.
I reached orgasm without ejaculating, clawing at the arm around my chest, twisting my grip, mouth stretched open, choking on breath.
The hand he’d given me to bite caught my jaw and turned it back. Before our lips even met, his tongue plunged deep, the kiss covering me. His penis still filled me from behind, and even without spilling I had arrived somewhere. My pulse sped, my breathing ran short, and his tongue ravaged through it without mercy.
His bucking hips withdrew. As the sensual, clearly contoured glans dragged along my mucosa and slipped free, semen leaked from my anus like water spilling from a bottle toppled on its side after the stopper pops.
The filling pressure had been obscene—but so was the sensation of it pouring out in a slick stream.
Shuddering, I brought both hands between my legs before I knew it. I plugged the hole with my palm and arched my shoulders. After climax up front and orgasm in back in quick succession, my body was so hypersensitive it felt like a breath on my skin would make me moan.
A thick stickiness bulged and oozed between my fingers. I had to hold myself and groan, like someone overwhelmed by the urge to pee that could break loose any moment.
“Hah, n-no... this... it keeps coming out....”
Please do something about it. My vision blurred as I looked back at him and begged. Tears had pooled.
He covered my hand with his, pressing firmly as he rubbed, and set his mouth against the wet corner of my eye, soaked with sweat and tears.
“It’s okay, wait... I’ll put it back in right away.”
He pushed my shoulder to tip me forward and climbed onto my back. Then he hugged my belly and dragged me higher. Knees and hands on the mattress, I ended up crouched on all fours.
Bracing one hand beside mine as his chest blanketed my back, he turned my chin with the other hand and pressed our lips together. Like someone trying to check a speck on my shoulder, I had to tilt my head all the way back and give him my tongue and mouth.
“Mm, mm... mm.”
His shaft rubbing along my cleft was still hot and hard. In the same quadruped posture as me, he twisted his trunk and propped one leg at a right angle.
He skimmed the glans through his own semen that had leaked from my anus down my inner thigh, then pushed the slick tip into an opening that hadn’t fully closed.
Unlike before, he drove in hard in a single stroke; I didn’t even have the leisure to marvel at how easily my body accepted him.
A sticky palm slapped onto my ass like a spanking and then gripped full handfuls of flesh, twisting as if he couldn’t stand it. I hung my head and moaned like a child being punished, and a deep, heavy groan settled from behind.
He pressed his chest to my back again.
On all fours, fused as one, slammed senseless by the in-and-out recoil, we were animals. In this position, his strength reached me most directly, without waste.
Because of the semen pooled inside, every time he drove upward the wet slap of our joining was obscenely squelchy.
“Hhh, ngh... hah.”
My cock, hanging down, throbbed and swung like crazy, and it felt like I was being stimulated front and back at once until I could go mad. The moment I lifted my hand from the mattress, I thought I’d collapse under his driving force; I couldn’t even reach to grab myself.
It felt like riding a bumper car cornered and struck in rapid succession. Heavy impacts kept coming, and I shook and trembled, unable to try anything else as I was rattled again and again.
He pushed in and pulled out, rubbing every surface of his shaft against my insides, and it felt like he wasn’t restraining anything anymore. His hips moved so fast that, sprawled over my back, he was like a beast sprinting on all fours at full tilt. I was little different, moaning like I was about to cry, dragged along by that run.
“Did you... want me that much? Enough to climb onto the bed first?”
“H-hah, hh... uh....”
With his jaw pressing my shoulder, I nodded. As he snapped his waist and hips to keep thrusting, his hand slid under my loose T-shirt and pinched my nipple hard.
“How can you? How can you be so thoughtless... when I’m....”
Before he finished, the hand squeezing my nipple left my shirt collar, caught my chin, and turned it. Our lips locked immediately. Because he was shaking me so hard, our mouths kept missing and bumping, and that made the kiss—his mouth—more desperate.
Keeping my half-lidded eyes fixed on his lips, I confessed obediently through my quivering breath.
“I... I wanted to.”
He stared at me like his eyes could burst into flames. Whenever his scent spilled out with his ragged breathing, I lunged to take it in greedily.
“Not just today—always... I have.”
He bit his own lip like he’d heard something hateful. Like I was prey captured at the end of a chase, it was literally a kiss that felt like he could chew off a piece of my lip.
We were feverish on the bed, but it wasn’t a lie invented to heighten the mood. Even if he didn’t know it, I knew it was a confession of fact, and that made my own daring more shocking.
Bit by bit, sex was becoming liberation for me.
Not a freedom that resolves at the root, but a decadent liberation ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) that was only temporary escape—still, while pressing bare skin to his, I could forget everything, focus on my senses alone, and be honest.
I hadn’t felt anything this vividly striking and resonant in years. Because if I felt something, it seemed like I’d only get hurt.
But contact with him carried the vividness of facing myself as a living being, touching and sensing myself. Even if I’d have to endure the bitterness of self-reproach afterward, at least this act didn’t injure or endanger anyone—so for someone like me it was irresistibly attractive.
All I had to do was endure the aftertaste—the bitterness and the hollowing loss—by myself.
“If you want it, say it. Just say you want me, and I’ll give it to you anytime...”
He tugged the lip he’d been chewing, let it go, nuzzled my ear with the tip of his nose, and whispered something that could not be more fragrant—and at the same time could not be more cruel.
This act wasn’t having him, and no matter how many times we repeated it, this alone could never amount to anything. Knowing that... even so, if I could possess his body for a while, I would probably try to repeat this.
I wanted to ask if he meant it. If I wanted it, would he do it anytime, anywhere, like this?
My taut thighs trembled, but I didn’t want to let go of him thrusting inside me, so I clenched the sheets and held on.
“Hhh, hff... ngh....”
The way his eyes reacted to my expressions and breath and every twitch of my inner walls; the sensual mouth that loved rough movement; muscles supple yet strong; the heat of his sex and the way it rubbed inside. The suffocating dense scent. Every sensation he gave me stood in contrast to the faded world before.
My mind blurred out, while in inverse my senses sharpened to a chilling clarity.
I liked surrendering myself to that clarity and letting it break me down. It was only him and me here. Privacy is powerful. Whatever pleasure I sank into with him on this bed, whatever filthy act I enjoyed, as long as that one person consented, it wasn’t a crime.
I was free. Even if that freedom was a delusion of indulgence and decay, at least in this moment that’s how I felt.
Quaking on all fours under the shake of his shaft, trading messy kisses with my head turned—this posture itself... now felt less shameful than free. Even the crooked thrill of daring to do what I shouldn’t, what I was told not to, was part of sex.
“I want....”
He’d said I only had to say it if I wanted it, so I did as he said. My voice, split with obscenity, wasn’t clear.
“You’re having me now.”
He slowed his pace, but instead drove in deep, all the way. Without withdrawing even a little, he shook his hips noisily in that state.
I shivered at the feel of him twitching inside me and shook my head hard—it wasn’t that.
“What you did last time....”
“......”
“Do that. Knotting... do it again.”
What the hell was I saying.
He fisted my hair and yanked back hard. Biting his swollen lip, he muttered in rapid English with a stronger accent than usual, spitting the words like he was gnawing them—about how filthy I was for driving him insane.
Everything about how he handled me turned rough. Tearing at my track pants, the man who’d been resisting intrusion was gone.
He grabbed both my wrists, yanked them back, and hauled me upright. He clamped my torso tight to his chest. My chest and even both arms were bound; I couldn’t move at all. A crushing force tightened like it would pulverize every bone in my upper body. Blue veins bulged along his arms; his muscles stood out in sharper relief.
He buried his face at the nape above my stretched shirt collar, one shoulder bare. The bite where neck meets shoulder was too hard to be teasing or playful. Like he’d rip off a mouthful of flesh and swallow it, he worried my skin, shaking his head as he bit.
“Uuh, uh... ngh!”
Without easing his grip, he pulled his hips back until only the glans remained and then slammed in so hard a pop of sound burst out; my ass flesh quivered.
He buried to the hilt until his scrotum mashed against my ass, then withdrew halfway, dragging my inner walls with him. It felt like his penis was rubbing not just my belly, but my whole body. He poured himself into me without remainder, as if he meant to transform me into himself.
When that cresting feeling that had repeatedly gathered at the tip and retreated started racing through me again, a taut, swelling pressure filled my lower belly and the base of my ass.
He shoved a hose into my anus, sealed the entrance, then opened the tap to maximum and inflated me. Thump, thump, thump—my pulse rampaged like pounding down from above my head, and all the blood in my body spun through my vessels at several times its normal speed.
“Haaah, I-it... this... this....”
Eyes wide like I’d witnessed something incredible, I spattered semen across the sheets. Even as he watched me ejaculate, he didn’t slow his thrusts at all.
There are no brakes when he’s knotted. In this moment when a Golden Alpha’s sexual capacity maxes out for reproduction, he exists to impregnate the person in his arms.
It felt like my whole body was laced tight with rope and the knots were cinching tighter, bit by bit. Like being trodden all over, a severe, body-aching pleasure burrowed into my skin until it stung.
“Yeah, it’s knotting.... You like it? You liked this that much?”
Biting here and there along my nape like he hated me to death, he hammered my insides with a sex swollen to the point of bursting me. It blocked my throat, made my breath short; even without any showy hip motion, it shook me like it could rearrange my organs. That was knotting.
“You said you’re a Beta. Said you’re not an Omega. Then why are you... asking for knotting? You want to get pregnant? Huh?”
Insane.
Hearing his scolding, almost threatening voice, for a split second I found myself wondering whether, if pregnancy were possible, our relationship could change. However fleeting that hypothesis was, it was so cowardly and petty, a direction of thought my past self could never have imagined—it scared me.
“Why do you... do this to a person... so much....”
Murmuring like he was surrendering or collapsing, he pressed his forehead to my shoulder and came. It was hot and fierce, like upending a pot of boiling water inside me. At first it surged out like a shower stream, then it kept oozing in thick pulses, soaking me deep.
The sheer volume of semen started leaking down between my legs at once, squeezing through the perfectly sealed gap between his knotted shaft and my inner walls. If it hadn’t, my organs might really have been damaged. And—only if I were an Omega—but even leaking like that, the amount was more than enough to impregnate.
I turned my head toward him. When he lifted his face from my nape and looked at me, his eyes were completely gone again, like last time.
Those pupils—looking at me but not really seeing me—might have been frightening, but they were simply sexy. If I thought all this frenzy and misalignment of reason were directed at me, I wanted to grab it in both hands, greedy.
I kissed the languid lids, and he sprang to life, lunged rough, and snatched my lips. At the same time, still holding me, he toppled onto the sheets and climbed over my belly.
Lips, tongue, nape, ears, chest, armpits and pubic hair, the back of my balls and my anus—he roamed everywhere with his mouth. Wherever his lips and nose touched, he drank in my scent; more than the greed I had for him, he was greedy for me.
“No matter what happens... come to me like today. You don’t have to worry about anything.”
Even if it was just lip service spilled meaninglessly in the heat of the bed—like those one-night partners who whisper I love you on the first meeting—it was the perfect feed for the hunger I felt toward him.
I closed my eyes, hugging his head as he pushed up my shirt and kissed my red, sensitively swollen nipples again and again.
Unlike last time, when he’d panicked after ejaculating with knotting, stopped, and hurried to scrape semen out of me, he changed positions afterward and came inside me once more.
Slicked three times over with his semen, not just inside but all over my body, it felt like his scent was rising where mine should have been. I felt certain something had changed.
■ ■ ■
Beside the single armchair, the little table with a modest flower vase and a couple of books was actually a compact wooden fridge. He took a bottle of water from it and gathered my limp shoulders, lifting me when I didn’t even have the strength to cover myself.
“Try some water.”
My lips and even my mouth were parched, but I didn’t have the strength to lift even a small bottle. I felt completely spent and ragged, like I’d been tied to a tireless, muscular horse and dragged around for a long time.
My left shoulder rested against his right chest. He sat me sideways and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, bracing my back with his knee. I tried to support myself with a hand on the mattress, but I couldn’t even hold my torso up without leaning more than halfway into him.
Seeing my arm and hand tremble as I tried to grasp the bottle, he took water into his own mouth. Then he put his lips to mine and dripped it in.
I flinched at first in surprise. The cold sensation against my hot body felt unfamiliar, and I hadn’t expected him to go that far.
We’d tangled in all sorts of shameless positions just now, but even if our relationship had been filthy without hesitation during sex, that didn’t mean he owed me delicate kindness afterward.
My muscles wouldn’t obey, so about half the water he poured missed my swallow and ran along my mouth, down my nape, over my chest and lower belly under my T-shirt. Patiently, in several rounds, he got me to drink enough.
Only after he saw some life return to my eyes did he finish the remaining water himself. The cool, big hand that had held the bottle brushed back the hair plastered to my sweaty forehead.
I was completely wrung out. He wasn’t. His muscles were still pumped, ready to sprint at any moment, and heat still flickered in the gaze looking down at me.
That heat traced a path. It was where the water had run.
Holding me in his arms, he slid his lips and tongue along the trail he’d poured. Every time his mouth skimmed my skin, I jerked hard like a seizure. The feel of him sucking a nipple through the wet T-shirt was cold and strange, and my toes curled.
I’d made him come three times, but what pressed against my side was still solid. His erection was fresh as if he’d been abstinent for over a week and just got excited.
But he calmly accepted that sex was over. He seemed used to situations where he couldn’t have sex until he chose to.
To satisfy the tireless libido of a Golden Alpha, maybe only a Golden Omega could do it. I don’t really know.
I’d drunk my fill of juice from the fruit of pleasure, so I wanted to satisfy him too—but I didn’t have a scrap of energy left to spark sexual excitement. If there had been any, he’d eaten it all.
I firmed my spine and rose in his arms. Tugging the stretched collar of my shirt, the one shoulder completely bare, I also slid it to cover my cock, messed with dried semen.
“I should throw this shirt away.”
The sound of my voice, rougher than expected, embarrassed me.
“Mm, looks that way.”
He agreed, glancing down at my chest. The thin cotton shirt had lost its shape completely; the collar was so stretched that even after I fixed it, not just my collarbones but the top of my chest showed clear.
He stroked my collarbone, then suddenly slid his hand down inside the collar as if searching for something, playfully rummaging. Because the hand coming in backward from my neck, not upward from below, moved around, it felt indecent for no reason; I looked down at his palm kneading my chest twice, fingers spread wide—then looked away.
“It’s easy to touch, indecent, and nice. Keep it as a souvenir, why not.”
He was even skillful and natural about mixing light mischief after sex to smooth the awkwardness.
I laughed weakly at his joke, and suddenly his face set, serious.
His gaze had stopped between my legs. Even sitting up, his copious semen—spilled three times—kept seeping out. Like when we’d been having sex, his gaze at my crotch was nakedly frank. He even cocked his head to get a better look. No matter how much I wanted to play it off, my thighs drew together on their own.
“Let’s clean up first.”
He cut his stare away abruptly, almost awkwardly, and stood from the bed. I grabbed his wrist without thinking, assuming he meant to do it for me.
“Let me rest a little... I’ll do it slowly.”
“......”
His eyes dropped again. As I held him, my shirt lifted a little and exposed more between my legs than before. I’d said all kinds of things during sex without being told to... but now that the spell of sex had released my brain, the sight between my thighs—soaked, soaking the sheet like I’d made a mess—was mortifying enough to die.
“If I keep looking at that... I’m going to jump you again. It’s way too stimulating.”
He said it, but when he gently freed his wrist and headed to the bathroom, he didn’t seem all that reluctant.
The light went on, water ran into the tub, and he came back with a towel wet with warm water. Even naked, leading with his still-erect sex, he moved naturally.
Only, maybe because of the weight, his cock bobbed with each step; whenever it swung big, he’d catch the base in his hand... and even though I didn’t have the strength to lift a finger, the sight made a fresh tingle spark between my legs. I clicked my tongue at my own lust. How had I lived satisfied with mechanical masturbation until now?
“Ugh—i-it’s fine....”
He climbed onto the bed, one leg hanging over, and brought the towel straight between my thighs. I caught his wrist with both hands and resisted. He paused, then brushed my hands aside and lifted the hem of my shirt.
“I did all this. So have me do it. I know I pushed you too far.”
Saying that, he wiped my thighs and cock with the warm cloth, his face and touch as serious as if performing a medical task. Though he was still erect, there was nothing sexual in the expression or feel of his hands tending me.
Perfectly kind; not the least bit awkward or flustered... which only made it feel like the sex just now hadn’t shaken him at all, that as soon as it was over, his greed for me and that loss of control had ended, too.
It’s not that I wanted to resent kindness and manners. I didn’t perversely want him to turn cold, shove me away, insult me, and rake at my heart once he’d finished.
Even so, why did watching him calmly do everything right make me feel so stifled? I was being spoiled.
Saying it would be worse later if we didn’t get everything out properly, he practically carried me to the bathroom, supporting me when my mortified self could hardly move. In the meantime he’d filled the tub generously with hot water.
In water, he said, it would be much easier and more comfortable to let it all out. He told me to take off my shirt and squat in the tub.
When he started to step in after me, I had to stop him desperately. I boasted that I could do it alone, but, disastrously, I didn’t even have the strength to hold a crouch. On top of that, his tub was far wider than usual; I couldn’t brace myself on both edges.
After watching me flounder, plopping down on my ass several times, he clicked his tongue and sighed above my head.
“Told you you couldn’t.”
Splash. He stepped into the tub, and I didn’t have any excuse left to push him away. It seemed ridiculous that sex alone had left me this limp and wobbly, and I was angry at my uncooperative body—but thinking of the long, relentless foreplay that melted me, the rough, intense penetration and knotting like he was claiming restitution for that time, and the three ejaculations, it also felt inevitable.
“Stop being stubborn. You’ll end up with bruises in weird places.”
