Warning:This chapter contains scenes with intense sexual themes, power dynamics, and situations that may be emotionally uncomfortable for some readers. Discretion is advised.
"Bastian, wait... something smells so sweet... is that you?" Valentina asked, looking at him with uncertainty.
He didn't answer. His kisses deepened, then moved to her neck, where he pressed his lips to mark her. He knew he had the control. He knew he could do anything he wanted. He desired her, and for that reason, he told himself she must have wanted him even more—as if that gave him the right to everything.
The kisses continued, and although she had hesitated at first, she now simply let herself go, because... she told herself that this was why she came.
The phone buzzed. Once, twice, three times. But she didn't have the strength to reach it. She knew who it was, but it no longer mattered; now she was in the eye of the storm.
"Ahhhh, Valentina, you smell so good... is that you? Betas smell exquisite when they're excited," Bastian whispered as he brought his nose to her ear.
He began planting small kisses, descending to her hands and softly licking each finger. She could feel the warmth of his breath, the way her skin tingled. She turned her face to the side to take in the sea view. Her window offered a beautiful scene, so stunning it resembled a Greco-Roman tragedy.
Valentina turned back, fixing her gaze on the man before her. It was him—kissing her belly as if she were a saint he adored. She didn't understand it, but she felt both blessed and cursed.
She placed both hands on his face. She just wanted to see him closer. She wanted those eyes in front of her. She wanted to hang from his neck and climb on top to dominate him.
Valentina would give him everything he wanted, because she reminded herself that's why she wore her best perfume, her best lingerie, and traveled with so little, just to be with the one who made her feel sacred.
His hands searched for the zipper of her dress. He tore it before she could react. Not with anger, but with certainty, and he pushed her face-down. But then, as if realizing he was going too far, he stopped and gently turned her over.
The room was filled with the scent of caramel. She saw in his eyes something like forgiveness, regret, lust—like a snake preparing to swallow its prey. From her navel to her feet, he smelled her, licked her, until finally, he placed his mouth on her center.
"You smell so exquisite... jasmine... yes, my Valentina," Bastian said, his face between her legs, staring directly at her.
He licked her hips and bit them to mark his territory. And when Valentina started to feel secure, to surrender, he left her completely bare.
Their eyes met. They weren't children. She knew what was happening. Her body grew desperate; she could feel the moisture between her thighs, the way his hands moved over every inch of her skin until they reached her breasts. Trust opened her slowly.
Bastian grew impatient and caught her wrists, pinning them above her head to claim her mouth forcefully.
"Bastian, wait... not like this," Valentina said, gasping.
"Silence. You don't know what it's like to be with an omega," Bastian replied, still kissing her.
Then, with the trust she had given him, something entered her—without warning, without permission, and with force. The sensation only pushed her to stare blankly at the ceiling.
Bastian's body pushed forward again and again. At first, she thought she was ready, but it burned. It felt like forcing something tight into a space that couldn't breathe.
But as the thrusts grew steadier, her tightness gave way to a strange kind of order, to something that resembled pleasure. Her senses heightened. Her voice gave way to breathy moans.
She could feel her body heating up, but her mind kept telling her something about this wasn't right. She knew what it was like to share her body with someone, but the waves of pleasure clouded her thoughts, until she convinced herself that maybe it wasn't so wrong to be the one surrendering after a life of control.
Her body didn't resist. Not because she wanted this, but because she didn't know how to say no. And the other body simply moved through her, claiming her space with each strike.
Bastian couldn't stop moaning, watching her, admiring her. And between his gasps and hers, Valentina noticed something unusual—his eyes, once green like a forest, now turned blue like the ocean. Dark, piercing, and glorious.
She didn't know if it was the time, the scent, or the pheromones. As a beta, she understood little of ruts, but she had never imagined how beautiful an omega's eyes could be during the shift.
"My rut has come... I'm here to take you in body and soul, amore mio," Bastian panted.
He clasped her hand, brought it to his lips, kissed her palm, and then laid on top of her again, as if to mark her once more.
Maybe it was the rut that made him so sensitive, but he felt her scent in full bloom—jasmine, desire, submission. He could drown in the way her eyes looked back at his.
For a moment, the intensity, the desperation was so much, he thought about choking her. Not out of anger, but of hunger.
They paused a few times. Then did it again. And again. Time lost meaning. She didn't know how many times. But Valentina no longer felt anything concrete. It was all new.
She had been with omegas before, but never during their rut. Never with an alpha either. She didn't know how to feel. Her body was filled with adrenaline, but her soul was exhausted.
No one knocked on the door, yet she felt watched. Or maybe it was madness. Her neck felt heavy. Days seemed to pass.
She never had an orgasm, but her body kept asking for more. Begging to wrap itself again in this man who now belonged to her.
Her body, her mind, her heart—everything led her back to him. She wanted to feel loved, wanted, protected. But also, special. It was something different. Something curious inside her begged her to leap.
"Shall we continue?" Bastian asked, pinning her to the wall.
"How much time has passed?" Valentina asked, concerned.
Everything had already happened. Nothing else mattered. She didn't think of work. Or maybe she did. But she knew if she refused now, he might get upset. So many things had happened, and they still hadn't reached the goal.
She knelt. From a place of submission, she looked up at him, as if looking at an angel sent to redeem her sins. She opened her mouth, placed her hand on him, and took his member between her lips, feeling his warmth spill into her.
Bastian was so sensitive he had to brace himself against the wall. He could feel everything. Her tongue moving with care, her lips gentle but firm, even the soft graze of her teeth.
She didn't bite, but she knew it wasn't easy. He began to get wet from his back end—after all, he was an omega, and that's where all his pulse seemed to come from.
His delicate profile, and the way her hands climbed slowly from his hips to his chest, claiming affection, her place—and more than anything, his consent.
Valentina released him from her mouth, gripped his hips, and began licking him, planting kisses, even biting his lower abdomen.
She didn't hate herself. But she had never loved herself enough either. Perhaps it was her melancholic gaze that Bastian found so alluring. That's why he would use her.
She rose slowly. Let him wrap his arms around her waist. As she neared his neck, before she could act, he whispered:
"Don't look at me like that... you're not lost. You're with me, my love," Bastian said firmly.
She didn't stop staring into his eyes. She didn't know why, but something inside her needed to see deeper. He thought she wanted to challenge him. But all she wanted was to understand what was happening between them.
That same thought returned to her: something isn't quite right. But the moment her breath shortened again, the doubt was swallowed by the thought that maybe this was just anxiety... typical for someone in their thirties.
They kissed hard against the wall. He lifted her. And there, wrapped around his neck, she felt him enter her again, easily. That ease made him feel like he had to consume her completely.
She couldn't stop moaning. That desperation excited him. He knew it would all end tomorrow. He knew how much time had passed. The scent of the sea got stronger every night.
Valentina's head kept spinning—not from pleasure, but from the smell, the dampness, the passing time. And still the question: Is this what it feels like to go through rut with an omega? She even wondered if she was satisfying him, or if he really needed an alpha.
There were still no signs of her orgasm. Her body felt pleasure, yes. There was ease, there were marks, touches, gazes. But no climax. Though once, someone had told her that the best part of sex wasn't orgasm... but the journey. The companionship.
So she stopped thinking. Stopped questioning. Let him wrap her again. She wanted to give. To prove she could make him feel good too. But Bastian kept claiming victory over every corner of her body.
"Let me try something..." she said, touching his face.
"Shhh... just let go."
The silence he asked for was granted—reluctantly. She wanted to give everything. For a moment, she didn't feel well. Her body and mind refused. But as if he could read her eyes, he leaned in and moaned into her ear.
Different positions. Different places in the room. On top, beneath. In the shower. On the floor. The table. The window. But no matter where, it always ended in bed—on all fours.
Bastian loved that position. Loved spanking her, scratching her, gripping her neck and pulling her back to growl in her ear. He knew what she liked.
Running his hands down her spine, finding her softest places, then wrapping himself around her from behind, hearing her suffer or enjoy in silence with every thrust.
Holding her tight. The less air between their bodies, the more the heat grew. The fewer the movements, the more intense everything felt. The tension alone made her tremble.
Seeing her grip the sheets, hearing her cries, her pain with every impact. The marks on her shoulders—he knew they wouldn't fade for days. That was the most pleasurable thing of all.
Little by little, he felt his body more tired, more satisfied. And something told him she felt the same.
They had eaten. They had rested a bit. But she never spoke again like at the beginning. She accepted every touch, every contact. No complaints. Just the weight of a room where two bodies had finally met.
"Bastian, I need to rest. I didn't bring supplements. I can't go on," said Valentina, lying on the bed.
"Oh, darling, we'll be done soon," Bastian replied with a smile.
Valentina turned to her side, and that simple movement made her back, her hips ache sharply.
She could feel her lips, her clitoris swollen. It was true—she hadn't prepared for these days. She didn't know if they were on day three, four, or five. But many had passed. The moon visited each night, reflecting on the sea.
And when the climax drew near again, like it had that first day when he arrived with flowers, the sun shone on her once more—not on her eyes this time, but on her hips, red and lightly bruised from all the love he gave her.
That sight aroused him even more. He was tired from it all, but he still wanted to finish his task.
Bastian lay beside her. And while Valentina thought he would hug her and say it was over, she felt his hand—like that day in her home—inviting her to open once more.
She could no longer respond properly. Or maybe she could. But after so many times, one more wouldn't change the purpose of her visit.
Once more, she was clawed, opened, and gently taken—just so he could look into those beautiful green eyes.
She felt it: how easily he entered, and yet the burning sensation remained.
Maybe one more time. Maybe many. She lost count, like days lost in fog. And despite the end, fulfillment never came. And when he finally completed his task, that's when she remembered to ask the most important thing:
She wasn't like this. She didn't follow sensation. But with Bastian, she never could say no. She didn't know why.
Before falling into Morpheus's arms, she asked if they had protected themselves. She had brought condoms. Tried to look at the floor for any sign of one, but saw nothing.
When Bastian noticed what she was looking for, he chuckled softly and told her not to worry—there were always morning-after pills.
Valentina felt embarrassed by her question, like a naive girl. And she agreed with him: there was always a solution, like he said.
The sun said goodbye once again. And with it, the intercast pair wrapped themselves in each other's arms, despite all the sensations, words, and unspoken silences.
The rut had passed. Night had fallen. And with it, the fruit of the love she had offered him—and of all those times she knew she should have said no, but didn't—would one day show itself.