Chapter 163
Ivan
I mean, I'm still scared, but it's different now. There's more than fear, more than anticipation. There's everything else — the love, the trust, the heat that's been building for months, years even.
Zander parts my legs and locks eyes with me. Too much eye contact. It's overwhelming, exposing. I feel like he can see every thought, every twitch of my heart.
His hand moves to my cock, giving it a few teasing tugs before pressing two fingers inside me, and all the while, he's looking straight at me. I try to hide my face, but he pins my hands above my head with his free hand.
I can't take it. My eyelids slam shut, the sensation mingling with the intensity of his gaze, leaving me raw, exposed, and trembling.
"Ivan. Look at me," he commands, his voice low, husky, and impossible to ignore.
I obey. My eyes flutter open.
And there it is. The truth in his eyes.
"I love you," Zander says.
Not just words. Not just a declaration. It's fire and warmth and safety all at once, a tidal wave of feeling I never want to escape. It contrasts so sharply with the movement of his fingers — gentle, teasing, demanding. My chest aches at the juxtaposition.
"You're my omega," he whispers.
More to himself than to me, like he's claiming me to the world, to himself, to everything that exists.
"Mine," he says again, and I see it—the absolute certainty, the devotion in his eyes.
"Yours. We got married, remember? I literally gave you a child," I murmur lightly, the words feeling so small compared to the enormity of what's happening.
He leans down, pressing his lips to mine in a soft, searing kiss, biting my lower lip gently.
"Fuck. I love you so fucking much. It overwhelms me sometimes," he breathes against me.
"I can understand that," I whisper, wanting desperately to cup his cheek, to draw him closer, but my hands are pinned, leaving me vulnerable and thrilled.
He pauses, searching for words, and I can see the intensity in his gaze, the need to articulate something that has no adequate language.
"Sometimes it feels like love…love is…" he begins, his voice trembling slightly, raw and real.
I finish for him, my voice soft but certain. "Love cannot accurately describe this emotion."
He looks at me, pupils blown, lips slightly parted, chest rising and falling rapidly. The weight of his gaze, the depth of his feeling, makes my heart ache.
"Yes," he breathes, almost a sigh, almost a prayer. "Yes…that's it."
And I realize, in that moment, that this is more than love. This is devotion. This is trust. This is the kind of bond that anchors you in a storm and lights you up when everything else is dark.
He leans closer, forehead to forehead, breaths mingling, eyes locked. "You're mine, Ivan. My omega, my husband, my everything," he murmurs.
"I'm yours," I whisper back, my voice breaking slightly with the weight of truth.
"All of me, forever."
And in that perfect, suspended moment, with his fingers moving gently, his lips brushing mine, and our hearts beating together, I feel it.
I can't even imagine a life without him, and in that realization, I also know I never want to.
"I love you," he says again, softly, almost reverently.
"I love you, Zander," I respond. "More than words, more than life itself."
His smile curves slowly, beautifully, like the sun rising over the world. "And I love you…infinitely."
I gasp when he adds another finger, torturously slowly, moving and kissing me. His touch is electric, sending shivers down my spine as he explores every inch of me with a tender yet firm precision.
The sensation of his fingers inside me, stretching and teasing, is almost too much to bear.
When I feel my climax coming, he stops, and removes his finger suddenly, leaving me feeling empty and yearning for more.
He turns me gently, guiding my body until my chest presses against the bed.
I can feel his eyes on me, devouring every curve and line of my body.
"I want you cum with me inside you." He says, his voice a low, husky whisper that sends a thrill through me.
I gulp, my heart racing with anticipation. He interlocks his left hand with mine, and I can feel his right arm position himself.
The head of his cock presses against my entrance, teasing me with its promise. He enters me slowly, inch by inch, until he's fully in, filling me completely.
His right hand interlocks with my right hand, his whole body pressed against my back, trapping me, and simultaneously keeping me safe.
When he moves, it's slow. So slow.
He makes tiny movements, barely thrusting, but enough to drive me wild. I gasp into the beddings, the sound muffled by the soft fabric, and he groans into my ear, his breath hot and heavy.
It's too much.
There's nowhere to run, but nowhere I'd rather be. His breath grazes my ear, rough with restraint, and it sends shivers down my spine.
"It's always amazing being this close to you," he murmurs. His voice vibrates against my skin, low and deep, making goosebumps rise along my arms.
"I don't think there's anyone more perfect for me than you."
He keeps that slow, torturous rhythm, not rushing — never rushing.
"It's like the universe molded you out of my desires and wishes," he says, voice almost breaking on the words.
"Everything about you," he says, squeezing my fingers tighter with his.
"Your eyes,"he whispers, his voice a low rumble.
"Your hair,"he murmurs, his lips brushing against my ear.
"Your lips," he says, his teeth grazing my earlobe.
"Your voice," he groans, his hips making the slightest of movements.
"Your body,"he breathes, his cock pulsing inside me.
"Your smile," he whispers, his fingers tightening around mine.
"Your laugh,"he says, his voice a low, husky whisper.
"Fuck." He groans and grinds his hips, the movement sending waves of pleasure through me.
"The way you squeeze me, and accept me."He says and bites my earlobe, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure straight to my core.
He's barely making any movements, my cock trapped between the bed and my body is begging for any kind of action, but Zander is cruel, his pace deliberate and slow, drawing out every sensation, every feeling.
"Ivan. I love you, everything about you is perfect."He says, his voice a low, husky whisper.
He temporarily lets go of my right hand to brush my hair from the back of my neck aside, his touch gentle and tender. He places a kiss there, and I visibly shudder, the sensation sending waves of pleasure through me.
"It's okay," he whispers, finding my hand again, weaving our fingers back together as if sealing a promise.
"I promise to cherish you. To always keep you safe."
And in that moment, it doesn't feel like just sex. It feels almost ritualistic.