Page 27 of Give Me You
"Don't," he says, his voice breaking slightly. "I just… whatever you need, let me know. I need to go home."
Watching Emilio walk out that door feels like watching him rip something vital out of my chest. He's running, scared of what he admitted, scared of what it means. And I can't stop him because he's not ready to hear what I have to say.
The door closes behind him, and I stand there staring at it. My heart aches, the bond between us pulling tight until it’s uncomfortable. Akira comes up beside me, his expression unreadable. "He just called us his Alphas," Akira says quietly.
"And in the same breath, I feel like he rejected us.”
Emilio
The moment I shove open the door to my apartment, my hands are already tearing at my clothing as the pants catch on my hips and I stumble through the living room. My pulse hammers, a frantic rhythm that matches the chaos in my head.
The wordsmy Alphasloop through my mind, unbidden, relentless, like a chant I can’t shake. I try them out loud, whispering them under my breath—“my Alphas”—and the sound sends a shiver down my spine, equal parts confusion and terror.
What the hell does that even mean?
It’s just pheromones, I tell myself, a biological trick messing with my head. It has nothing to do with the gut-wrenching fear that hit me, the thought of losing Liam and Akira to Zaden’s schemes, his constant maneuvering to undermine me. My chest tightens, and I shake my head, trying to shove the thought away as I kick off the pants, letting them pool on the floor.
I peel off the shirt next, tossing it onto the couch, and the cool air hits me back, a shiver running down my spine. The rose blush lace thong I’m still wearing feels too tight, the fabric slick with my sudden need to correct what I just said.
Fantasies of the Stark brothers taking me flit through my head, a whine pulling from my throat at how right it all feels. Even if it’s not real.
I crawl onto my bed, heat spreading through me as slick gathers between my thighs. The need from last night hasn’t fully faded; it’s there, simmering, waiting for a spark. I reach for the bedside drawer, fingers fumbling with the handle until it slides open. The small silver vibrator butt plug glints in the dim light as I pull it out.
My breath catches as I work it into my ass, the thong’s thin strap pushed aside, slick easing the slide. The stretch is familiar, but it’s not enough. I grab the accompanying remote and flick the switch, selecting the pulse setting, and the vibration starts, a steady rhythm that mimics being fucked. My cock twitches in the lace, and I grip it through the fabric, fucking into my hand. The pressure builds fast and I cry out as I come, hot and messy, soaking the lace and my fingers.
The release should calm me, but it doesn’t. My body hums, insatiable, and I go again, the vibrator’s pulse driving me higher. “Akira,” I gasp, the name slipping out before I can stop it. “Liam.” Their names feel like a desperate confession as I rockagainst the plug, chasing another orgasm. It hits hard, my vision blurring, but the need doesn’t fade.
I fumble for the remote, turning off the vibrator, my chest heaving from coming twice. My hand brushes the pile of clothes from last night, discarded on the floor, and I grab my shirt, pulling it to my nose. Liam’s cedarwood scent floods my senses from holding me earlier in my office, my throat tightening. “I need him,” I whisper, the words barely audible. “I need them.”
My fingers trace the shirt’s hem, catching on a loose piece of fabric near the waistband. I frown, sitting up, the soaked lace clinging to my skin. Something’s off—a small, adhesive patch, like a bandage, barely attached to the fabric. I peel it off, running my finger over its surface, and my body reacts instantly, a tingling wave of need crashing through me.
Slick gushes around the plug, my eyes widening as realization hits. This is how they drugged me. This tiny patch, laced with whatever sent me into that heat at the club. A whimper tears from my throat, and I drop the shirt, but it’s too late. The fire ignites inside of me, fiercer than before, my cock hardening again despite the exhaustion. I wrap a hand around it, squeezing to stop another orgasm, but it’s useless. I come again, the lace drenched, my body shaking as the need to be fucked, to be filled, grows unbearable.
This is worse than last night, a relentless hunger that claws at my insides. My hands tremble as I grab my phone, the cracked screen flickering as I dial Liam. A high-pitched whine escapes me, just as the call connects. “Please, please help me,” I beg, my voice breaking.
“I got you, pretty boy. Where are you?”
“Home,” I gasp, rocking on my knees, the plug not enough. “Fuck, please hurry.”
Akira’s voice cuts through the background, sharp with concern. “What the fuck happened?”
“I found how they did it,” I manage, my words slurring. “Fuck, I just need… I’m so empty.”
I drop to my hands and knees, rocking backward, chasing a touch that isn’t there. Another orgasm hits me, wrenching a cry from my throat, but it only makes the ache worse. Akira’s voice comes through the earpiece again. “Just hold on, Emilio. We got you, okay?”
Tears stream down my face. “I didn’t want to need you,” I sob, the confession spilling out. “But I do. I need you so bad. Please.”
Akira
My knot stuffs Emilio's ass as he finally sleeps, the little Omega covered in cum and sweat and our scents. The mixture is intoxicating, overwhelming in the best way possible. Whiskey and citrus and cedarwood all blending together with Emilio's natural smell, the one that's so faint most people can't detect it. But we can. Especially now, when it's amplified by arousal and satisfaction and the bone-deep exhaustion that comes after a heat spike.
Liam lies on the other side, his hand caressing the Omega's face with a gentleness that contrasts sharply with how rough we were just an hour ago. My hand runs up and down Emilio's side, feeling the way his ribs expand with each breath, the slight swell of his belly beneath my palm. He looked like a wet dream when we got to his apartment a few hours ago.
The sight that greeted us as we stepped inside will be burned into my memory forever. Emilio's ass propped up on pillows, his body trembling and covered in a sheen of sweat. Crying for us, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks as he begged for relief. Slick with need, the evidence of his heat spike soaking through his panties and pooling beneath him.
I never wanted anything more in my entire life than I wanted to help him in that moment. To take away the pain, to give him what he needed. And when Emilio said my name over and over and over, asking me to make it stop, begging with a desperation that made my chest ache, I gladly gave him that peace. Both Liam and I did, working together to bring him down from the edge.
Sharing Emilio felt different than sharing anyone else we've been with before. In the past, it was transactional. Fun, sure, but ultimately meaningless. Two Alphas and whoever was willing to play.
