Unnatural (The Wrong Alpha 1)

It felt almost like a dream. He felt hands pull his boxers down his legs, leaving him naked. Then there was a hot mouth trailing kisses down his spine, making him shiver and gasp. Strong hands pulled his cheeks apart and then—

“Fuck,” Haydn gasped as Royce’s tongue began to flutter and dance against his hole. It felt good. Really good. So good Haydn couldn’t help but press up into it and spread his legs further, offering himself up.

Royce growled and pushed his tongue in. And Haydn went wild, moaning and whining, trying to impale himself on that lovely tongue. Oh God, oh God, oh God…

Royce ate him out for what felt like an eternity, his tongue managing to hit him in all the right ways. But it still wasn’t enough. Then there were slicked fingers inside him, moving in him, stretching him. It still wasn’t enough. Haydn found himself half-sobbing, half-growling into the pillow, begging the other alpha for his cock. Please, please—need it—cock—your cock…

When Royce finally pushed into him, it felt like everything else ceased to exist except for the thick, rock-hard length slowly impaling him. It felt almost too much—his insides seemed to rearrange for Royce’s cock—but at the same time, it felt perfect, as though he’d been created for this.

I was, Haydn thought dazedly. Had he been allowed to be an omega, he would have been dripping for his alpha, wet and needy on the inside. Haydn was an alpha, and he wasn’t wet, but he was needy on the inside. It felt like he would die if Royce stopped fucking him, if Royce didn’t spill deep inside of him.

Before long, Royce was slamming into him, hard and fast, his fingers gripping Haydn’s hips, low growls escaping his throat. “Haydn.”

Haydn moaned as the cock in him hit something that felt particularly good. “More!”

With a guttural sound, Royce flipped him onto his back and pushed back into him, burying his face in Haydn’s throat. “Fuck, I can’t get enough of you,” he bit out in frustration, his hips pumping into Haydn at a maddening rhythm. “It’s like a hunger—want you—want you to be mine.” He sank his teeth into Haydn’s scent gland, pumping out his alpha pheromones like crazy.

Haydn whimpered, baring his throat for better access and clenching around the cock in him. “Knot me,” he demanded, his unfocused gaze on the ceiling. “Want you to knot me.”

Royce’s muscular body shuddered on top of him. “I might hurt you,” he said, his voice incredibly strained, but Haydn could already feel the base of his cock expanding, pushing into him, locking them together as Royce finally came with a groan, his hot come filling him up.

Oh fuck. Tears sprang to Haydn’s eyes. They weren’t tears of pain; it just felt so intense. So good. Royce’s knot felt perfect inside him, so incredibly thick but so right Haydn felt like this was what he’d been missing all his life. He moaned weakly, overwhelmed, his cock spurting come. This orgasm felt like nothing he’d ever experienced. It seemed to last forever, and it was satisfying on a level he couldn’t explain. Fucking hell. He’d never felt better in his life. So fulfilled.

They clung to each other, breathing hard, Royce’s teeth still in Haydn’s throat, Royce’s knot locking them together securely.

“This was a bad idea,” Royce said finally.

“Why?” Haydn said with a dazed smile. “I loved it.”

Royce half-laughed, half-groaned. “Don’t say that. Now all I’ll think about is when I can knot you next. At this rate, you’ll end up taking my knot every hour.”

Haydn ran his fingers over the damp hair at Royce’s nape. “As long as it doesn’t conflict with our schedules, I’m game.”

Chuckling, Royce nuzzled into his neck before suddenly going very still.

“Haydn.”

Noticing the strange inflection in Royce’s voice, Haydn gave him a questioning look. “What?”

Royce took a deep breath, a low, rumbling growl escaping his chest.

Haydn’s eyes slipped shut. “Mmm?”

“You smell like mine,” Royce said breathlessly, his voice tight and full of wonder. “You smell like you’re mine, Haydn.”

Haydn forced his eyes open, blinking in confusion. “What?”

“The mark took,” Royce said, squeezing him so tightly it became difficult to breathe.

The mark?

It took Haydn’s pleasure-drunk mind a moment to understand what that meant. Of course. Dr. Jordan had said that although his biology was still primarily alpha, kerosvarin had amplified some dormant omega genes. If he had some omega characteristics now, it was likely that his body now produced sufficient hormones for an alpha’s mating mark to take.

He was bonded to Royce now.

They were mates.

Mates.

Now that Haydn knew what to look for, he really could sense a slight shift in him. He felt more grounded. Stable. Secure and safe. More importantly, he could feel in his bones that this man was his. Royce was his.

Royce lifted his head and they stared at each other, more than a little stunned, before smiling dazedly and crushing their mouths together.