Fallen General's Omega (BL)-Chapter 214: Mating [M] 2

I laugh breathlessly, the sound light, teasing, but it does little to mask the heat simmering just beneath my skin.

Thorne’s fingers trail along my waist, lazy circles, his touch featherlight yet searing, like burning embers against my skin.

The aftermath of our frenzied hours together still lingers in the air—the scent of sweat, the faint musk of our combined pheromones, the damp sheets clinging to our bodies like whispers of what just transpired.

I feel sore, spent, but there’s a contentment that thrums in my bones, settling deep in my chest.

And then—

"Want to go again?"

His voice is low, husky, a perfect blend of wicked amusement and unrepentant desire, and I can’t help but snort out a laugh, turning my head to face him.

"Again?" I echo, tilting an eyebrow in disbelief.

I can still feel him inside me, the ghost of his touch imprinted into every fiber of my being, and yet—he’s already hungry for more.

"Thorne, we did it twice in the carriage, and twice since we got here," I remind him, shaking my head at his insatiable appetite.

He merely shrugs, grinning unabashedly, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

"It’s your fault, really," he says, stretching out beside me, his body a lazy sprawl of golden muscle and sweat-dampened skin.

I bite my lip as his abs flex slightly, his arm coming up to rest behind his head, accentuating the delicious cut of his biceps.

Damn him.

"My fault?" I say, feigning innocence, though my lips curl at the edges.

Thorne grunts, his eyes flicking toward me, piercing and accusing.

"You fed me that green concoction. That might as well be an aphrodisiac."

I can’t help it—I burst into laughter, my chest shaking with amusement.

"It’s not an aphrodisiac," I insist, still chuckling, but the look he gives me says he’s not convinced.

Thorne props himself up on his elbow, staring at me like a predator assessing his prey.

"Oh? Then what exactly was in it?" he prods, a knowing smirk forming.

I look away, suddenly very interested in the texture of the sheets.

"Uhmm... stuff," I say vaguely.

His eyes narrow with suspicion.

"Noelllleee..." he draws out my name, his voice dripping with mock warning, and I groan, dragging a hand down my face.

"Just a bunch of herbs and plants and stuff to trigger our pheromones and amplify them and stuff."

He deadpans.

"What stuff?"

I hesitate, then mumble under my breath, "A two-headed rainbow snake’s genitalia..."

The silence that follows is deafening.

Thorne blinks once. Then twice.

His blue eyes—normally so sharp, calculating, composed—are now wide with sheer disbelief.

"...**Isn’t that an extremely potent—**I don’t know—APHRODISIAC?"

I wince.

"Which is also illegal?" he continues, his tone half-exasperated, half-incredulous.

He sits up fully now, staring me down like I’m some sort of feral animal that he can’t quite figure out.

"And aren’t those snakes extinct?"

"It was a really, really tiny dose!" I defend, sitting up quickly, the sheets pooling around my lap.

Thorne chuckles darkly, his gaze slowly raking over me, like a man who just found the cause of his suffering and intends to exact punishment for it.

"That explains why I was randomly getting hard at the worst possible moments," he mutters, scrubbing a hand down his face.

He shifts slightly, and I catch the flicker of movement in his lower half—he’s already hard again.

My cheeks flush.

"You have no idea how inconvenient that was, my love," he says, turning his piercing gaze on me, his voice dipping into something low, sinful.

I shift uncomfortably, my body already betraying me, responding to the tension crackling between us like a live wire.

"Hey, I experienced that too!" I say, crossing my arms.

"Do you know how hard it was to walk normally when you’d suddenly grab my waist and hold me possessively like that? I nearly lost it."

Thorne’s eyes darken, and then—he smirks.

"Oh?" he leans forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, his face inches from mine.

He’s so close, and I can feel the heat radiating off his bare skin, the scent of his pheromones thickening in the air.

My pulse jumps.

"Is that what happened?" he asks, his voice like velvet and smoke, a slow, sultry drawl.

I swallow hard.

He moves closer, his nose brushing against my jawline, his lips ghosting over my pulse point.

My breath stutters.

"I was already struggling," he murmurs, his tongue flicking out against my skin, and I shudder.

"Then I was suddenly drowning in your pheromones..."

His hand trails down my chest, featherlight but taunting.

"...Do you know how hard it was to not just take you then and there?"

I let out a shaky breath.

"You might as well have done that," I counter, my voice barely steady.

"Because you did."

Thorne laughs, and it reverberates through my entire body, sending a pleasurable shiver down my spine.

"Potato, tomato."

Then he leans in, whispering against my lips, "You loved it."

I hesitate for a fraction of a second.

Then—

"Of course I loved it."

The way his pupils blow wide, the predatory gleam in his eyes—it’s almost terrifying how fast he moves.

In a blink, I’m pinned beneath him, trapped in his hold, his hands firm on my wrists, pressing them above my head against the headboard.

His body covers mine completely, his chest pressed against me, and his knee parts my legs effortlessly.

His breath fans against my lips, the heat pulsating between us unbearable, and I arch against him, seeking friction.

Thorne’s grin is nothing short of sinful.

His fingers ghost along my inner thigh, teasing, taunting, his touch featherlight yet searing.

"I think you’re a naughty little omega," he purrs, his voice thick with amusement, desire, something far more dangerous.

He leans down, his nose brushing against my scent gland, and I tremble, my body betraying me completely.

"You love it when I lose control, don’t you?"

My breath hitches.

"When all that’s on my mind is filling you up, making you feel me for weeks?"

I can’t think.

I can’t breathe.

His words alone are undoing me.

"You love it when I become an animal," he growls, his teeth scraping against my throat, his hands gripping my thighs tighter.

"When all I can think about is marking you as mine."