I Became the Villain Alpha's Omega (BL)

As Zarius’s weight finally settled over him, the first thing Cherion felt was the sheer, staggering reality of skin-on-skin contact. It wasn’t just warm, it was a physical confrontation.

Being this close to Zarius felt unfair. The man was built like solid steel and somehow still warmer than the entire cabin combined. Now that the clothes were gone, every point of contact felt unbearably sharp and warm, each brush of skin sending sparks straight through him.

Cherion’s head thrashed back against the dark furs, his spine arching instinctively to meet that heat. His eyes had gone glassy and dazed, like reality itself was slowly buffering around him. He wasn’t pinned down by strength alone. The real problem was Zarius’s stare, that intense, glowing gaze tracking every reaction across Cherion’s face like the man was studying him in real time.

”You’re shaking,” Zarius rumbled, his voice a vibration that Cherion felt more in his hips than his ears.

”I’m... I’m fine,” Cherion gasped, his hands tangling in the Duke’s dark hair with a desperate, uncoordinated hunger. ”Just... stop talking, Your Grace. We’ve fought this hunger for so long. Don’t start being a gentleman now.”

The air in the room seemed to freeze for a heartbeat. Zarius didn’t dive back into the kiss. Instead, he pulled back just an inch, his hands tightening on Cherion’s waist with enough force to make him gasp. Zarius’s eyes burned a little brighter at that, his hold on Cherion firm enough to feel almost territorial.

”Zarius,” the Duke corrected.

Cherion blinked, his mind trying to catch up through the pheromonal haze. ”What?”

”No more ’Your Grace.’ No more titles, Cherion,” Zarius murmured, his lips brushed lightly against Cherion’s ear, and his entire spine immediately forgot how to behave normally. ”The man standing in this room, the man currently pinning you to these furs... he has no title. Call me by my name.”

Cherion swallowed thickly, caught off guard by how much that quiet request affected him. It felt less like speaking and more like watching someone slowly hand over every unguarded part of themselves. ”Zarius,” he whispered, the name tasting like a confession.

”Again.”

”Zarius...”

The Duke let out a low, satisfied sound, a sound that was deep and vibrating, and dived back into a kiss. It was an endless, suffocating loop of mouths meeting. They kissed until their lips were swollen, until the taste of each other was the only thing left in the world.

Every time they pulled apart just long enough to gasp for air, a thin string of saliva still stretched between them in the moonlight like their bodies were refusing to fully agree on the concept of ”separation.” The wet little sounds every time they pulled apart followed them like a running commentary on how little self-control they had left.

Zarius began to move his mouth down, trailing wet, hot kisses along Cherion’s jawline before burying his face in the crook of Cherion’s neck. He inhaled deeply, his nose brushing against the sensitive scent gland. To Zarius, Cherion smelled like a summer afternoon caught in a jar, thick honey, warm vanilla, and something deeper underneath that made his entire body pay attention instantly.

”You smell... incredible,” Zarius groaned against his skin. He began licking the gland, his tongue trailing over the pulse point in slow, sweeping motions.

Cherion’s toes curled hard against the thick furs as a shaky, broken sound slipped out of him before he could stop it. ”Zarius... ah... please...”

While Zarius’s mouth was busy worshiping his neck, his hands finally found their way upward. His large, calloused palms grazed Cherion’s ribs before his thumbs found his nipples. He didn’t just touch them, he played with them, rolling the sensitive peaks between his fingers with a firm, possessive pressure.

Zarius let out a low, shaky breath against Cherion’s skin before he leaned down, his mouth replacing the heat of his thumbs. He latched on, drawing one of those aching peaks deep into the wet warmth of his mouth. He sucked with a heavy, rhythmic pull that made Cherion’s toes curl into the dark furs, his tongue swirling around the base in a messy, desperate way that felt more like starvation than technique.

Between the wet, tugging pressure, Zarius let his teeth catch nipping at the sensitive bud until Cherion’s breath hitched into a broken sound. He moved to the other side with a low groan, his lips slick and hot, laving the skin before pulling it back in. His hands hovering at Cherion’s waist as if he couldn’t decide whether to hold him still or pull him even closer.

Everything hit Cherion at once, the cool air against his skin, the warmth at his neck, the rough drag of fingers across his chest. His nervous system never stood a chance.

Then, the Duke began his descent.

He moved his mouth from Cherion’s chest down to the flat plane of his stomach. Cherion’s breath hitched, his abdominal muscles fluttering and contracting under the heat of Zarius’s tongue. Each kiss there was a targeted strike, making Cherion’s hips buck instinctively against the furs. Zarius lingered at the navel, his teeth grazing the skin, before his hands moved to Cherion’s knees.

With a firm, undeniable pressure, Zarius spread Cherion’s thighs wide, opening him up to the moonlight and his own gaze.

Cherion felt a jolt of pure adrenaline. He was completely exposed now. Zarius leaned in, pressing hot, lingering kisses to the pale skin of Cherion’s inner thighs. Zarius hovered close, his breath brushing against him in a way that sent immediate warning signals through Cherion’s already fragile self-control.

Cherion was already ”overflowing.” As Zarius’s hand finally wandered to the center of it all, his fingers found the slick, fevered entrance that had been waiting for him. Zarius began to play with him, his fingers mapping the territory with a deliberate, agonizing slowness.

He pushed one finger in, and the sound was visceral, a wet, squelching noise that made Cherion’s face turn a deeper shade of crimson. Zarius curled the finger, finding the internal spots that made Cherion’s entire body jerk as if he’d been struck. The Duke’s touch was methodical, testing the elasticity and the readiness of his prize.

”You’re so soft,” Zarius whispered, his breath hitting Cherion’s thigh. ”So wet for me.”

He added a second finger, the stretching sensation making Cherion let out a long, shaky cry. Zarius moved them in a rhythmic, hooking motion, the sound of the friction becoming louder, a heavy, wet squelch that filled the quiet of the room. Cherion was thrashing now, his hips moving involuntarily, trying to find more of that pressure. The liquid was everywhere, coating Zarius’s knuckles, staining the dark furs beneath them, and glistening on Cherion’s inner thighs.

Zarius didn’t stop. He pushed a third finger in, his hand acting as a blunt invasion that Cherion welcomed with open arms. Every time Zarius pulled his hand back slightly to re-enter, the clear, glistening liquid would string between his fingers and Cherion’s body, catching the moonlight like liquid diamonds. It was a messy, visceral mark of Cherion’s desire.

”Zarius...” Cherion was sobbing now, the pleasure too intense to be contained in a single body. He felt like he was being unmade, piece by piece, by the man hovering over him.

Zarius finally paused. He withdrew his hand, the sound of the exit wet and echoing. He rose up on his knees, looming over Cherion like a shadow against the moon. He held his hand up between their faces, his glistening fingers catching the light, dripping with the evidence of how ready Cherion was.

Cherion watched, his eyes glazed and half-closed, his body humming with a tension that felt like it might snap.

Slowly, deliberately, Zarius held Cherion’s gaze, those red-glowing eyes locking onto Cherion’s, and licked the liquid off his own fingers. He tasted that salt-sweet slickness with a slow, sweeping motion of his tongue, his expression one of pure hunger.

”You taste,” Zarius muttered the words in a low rasp, his voice strained enough to sound almost dangerous, ”even better than you smell. And you aren’t going anywhere until I’ve tasted every last drop of you.”