Chapter Text
His bed smelt faintly like her, from when she'd roughly taken him a week ago. Two days ago, his heat had started, and since then, he'd been writhing desperately in the sheets, naked and dripping, fingering his own hole and getting nowhere.
The last day of his heat was no different. They used to last longer than three days. Before. Now, his face was buried in the pillows, he was inhaling every last trace of her intoxicating alpha scent, and wished she was here to ease the everlasting ache of his hole.
But he was alone. He leaned on his bent knees and arched his back, a silent plea to anyone, anyone to scent his need and stuff him with their knot.
The last time he'd seen her, Amarantha had left as soon as they were finished, telling him to stay put as if there wasn't a ward around her private wing that prevented him from walking out or winnowing on his own. Other fae could still come in, mostly servants, mostly to deliver clothes, wine and the toys Amarantha planned to use on him. But he couldn't leave unless she allowed it.
So maybe, just maybe, an alpha would pass his room door, and scent the High Lord of Night's desperation, and take enough pity on him to fill him up quickly before Amarantha came back.
But that would never happen.
Although Amarantha liked to toy with him, had no shame in grabbing him through his pants when she wanted him closer to her throne, liked to shove a hand under his waistband and slip a few fingers into his hole when he least expected it, liked to invite other females to watch him come undone, she never, never let anyone else actually touch him.
And if someone did, she would know. The one time it happened was when he was tied up for display, so desperate to come that he'd bucked his hips into the first hand that had grabbed his cock and squeezed. That hand had not been Amarantha's, so she had slapped the offending female and snarled. Amarantha barred her from ever entering the private wing again, and had promptly ended the viewing of her pet.
Amarantha had been furious, and forbade him from eating for a week. The only thing he was allowed to eat was her pussy and his own seed, if she allowed him to come at all. Afterwards, she had thoroughly warned him of harsher punishments if he was caught smelling like the sex of anyone else, and since then, Rhys had made sure to keep his eyes open and glare at any female who looked at him with too much lust.
With the sudden fear of being scented in mind, Rhys lowered his ass back down and held himself up with his forearm, and wrapped the other hand around his cock instead, spreading his own juices as he moved up and down.
Damn the Cauldron, the Mother, and all of Prythian's fucking forgotten gods for making him the only High Lord to be an omega.
When Amarantha had lined up all the High Lords to sniff out their designation, Rhys's heat had been steadily creeping up on him, so when Amarantha pushed out her alpha scent and skimmed a hand over each of their cocks, Rhysand had been the only one to whimper. Since then, he'd been granted a room in her private wing, and the privilege to service her whenever her monthly needs arose.
Slowly, that service had extended to whenever she felt like it, and only sometimes would she return the favour.
He hoped that this would be one of those times, because no matter how fast he pumped his weeping cock, he knew he could only be satiated by the thick knot of an alpha buried deep in his hole.
He increased his pace anyways, dragged a nail across the tip where he was deliciously sensitive, squeezed his balls and fucked his hand harder.
But Rhys couldn't come.
He could feel the release cresting, but every time it would sink back down, leaving him tricked and helpless.
A whimper escaped his lips, and his hips trembled violently as need exploded within him, his hole widening for the penetration he knew would never come.
"Please," he said to no one, because his alpha wasn't here. He felt his hole slick, the juices dripping down between his cheeks and to his balls, mixing with the precum of his cock.
Desperation expanded its vines within him, coiling around deeper around his insides and holding on tighter, until tears pricked in his eyes. He tried his cock again, spitting in his hand before fisting hard. Again, the pleasure began, but it was weak and nothing compared to what a good fuck in the ass would be.
The emptiness hurt, and there was no one here to relieve him and he was so, so, so aroused for so long that it turned into pain, and his body contorted, shrivelling in on itself as he curled into a fetal position.
Oh Gods. Please. He whimpered, unabashed, and allowed a few tears to drip free. He kept his hand on his cock, squeezing it and fisting himself upwards, as if he could milk the cum out of it.
I must look pathetic, he thought, but he couldn't find it in himself to care as another relentless wave of desperation crashed, and he rolled onto his back.
He propped his feet flat on the mattress and let his knees go wide as continued his useless grinding, rolling his hips up with every thrust into his own hand.
"Aah!" He cried out as pain speared through his hole. He raised and curled in his hips as the aching deepened. When it subsided, he began to pulse with desire, the need to be stretched and filled.
"Ama-" He cut himself off. He would not. He would not call for her. She would not get to see him so undone this time. He could do this on his own.
He rose up, and sat back on his heels, letting his knees go wide, and faced the headboard. One hand kept trying to sooth his blubbering cock, while the other trailed lower, until his fingers met the rim of his wet, pulsing hole.
It was considered disgraceful to finger his own hole, but Rhys was beyond feeling shame for that. He'd tried this already. He had been out of other options for release for days, and he still was.
Pleasure burst immediately as he pushed in three fingers, as he knew it would be pointless to start with one. He moaned, and began to ride up and down, willing his fingers to go deeper, to meet that sacred spot.
He whined, a high-pitched sound at the back of his throat when they just couldn't reach it. He curled his hand, pushed his fingers in further until he was all the way up to third knuckle but it still wasn't enough.
He doubled over as he burst with need and pain, a moan of agony ripped through him.
His cock was practically pissing with precum, his hole gushing slick down the backs of his thighs as he sunk into the mattress and perked his ass high into the air.
Oh he was desperate for anyone, fucking anyone to fuck him, and knot him, and finally let him come.
"Amarantha," he sobbed, "Amarantha."
Heels clicked on the hallway floors beyond. The door was suddenly swung open, and Rhysand swivelled around immediately as that pure, dominant alpha scent washed over the room.
"Nngh," he whimpered as he inhaled her scent eyed her groin and imagined the bulge growing behind her dress.
But he was too far gone to wonder how she would react to that violation, and all he could do fist his cock and look up at her with needy, tear-glazed eyes.
Her face was impassive, but her eyes glinted with annoyance, but Rhys swore he saw desire within their depthless black.
The possibility of being bred at last sent more pulses of need through his hole.
He whined from the back of his throat, unable to stay still any longer. He turned to face the headboard and scooted back until his toes were at the very edge of the bed. He smoothed out the covers, stretching his arms long in front of him, before sinking his chest down into the mattress and allowing the natural curve of his spine to bring his glistening ass up.
He pushed down the shame.
Please. Look at how desperate I am for you. Fuck me, please. He couldn't say the words out loud, but the sudden squirt of slick out his hole surely conveyed the message.
Amarantha said nothing, and he couldn't see if her expression was pleased or angry.
His hips shook with the effort he was putting in to keep them raised, but he couldn't let them drop. He needed to present himself properly, to show her that he was ready to be good.
"How long have you been like this?" Her voice was light. Syrupy with false sympathy and - thankfully - seduction.
"So very long," he whined. The pressure was building up painfully in his cock, and he stroked it a few times to ease the ache.
"Stop that," Amarantha ordered, voice icy. Immediately, he stopped.
He heard her take more steps towards the bed and his cock twitched in anticipation. He heard the shifting of fabric before the soft sound of something small and light hitting the floor. Please, he thought, let it be her panties.
His entire body jolted when she touched the sole of his left foot, and slowly trailed a path up the back of his thighs, reaching closer to his hole.
He pulled his hair in anticipation, ready for her to plunge her whole fist into him, and then her knot.
But she didn't give in that easily. She smoothed her hand over his left ass cheek, and up his back. Go back, he thought. Go back.
She grabbed the scruff of his neck, and dig her nails into it hard. If it were even possible now, his cock released more precum.
He moaned. This was what he wanted. To be owned by an alpha, to be bitched, and to soon be filled with seed.
"Move forward," Amarantha ordered. Without hesitation he shimmed ahead, until he reached the pillows and he held one to his face, wiping away the sweat.
He heard the sound of her taking of her heels and throwing them aside. More rustling of fabric, then something silky and soft landed on his head, so he pushed the pillow away.
It was her dress.
Her delicious alpha scent of amber, black cherry, and blood orange. He covered his face with it immediately, instinctually relaxing into the comfort of knowing an alpha was going to take care of him.
But the small part that still worked of his rational brain knew he could be left high and dry without warning.
The bed dipped behind him, and he involuntarily tried to perk his as up even higher.
He felt Amarantha sit on her heels between his shins, using her knees to spread his knees wider.
"Uhhh," he moaned, as anticipation brought a painful bout of need. He leaned back slightly, trying to get his hole closer.
"Patience, pet," she said, smacking his ass. "Do you want me to fuck you?"
"Yes!" He groaned, asscheeks clenching, "Yes, please, alpha."
"Good boy," she purred. "You know your manners." Her hand was suddenly cupping his balls, squeezing them tight. Rhys groaned into her dress.
She glided her hand up to cock, squeezing him and stroking where he was painfully hard, like she was milking his juices. She took away her hand, and Rhys let loose a small whine.
She gripped his ass hard, and Rhys's hips shook as she swirled a finger around his hole. She cupped her hand beneath it, and Rhys didn't realise she was collecting his slick until she took her hand away and he could hear the squelching sound of her stroking her cock.
Combine that with the sounds of her moans, he was quickly able to replace what she had taken. They were soft, pretty little sounds that were so at odds with the cruel female she was, but they had Rhys's hole dripping with arousal either way.
Amarantha stood on her knees, and pulled him by the hips right up to her cock. He moaned as she slipped it between his cheeks, pressed it up to cover his hole. He could feel its wide girth, its impossible length as it pulsed against his entrance, and he ground into it, rolling his hips back and down, back and down.
He was so close to being filled and fucked and bred after waiting for so damn long so fuck his pride and his dignity.
"Please," he begged, "please fill me up with your cock. Please, alpha." His hips trembled as need tightened in his core to the point of pain, "Please," he sobbed, his tears absorbed by her dress.
"You were presenting your hole when I walked in," she said, a slight of accusation in her tone. She pushed three fingers in and out of his hole, repeating it.
"Nnngh," he moaned, he needed more.
"Would you have let someone else fuck you, if they found you first?" She asked, stopping her movements.
"No!" He wailed, half in response to the loss of stimulation and half to answer her question, "Only you," he croaked, "Only you, Amarantha, my alpha."
"That's correct," she said sharply. "If anyone else touches you, you will never" - she pinched the delicate skin of his rim, and he cried out in pain - "ever come again."
"Yes, alpha," he said, clenching and unclenching his hole around her still fingers, trying to get some feeling out of it. "I'm yours."
The feeling of her cock was gone, she pulled away.
"No!" Wasn't that the right thing to say? "I- plea-"
Amarantha slammed herself into his hole, and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Rhys moaned, long and loud, as he's stretched to his widest since his heat began.
She pounded into him, slamming to the hilt again and again and again.
"Uh, uh, uh," he groaned, in time with her thrusts.
But he needed more, he needed her wider, deeper, he needed her knot.
He moaned, "Please, please Amarantha. Knot me. Oh, please."
She adjusted their angle, and this time when she pounded him, she pressed against that bundle of nerves, "Oh Gods, oh aaahh!"
Amarantha let her knot inflate inside him and the skin of his hole stretched almost painfully. He moans, "Ohhh, oh, ah, gods!"
He can't take it. She has ruined him, she's going to rip him into bloody pieces.
Every fucking star that he couldn't see from under this mountain aligned when she knotted into place.
Oh yes, yes, Gods, Rhys thought, and he didn't get another second to adjust before she was pounding, pulling him even closer by his hips, pushing impossibly deeper, and every fucking nerve ending of his body was vibrating with pleasure.
"You," Amarantha said, her menacing tone undercut by the breathiness of her voice, "will never be able to leave me."
Rhysand felt none of the devastation he should because she's grabbing his scruff and tugging and her hips are stuttering and he's so fucking close-
Amarantha erupted inside him, he can feel the pulsing of her cock as it stuffed him with her seed, and the stars exploded behind his eyes as he came.
Thick, shiny ribbons of come shot from his cock, and the world was lost to him as he was launched through pleasure.
His breathing was heavy and ragged as he came down, and Amarantha's cock slowly deflated, then she was out of his hole with a wet pop.
He felt the bruises forming inside already.
He moved to climb off the bed, but Amarantha was standing naked in front of him, and he sat back on his heels, suddenly shocked by the length and width of what somehow managed to fit inside him not long ago.
"Eat." He focused on Amarantha's cupped hand, and as she brought it to his mouth, he saw that what she's holding...is his cum. Dripping down the sides of her fingers, like soup in a bowl.
He didn't even notice her taking some, had assumed it had all been absorbed by the sheets like many loads before it.
She sternly pushed his head down with other hand, and the tip of his nose briefly dipped into the white fluid. It was sticky and warm, and he could smell its saltiness.
He didn't want to. He couldn't imagine it would taste good, and he didn't want to eat it.
But he thought of how hungry for a real meal he knows he would be after this, and how Amarantha actually fucked him this time around. Maybe she'd fuck his hole again next month, and he didn't want to do anything to ruin his chances.
Tentatively, he dipped his tongue into her cupped hand, and lapped his cum into his mouth. It's acidic and disgusting, and he swallowed to hide his grimace.
"Finish it." An order with no room for argument. If he gave in, he can eat and maybe sleep.
He repeated the motions, gliding his tongue along her palm as he gulped down bitter cum.
Once he finished, Amarantha shoved her sticky index finger in his mouth.
He sucked it clean.
She gave him the middle, then the ring, then the pinky. Then he licked the planes of her palm until he reached her thumb.
While he sucked it, she cupped the rest of her fingers around his jaw, and tugged it down. A muscle strained, but he pushed the pain down.
She slide her thumb out and quickly grabbed him by the neck, planting a rough, possessive kiss on his lips before pushing him back against the headboard.
"Get dressed," Amarantha said, "We're having dinner."
She left, not bothering to collect her clothes or shoes, as her bedroom is right by his. She closed the door firmly on her way out.
He's not allowed to shower, then. Not like that's anything new.
He didn't have a bathroom in his bedroom, and Amarantha didn't usually let him use hers. She wanted her sadistic court to know that she bitched him, to know what a whore he is. And now that he'd eaten his own cum, everyone will be able to scent it when he opens his mouth to eat at dinner.
With the insanity and desperation from the heat gone, Rhys started to feel the anger slowly creep back in. But he extinguished it as quick as it came. He knew it was no use.
Next month, he would be in heat again, begging for Amarantha's cock in his ass once more. So it wasn't worth the rage, the helplessness and the despair he felt when he thought about the opinions of her court, when he counted how many years he'd been here, unsure of how many there are to go.
Rhys carelessly wiped himself down with the sheets before tossing them in the laundry basket. He grabbed the first outfit he saw in the closet and quickly put it on.
He only bothered with his hair to appease Amarantha's aesthetics, he brushed the recently-fucked tangles out of it, applied a bit of gel.
He tied up his shoes, tested the feel of his hands in his pockets, preparing himself to wear the mask of the indifferent, cruel High Lord.
Amarantha's whore.
He walked out of the room, passed the dressing table.
He avoided looking at the mirror.