The hallway was dim, silent except for the sound of their breathing—uneven, shallow, charged. Their lips met fast, too fast, the kiss raw and unrefined.
Noses bumped, teeth clicked, but neither pulled away. The heat between Lyra and the Alpha was real, unscripted.
Mike - The Alpha - fumbled, scraping the metal key against the door. It should've been easy. But it wasn't. Mike's fingers shook with something more than just a mere lust.
The lock resisted under the key's command. Then, after three turns, it clicked.
The door groaned and opened. Lyra didn't even notice her head had slammed lightly against the frame as they stumbled inside - locked together like twisted threads.
The light welcomed them as if it were already waiting for them to enter.
Thick air pressed down on them like breath from an unseen lung.
Both Lyra and Mike's steps, though clumsy, moved in sync like puppets on the same invisible string.
Lyra's scarf, once wrapped neatly around her, tangled between their shoulder.
Every brush of fabric felt amplified in every second. Their mouths parted only briefly, letting their unfocused eyes meed.
"Are you sure your family will accept me as your mate?" Lyra asked, tightening her grip on Mike.
The moment Mike's lips moved, ready to reply Lyra, glass shattered behind them.
The sound was loud and could not be forgotten in an instant, but neither Lyra nor Mike looked back.
Lyra clumsed her lips on Mike's, stopping him from even saying a word.
The room didn't just witness their presence. It responded to them with glass and ceramics shattering sounds.
Lyra's breath caught in her throat as she landed on the couch.
Mike loomed over her, his eyes locked on hers widely. His stare looked was as if he was discovering something terrible and irresistible at the same time.
Lyra's gown split like paper under Mike's grip. Shredded silk fell away, revealing more than skin. Yet still Lyra kept on smiling.
Then as Mike's mouth moved down on her thighs, Lyra gasped.
She could feel Mike's tongue moving slowly underneath her thighs like a man consuming a secret.
Lyra gasped. Moaned. And twitched with closed eyes.
The room breathed with them. Curtains swayed though no window was open.
Lyra felt Mike's fingernails peeling part of her skin as his grip tightened.
Even with the pain she felt under those peeling of skin, Lyra's shout came in as only moans.
Debris fell from the dusty walls as Lyra's voice died down.
She cracked her eyes open. She remained there disoriented and drenched in heat.
Mike stood over her, breathing hardly. But his eyes weren't just hungry anymore. They looked something different - like a spy.
"You don't even know what you've started," Mike whispered. His voice came in low. It wasn't flirtatious. Instead, it was a warning. Or a confession.
"What..." Before Lyra could speak, Mike buried his face between her thighs.
This time, his tongue moved in a relentless state. It was more than Lyra had experienced.
The taste and scent that rose up overwhelmed Lyra.
Mike pulled his head out of Lyra's thighs.
But Lyra stretched her arms, grabbed him by the waist, and pulled him in.
"Won't I be treated poorly like your father did with me?" Lyra asked.
But before she could continue, Mike grabbed her soft ass squeezed it and leaned to her ears.
"This ain't the time for that kind of questions."
Mike said. Then, pulled down his trouser and boxer.
Even in the dim light, Lyra saw Mike's hard rod dangling between her legs.
Lyra's mouth parted the moment Mike's rod trod through her.
Mike's fingers moved to her lips - silencing her before she could even scream louder.
After several rounds of waist swing, Lyra felt a hot liquid pumping in her.
She tried to pull back. But the more she moved, the more it pained her.
When the pump she felt stopped, Mike whispered something in her ears.
The words were soft. So soft even Lyra couldn't hear them.
But she felt Mike's lips brushing over her ear.
When she thought everything was over, Lyra felt the rod pushing in her again.
This time, she tried to speak, but Mike moved, turning her voice into broken breaths, and swallowed moans.
Lyra's body arched, part resistance, part surrender. She wasn't sure if her alpha will trully be the one everyone stated.
The room trembled.
The curtains fluttered as the air thickened. Shadows deepened in the corners, streching like silent witnesses.
Mike pressed his waist rod deeper and deeper like a worm finding shelter in the dirt.
Lyra's breath caught at the edge of something far more than passion.
Yet, Lyra didn't move away, or pushed Mike away. She wanted him more than anything in this world.
"Should I stop?" Mike asked, his voice sounding low and unreadable.
Lyra didn't answer with words. Instead, she moved her hips, seeking him and drawing him in.
Lyra's movement stirred a smile on Mike's face. It wasn't amusement. Rather, it was something out of joy. Death smile.
As Mike pressed deeper, Lyra's belly softened, rising and falling like a spring.
Lyra wasn't just receiving Mike - she was being rewritten. Undergoing a new stage of creation.
Mike's breath hitched as heat rushed out of him. For a moment, the room felt like it exhaled.
Even after Mike withdrew his rod, Lyra could still feel the hot liquid moving inside her.
The liquid slimed from her thigh and dropped to the ground.
Lyra's body quaked as Mike's fingers slid beneath her, lifting her carefully.
She felt a soft skin touching her unwrapped body as Mike draped her over his shoulder.
She could feel Mike's heartbeat pounding against her chest.
'Isn't he done?' Lyra's thoughts screamed as they moved to the bedroom.
"Put your clothes back on and go to your hut." Mike's said placing Lyra on the bed.
Lyra watched him in a confused state.
"Why?" Though her body trembled but she managed to let out words.