Oliver’s fevered hands clutched at my arms as his hole enveloped me in a burning embrace. I felt momentarily lightheaded as even more blood rushed south and Oliver gasped.

“I swear I just felt you get harder. Fuck, Wyatt. Give me more!”

I smiled. It felt amazing to finally let go of all our restraints, for me to focus on just giving Oliver exactly what he needed. I continued my slow slide in. His tight, hot channel felt better than I had ever imagined. I knew heat and pheromones were driving us in the moment, but we had been able to talk beforehand, to clear the air and expectations before we let lose our inhibitions. Whatever strings that might have held us to the ground were cut loose, and I was floating in an Oliver-induced high, a reciprocal circle of pleasure giving and receiving. Every gasp, every twitch, every moan curled the desire in me even tighter.

Finally, I was fully seated in Oliver. He twisted, trying to get me to move. My knot bulged slightly, ready to be let loose.

“Wyatt…” His voice was breathy, like he’d nearly forgotten how to speak.

I took the moment to caress his cock and balls, which were already high and tight against his skin. I doubt Oliver had experienced this with his last asshole alpha, but my favorite part about heat was the multiple orgasms an omega could experience with the right stimulation.

I was going to make sure Oliver didn’t go another day without knowing what that felt like.

I started thrusting slowly. Oliver seemed to have finally lost the power of speech and was moaning, gasping, clutching at the sheets. I braced myself on one hand, but the other stroked his cock. In time with my thrusts at first, but then I sped up my hand while keeping my hips at the same slow speed. It took a lot of concentration, but that was good. If I wasn’t fully focused on making Oliver come, I was going to blow my load too soon.

“Shi—Wy—fuuuuu—“

I loved this Oliver. This glowing, fevered, unfettered Oliver. I loved every facet of Oliver, I realized with a shock, and the thought tightened my grip and I sped up my hand.

“No!” Oliver protested. “Knot—“

His body jerked as he shot cum across his chest, over my hand. I slowed my strokes back down as the pulses ceased, but kept up the slow, steady thrust of my hips.

Oliver squirmed beneath me, some function returning to his brain as the heat abated slightly with his orgasm. “I’m too sensitive, Wyatt.”

“No, you’re not,” I said, bringing his hand up to mine to kiss his fingers. “You’re just the right sensitive. Trust me. But if you want me to stop…?”

There was a moment of conflict on Oliver’s face, then he said, “Don’t stop.”

With his permission, I sped up my thrusts and his squirms of discomfort turned into thrusts of need. He was quickly lost in sensation again, his words disappearing. Now that he had come once, I let myself sink fully into the sensation. He was tighter than anything I’d ever experienced. And while my celibate years might have made the experience more… everything… my alpha instincts to take care of my omega held me back from losing it too soon.

I thrust as hard as I could into Oliver, as fast as I could. I was grateful the neighbor’s houses were far enough away they couldn’t hear his continually moan, punctuated by shouts of ecstasy. I felt my balls draw up tight as my vision began to white out on me, and then I was exploding into him. With one final thrust, I pushed my knot inside and I head Oliver follow me, his voice cut off in a sudden muteness, his panting breath the only sound he was capable of making as his body seized around me.

I carefully collapsed beside him after pulling one leg around my hips so I could spoon him. His chest heaved under my arms, but I wasn’t finished with him yet. My knot was locked inside him, and a deep sense of satisfaction filled my every nerve. Once I had my breath mostly back, I started thrusting slowly again, pulling my knot against his hole, stretching him, then pushing forward to rub against his prostate.

“Wyatt! Wyatt, what are you doing?” he gasped.

“Making you come again,” I promised.

“I can’t,” he nearly cried. “I’ve never come twice that fast before. I can’t come a third!”

“You can and will,” I said, moving my hand to a pert nipple and giving it a small pinch.

Each squirm did Oliver no good if he was trying to escape the sensations I was providing him. He was unintentionally fucking himself on my knot. Even though I knew I couldn’t come again that quickly, it felt amazing, and I met him movement for movement.

I pulled back and really stretched his hole, tweaking his nipple again.

“Come now,” I said.

As if he’d been waiting for my words, he did, barely any cum escaping his cock, but his body seizing even harder around my knot than it had before. And then he collapsed, practically blacked out.

I chuckled and tucked the blankets around us. I knew from experience that so many orgasms right in a row, and of such intensity, would give him a longer time before the next wave of heat hit. He should be able to get some sleep between waves.

In the moment, my entire focus had been on Wyatt, but now that we had a moment of rest, my mind drifted to Jen. I knew what would help Wyatt because of my time with Jen. The sense of loss I felt whenever I thought of her didn’t feel as bad with Wyatt wrapped in my arms. He wasn’t a replacement, not at all. They were absolutely nothing alike. But I think Jen would have approved of him. She certainly would have approved of how he loved on Chloe, and how he made me feel whole for the first time since we found out she had cancer.

I settled back into the pillows, feeling content inside and out. I let myself drift off to sleep. I would need rest as well to handle the rest of this heat.