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“How does this work?” I ask him when he stops, once his hand has stilled and deep breaths are rolling again out of his chest. “Do I clean up before putting myself back together, or does it defeat the purpose?”
“You—don’t wipe it.” His voice is rough. Shaken.
“Of course.” Slowly, quietly, my trembling hand redoes the buttons of the shirt, the army blue hiding the wetness as it seeps through the fabric.
The scent, though… Every single Alpha and Omega will know.
“I hope you enjoyed it,” I say, adjusting on the bed. Between my legs, I am wetter than I ever remember being. I can feel my underwear slide across my cunt as I squirm to find a comfortable spot, slick and downright filthy.
It’s nice, being swollen and tender. The heat feels good and new, something to be cherished and explored. According to other healers I’ve talked to, it’s not uncommon for cold Omegas to have issues with lubrication. I accepted it as the nature of my body, but I did look into alternatives.
I might not need them after all.
“Did you?” The words stumble out of my mouth.
“Hm?” He sounds distracted. Dizzy and hushed. Still staring at my now-covered chest.
“Did you enjoy it?”
Gabriel’s exhale seems full of disbelief, but his lips twitch. “Don’t you have physical proof of it?”
“I’m sure not all orgasms are created equal.” I glance away. “And I hear that you have a lot of experience.”
A pause. “I do.”
“Was this good, then?”
“It was…” He runs a hand through his hair. Seems to look for words. Settles on “yeah.”
“Good. I’m glad. I liked it, too.”
Again, his Adam’s apple bobs. “I can smell you, Sofia.”
“Okay.”
“I mean, I can smell that youlikedit.” It takes me a second to realize what he meant, and when I do, my cheeks heat. I’m no prude, but this is not a random anatomical process we’re talking about. It’smyanatomical process.
“Oh.” I bite my lower lip again, coming to a decision. After what I just witnessed about his desires, I have no reason to be ashamed ofmine. And if I’m going back home tomorrow…this may very well be the last time I smell Gabriel up close. Once I’m out of his sight, he may never think of me again. I doubt he’ll decide to visit me in the Larsen wing.
So I go for it. “Do you mind if I touch myself? I’ve never… This has never happened to me before. And it might not happen again.”
His laughter is stupefied, lips parted, breath still coming hard, but he says nothing. After a beat, I realize that I don’t need his permission. I slide my hand down, past the elastic of my underwear, and what I find is…
Oh.
My breath hitches, and my eyes flutter closed. I have experimented before, but with little success. Now every touch feels slippery, makes me shiver and arch a little. Every little caress isgood, and?—
The mattress dips beside me. “Let me help you,” he breathes.
A request. I wonder when the last time was that he made one of those instead of issuing an order.
“With what? Oh.” I’m a little busy with trial and error, figuring out what feels nice and what feels nicer. But the more Gabriel’s scent envelops me, the hotter my blood burns. “I guess you know what to do, right?”
When I open my eyes to look at him, his cheekbones are red and his pupils blown. “You’re going to fucking kill me.”
He’s not very delicate in how he shoves my pants down. Takes them off. Buries his nose into my hip bone and inhales deeply. I let him shift my legs open. “Fuck, you smell perfect.” He grunts. His hand is large and calloused—so much so, I almost expect it to hurt me as it travels up my leg. The hardened patches of skin nearly catch against mine, but the scratch is pleasant, grounding. A testament to the perfection of this moment. It’s me and him surrounded by the almost-silent buzzing of the air converters and life support systems. Back when I still couldn’t read or write, my dad taught me how to distinguish a healthy hum from a near-catastrophic failure.
Right now, everything is alright.
