His teeth were on my neck again and this time I almost didn’t stop him.
We’d been going for hours, the heat cycling through me in waves that crashed and rebuilt and crashed, and Damjan had met every one of them, his hands and his mouth and his cock answering what the heat demanded without hesitation and without rest.
Every time he got close to my throat his mouth would drift to the spot where my pulse hammered, his teeth would press against the skin, and then he’d wrench his head away with a sound that was more animal than man, and I’d feel the loss of his mouth on that spot in a place deeper than my body could explain.
The 6th time, maybe the 7th, he had me on my back with my knees over his shoulders and his cock buried deep, the angle brutal and perfect, and I was coming again, body clenching around him in those long rolling contractions I’d stopped being embarrassed about hours ago.
His mouth was on my neck, open and hot, and I felt his teeth press down and a bolt of electricity shot from my throat to my groin, my back arching so hard my skull hit the headboard, and I grabbed his hair and didn’t pull him away.
For 3 seconds I held him there, his teeth on my pulse, his cock inside me, his breath ragged and hot on my skin, and the pressure of his mouth on that spot was doing a thing to my body beyond the heat and beyond the sex, a deep primal click in my blood that felt permanent and right and terrifying.
Then his whole body shuddered and he tore himself free, rolled off me, hit the mattress on his back, arm over his eyes, chest heaving so hard the ribs stood out under the scarred skin.
“Don’t let me do that,” he said, voice wrecked.
“Do what?” “Bite you.
If I— if I bite you there, the bond becomes permanent, irr— irreversible, and I need you to stop me when I go for your neck, Nico, I need you to push me off.” “Okay.
I promise.” Except I wasn’t sure I meant it, ’cause when his teeth had been on my throat the feeling had been so right, so necessary, that pulling him away had felt like stopping my own heartbeat, and my body was furious with me for interrupting it.
Which was kinda the whole problem, wasn’t it?
My body wanted the bite, wanted the permanent bond, wanted to belong to Damjan Kessler in a way that couldn’t be undone, and my brain was 4 days behind my biology and losing ground by the hour.
The next wave hit maybe 20 minutes later.
He flipped me onto my stomach, dragged my hips to the edge of the mattress, and I whined into the ruined sheets.
Then his big hands spread my cheeks wide.
His mouth clamped directly over my hole.
I screamed into the pillow.
His tongue pushed deep inside me, wet and relentless, swirling and lapping up my slick while his fingers wrapped around my dripping cock.
He stroked me hard, matching the rhythm of his tongue plunging in and out of my arse.
“Fuck, Nico,” he groaned against my wet skin, breath hot on my rim.
“You taste so fucking good.
You’re completely dripping for me.” “Damjan, please, I need your cock inside me—” He didn’t hesitate.
He rose up, chest burning hot against my back, arm locking around my waist, and drove his cock into me in one brutal, perfect thrust.
The angle hit a spot so deep inside me that I saw sparks behind my eyelids.
Slick ran down both our thighs, the wet sounds of his hips slamming against my arse filling the dark room, and I pushed backward, taking him as deep as I physically could.
“Harder,” I begged, voice wrecked.
He gave it to me harder, his hand bruising my hip, his other hand fisting tight in my hair, yanking my head back.
His hips slammed against me hard enough to rock the bed frame into the wall.
“Take it,” he rasped, biting into my shoulder.
“Take my whole cock.
You feel so fucking tight wrapped around me.” I was making noises that weren’t words, just…
sounds, constant, raw and loud, and my body was just opening for him completely.
Then his rhythm stuttered, his breathing turned desperate, and I felt the base of his cock swelling inside me, thickening where it pressed against my rim.
The pressure intensified until I gasped, trying to jerk forward to relieve the stretch, but the swelling locked us completely together.
His cock was caught inside me, growing thicker at the base, and separation became physically impossible.
“What the fuck— Damjan, what is—” “It’s— it’s okay, breathe.” His voice strained, his mouth against my ear, body trembling behind mine.
“It’s a knot, it happens during heat with a compatible— fuck…” He groaned, his hips pushing forward involuntarily, the knot pressing against a spot inside me that made my cock jump and my hole clench, a spike of pleasure hit so hard I couldn’t see straight.
“It locks us together for a while, I can’t— I can’t pull out until it goes down, so just…
breathe, I’ve got you.” “You could’ve WARNED me about this before you stuck your cock in—” “I didn’t think it would happen, it hasn’t in years, I didn’t—” His voice cracked, his hips grinding against me, the knot pressing deep, and another spike of pleasure shot through my whole pelvis, up my spine and I stopped caring about the warning ’cause every micro-movement he made was hitting a place so deep inside me that my vision went soft, the orgasm building felt different from all the others, much bigger, but slower, rolling toward me from a long way off.
“Okay,” I said, shaking.
“It’s fine, just…
fuck, that’s…
intense.” He lowered us both to our sides, still locked together, his chest against my back, arm around my waist, his cock and the knot seated deep, and every breath he took shifted the swelling against that spot, every shift sending a pulse of slow, relentless pleasure through my stomach, building and just kept building.
“Let it come,” he whispered against my shoulder.
“Give it to me, Nico.” “I literally can’t stop it—” The orgasm hit from the deepest part of my body, starting exactly where the knot pressed inside me then radiating outward.
My entire body clenched in long, slow contractions, milking his thick cock, and I felt him come again, his arm crushing me against his chest, his face buried in my neck, his cock pulsing inside me in bursts that matched my contractions beat for beat.
But this time, the climax didn’t peak and crash, it just held and then it rose, it held once again and rose, sustained, rolling, going on and on while the knot locked us together and neither of us could move and honestly, neither of us wanted to.
His mouth was on my neck, open, breath hot against my pulse, and his teeth grazed the skin and I felt the electricity again, that deep permanent click, and I was coming and he was coming and his teeth pressed down harder and the word that came out of my mouth was not stop, it was please, cracking out of me before I could catch it.
He bit me, his teeth sinking into the muscle where my neck met my shoulder, hard enough to break skin, and the pain was bright and brief, lasting exactly 1 second before it dissolved into a flooding warmth that started at the bite and spread through my chest and down my arms and behind my eyes and into a place inside my skull where I’d been alone my entire life.
I wasn’t alone anymore.
There was someone else in there with me now, a presence, warm and fierce and terrified and tender, and it was him, it was Damjan; I could feel him inside my head, not his thoughts but his feelings, his fear and his want and his exhaustion and underneath all of it a feeling so enormous it didn’t have a name, and he’d been carrying it since the day I walked onto his pitch.
The knot held us together for what might’ve been 20 minutes or an hour, his body curled around mine, his mouth still pressed against the bite, his breathing slow and shaking.
I could feel blood on my neck, warm and thin, running to the pillow, and I could feel his second heartbeat in my chest, steady and scared.
“Damjan,” I said, quiet, voice used up.
He didn’t answer, his arm tightening around me, his breathing hitching, and I realised he was crying, silent, his chest shuddering against my back, tears on my shoulder.
I didn’t say anything ’cause there was nothing to say yet.
He’d crossed the line he’d sworn he’d never cross, bitten me, bonded us, and he was lying behind me with his cock still locked inside me crying into my skin ’cause the thing he’d spent 14 years trying to prevent had just happened and he couldn’t undo it.
But I could feel him now, could feel the actual shape of his fear from the inside, and his fear wasn’t that he’d hurt me.
His fear was that I’d touch the bite and feel his father’s teeth instead of his.
“Hey.” I found his hand and laced my fingers through his and pressed his scarred knuckles against my mouth.
“I asked for it.
You heard me say please.” His hand tightened around mine, knuckles white.
“I know,” he said, barely audible.
“That’s the part I can’t forgive myself for.
The heat, the scent, the bond, your body was designed to want it.
That’s not consent, Nico, that’s biology.” “I chose to put your hand on my face in that office when you couldn’t cross the gap yourself.” I pressed his palm against the bite on my neck, his fingers against the broken skin and the blood, and the shudder went through his whole body.
“I chose to ask you through the door, I chose to tell you to come in, and I chose this.
So don’t you dare make it his.” The knot softened and he slipped out of me, slick and cum and warmth following, wet between my thighs, and I turned in his arms until we were face to face and his eyes were red and wet and grey and wrecked.
I kissed him, soft, nothing like the sex, just my mouth on his, tasting salt from his tears, and he kissed me back and his hand came up to the bite on my neck, gentle, his palm covering the mark.
The heat didn’t come back after that, and for the first time in what might’ve been 12 hours or 20, the warmth behind my navel didn’t rebuild, the burning eased, my skin cooled degree by degree, my muscles unclenched, and I lay there in his arms in the wreckage of that room, soaked sheets and bruised skin and a bite still bleeding sluggishly against his palm, and the heat was over and his second heartbeat was steady in my chest, scared and enormous and there.
Morning light was leaking through a crack in the stone where the window shutters didn’t meet, thin and grey, and outside a bird was singing and it was the first sound from beyond that room I’d heard in what felt like a lifetime.
Footsteps in the corridor, firm and professional, then a knock on the oak door.
“Nico,” Dr.
Vos said through the wood.
“It’s morning.
I need to check on you.” Damjan’s hand tightened over the bite mark on my neck, his eyes meeting mine, and I could feel his fear spike in my chest ’cause I could feel everything he felt now, and what he felt was the weight of what his teeth had done and the sound of a door about to open onto evidence he couldn’t hide.
I looked at him and he looked at me and neither of us answered her, and the silence said everything the words couldn’t.