Fallen General's Omega (BL)-Chapter 202: Own home

Thorne’s hand crawls up my thigh at an agonizingly slow pace, his fingers grazing my skin just enough to leave a trail of heat in their wake. My breath hitches, and I can feel the rising warmth spreading through my body like wildfire.

"Isn’t this exactly why we’ve been drinking that horrible tasting liquid?" he teases, his voice low and smooth, sending shivers down my spine. "To get your husband all revved up like this?"

I narrow my eyes at him, though my body betrays me with its growing anticipation. "It’s supposed to help synchronize your rut and my heat, Thorne," I say softly, barely able to keep my voice steady.

"Well," he murmurs, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips, "I think I’m in a rut right now."

Before I can respond, he chuckles and effortlessly lifts me until I’m straddling him, my legs wrapped around his waist. I feel his strength beneath me, his hands gripping my hips with just enough pressure to make me feel completely at his mercy.

I glare at him, though my flushed cheeks and racing heartbeat likely betray any attempt at sternness. "You can’t just throw me around like that," I protest weakly.

Thorne smirks, tilting his head slightly as he leans closer, his breath warm against my skin. "I can and I will," he says, his voice dripping with confidence. "You’re mine. You’ve always been mine."

My pulse quickens as his hands slide from my hips to my lower back, pulling me even closer until there’s not an inch of space between us. His lips brush against the shell of my ear, and I can feel the rumble of his chest as he whispers, "Let me show you how much I missed you."

His words, his touch, the way his blue eyes darken with desire—it’s all too much. My resolve crumbles, and I melt into him, my hands finding their way to the back of his neck as I press my forehead against his. fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm

I lean in for a kiss, and as our lips meet, it’s like the first time all over again—sparks fly, warmth blooms in my chest, and I feel that addictive pull that only Thorne can create. I shift closer, feeling the unmistakable hardness pressing against my butt, and my body reacts instantly, heat pooling in my core.

Thorne’s hands tighten on my hips, guiding them to grind against him with an almost primal urgency. His blue eyes darken as he watches me through half-lidded lashes, the hunger in his gaze making my breath catch.

I tangle my fingers in his messy blonde hair, tugging slightly, and a low growl rumbles in his throat, sending a delicious shiver down my spine. "You’re insatiable," I murmur against his lips, my voice teasing but laced with desire.

"You love it," he counters, his voice rough and filled with conviction.

He’s not wrong. That green concoction might be doing its job too well, but who am I to complain? Lately, it seems we can’t keep our hands off each other, and the way Thorne’s body feels beneath mine is addictive. Every chance we get, we’re at it like rabbits, and I can’t say I mind one bit.

Thorne leans forward, his lips brushing against my neck, planting slow, open-mouthed kisses that leave my skin tingling. His hands slip beneath my shirt, tracing the contours of my back, and I arch into him, a soft moan escaping my lips.

"You drive me crazy, my beautiful star," he whispers, his voice low and raw, each word dripping with unrestrained affection and lust.

I tilt my head back, giving him more access as his lips trail down to my collarbone. "Then don’t stop," I whisper back, my hands moving to explore the broad expanse of his shoulders, his warmth grounding me.

The tension between us grows thicker, the air charged with anticipation as we lose ourselves in each other once again. The world outside our little bubble ceases to exist—just Thorne and me, caught in this endless cycle of love and desire, perfectly in sync.

Thorne tosses me onto the bed with that familiar mix of strength and urgency that makes my pulse race. His hands move to my thighs, parting them effortlessly as his lips find mine in a kiss that’s both desperate and consuming. My fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, needing him closer.

Then, suddenly, a knock.

We freeze, our breaths mingling as we both wait, hoping whoever it is will lose their nerve and leave. But the knock sounds again, firmer this time, and I feel Thorne’s grip on my waist tighten in frustration.

"Thorne," I whisper, but he’s already leaning into me, his lips finding my ear, his voice low and gravelly.

"Let’s ignore it. They’ll give up," he murmurs, his hips pressing against mine in a way that makes me forget the world outside this room.

I arch against him, my body responding to his every movement. I grab his hair and pull him back in for another kiss, one that’s fiery and possessive. The knocks grow louder, more insistent, but we don’t stop. We can’t stop.

"Persistent little—" Thorne growls against my lips, his voice thick with annoyance.

The next series of knocks makes him snap. He pulls away, leaving me breathless and craving more. His jaw clenches as he pushes himself off the bed, the tension radiating from him like heat.

"I’ll deal with this," he mutters, his voice low and dangerous.

Thorne storms to the door, yanking it open so hard it rattles on its hinges.

"I swear, Raul, if this isn’t important, you’re heading back with a few broken bones," he growls, his voice thick with frustration.

There’s a muffled reply, and whatever Raul says makes Thorne’s shoulders tense. The door slams shut with a resounding thud, and Thorne turns back toward me, running his hands through his already tousled hair.

He looks like a storm—wild, fierce, and untamable—and yet when his gaze lands on me, warmth and love soften his edges.

"I swear, my beloved star," he mutters, walking back toward the bed, "what we need is our own home. No interruptions, no servants knocking at ungodly hours, just us."

He sits on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. His hands reach for me, pulling me into his lap as if grounding himself.

"Agreed," I murmur, resting my head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.