chapitre : 11

1024 Words
• ஜ • ❈ • ஜ • After their conversation, Julien felt he needed to anchor his words in something tangible. A few days later, he handed Smith a small package wrapped in brown paper. "What's this?" Smith asked, surprised. "Open it and see." Inside, Smith found a soft leather journal, simple and elegant. On the cover, two words were embossed: My Choice. "It's for you to write your story," Julien said softly. "Not the one dictated to you, not the one you think you have to live. Yours. Your doubts, your fears, but also your joys. So you always remember that you have the right to choose. And that you are not alone." Smith clutched the journal to his chest, his eyes misty. It wasn't just an object. It was a symbol. Proof that his friend believed in him, in his place here. This gift sealed their friendship in an alloy stronger than ever. Filled with a new determination, Smith went to his parents that evening. As they were watching television in the living room, he took a deep breath. "Mom, Dad... Would it be alright if I went to stay at Day's tonight?" The silence that followed was brief. Mrs. Croft exchanged a look with her husband, then smiled at him. "Of course, darling. You're an adult, and Day is a responsible young man. Have a good time." The simplicity of their agreement, the total absence of suspicion or reproach, took his breath away. In his old world, such a request would have triggered a full-scale interrogation, disapproving looks, and a "Be reasonable" thrown like an ultimatum. Here, it was normal. Trust. "Thank you," he whispered, his heart swelling with gratitude. "Thank you for trusting me." A few hours later, standing at the door to Day's apartment, Smith felt his heart pounding wildly. When Day opened the door, surprised but delighted to see him, Smith didn't have the strength to wait any longer. "Day, we need to talk." Sitting on the sofa, Smith took his fiancé's hands in his. He plunged his gaze into Day's, searching for the strength to say the words. "I... I don't want to wait anymore." Day looked at him, stunned. "Smith... our promise..." "I know. But that promise was based on my fear. The fear of not being legitimate. The fear of losing everything. But that fear... it's gone. Julien helped me chase it away." His voice grew firmer, charged with a new conviction. "I love you, Day. I am your Omega. And my body, my heart, all of me is calling for you. This isn't an impulse. It's an obvious truth. I've wanted this for so long, but I let fear stop me. Not anymore. I trust you. I trust myself." He saw Day's eyes darken, his pupils dilating with desire and emotion. The Alpha's scent, that intoxicating blend of safety and passion, grew denser, more enveloping. "Smith..." Day murmured, his voice rough. "Are you sure? Truly sure?" "More than ever." A low, almost involuntary growl escaped Day. The restraint he had imposed on himself for weeks shattered under the weight of their mutual desire. He leaned in and captured Smith's lips in a kiss that was no longer soft or exploratory. It was a kiss of possession, of sated hunger, of a promise finally kept. They undressed in a feverish urgency, clothes falling in piles on the floor. Naked skin against naked skin was an electric shock. Day's hands roamed Smith's body with a repressed avidity, lingering on the curve of his hips, the slenderness of his waist, the softness of his inner thighs. Every touch was a claim, every caress an answered prayer. Smith, overwhelmed by the sensations, let himself be guided. His Omega body, so sensitive, responded to every stimulus with heightened intensity. Day's gentle bites at the base of his neck, a place so vulnerable and yet so erotic, drew sharp whimpers from him. He felt Day's heat, his strength, and he surrendered to it completely, in full trust. When Day entered him, slowly, with infinite care despite the urgency that gripped them both, Smith's fingers clenched on his shoulders. It wasn't pain, but an overflow. A sensation of fullness so intense it was almost unbearable. He felt completed, anchored, as if the final piece of a complex puzzle had slid into place. "Are you okay?" Day whispered, panting, his forehead against Smith's. "Yes," Smith breathed, tears in his eyes. "Don't stop. Please." Then, Day began to move. Slowly at first, then with increasing vigor. Their bodies merged in an ancestral rhythm, a dance their biology understood better than their minds. The apartment was filled only with the sound of their short breaths, the sweat sticking their skin, Smith's moans growing higher and more uninhibitedand Day's deep groans, as he lost himself in the intoxicating scent of his Omega. The tension built, inexorable, like a tide. Smith felt an incandescent heat ignite his entire being, concentrating in his belly before spreading in successive waves of pure pleasure. His body tensed, arched, and he cried out Day's name, while Day, driven by the force of Smith's release, found his own completion with a raw, guttural roar. They remained entwined for a long time, panting, trembling, their bodies still intimately joined. The warmth of their union seemed to radiate throughout the room. When Day gently withdrew to lie down beside him, he pulled Smith against him, enveloping him in his arms. No words were necessary. The silence was peaceful, charged with the serenity after the storm. Snuggled against his Alpha's chest, listening to his heart gradually slow, Smith closed his eyes. There was no more fear, no more doubt. Only the quiet certainty of being, finally and fully, in his rightful place. In the arms of the man he loved. In the life that was his. Julien's gift lay on the nightstand, a silent witness to his new beginning. Smith knew he would never again have to write in that journal the fear of losing this happiness. Because this happiness, he had now chosen it, and he was ready to fight to keep it.
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