Fallen General's Omega (BL)-Chapter 213: Mating [M]

I suddenly find myself flipped, my back hitting the soft sheets as Thorne’s large hands grip my waist, guiding me until I’m straddling him. I blink down at him, ready to glare, but the intensity in his eyes stops me short.

He’s staring at me like I hung the moon, as if I’m the most divine thing to ever exist, and for a moment, I just soak in the way he looks at me. His blue eyes are deep and heated, swirling with hunger, awe, and something so devastatingly soft that it makes my chest ache.

Slowly, I sit up, shifting so that my hands rest on his firm stomach, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath my palms. I spread my legs wider, settling on either side of him, my thighs framing his hips. His hands trail from my waist down to my thighs, gripping them like he’s grounding himself in reality—as if he still can’t believe I’m real.

Thorne’s eyes darken with something raw. I swear I can see stars in them. He always gets like this when I’m on top—like I’m the most breathtaking thing in the universe, the only thing worth looking at. And for him, I probably am.

A few strands of my hair fall into my face, tickling my cheeks. I absently run my fingers through the long locks, pushing them back behind my ears. Sometimes I wonder if I should just cut it all off, but the second that thought crosses my mind, Thorne is already sitting up, reaching out, twining his fingers through a few stray strands.

I knew it. He’s obsessed with my hair.

"I would miss this," he murmurs, his voice thick with longing,as if I’m currently not infront of him.

I smile, leaning into his touch. His fingers trail down my cheek before he lies back down, his hands returning to grip my thighs possessively.

"You’re so perfect," he says, voice reverent.

A soft laugh escapes me. "Oh, so I’ve heard," I tease, dragging my fingers down his chest, tracing the hard ridges of muscle beneath my touch. His stomach tenses beneath my palms, his jaw clenching.

I shift my hips slightly, feeling the unmistakable heat and hardness pressing against me. A delicious shiver runs down my spine, pooling at my core.

Thorne lets out a ragged breath, his hands digging into my thighs, fingers pressing deep. His grip is firm, yet he doesn’t force me to move—he’s letting me take my time, take control. And gods, I love him for it.

I lift myself slightly, reaching down to guide him to where I need him most. Thorne’s breath hitches, his fingers twitching against my skin as I slowly sink down onto him. The stretch is intense, the feeling so overwhelming that my head tilts back as a gasp slips from my lips.

"Stars—" Thorne breathes, his hands flying to my waist, gripping me tightly as he fights the urge to thrust up into me.

I exhale shakily, placing my hands on his broad chest for support, adjusting to the feeling of being so completely filled.

Thorne groans, his head pressing back into the pillows. "You’re going to kill me, my star."

I smirk, rolling my hips experimentally. The reaction is instant. His hands fly to my waist, his grip bruising, his breath coming out in a harsh exhale.

I set a slow, teasing pace, moving against him deliberately, watching the way his muscles tense and flex beneath me. His chest rises and falls rapidly, his lips parting as he fights for control.

But it’s slipping. I can see it. I can feel it.

I lean down, pressing my lips to the shell of his ear. "You like it when I take control, don’t you?" I whisper.

The world around us fades into nothing—just me, him, and the fire that consumes us whole.

Thorne groans in response, his fingers digging into my hips, his grip tight, commanding, a feeble attempt to still my movements—to keep me from driving him further into madness. But I don’t let him.

I roll my hips again, slow and deliberate, watching with satisfaction as his jaw clenches, his breath hitching sharply.

His grip tightens, his knuckles going white. His control is slipping. I can feel it.

His head tilts back, his lips parting with a ragged breath, and for a brief moment, I think I’ve won.

But then—

His hand moves.

Before I can react, his fingers wrap around my arousal, gripping it tightly, and a strangled moan escapes me, my entire body jerking at the sudden, overwhelming sensation.

"Two can play that game," Thorne murmurs, his voice deep and thick with heat, his smirk wicked as his thumb teases the sensitive tip, sending shivers down my spine.

My breath stutters, my fingers digging into his chest, struggling to regain my composure.

"You’re cheating," I gasp, the words barely coherent as he strokes me with maddening slowness, matching the movement of my hips. freēwēbnovel.com

Thorne chuckles, low and dark, and the sound sends a pulse of heat straight through me.

I lean down quickly, capturing his lips in a kiss, desperate, feverish, hoping to distract him, to shift the balance of power back in my favor.

But Thorne, ever the calculating bastard, doesn’t let up.

His hand tightens around me, stroking, teasing, sending waves of pleasure crashing over me, threatening to break me apart.

I whimper into his mouth, and Thorne swallows the sound greedily, his tongue demanding, consuming, as if he’s devouring every bit of my resolve.

My body feels like fire and silk and lightning all at once, and I know I can’t take much more.I pull away, gasping for air, and Thorne uses the opportunity to flip us, suddenly pinning me beneath him, his weight pressing me into the soft sheets.

A startled gasp leaves my lips, but it quickly morphs into a moan as Thorne grinds against me, his hardness pressing into the very center of my need, sending delicious friction sparking through me.

"You started this, my love," he murmurs, his breath hot against my throat.

"I fully intend to finish it."

His lips trail down my neck, kissing, nipping, tasting, and I shudder, my fingers tangling in his blonde locks, pulling him closer, as if he isn’t already setting every inch of me on fire.

His hands roam, possessive, desperate, as if he wants to map every curve of my body, commit it to memory.

I feel him shift, positioning himself, and my breath catches, my thighs instinctively parting for him.

For a brief moment, he pauses, his blue eyes locking onto mine, his expression a mix of hunger and something deeper, something reverent.

And then—

He pushes in.

A choked sound escapes me, my fingers tightening in his hair, as he fills me completely, claiming me inch by inch.

Thorne groans, his grip on my thighs bruising, as if the feeling of me wrapped around him is too much.

I feel so full, so stretched, so perfectly taken, and I can barely think, barely breathe.

Thorne stays still for a moment, his forehead resting against mine, his breath ragged and uneven, his entire body trembling with restraint.

"Heaven," he breathes, his voice wrecked, his lips brushing against mine.

I can only moan in response, my nails raking down his back, urging him to move, to ruin me, to take what’s his.

And he does.

He pulls back, only to thrust forward sharply, and a cry rips from my lips, the pleasure blinding, searing, endless.

He does it again, and again, each thrust deeper, harder, more desperate, as if he’s trying to carve himself into me, make me feel nothing but him.

I meet his movements eagerly, my body moving with his, matching his intensity, our bodies sliding together, fitting so perfectly it almost feels cruel.

The room is filled with the sound of skin against skin, of gasping breaths, of whispered praises and broken moans.

He leans down, capturing my lips once more, and I drink him in, our kiss just as frantic, just as consuming as the way our bodies move together.

My entire world narrows down to this moment, to him—his weight above me, his hands gripping me like he’ll never let go, his body claiming mine like he was made for this, made for me.

I can feel myself teetering on the edge, the pleasure building, coiling tighter and tighter, and I know Thorne is right there with me.

His rhythm becomes erratic, his moans more broken, his grip almost painful in its desperation.

I cling to him, holding on for dear life, as the pleasure finally shatters me completely, sending me spiraling into oblivion, his name a breathless cry on my lips.

Thorne follows a heartbeat later, his entire body tensing, shaking, as he thrusts deep one last time, spilling into me with a guttural groan.

For a long moment, neither of us move, both too lost in the aftershocks of pleasure, too tangled in each other to think of anything else.