Fallen General's Omega (BL)-Chapter 212: Desperately [M]

I feel no energy in my legs, nothing but a pleasant numbness, a deep ache spreading through me, making it impossible to stand. The second I try, my knees buckle, but, of course, he catches me—just like he always does.

His strong arms wrap around my waist, keeping me upright, steadying me.

I feel him pull out, and the sensation makes me whimper, my body shuddering with aftershocks. The warmth that leaks from me, the way my muscles tremble—it’s almost too much. The obscene sound of it, the way he groans under his breath, as if reluctant to part from me, sends a fresh wave of heat rolling through my body.

I want more.

I could go again—I want to go again.

Thorne must sense it, because he chuckles, low and knowing, his hands lifting me easily, cradling me against his chest as if I weigh nothing.

I melt into his arms, burying my face against his shoulder, inhaling his scent, his pheremones letting them wrap around me like a second skin.

I tug on his collar, tilting my head back to glare at him.

"My clothes are in pieces, and look at you—perfectly intact." I narrow my eyes. "How is that fair?"

Thorne’s chuckle vibrates through me, deep and rich, making my stomach tighten.

He drops me onto the plush bed, and I sink into it, my body already missing his warmth.

Then—

I watch as he slowly, deliberately, begins to unbutton his shirt.

My breath catches.I can’t look away.

The fabric slides off his broad shoulders, revealing golden skin stretched over muscle, the sculpted planes of his chest, the strength carved into every inch of him.

I trace over the scars, my eyes lingering on each one—silent reminders of the battles he’s fought, the pain he’s endured.

There’s one across his chest—faint now, barely visible, but I know exactly how it got there.

The memory hits me like a punch to the gut—that night, the poison, the panic, the sheer, gut-wrenching terror that I was going to lose him.I had to cut it out of him.

I almost lost him. Our bond wasn’t as strong as it is now and I still don’t think I would have handled the loss.My fingers twitch against the sheets, a phantom ache pressing into my heart.

But he’s here.Alive.Breathing.And mine.

He pushes his pants down, and my brain short-circuits.

I refuse to think about the mechanics of how that thing fits inside me—how it always does, how I always take him completely, no matter how impossible it seems.

I don’t need to think.

I already know.

My eyes flick to his left leg and knee, where a jagged scar mars the skin—a painful reminder of how close he came to never walking again.

It’s not pretty.Proof that he survived, that he fought through it, that he’s still standing, still fighting, still here.

I love him so much.

I love him so much it hurts.

Thorne catches my gaze, tilting his head slightly, a smirk curling at the corner of his lips.

"Enjoying the view?" he asks, his voice low, teasing, thick with amusement.

I don’t answer and I don’t need to because the next second, he’s leaning down, his body hovering over mine, his mouth claiming mine in a kiss that steals the air from my lungs.

I meet him with equal fervor, pouring everything into it—my love, my devotion, my hunger.He devours me, his hands everywhere at once, mapping me out, claiming me all over again.When we finally pull apart, I feel breathless, dizzy, my fingers curled tightly in his hair.

He presses his forehead against mine, his breath fanning across my lips.

And in that moment, I understand.

He doesn’t need to say anything.

I feel it.

His love, his devotion, his unwavering need to keep me safe, to keep me his.

And just as much—I am his.

Completely.

Utterly.

Forever.

I exhale, my hands running up the broad expanse of his back, feeling the warmth of his skin, the tension coiled in his muscles.

His body is thrumming, his breath uneven, his heartbeat pounding against my own.

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I arch into him, my lips brushing against his jaw, feeling the slight stubble there, my hands gripping his biceps.

"I love you," I whisper, because the words feel too big to keep inside me.

Thorne sucks in a breath, his body going rigid for half a second.

Then—

He moves.

One hand slides down my side, fingertips skimming over my ribs, tracing every curve, memorizing me all over again.

His other hand grips my thigh, pulling it up, wrapping it around his waist, and the hunger in his gaze turns molten.

The weight of him settles over me, solid and warm, and I never want him to move away again.

"Say it again," he murmurs, his lips hovering over mine.

I smile against his mouth, dragging my fingers through his silky golden hair.

"I love you," I say again, this time softer, deeper, as if pressing the words into his skin, letting them seep into his very bones.

The heat between us is stifling, the air thick with tension, yet I don’t want to escape it. If anything, I want to sink deeper, to lose myself completely in the warmth of his body, in the unrelenting intensity of his touch.

His weight presses me deeper into the mattress, our bodies melded together, his breath hot against my skin.

I arch into him, my fingers gripping his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin, desperate for more.

"Thorne..." I whisper, my voice trembling, barely more than a breathless plea.

He growls in response, a low, possessive sound, before capturing my lips in another deep, claiming kiss.

His hands roam freely, tracing over every curve, memorizing every inch of me, as if he could brand me into his fingertips.

The kiss turns desperate, almost ravenous, his lips moving against mine with an intensity that sends a wave of heat pooling in my stomach.

I need him.

Desperately.

And from the way his body is trembling above me, the way his breathes coming out in sharp, uneven pants, I know he feels the same way.