What the…I don’t even know what happened here. O.o Read at your own peril. Warning: rape
Master of the House
Chapter 14 - Moonlight Confession
Charles smirked from where he sat on the bed. He could still hear shouts and pounding from the next room where James’s Omega was, undoubtedly, still trying to get him to leave Connor alone.
Charles snorted. Such a naïve man. As if Charles would ever do something so undignified and crass as to entertain an audience while he was pleasuring his wife.
Really, he wasn’t Hickey or Edwards.
But still, the Omega’s righteous anger did amuse him so, and, rocking the bed with his knees, he purposefully let out a low moan.
“Oh Connor,” he gasped, breathily. “Still so good, so—tight after all this time. Can you feel me—there? Can you feel me slowly, oh so slowly breeching you, breeding you again and again and again? You’ll give me a child, and then I’m going to fill you up again so you’ll always be swelling with my seed...”
Charles cocked his ears and carefully listened.
The infernal banging ceased, and he heard the clear sounds of a body running for and falling into a bed, no doubt the Omega was using the guest pillows and blankets to protect his ears.
Good. Served the man right for such personal questions earlier.
As if he would let his wife so close to him. One hour of unsupervised time together was enough.
He would not abide an entire night.
He waited a few minutes longer, then made his way back out the room.
His good mood evaporated at the sight of Ronald outside the door, looking disapprovingly at him.
Damn.
“Are you quite done sir?” The man lifted a single sardonic eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.
“Yes,” he murmured, eyes looking anywhere but at the disappointed weathered face.
“Your wife has been moved to the room you set out per your request.”
Charles grunted. Good. It was rather time for his nightly visit.
“And if I may, sir,” Ronald began in a wry voice. “It is both ungentlemanly and unwise to antagonize one of your only allies in this endeavor.”
Ronald promptly bowed (though not as low as he is usually wont to).
“By your leave, sir.” And he walked away.
Well damn.
How did Ronald still have the ability to make him feel like a disobedient, recalcitrant little boy?
He felt rather ashamed of his behavior now.
Charles hurriedly made his way to Connor’s new quarters.
-----
Connor had been lightly napping in his new room—he did little else these days—when his ears picked up the sound of a door opening.
His eyes opened, but the room was dark, lit only by the light of the moon.
Was it—Clipper?
He hoped it was Clipper.
He wanted to hear more stories, to learn more about how he had been these many, many months.
A form stepped into the moonlight.
Connor was disheartened to see Charles there.
He supposed his ‘husband’ was here to partake of his husbandly rights, as he has almost every night since he first forced himself on Connor. But he would have thought, he would have hoped that—that with Clipper apparently staying with them that Charles sense of the delicateness of the situation, if nothing else, would stay his lusts.
Did the man never tire of his body?
He watched as his husband paced in his room.
“He chastised me. My head man-servant. Because of you. Because of that little friend of yours.”
Oh?
Connor felt a swelling of fondness for Clipper and his ability to sway even the loyal servants to his side.
“It is my right to have you. It is your duty to submit.”
Perhaps by law and society, Connor conceded. But never by heart.
“Why should I give up my rights? To a man who, no doubt, wants you for himself.”
Clipper? If Connor could have, he would have snorted in disbelief.
How like his husband to confound loyalty and friendship with desire.
“But I will not give you up. I will never give you up.”
No, he didn’t suppose he would. Not until he had gotten his heir from him.
Even one day ago, he would have wished for even death if it could mean that he would escape from Charles. To be discarded from the man would be to be given his freedom.
And he still yearned for escape, but of his own will, of his own volition. Supported on his own legs.
He would not leave Clipper behind in this den of vipers.
Charles’s voice softened, almost gentled, and he raised a hesitant finger to trail down Connor’s face and softly brush his lips open.
“But they are right in one aspect,” the man whispered, lips following his fingers and nipping lightly at Connor’s throat.
“You are my bride, my wife, the future mother of my children.”
Not by choice. Not by any choice other than Charles and possibly his own father’s.
“You were given to me in safekeeping, and I failed in my duty.”
What a bitter thought it was, to know rather than merely suspect that his own father had sold him to this man.
“I know that I have treated you as the whore. That was my error. But no more. You cannot be my full partner in things. That is not the role reserved for Omegas, especially those who choose to be wives.”
Oh, but he did not choose to be Charles’s anything.
“But from now on, you shall be my wife, in name and in practice.”
But wives who were denied all choice, all measure of themselves, were whores by another name. Where others were forced to prostitute themselves for survival, unwilling wives were forced to prostitute themselves for society’s regard, for stability, for their children.
That was surviving too.
“It will be hard to change, I think. I had hated you from the first moment I saw you.”
Oh yes, and the feeling was more than mutual.
“You were a reminder that Master Kenway chose to be with some Native than with his brothers. Than with me.”
Connor might have known that his father would have something to do with it. The man was the cause of most of his life’s troubles.
“Interrupting your marriage to Washington and taking you in front of him seemed the perfect revenge on the both of you.”
Ah George. His sweet, sweet George. Would he still be alive if not for his attachment to Connor?
Connor’s eyes misted momentarily.
“But perhaps I took things too far.”
The kisses at his neck stilled.
“I didn’t expect to see him in you. I didn’t expect you to be beautiful.”
No. No, he wasn’t—he didn’t feel—beautiful. He didn’t want to be beautiful.
Not for Charles.
“I watched you, you know. When you slept. Before.”
No, no. Please stop talking.
“I watched as you curled away from me. You cried. You cried in your sleep for your—“ and the force against him was just a bit more rough, just a bit more threatening, “—your George—to forgive you.”
The pressure against him lessened, and he felt a soft tongue lick its way up his throat. Cool hands slipped underneath his shirt, stroking his sides, his back and finally resting on his belly.
“I wanted him dead,” softly. “I wanted him gone. I thought I hated him before for taking the title that belonged to me, for taking my position in the Continental Army.”
Lips on his, gently, sensuously.
No.
“I hated him so much more for having your affection. You hate me so much for what you thought happened that day so long ago, but cherish the man who actually committed the crime...”
He didn’t want to hear this. He didn’t want Charles’s lips on him. Not like this.
The hands on him disappeared. His husband began to disrobe.
“And I can’t hate you now. Not when you look so much like him.”
Piece by piece, his husband’s body was fully revealed, perhaps for the first time during all their nights.
“You are so much like him. Bewitching, once you get past your thorns.”
Fully nude, Charles’s body lay on top of his. A mouth kissed its way down to his belly.
“I was relieved when I’d learned you were an Omega. Because that would mean I could keep a part of him with me always.”
I’m not him, Connor wanted to shout. There is no reason for you to keep me so.
Charles kissed his belly, slow and lingering.
“I want you to wake up. I want you to be mine. Wholly.”
Never. He would never.
“After all, I don’t want to have to separate a new mother from his son, now would I?”
Connor’s blood chilled, horrified at the prospect.
He wouldn’t—he wouldn’t dare...
Fingers breached him, massaging oil into him. First one, then two, then...
A haze of pain, the pain of pleasure.
Oh.
His husband chuckled.
“I have neglected my husbandly duties too. I thought little of your pleasure except to punish. But tonight, that will change.”
Slowly, oh so slowly, he was pierced, taken, owned.
Sparks burst behind his eyes at the constant rubbing against that little nub inside him.
A mouth covered his own, a tongue swept into his moist caverns and...
Oh.
His husband was completely inside. And his tongue thrusting sharply into his mouth and...
Oh.
The world was swimming, unfocused, the only thing of clarity in the room was...
Oh.
He was suffocating, he couldn’t breathe, the kisses were making him feel faint, feel...
Oh.
He could feel the heavy thrusts inside of him. Deliberate. Purposeful. Masterful.
Oh.
As his seed spilled from his body, as a wet warmth filled his belly, his last memory was of his husband kissing him tenderly and saying—
Master of the House - part 16
Master of the House
Chapter 14 - Moonlight Confession
Charles smirked from where he sat on the bed. He could still hear shouts and pounding from the next room where James’s Omega was, undoubtedly, still trying to get him to leave Connor alone.
Charles snorted. Such a naïve man. As if Charles would ever do something so undignified and crass as to entertain an audience while he was pleasuring his wife.
Really, he wasn’t Hickey or Edwards.
But still, the Omega’s righteous anger did amuse him so, and, rocking the bed with his knees, he purposefully let out a low moan.
“Oh Connor,” he gasped, breathily. “Still so good, so—tight after all this time. Can you feel me—there? Can you feel me slowly, oh so slowly breeching you, breeding you again and again and again? You’ll give me a child, and then I’m going to fill you up again so you’ll always be swelling with my seed...”
Charles cocked his ears and carefully listened.
The infernal banging ceased, and he heard the clear sounds of a body running for and falling into a bed, no doubt the Omega was using the guest pillows and blankets to protect his ears.
Good. Served the man right for such personal questions earlier.
As if he would let his wife so close to him. One hour of unsupervised time together was enough.
He would not abide an entire night.
He waited a few minutes longer, then made his way back out the room.
His good mood evaporated at the sight of Ronald outside the door, looking disapprovingly at him.
Damn.
“Are you quite done sir?” The man lifted a single sardonic eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.
“Yes,” he murmured, eyes looking anywhere but at the disappointed weathered face.
“Your wife has been moved to the room you set out per your request.”
Charles grunted. Good. It was rather time for his nightly visit.
“And if I may, sir,” Ronald began in a wry voice. “It is both ungentlemanly and unwise to antagonize one of your only allies in this endeavor.”
Ronald promptly bowed (though not as low as he is usually wont to).
“By your leave, sir.” And he walked away.
Well damn.
How did Ronald still have the ability to make him feel like a disobedient, recalcitrant little boy?
He felt rather ashamed of his behavior now.
Charles hurriedly made his way to Connor’s new quarters.
-----
Connor had been lightly napping in his new room—he did little else these days—when his ears picked up the sound of a door opening.
His eyes opened, but the room was dark, lit only by the light of the moon.
Was it—Clipper?
He hoped it was Clipper.
He wanted to hear more stories, to learn more about how he had been these many, many months.
A form stepped into the moonlight.
Connor was disheartened to see Charles there.
He supposed his ‘husband’ was here to partake of his husbandly rights, as he has almost every night since he first forced himself on Connor. But he would have thought, he would have hoped that—that with Clipper apparently staying with them that Charles sense of the delicateness of the situation, if nothing else, would stay his lusts.
Did the man never tire of his body?
He watched as his husband paced in his room.
“He chastised me. My head man-servant. Because of you. Because of that little friend of yours.”
Oh?
Connor felt a swelling of fondness for Clipper and his ability to sway even the loyal servants to his side.
“It is my right to have you. It is your duty to submit.”
Perhaps by law and society, Connor conceded. But never by heart.
“Why should I give up my rights? To a man who, no doubt, wants you for himself.”
Clipper? If Connor could have, he would have snorted in disbelief.
How like his husband to confound loyalty and friendship with desire.
“But I will not give you up. I will never give you up.”
No, he didn’t suppose he would. Not until he had gotten his heir from him.
Even one day ago, he would have wished for even death if it could mean that he would escape from Charles. To be discarded from the man would be to be given his freedom.
And he still yearned for escape, but of his own will, of his own volition. Supported on his own legs.
He would not leave Clipper behind in this den of vipers.
Charles’s voice softened, almost gentled, and he raised a hesitant finger to trail down Connor’s face and softly brush his lips open.
“But they are right in one aspect,” the man whispered, lips following his fingers and nipping lightly at Connor’s throat.
“You are my bride, my wife, the future mother of my children.”
Not by choice. Not by any choice other than Charles and possibly his own father’s.
“You were given to me in safekeeping, and I failed in my duty.”
What a bitter thought it was, to know rather than merely suspect that his own father had sold him to this man.
“I know that I have treated you as the whore. That was my error. But no more. You cannot be my full partner in things. That is not the role reserved for Omegas, especially those who choose to be wives.”
Oh, but he did not choose to be Charles’s anything.
“But from now on, you shall be my wife, in name and in practice.”
But wives who were denied all choice, all measure of themselves, were whores by another name. Where others were forced to prostitute themselves for survival, unwilling wives were forced to prostitute themselves for society’s regard, for stability, for their children.
That was surviving too.
“It will be hard to change, I think. I had hated you from the first moment I saw you.”
Oh yes, and the feeling was more than mutual.
“You were a reminder that Master Kenway chose to be with some Native than with his brothers. Than with me.”
Connor might have known that his father would have something to do with it. The man was the cause of most of his life’s troubles.
“Interrupting your marriage to Washington and taking you in front of him seemed the perfect revenge on the both of you.”
Ah George. His sweet, sweet George. Would he still be alive if not for his attachment to Connor?
Connor’s eyes misted momentarily.
“But perhaps I took things too far.”
The kisses at his neck stilled.
“I didn’t expect to see him in you. I didn’t expect you to be beautiful.”
No. No, he wasn’t—he didn’t feel—beautiful. He didn’t want to be beautiful.
Not for Charles.
“I watched you, you know. When you slept. Before.”
No, no. Please stop talking.
“I watched as you curled away from me. You cried. You cried in your sleep for your—“ and the force against him was just a bit more rough, just a bit more threatening, “—your George—to forgive you.”
The pressure against him lessened, and he felt a soft tongue lick its way up his throat. Cool hands slipped underneath his shirt, stroking his sides, his back and finally resting on his belly.
“I wanted him dead,” softly. “I wanted him gone. I thought I hated him before for taking the title that belonged to me, for taking my position in the Continental Army.”
Lips on his, gently, sensuously.
No.
“I hated him so much more for having your affection. You hate me so much for what you thought happened that day so long ago, but cherish the man who actually committed the crime...”
He didn’t want to hear this. He didn’t want Charles’s lips on him. Not like this.
The hands on him disappeared. His husband began to disrobe.
“And I can’t hate you now. Not when you look so much like him.”
Piece by piece, his husband’s body was fully revealed, perhaps for the first time during all their nights.
“You are so much like him. Bewitching, once you get past your thorns.”
Fully nude, Charles’s body lay on top of his. A mouth kissed its way down to his belly.
“I was relieved when I’d learned you were an Omega. Because that would mean I could keep a part of him with me always.”
I’m not him, Connor wanted to shout. There is no reason for you to keep me so.
Charles kissed his belly, slow and lingering.
“I want you to wake up. I want you to be mine. Wholly.”
Never. He would never.
“After all, I don’t want to have to separate a new mother from his son, now would I?”
Connor’s blood chilled, horrified at the prospect.
He wouldn’t—he wouldn’t dare...
Fingers breached him, massaging oil into him. First one, then two, then...
A haze of pain, the pain of pleasure.
Oh.
His husband chuckled.
“I have neglected my husbandly duties too. I thought little of your pleasure except to punish. But tonight, that will change.”
Slowly, oh so slowly, he was pierced, taken, owned.
Sparks burst behind his eyes at the constant rubbing against that little nub inside him.
A mouth covered his own, a tongue swept into his moist caverns and...
Oh.
His husband was completely inside. And his tongue thrusting sharply into his mouth and...
Oh.
The world was swimming, unfocused, the only thing of clarity in the room was...
Oh.
He was suffocating, he couldn’t breathe, the kisses were making him feel faint, feel...
Oh.
He could feel the heavy thrusts inside of him. Deliberate. Purposeful. Masterful.
Oh.
As his seed spilled from his body, as a wet warmth filled his belly, his last memory was of his husband kissing him tenderly and saying—
“I look forward to when you wake, my wife.”