On Your Knees, Omega (18+)

STOP

Alpha Azreal's—POV

The bed creaked under the force of every thrust. Her legs were locked over my shoulders, ankles hooked behind my neck, giving me the perfect leverage to drive deeper. I held her thighs open, fingers digging into soft flesh hard enough to leave bruises, and f****d into her with the same relentless rhythm I’d used for years.

“Oh yessss….fuck me, Alpha, harder—” Her voice bounced off the stone walls of the chamber, high and needy, either trying to spark something in me.

I gave her what she asked for. My hips snapped forward, burying every thick inch of me to the root, the wet, filthy slap of skin on skin filling the room.

She was soaked, dripping down my balls, coating my c**k in slick heat that should have felt like heaven. Instead it felt like nothing. Just pressure, friction and the mechanical slide of useless flesh into a body that wasn’t hers.

Ever since the Moon Goddess, that mythical b***h laid her curse, s*x had become this rough and empty. No pleasure, no heat and no rising tension that ended in release.

It’s even a miracle my c**k is semi-hard, after the hours she’d spent on her knees earlier, mouth stretched wide, jaw aching, desperate to pull a reaction from me but the rest of me remained stone. I could f**k for hours and feel only the dull ache of effort in my muscles and it pisses me off that I don't feel s**t.

She screamed again, louder. “f**k me harder Alpha!...aggressively…please—” and I obliged.

The headboard slammed against the wall. Her cunt clenched and fluttered around me, greedy, trying to milk something I couldn’t give.

Sweat ran down my chest, dripping onto her breasts as I drove into her over and over.

She was tight, always had been, and the stretch of her around my size made her eyes roll back every time I bottomed out. She loved it. She always had.

Ever since my father died and left me with his dying wish, take her as Luna, bind her, protect the bloodline, she had grown used to this version of me. The version that only knew how to take.

“Does it feel good, Alpha?” Her voice cracked through the haze, thick with desperation. She gripped the sheets so hard her knuckles blanched, as if the thin fabric could somehow soothe the fullness, the relentless stretch, the overwhelming pressure of being f****d by me.

“How about now?” she whispered, and then she did it, deliberately tightening her p***y around my c**k in a slow, rhythmic squeeze. Soft, wet walls clenched and released in careful pulses, trying to milk sensation from me, trying to drag me into the same drowning pleasure that was already wrecking her.

It did nothing.

It was like f*****g a void. A living, breathing, moaning void that refused to admit I was already gone.

I looked down at her, cold and empty. No heat in my eyes. No softening of my mouth. Just the same blank mask I had worn for years.

She saw it. Of course she did.

Still she tried harder.

Her cunt fluttered and gripped around me with desperate, practiced skill, soft, wet walls clenching in deliberate, rhythmic pulses, every squeeze an attempt to force a reaction that would never come. The wet, filthy sound of her body working so hard to please a man who could feel nothing filled the room.

Yet she still had the audacity to come.

She came with a broken cry, legs shaking violently against my shoulders, her p***y spasming in hard, rhythmic pulses around my c**k, milking, fluttering, soaking me in the flood of her climax while I remained utterly still above her, untouched by any of it.

The sound of it, slick and desperate, should have pushed me over but instead I kept thrusting through her orgasm, using her body the way she used mine. She clung to the aftershocks, still rolling her hips, still trying to keep me buried inside her, savouring the stretch of something so large it left her trembling and full.

I hated it.

I hated that she could find ecstasy in this while I felt nothing but the hollow echo of what the Goddess had stolen. She used me for her own pleasure, savouring every thick inch, while I suffered under the curse. I hated that she kept asking, kept trying, kept treating my body like a tool that might one day remember how to feel.

And most of all I hated that the only thing capable of breaking this curse, of making my body feel pleasure again, was a scent I hadn’t even tasted yet. A little wolf whose defiance already lived under my skin like a second pulse.

I pulled out without warning.

She whimpered at the sudden emptiness, the wet sound of my c**k leaving her body loud in the quiet room. Her own slick shone along my length under the low light, proof of how thoroughly she had taken me and how little it had mattered. I didn’t look at her face. Didn’t answer the soft, hopeful “Alpha?” that followed me as I stood.

“This is useless.” The words came flat, final. Her legs were still shaking when I stepped back. Instantly she reached for me, fingers brushing my thigh, voice cracking into pure desperation.“No—no, put it back inside me. Please. Please don’t stop. I can make you c*m. I can give you pleasure…just a little more…pleaseeee….”

I didn’t give a f**k. Not tonight. Not when the ball waited and somewhere in that glittering crowd was the weak little omega who had somehow become the key to everything the Moon Goddess had stolen from me. I needed to find her. Scent her. End this endless, hollow charade but the woman on the bed kept pestering, kept insisting she was close, that one more minute would finally break the curse. I knew better. She was speaking for her own greedy cunt, not for me. Gosh, she was insufferable.

Before I could turn away she surged upright, hands shoving hard against my chest. I let her. She pushed me down onto the mattress and climbed over me in one practiced motion, straddling my thigh, then higher, until the soft heat of her settled against my c**k. It wasn’t even hard, only half-swollen, the best the Goddess’s mercy ever allowed after hours of her mouth and hands earlier. Still she ground down, trying to force me inside again.

She was beautiful and even the beta’s golden child, Leila. The one whom my father’s final wish had forced upon me with his dying breath. He had made me claim her as Luna, binding us beneath the cold light of the moon while the pack watched in silence and the Goddess herself turned away but I've never marked her because of the curse.

Her long brown hair spilled over her shoulders, framing a face that had once been eager in a softer, more hopeful way and was now simply desperate. Desperate to please the Alpha who had never chosen her. Desperate to matter. Desperate to force open what the Moon Goddess had already sealed shut against her forever.

Her hands roamed my chest as she rode me with the same practiced, confident rhythm she had used for years, hips rolling, perfect breasts bouncing with every movement. She murmured my name like it still meant something. Like I was still the man who could feel her.

“I’m your Luna,” Leila whispered against my throat, voice husky with effort. “Mark me properly this time. Claim me. Make the bond real… maybe that would fix all this.”

I stared at the ceiling as she used me, knowing every word was for her own benefit and none of it for mine.

My jaw clenched as I waited for a sensation that never came.

Nothing, no edge and no release.

Just the same hollow ache beneath my skin.

Leila increased the pace,breath quickening as if sheer effort and ambition could force a reaction from a body the Goddess had already claimed. I watched the shadows on the ceiling shift.

I felt the motion. The warmth. The closeness and still nothing followed, no pull, no rising heat and no promise of climax.

Only that same empty pressure coiled tight and useless inside me.

A curse she could never cure.

Her rhythm faltered. “What’s wrong?” she asked, trying to laugh it off, the entitlement cracking just enough to show the panic underneath. “You’re not even—” She stopped, then tried again, harder this time, grinding down with force as if intensity alone could rewrite fate.

It didn’t.

I closed my eyes. The curse stirred like a reminder I could never silence.

“Stop.”