Gen’s really been looking forward to tonight. For the first time in two weeks, her classwork is at a manageable level on a night Adrianne gets off early from the restaurant. Which means Gen has every intention of getting off early, too, oh yes. And late. And several times in between, if she’s lucky.
It’s been a little awkward today, actually. She was in the library, thinking about Adrianne: blond hair pulled back in a messy knot that’ll fall the moment she needs her emergency pen, endless legs bare from the hem of her skirt all the way down to her very sensible waitressing shoes, capable hands balancing dishes and glasses and cloth napkins full of silverware. Those hands flip Gen over like she’s nothing; they make Gen whimper with one curl of a finger. Gen likes those hands a lot.
However, not only did this pleasant line of thought not get Gen’s poli sci reading done any faster, it made her all squirmy, and when Jensen wandered by a few minutes later, he gave her quite the eyebrow. It must be nice to live around just betas, she thinks sometimes. At least they can’t smell every damn thing you feel.
All of which is to say, now that Gen’s got Adrianne in the bedroom, actually sitting on the bed, she’s really not clear on why there are still so many layers of clothing between them.
“Look, Gen,” Adrianne begins.
“Are you breaking up with me?”
“What? No. What makes you think I’m breaking up with you?”
Gen curls her feet up under her. “You sounded really serious. I just wanted to make sure that was off the table.”
“I’m not breaking up with you,” Adrianne repeats.
Adrianne gives her an anxious sort of smile. “But there’s something I’ve been wanting to talk about with you. Um. I don’t really know how to start.”
Gen waits. Adrianne’s got her hands knotted in her lap, which observation makes Gen think about knots, which really is not conducive to waiting.
Adrianne clears her throat. “You know how you let me, you know, push you around? When we have sex?”
“I recall,” Gen says. Or possibly purrs. She’s not sure how much restraint she managed there.
“And you like it, right?”
Okay, now Gen’s maybe a teensy bit annoyed. Probably it’s the sexual frustration talking. “Do not tell me you’re concerned about sexual politics right now. So I’m an omega who likes getting pushed around some. So what? I get off on it, okay? Not everything in bed is political!”
“Gen!” Adrianne says. “Seriously, what you like is not in question here.” She smirks. It looks a little feeble.
“Well, you asked,” Gen says, deflating.
“That wasn’t... Look.” Adrianne blows out a breath. “It’s just, I’m in charge, right? I tell you how things are gonna go.”
“Yeah,” Gen says, grinning hugely. Here’s to getting told some more, any minute now.
“Could I maybe not, tonight?”
Gen can feel her face falling. “Really? Maybe... maybe we should watch some more IT Crowd, and we can fool around later? I mean, I have an early class tomorrow, but we haven’t had any serious skin time in weeks, and I was sort of hoping—”
“Gen!” Now Adrianne’s chuckling. That’s a good sign. Gen hopes it is. “I don’t mean we shouldn’t have sex. I mean I’d, um. Do you think maybe you could be in charge this time?”
“I mean, I’m alpha, and I’m big, and I know I’ve got all these hormones, grr, but that doesn’t mean I always want to be the one doing the shoving. You know?”
Gen blinks. “Not really.”
Adrianne squares her shoulders. “Never mind. It was... never mind.” She lifts her chin, a grin teasing at her lips. One hand reaches out to stroke Gen’s arm. “Come here, you.”
This sounds important, and Gen’s not giving it up. She shifts away from Adrianne’s touch. “Tell me.”
The smile falls away. “You like it when I take control and do things to you, and I...” She licks her lips. “I’d like it if you did that to me.”
“You want me to, like, manhandle you?”
“Obviously the size difference doesn’t work in favor, but as far as you can. Yeah.”
“And order you around. And... stuff.” Gen is not real clear, just yet, on what sort of stuff is involved here. It’s not like Gen has a knot to top Adrianne with. But Adrianne’s eyes are shining with tentative hope, and there’s no way Gen can say no to that. “So how do we start?”
Adrianne’s eyebrow lifts. “That’s for you to know and me to find out.”
Gen thinks about this for a minute. Here’s Adrianne, still just sitting, all tense and anxious and expectant. What would Adrianne do? Gen knows exactly what she’d do: she’d be all smooth and seductive, and pretty soon Gen would have no clothes on and Adrianne’s tongue would be tickling the roof of Gen’s mouth, and a blink later Adrianne’s knot would be securely locked into Gen, and Gen would be shuddering through her first orgasm.
Not to set the bar too high or anything, here, Adrianne.
Clothes. Okay. First of all, there are way too many layers happening here. Gen scoots over and curls her fingers around the bottom hem of Adrianne’s polo shirt. Adrianne watches her every move. “Let’s get this off you,” Gen says.
Immediately, Adrianne lifts her arms, and Gen starts working the shirt up. The arms go okay, but the shirt catches on Adrianne’s chin and then again in her hair. By the time it’s off Gen’s blushing hard and not in the good way. Surely now Adrianne will want to forego this whole experimentation business, because clearly Gen’s not cut out for it.
Adrianne appears undaunted, though, sitting there in her bra. Her blush is the good kind, Gen thinks.
“Now I’m going to kiss you,” Gen says. Kissing seems safe. Also welcome, judging from how intensely Adrianne’s watching her. Gen gets up on her knees and takes Adrianne’s face in her hands. Adrianne’s mouth has fallen open, and that’s just really convenient for Gen to lean down and slide her tongue in.
Now, kissing Gen is not half bad at. Usually it’s her face in Adrianne’s hands, but this isn’t so different, not with Adrianne gripping her shoulders the way she is now. Adrianne tastes like chocolate malt and greasy potatoes. Her lips are warm and soft, like always, they just don’t... push back the way Gen is used to. They wait. Gen presses against them and savors the silky texture of Adrianne’s mouth.
Bra. Gen should be doing something about Adrianne’s bra. She’s still kissing her, and meanwhile she reaches around back and starts fumbling with the clasp. Adrianne shivers against her mouth, and Gen pauses. “Is it okay?” she says. “Is this okay?”
That’s fairly unambiguous. Gen gets the clasp open and breaks away from Adrianne to slide the bra down her arms. Adrianne keeps watching, all expectant and obedient. It’s bizarre; it’s so far off Gen’s map that she can’t take her eyes away. “Up on the bed,” she says. Adrianne scoots up until just her feet are hanging over the end.
It is not what Gen would classify as a sultry motion. It’s sort of... awkward. Which is a little bit comforting.
Gaze still locked, Gen swings her leg over Adrianne’s thighs and settles in, straddling her lap. She pauses. “I, uh. I don’t know what to do now.” It just seemed like a good idea, the straddling.
Adrianne doesn’t look any more certain than she does. “Isn’t there anything you’d like to, to do to me? You’ve got a sure thing here.” She attempts a smile and settles back onto her elbows. “I always had the impression you liked this body pretty well.”
Gen gives that body a long, slow look: acres of skin spotted with freckles and stretched over as gorgeous a frame as God ever gave mankind, arms golden-tan and warrior-strong - or so Gen occasionally likes to imagine. Breasts a wise woman might barter her firstborn for.
It’s a body Gen has appreciated plenty in the last four months and from a lot of different angles. Just, not like this.
Following an inkling of an idea, Gen cups Adrianne’s shoulders with her hands and pushes her down onto the bed. Adrianne’s breath shudders between Gen’s knees, and Gen plants her hands on either side of Adrianne’s face. She leans down and noses Adrianne’s neck, breathes in the rich alpha odor of her, flicks her tongue out to taste.
“Thought you were gonna fuck me, not tease me,” Adrianne says, breathless.
The flavor of Adrianne’s skin is a little bit beer and a little bit grease built on a foundation of sweat. Gen traces down the length of Adrianne’s neck into the dip between above her collarbone.
“Bitch,” Adrianne says. The word is more air than sound.
Gen closes her teeth around the bone, and Adrianne gasps. Gen pushes up onto her hands and stares down into Adrianne’s eyes. “I,” Gen says, testing out the words as she says them, “am taking what I want.”
Adrianne’s breath catches, and the sound pulls on something in Gen’s gut that she didn’t realize was there to be pulled. She leans down and kisses Adrianne again, harder this time. This is a contest, a duel to show who’s sitting on top of whom, here, who’s doing the kissing and who’s the one being kissed.
Adrianne moans into Gen’s mouth, and it tugs again on certain very sensitive strings. Gen squirms against Adrianne, and Adrianne’s moan changes pitch. Oh ho. Gen squirms again, with purpose this time, and is rewarded with a flood of heat through her clit and another hitch of Adrianne’s breath.
There’s still the clothes problem, though. Gen gets up on her knees and shimmies her jeans down, and then she shifts off Adrianne just long enough to finish pulling them free. Now there’s only Adrianne to go, Adrianne in her sensible black pencil skirt.
A convexity rises at Adrianne’s crotch, new within the last twenty minutes. Gen presses her hand to it, and Adrianne gasps. “You must have the power panties on,” Gen says. By feel she runs her finger down the length that Adrianne’s hiding underneath the skirt. Adrianne shivers at her touch.
“Knew I’d be thinking about tonight,” Adrianne says. “Can’t pop a knot in front of the customers. Ruin my girly image.”
“You thought about this?” Gen hooks her thumbs under the hem of the skirt and starts sliding it up Adrianne’s thighs.
“Only all day.”
The skin of Adrianne’s inner thigh is fine as silk as Gen thumbs across it. “Tell me,” Gen says, and wonders at herself. She doesn’t give orders in bed. Adrianne doesn’t even give orders in bed. “Tell me what you thought about.”
There’s a long pause. The trembling under Gen’s fingers tightens. Adrianne props herself up on her elbows. “I thought maybe, if I was good—” She smirks, not entirely convincingly. “—maybe you’d ride me.”
“Oh, yeah?” Adrianne’s skirt is bunched at her waist now. There’s Adrianne’s dick, straining against her alpha-strength tuck-and-shape underwear. A single layer of black Spandex lies between Gen and one of her many favorite Adrianne Palicki assets, just waiting for her.
Want flares, molten. Lubrication is very rarely an issue with omegas; it definitely won’t be tonight. Gen gives Adrianne’s dick a gentle squeeze. “And are you?”
“Am I what?” Adrianne says, shakily.
Another squeeze. “Going to be good.”
“Do you want to find out?”
Gen does. Gen really, really does.
She shifts off the bed and strips out of her special lacy undies without ceremony; she and Adrianne can enjoy those another time. Then she peels Adrianne’s underwear down and admires the delicious dick beneath. It’s a little red, a little squashed from all those hours encased in societal pressure and synthetic fibers, but Gen is going to fix that.
“I’m going to get you warmed up now,” Gen says – for Adrianne or for herself, she’s not sure. “I’m going to lick you until you’re fit to burst, and then I’m going to let you come in me.” There’s weight to the words, like the mere act of speaking them makes them so. The power of it makes Gen a little light-headed. Adrianne, too, going by the shallowness of her breath.
She takes Adrianne in her mouth and runs her tongue all the way around the tip. Adrianne shudders, and Gen did that. It’s not like Gen has never gone down on Adrianne; she’s just never felt so purposeful about it before. She keeps going, savoring Adrianne’s involuntary twiches, the little hisses she tends to make when sensitive places get licked.
When Adrianne’s primed, thick and erect, Gen pulls back. Adrianne face is flushed, and her hair has fallen out of its knot and lies to one side in a tangle. “So...” Adrianne begins. She licks her lips. “So have I been good?”
“Oh, honey,” Gen says, which is bizarre, because she’s never called Adrianne ‘honey’ in her life. The word tastes right, though, just like Adrianne’s flavor in Gen’s mouth. Gen crawls farther up on the bed and straddles Adrianne again, surer of herself this time. She’s seen porn, right? Even if not from this perspective. She reaches out and pins Adrianne’s wrists, and leans down to whisper against her lips, “You’re doing so good.”
Adrianne whimpers into Gen’s mouth, and Gen kisses her, juices and all. Then Gen pulls Adrianne’s wrists up, above her head, positions them on the bed frame just like the picture in Gen’s head. Gen closes Adrianne’s fingers around the vertical bar and says, “You’re gonna hold onto this, and you’re not gonna let go until I tell you. Understand?”
Adrianne nods jerkily, and Gen bends down to kiss her again.
They’re two months from Gen’s next heat; no need of a condom. All Gen has to do from here is slide herself onto Adrianne’s dick. It’s not exactly one smooth move Gen ends up making, but she gets there eventually, and Adrianne’s still gripping the bed frame, so. Gen settles in, squirming against Adrianne in her, against the full pressure of Adrianne about to blow. This is the part of the night Gen’s been waiting for since before it began. “C’mon, sweetie,” Gen says. Adrianne’s head is thrown back, her eyes squeezed shut. Her knuckles are white. “You can do it. Let it go.”
It’s the coaxing that pushes Adrianne over the edge. She starts to come in a hot, heavy burst. Gen bows her head and closes her eyes and gives herself to the force of it, and as Adrianne’s knot starts to swell, Gen shudders into her own orgasm.
When it’s all over but the aftershocks, she collapses onto Adrianne with her head between Adrianne’s breasts. Adrianne’s knot is still thick and full inside Gen, and it’ll be spurting away for a while yet, but Gen’s beyond the reach of its pleasures just now. It feels like she’s been cleaned out, utterly spent, insensible to anything but the warmth of Adrianne’s skin.
“Can I let go now?” Adrianne asks, voice very small.
Gen forgot about that. Playtime’s over, it feels like; natural roles restored. “Sure.”
A moment later, fingers comb through her hair. “That was good, right?” Adrianne asks.
Gen lifts her head. That question wasn’t from a hopeful would-be omega to Gen’s fumbling alpha. That was just Adrianne, the girl of Gen’s dreams, the hottest, sweetest alpha Gen has ever met. Adrianne eyes her anxiously, color high. “That was good,” Gen agrees.
Adrianne licks her lips. “So we could maybe do it again sometime?”
“Sure.” Gen’s going to need time to unpack everything that happened tonight. Also, more practice. Maybe a lot more practice.