7. Leo

I've always loved the historic district of Sutton City. I can't live there, of course. None of the buildings have adequate security. But back when I was younger, I dreamed of living in a charming old home much like Steve's.

I stop just inside the entrance and stare at the grand staircase. The floors are the original hardwood and Steve has decorated the place with shabby antiques. It's homey and quaint, with the exception of the enormous cat tower in the corner of the living room. After the gaudy opulence of Hollywood, this place feels so down to earth and real.

A gray cat peers down from atop the tower. His tail swishes back and forth as he stares at me with an imperious glare.

"Hello, there. I'm Leo," I say.

He jumps down, landing gracefully on the floor. When I climb up the first stair, he creeps behind me, keeping his body low like he's preparing to pounce.

"I promise I'm not a robber."

The cat continues to follow me a few steps behind. At the top of the first flight of stairs, he runs ahead, pausing at the bottom of the next staircase. On this floor there are three doors. The second one is ajar. As I pass it, I peer inside. The room has a large bed, several bookcases filled to the brim with comic books, and a large reading chair in the corner topped with several pillows. It looks cozy.

The cat darts up the next flight of stairs the moment I begin to climb them. On the third floor I find a few more doors. One is wide open. The cat rushes inside and sits at the base of a metal ladder bolted to the wall.

That must be the ladder to the roof.

The room is a basic office with a desk, filing cabinet, and bookcase. Framed photographs line the walls. One is of a younger Steve in a cap and gown with two middle-aged men grinning at his side. Those same men are also in the next photograph where Steve is standing in front of the Great Wall of China. They must be his dads. They seem really nice.

The third photo is of Steve on a beach, arm in arm with four other young guys. At the center of the group is a man I recognize as Henry Sanchez. He's the youngest self-made billionaire in the world and known for being eccentric. During Covid he wore a wizard hat during all his Zoom meetings.

So, he's Steve's famous friend.

The cat sits stubbornly in front of the ladder. He doesn't move, even when I reach for the rungs and start climbing. He meows in alarm when I unlatch the door to the roof.

"What is it? Do you not want me to go up there or do you want to go with me?"

The cat rears up on his hind legs and rests his front paws on the first rung of the ladder.

"Fine." I climb back down and crouch next to him. "Here's the deal. If you come willingly without scratching me, I will carry you up this ladder. But if you give me any trouble, I'm bringing you right back down." I hold out my palm to him, hoping he might take some comfort in an opportunity to sniff me. The cat glances at my hand, then back at me, without moving a muscle. Maybe that only works with dogs.

I smell a familiar scent—musky and masculine with a hint of soap. I close my eyes and inhale deeply, even though I know I shouldn't.

It's Steve. I must have taken so long looking at his photos and negotiating with his cat that he caught up to me before I made it to the roof.

I turn around to find him standing in the doorway. I'm surprised by how tall he is. He must be at least six foot three. I suppose when I saw him on my porch, I was a full step higher than him, and when we were in the car, he was sitting down.

His shoulders aren't huge, but they're wide, and his arms are wired with lean muscle. Steve may be a nerdy accountant, but he's also a big alpha with the physical power to do whatever he wants to me. I shiver. His scent is overwhelming now, and it makes me wish Steve would use his powerful body to do something besides stare at me.

I'm five foot two and small everywhere. I still shop for shoes in the children's department. Steve could easily throw me over his shoulder, pin me to the wall, or hold me down and fuck me into his mattress.

The unmistakable scent of my slick wafts through the air. He hasn't even touched me, and I'm already wet for him.

He steps closer, his eyes burning into mine. Gone is the Steve in the car who rambled about Batman's abs. This man walks with a confidence that feels almost predatorial. He towers over me, his nostrils flaring.

"Leo," he rasps. Hell, it's almost a growl. A part of me knows I should retreat up that ladder so we can clear our heads. The sweet Steve I met less than an hour ago wouldn't growl at me unless he'd been reduced to his baser instincts. The agency warned us that couples with a compatibility as high as ours can sometimes push each other into a heat or rut by physical proximity alone. If we don't stop, we won't have the chance to get to know each other before our bodies take control.

But I can't move. I stand there like a deer in headlights, my whole body yearning for him to touch me. The desire is so visceral, every inch of my skin aches with it. He leans in closer until the heat of his breath ghosts along my cheek. It's only his breath, and yet it spreads a sweet electricity through me.

"I'm not any good at casual sex," he says yet again, with a desperation that reminds me of his tender heart.

"Does this feel casual to you?" I ask him.

Steve swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. "No."

"It doesn't feel casual to me either."

He crashes his body into mine, jamming our noses together painfully and searing his mouth to my chin instead of my lips. But the awkwardness is only temporary. When he claims my mouth, my knees go weak from the power of his kiss. I melt into his arms as they surround me, and I soften my lips under the force of his spearing tongue. He has to hunch over to kiss me, so it feels natural when he lifts me off the floor, grabbing my ass more for leverage than to grope me. Being airborne while he kisses me makes me feel like I'm being swept away into a magical place where only our bodies and desires exist. I cling to him with an urgency that's refreshing after the last year of disappointments and despair. It feels good to want something—to want him.

"Please," I whisper against his lips.

He squeezes my asscheeks. Not playfully or seductively, but forcefully, his fingers digging into my flesh. I gush slick, soaking my underwear and jeans.

He lets out a guttural groan in response and starts walking, carrying me effortlessly in his arms. I'm so disoriented, I think he's taking me to his bedroom, until my back comes into contact with the cold, metal bars of the ladder.

He spins me around. I grasp for the middle rung and find my footing on another one closer to the ground. Steve grabs for the waistband of my jeans and yanks them down, exposing my ass to the cool air and freeing my cock. It juts out in front of me, already hard and eager.

Steve buries his nose into the crook of my neck. "Leo, I need…" His voice is so raw and vulnerable, I can see what he means about not being good at casual sex. Sharing a physical connection with someone clearly means a lot to him.

"It's okay," I assure him. "I need you, too."

And I want him. Not just his body, but his tender heart.

He kisses and sucks at my neck, nibbling at the skin and causing shocks of sweet pain that sing through me like lightning. His hands trail down my sides, leaving a path of fire in their wake. He grabs my asscheeks with both hands, still sucking at my neck. His scent is everywhere now, burning through my nose and surrounding me. I let my hand fall back on his shoulder. My body is weak with desire, except for my fists that cling to the ladder.

His fingers massage my ass—not with the practiced finesse of a man who's trying to seduce me, but with an eager curiosity that's a little rougher and more satisfying. His fingers dig into my crease where I'm messy with slick. I cry out as more slick gushes out of my hole, leaking down my inner thighs.

"You're so wet," he whispers, sinking his teeth into my neck.

"Ah!" I gush slick again.

He slides the tip of his finger inside me. I'm so aroused, he's able to push it in easily, even though his finger is long. I clench around him, groaning at the satisfaction of finally being filled.

"We were tested," he reminds me. It takes me a second to realize he's talking about STI's. I was so drunk on his scent, I forgot all about that.

"I had sex a few weeks ago. I used a condom for the anal sex, but not for the oral. I had several partners on the same night." I wait with bated breath for Steve's response. I'm not ashamed of having multiple sexual partners, but Steve is clearly more careful about who he sleeps with. "Other than that, I haven't had sex in six months," I clarify. If I was in his shoes, that would matter to me. It impacts his level of risk.

"Thanks for telling me." He withdraws his finger. For a moment I wonder if he's about to leave to get a condom, which would be fine. But he pushes back inside me with more fingers this time. I don't know how many, I just know that it feels like a lot.

"Oh, Steve." I whimper.

He sucks on the lobe of my ear. "I like when you say my name." He slides his fingers out and pushes them in again, harder this time.

"Steve!"

"Can I have you without a condom?" He pistons his fingers, making me forget everything but the wonderful width and pace of them.

Slick keeps pouring out of me, causing an obscene squelching noise as he fingers me. He adjusts his angle, and then he's jamming into my prostate. I scream, my body tensing as pleasure surges through me. My cock spurts, untouched, painting his wall and my shirt with cum.

"Do you want me to use a condom?" he asks a second time.

I shake my head.

His fingers are suddenly gone. The emptiness is unbearable. But it only lasts for a moment. Steve pushes something thicker with more give inside me. Initially, I buck back onto him, eager for it, but as he slides it in deeper, I panic at how big he is. His cock is much thicker than his fingers. My ass tries to push him out, spasming around his girth painfully.

"Oh my God. It's too much. I can't." He rocks back, almost pulling out entirely. I can handle the tip of him, but just barely.

"I'm sorry," he says. "You took three of my fingers without any problem. I thought it would be okay."

Fucking hell. I saw his fingers. They're thick. Is he that much bigger than three of his fingers?

Even though I just came, my cock hardens at the very idea of it. There's a reason I can take three of his fingers easily. The dildos I like to play with on my own are probably bigger than a man of my size should use.

"It's okay. Just go slow," I tell him.

"Are you sure? You're small, and a lot of omegas have a hard time taking me—"

"I'm sure."

He pushes in gently. I bear down, trying my best to open up, but he still meets resistance despite all the slick that's dripping from my ass.

"Just give it a second," I say. Part of it must be the position of my body. I can take a lot more when my knees are bent and separated. But I don't want to move or wait—I want him now.

I inhale deep. "More."

He grasps my hips and forces his cock into me, pushing past the resistance. I groan as the growing pain blooms into pleasure.

"I'm halfway," he says with gritted teeth.

Only halfway? I genuinely don't know if I can take all of him. I carefully step up to the next rung of the ladder, one foot at a time. This allows me to bend my knees. I lean forward and open my legs as wide as possible. Steve is so thick and deep, he stays lodged inside me during the process.

"Now," I say.

This time he's able to push in so far, it feels like he's in my stomach. My body trembles, either from pleasure or panic, I can't be sure.

"Oh, God, Leo. You took all of me." His voice is soft and awestruck. Maybe that doesn't happen often.

I look down and see a bump protruding from my lower abdomen. At first I wonder if it's just my shirt bunching in a weird way, so I take my hand off the ladder for a moment to touch it.

The bump is solid. When I press my hand against it, Steve moans.

That's his cock. He's so big, he's literally rearranging the insides of my body.

I grab his hand and guide it to my abdomen.

"Is that…" he trails off as he squeezes himself. "Oh, God. Are you okay?"

"Yes. Fuck me."

I've never been with a guy who came close to the size I like to stretch myself with. That's fine because smaller cocks feel good too, just in a different way. But with Steve, I get to have the stretch while he fucks me. The idea of that is mind-boggling.

He slides out, this time pushing back in slowly enough that I can see the bulge in my stomach appear with the rock of his hips. That's unbelievably hot.

"Harder," I say.

"Are you sure?"

"Don't you want to fuck me harder, Steve? Give it to me like you want to. Give me everything you have."

He digs his fingers into my hips, and then he's driving into me with a force that makes me wail. It hurts in a satisfying way. He barely pauses a second before slamming into me again. I'm so weak from arousal, I almost lose my grip and fall back, my shoulder blades hitting his chest. That changes the angle, and he thrusts against something wildly sensitive inside me. It's too high to be my prostate, which means it must be the entrance to my womb.

I let out a low moan. Normally, alphas have a hard time finding it, even during my heat. But Steve's thrusts hit it straight on. I relax into him, not even trying to hold on to the ladder anymore. I can't think. He's too big, and I'm lost in the overwhelming sensation of him carving a pathway through my insides. He's holding me up by my legs now, my body completely folded in half. I scream as I come again. This time my cock barely ejaculates. My ass spasms around Steve's cock, but it's stretched to the point where it can barely clench down anymore.

Steve roars in my ear. He fucks into me one last time, jabbing at that sweet, sensitive spot. His breath is fast and labored, his arms trembling from exertion. I would worry about him dropping me if my body was still capable of worry. I'm nothing but a limp rag doll, too tired and fucked out to be concerned about anything.

Everything goes black.