Staking A Claim
Chapter One
Plot Summary : Your life isn't going great; you're having doubts about law school, your job sucks, and you've finally just broken up with your cheating boyfriend. So, the last thing you need is to wake up in bed with an attractive, older alpha with no memory of the night before and a sinking suspicion that your whole life is about to change...
Pairing : Alpha!Billy Russo x Omega!Reader
Story Rating : R
Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Mentions alcohol and memory loss. All chapters will contain the usual omegaverse and A/B/O tropes, and explicit smut. There is an unspecified age gap between Billy and reader. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.
Word Count : 5k
A/N : so excited to finally share this one. Hope you like it!
Master List
Chapter One
Everything hurt.
Not in a way that had you wondering if you’d been in an accident, but the kind of aching hurt that tended to follow a good night out.
The room was spinning so much that it took you a few moments to realise that it wasn’t even your room, that you weren’t in your own bed, and you weren’t alone.
How much did you have to drink last night?
When the answer didn’t immediately come to you, you gave up on the question completely. You’d never been any good at keeping track of your drinks. Ultimately, it didn’t matter. What was done was done — and, judging from the ache between your thighs, it had been done several times and very enthusiastically. Besides, it wasn’t the first time you’d gotten blitzed out of your mind and woken up next to some random guy.
A random guy who...
Oh shit.
Your nostrils flared as you caught a scent that cut through the lingering aroma of sex, sweat, and alcohol.
Alpha. You’d gone home with an alpha.
You took a slow breath, trying to ignore the effect his rich scent had on your omega senses, and tried to fight off the urge to curl against him and press your face to his neck. It was like something inside of you was pulling towards him, desperate for just a few more minutes in his presence. You tried to remember the night before, anything that might explain how you’d come to wake up in his bed.
You’d broken up with Kyle after class, just before your shift at the coffee shop. It hadn’t been pretty, and he’d had the nerve to accuse you of cheating, even though you knew he’d been through half the girls in his class. But the disintegration of your three year relationship had left you feeling like shit, so Shelly, your roommate and work-wife, had demanded you go drinking with her.
She’d ordered shots — so many fucking shots.
She’d dragged you from bar to bar until, finally, you’d ended up in some super exclusive club. The bouncer had let you both in because he knew Shelly (and by knew, you assumed in a very biblical sense). Then, as she always did, Shelly kind of vanished, leaving you alone at the bar nursing your drink and a painful feeling of abandonment.
Then he’d appeared beside you, offering to buy you a drink and not taking no for an answer.
"Just one drink — what's the harm?" He said.
"No, thank you," you said, barely able to look at the alpha without your cheeks heating, overwhelmed by every little thing about him from his scent to the way his dark eyes seemed to look through you and right down to your soul.
“There's no need to be shy, little omega. I promise you won't regret it.”
Your eyes rolled at the memory of the words but you couldn’t judge him too harshly because it had clearly worked.
Looking down, you realised that his hand was on your thigh, his fingers possessively splayed between your legs. You reached for it and eased it away. His fingers instantly curled, missing the contact.
Your heart threatened to stop when a soft grumble spilled from him and he turned towards you. He was still fast asleep but, finally, you could see his face.
Okay, yeah, even by alpha standards he was hot, and that made you feel a little better about falling into bed with him. But he was definitely older than you — ten, fifteen, maybe even twenty years older. You couldn’t tell. He looked like he took care of himself, from the obviously moisturised skin of his face, down to his toned chest and abs, and —
Your eyes shot back up the moment they strayed a little too low and you realised that, just like you, he was completely naked.
As you cautiously sat up, your whole body protested and ached. The stained sheets that were bundled at the foot of the bed, further confirmed that you’d spent a lot of last night having hot, messy sex.
You needed a shower and at least another twenty hours of sleep to recover, but you knew you’d get neither of those things there. No, you needed to get up and get out of there before he woke up and things got even more awkward.
You lifted yourself out of bed slowly and bit back a groan at the ache between your legs. Fuck, had he knotted you last night? You cast a glance back to his naked body, this time letting your eyes dip lower to take in the... uh, sheer size of him and, honestly, you couldn’t tell if the ache was from a knot or just from how enthusiastic you'd been.
Not that you had much to go on. He was technically your first alpha, and you’d never been knotted before, so —
Shaking your head, you forced the thought away. It was something else you didn’t want to think about.
The empty bottles on the floor helped explain your hangover, and brought back a wonderfully embarrassing memory of you pouring champagne over your breasts and him licking it up. All things considered, it seemed like you’d had quite a night, and it would have been a lie to say that the thought of his lips on you, worshipping your body, didn’t send a tingle of arousal through you.
You found your dress in a heap on the floor, next to the torn remains of your panties. As for your bra — you had no idea where that had ended up, and you didn’t have the time to search.
Great, you’d be doing the walk of shame completely commando.
At least your purse was easy to find, dropped on the floor by the bedroom door, your phone still in there but, unfortunately, completely dead.
The alpha — whose name you realised you couldn’t remember — stirred again, and you quickly pulled on your dress.
You slipped out of the bedroom and stopped dead in your tracks at the sight in front of you.
It was a penthouse apartment. His home was so fucking big you could have fit at least three of your tiny apartments into just the sitting area. Floor to ceiling windows looked out over Central Park, telling you that not only were you in Manhattan, but that the alpha you’d spent the night with was disgustingly wealthy.
(Not that it was unusual for alpha's to be disgustingly wealthy, it was just your first time witnessing it.)
Your shoes were easy to spot, one near the sofa and the other — oh, of course this bougie penthouse had an elevator that opened up right into the apartment.
Who the fuck was this guy and why had he wasted his time with you?
Nothing in the apartment gave you any sort of hint about who he was, and you didn’t have time to investigate. No, you wanted to get out of there before he woke up and you had to face the consequences of whatever drunk-you had gotten up to. The Armani jacket on the floor next to your coat told you more than enough. Whoever he was, he was out of your league.
You pulled your coat on but didn’t bother with the shoes, not wanting to make a noise on the hardwood floor.
A sigh of relief escaped you as you reached the elevator and hit the call button. Within seconds the elevator pinged, the doors slid open, and you stepped inside. You hit the button for the ground floor and the door started to close when —
“Omega?”
His voice was a dark rasp that sent a shiver down your spine, and your eyes caught his as he staggered out of the bedroom, still completely naked, and looking just as hungover as you felt. The doors shut and the elevator started to descend.
You looked up and realised that he lived on the 75th floor, and it brought back another strange memory.
“I wanna push the button,” you said, your fingers gripping the waistband of his pants as he walked you backwards into the elevator.
“I think you’ve already pushed enough buttons,” he said, his voice betraying his rapidly fraying control.
You pouted and watched as, instead of pressing a button, he pulled a key from his jacket and slotted it into the panel, and the elevator started to move.
“Fancy,” you said, staring up at him as he crowded closer to you, pressing you back against the wall.
“You have no idea, little omega,” he muttered before his lips covered yours.
You returned the kiss eagerly, moaning against his lips as his hand brazenly slid beneath your skirt and into your —
The elevator dinged, and you quickly exited, wanting to put as much distance between yourself and the memory of his fingers between your legs. You pulled on your shoes as you stepped out into the lobby, trying to ignore the questioning looks from the doorman as you quickly headed outside. Normally you might have felt annoyed by the looks but, given how you felt, you were sure you looked awful.
But you didn’t have time to check or fix your appearance, not when the alpha might have been following.
Thankfully, you still had your metrocard, and it was still early enough that the subway was quiet — though that didn't stop the strange looks you got as you got off in Brooklyn and made your way out of the station. It wasn't surprising, not when you smelled of alpha and looked like hell.
But, again, it wasn't your first walk of shame.
By the time you reached your little sixth floor apartment, you were itching to throw yourself in the shower and scrub away his scent.
"Shell?" You called out as you slipped inside and locked the door behind you.
There was no answer and, as you moved further into the apartment, you realised why. The alphabet magnets on the refrigerator had been arranged to spell C U AT WORK HOPE THE D WAS GUD. You rolled your eyes, already knowing you were going to have to explain the previous night to her in as much detail as you could remember.
You plugged your phone in, and checked the time on the oven — it was almost 10am. You had to be at the coffee shop by midday.
You didn't dare even glance at the mirror as you headed into the bathroom, pulling off your dress and throwing it in the hamper before stepping into the shower and turning it as hot as it would go. For ten minutes you just stood under the water, letting it slowly ease some of your aches and pains before you finally reached for the vanilla body wash to scrub away his scent.
"You smell so good," you groaned, pressing yourself closer to him.
His arm snaked around your waist, and he pressed his nose to your hair. "So do you, omega. I could eat you right up."
"Maybe I want you to eat me up..."
Shaking your head, you tried to force the memory away, and returned to scrubbing your skin raw. Even that didn't completely wash away his scent so when you emerged from the shower, you slathered yourself in vanilla scented moisturiser, hoping to cover it until it faded.
You still felt sore and exhausted, but you felt more human, and you were confident that you could face an eight hour shift.
More importantly, you were confident that you could finally face your own reflection in the mirror.
Big mistake.
The moment you wiped the condensation from the mirror, you saw it.
"No — fuck, no..."
Panic filled you as you pressed a finger to the angry red mark on your neck, the bruised indentation of teeth over your mating gland.
It was a claiming mark.
He had claimed you, taken you as his mate, and you couldn't even fucking remember it.
"No, no, no..." you muttered, pulling and prodding at the reddened skin, looking for any sign that it wasn't what you thought. "Fuck. Fuck..."
You'd literally broken up with Kyle less than 24 hours ago; how could you be mated to a new guy now?
Leaving the bathroom in nothing but a towel, you grabbed your phone — thankfully it now had enough of a charge to turn back on. There were a dozen messages from Shelly, asking where you were, but they weren't important. You needed to try to piece together what had happened last night that had led to your being claimed.
Opening the gallery, you found exactly what you'd expected and feared. A slew of new photos and videos from last night.
They started innocently enough; selfies of you and Shelly at the bar. Then there was a respectable selfie with him.
After that, it was all downhill.
Your cheeks burned as you scrolled through pictures of you and the alpha. He had his nose to your neck, inhaling your scent in one, and his lips pressed to your gland in another. There were photos of you kissing him, holding him, running your fingers through his hair. All the kinds of behaviour that might have been acceptable after mating, but not before.
Sure, you looked drunk in the pictures, but not blackout drunk, not like you didn't know what you were doing. And that made it worse. You'd obviously wanted him — you just couldn't remember how much and why you'd let him claim you.
The pictures got more graphic. There were even videos of you making out in a club — not the one Shelly had abandoned you in, so obviously you'd painted the town red with the alpha. His lips and nose kept returning to your gland, and despite the thrumming music in the background, you could hear him telling you that you smelled divine, that he needed to taste you, needed to have you. And you —
You stopped the video the moment you started whining, making the sort of purely omega sounds that you usually only made during your heats.
The next few pictures were on a dark street, of him pressing you against a car. Still, you seemed aware enough to know what you wanted because you were happily documenting it, like you did every other fun night out. Like you had done with Kyle before the breakup.
As much as you might have wanted to spend the rest of the day dealing with the shock, you had to get ready for work.
It was an effort to keep from trembling as you dried your hair, pulled on your uniform, and did your make-up. Something inside you felt... wrong. Worry, or maybe anxiety over being claimed. You weren't sure. The only thing you were sure of was the fact that you couldn't just waltz into work with a claiming bite on your neck.
You tried to ignore it and force it aside. You could think about it after work, talk it through with Shelly, and try to figure out just what the fuck you were going to do. Between the two of you, maybe you could find some way of getting out of a mating.
Unfortunately, you underestimated your best friend because the moment you set foot in The Daily Grind, her eyes narrowed on you.
You slipped into the back to hang up your coat and drop your purse, and took a moment to check yourself in the mirror. The make-up on your neck was holding up, but it was more obvious than you would have liked.
"So..." Shelly prompted as you stepped behind the counter.
You shrugged and ignored her, pulling on your apron, and pretending like you were checking stock.
"That good?" Shelly asked. "Or that bad?"
Despite knowing it was futile to try to ignore her, you kept your back to her. After around twenty seconds, you felt a hand on your shoulder and allowed yourself to be pulled around.
Her smile dropped as she looked at you, replaced by concern.
"Shit, what happened?" She asked.
She cupped your cheek and looked into your eyes, and — well, clearly you hadn't done as good a job as you'd thought with your make-up, because she was looking at you like you were half-dead.
"I'm fine. It's nothing. I —"
"What's on your neck?" She asked sharply. You weren't sure if she'd noticed the actual mark or just the excessive foundation. "Did someone hurt you?"
"No, I just —" you stopped as your voice trembled, and tears prickled the corners of your eyes.
"What the fuck is going on?" Shelly demanded. "If someone hurt you —"
"I don't know what happened."
"Did someone put something in your drink?"
"No, I — I don't think so." You blinked, trying to keep yourself from crying. "But I... I don't remember what happened. And he..."
"What? What did he do?" She said as softly as she could manage — which, honestly, wasn't all that softly because she was considering murder.
You let out a shuddered sigh and tilted your head, letting her get a better look at the messy make-up caked over the claiming bite.
"He bit me..." you said. Shelly looked at you blankly. "He claimed me."
"He claimed you?" She said, her voice louder, even angrier than before. "Did you want him to? Did you say he could? Did he force you?"
"I don't know. I don't think so." You let out a huff and leaned back against the counter, arms folding over your chest. "I can't explain it. I... I keep remembering parts of last night; I was happy, enjoying myself with him. But I don't remember agreeing to let him claim me."
She shot you another confused look, so instead of fighting to find the words, you pulled out your phone, and handed it to her with the gallery open.
"I think I liked him," you said. "But I don't know why I'd ever agree to this..."
Shelly's confusion only deepened as she saw how happy you were in all of the photos. She'd seen you blackout drunk enough times to recognise it, and you weren't wasted in any of the pictures.
She handed the phone back and took a few seconds before speaking again.
"So, he didn't hurt you or force you, but you don't remember it?" She asked. You shook your head. She fell silent again, considering for a moment more. "Hang on..." She pulled out her own phone and typed something. "I'm sure I remember something from omega pre-med..."
Something from before she'd decided that she preferred the party life to the college life and had dropped out — a decision that you often envied.
You remained silent, knowing better than to disturb her while she was thinking. Shelly was smart; if anyone could figure this out, it was her.
"Post-mating amnesia," she declared, flashing her phone screen as if the medical journal she'd found would mean anything to you. "Sometimes called claiming brain-fog — rare phenomenon... blah, blah, blah — when an omega is claimed in a heightened emotional state, dopamine and endorphin spikes can cause something similar to a fugue state."
"What does 'claimed in a heightened state' even mean?"
"That the dick was that good," Shelly said, shrugging.
You slapped her arm. "Not funny."
Her attention returned to her phone for a second, her expression softening before she looked back up. "Oh, come on, this guy obviously really did something for you. Maybe it's not such a bad thing —"
"Are you fucking kidding?" You barely kept yourself from yelling. "I'm mated to a guy I don't even know — what the fuck am I supposed to do?"
"Get to know him? See if you remember anything or if you feel anything?"
"What else does it say?" You asked, ignoring her suggestion and trying to snatch her phone.
"Nothing. Just boring omega brain chemical analyses that your dumbass wouldn't understand," she said, smirking playfully. "Everything in here seems to suggest that it's something that happens when you really want it. So, I think you need to figure out why you wanted it..."
"Does it say anything about getting rid of it?"
Shelly rolled her eyes. "C'mon, even you know that's not how it works. It can take years for an unwanted mating bond to break. If it breaks at all."
"Great," you muttered sarcastically, "guess I'll have to wait years then..."
"Do you really think that's an option?" She asked. You didn't answer. "Maybe you should find him and try to work it out?"
You gave a grumbled response, about to say something about not wanting to work it out and just wanting it to go away, when a customer approached the counter for a large matcha macchiato and a cinnamon roll. It was a nice distraction, but it didn't last.
So, you found other distractions, like refilling the refrigerator and grabbing more pastries from the back.
The whole time, Shelly watched you, not saying anything. She knew well enough that when you were annoyed it was best just to leave you to it. From time to time, you'd catch her looking at her phone, then at you. It made you wonder if she knew something that she wasn't telling you.
Things slowly started picking as the lunch rush began. Usually it was the time of day you dreaded, but today, you were glad of the distraction. Soon enough, almost every table was full, and you and Shelly were constantly alternating between making drinks and cleaning up.
He stepped into the coffee shop and everything fell silent.
Billy.
Seeing him again shook the memory loose and you remembered his name.
His eyes caught yours, and your legs went weak beneath you, the aching between your thighs serving as a reminder of what you'd spent the night doing with him.
He looked — well, fuck, he looked immaculate.
He'd looked handsome in bed, fast asleep with his hair tousled, but now, in his pristine black suit, hair slicked back, and his dark eyes wide awake? He looked so good you were sure he was the devil.
And it wasn't just you that noticed. No, the moment he stepped through the door, it was as if he took up all the space in the tiny coffee shop. Everyone with acute enough senses (mostly the omega customers) knew what he was right away.
But Shelly didn't need omega senses, not when she caught the way he was looking at you as he approached the counter, like a predator stalking towards its prey.
"Holy shit," she muttered to you. "The photos did not do him justice."
All you could muster was a nod.
"There you are."
Just the sound of his voice sent a shiver running down your spine and stirred memories of some of the filthier things he'd whispered into your ear last night when he'd been inside you.
(You're mine. This perfect body, this tight little cunt — it's all mine, omega. I'll never let you go.)
"What —" you tried to speak, but your mouth suddenly felt dry "— how did you find me?"
If he could sense your discomfort, he didn't let it show. He just smiled at you.
"You told me you worked here," he said.
(Had you? Why would you tell someone like him where you worked?)
"Do you want me to make him leave?" Shelly asked, and you couldn't even tear your eyes from him.
"What do you want?" You asked him.
"To see you," he said simply. "You left without saying goodbye. I was worried."
You simply stared at him. How could he be so cool and collected? Why wasn't he freaking out? Oh God... had it been deliberate?
His eyes dropped to your neck, to the sloppy cover-up job you'd done on his claiming mark, but anything he might have felt remained hidden by that smile. This, you realised, was a man who liked to remain in complete control at all times. A strong, dominant alpha.
And that could only mean one thing...
"You claimed me," you blurted out, somehow keeping your voice low enough so as not to alert the entire shop.
"I did."
"Why?"
Finally, there was a flicker of emotion — not much, just the slightest twitching at the corner of his eye. "What do you mean why?"
"I mean —"
Behind him someone cleared their throat, and you realised that, in the time he'd been standing there, a small queue had formed. Billy glanced over his shoulder with a casual indifference at the two frustrated betas.
"When do you finish?" He asked. You told him 6 and he damn near rolled his eyes. "When's your break?"
"I only just started."
"Fine. I'll wait. In the meantime, I suppose I'll take an Americano and —" he leaned a little to look at the pastries, "— a chocolate muffin."
You worked on autopilot, unsure what to say or do. You rang up his order, plated his muffin, and Shelly told him to go sit down and wait for his coffee.
As you got back to work, Shelly muttered; "do you want me to spit in his drink?"
The laugh that bubbled out of you helped relieve some of the tension, but the sound was enough to have him looking your way again as you continued to serve customers.
"If you want me to get rid of him —" Shelly started again.
"No. I need to find out what the fuck is going on before I get rid of him."
"So, you're just gonna send him away?"
"Of course I'm going to send him away — what the fuck else am I gonna do?"
Shelly finished his order and didn't even ask before taking it to him, roughly placing it down in front of him and muttering something you couldn't hear. When she came back, she gave you a smile, obviously proud of herself.
The lunch rush continued, and he just sat there. When he wasn't staring at you or slowly picking away at his chocolate muffin, his eyes were on his phone. Given the impressive size of his apartment, you had to assume that he was missing work to be there, watching you. You did everything you could not to look at or even think about him, ignoring the problem until it was time to deal with it.
After some prodding from Shelly, you took your lunch break, grabbing a latte with a double espresso shot and a cinnamon roll.
Billy's eyes lifted from his phone to watch you as you approached him and sat opposite. He looked at you, then at your lunch, and back again, his expression betraying an unasked question.
"What?" You asked.
"Is that all you're going to have?" He asked. "Did you have breakfast this morning?"
There was no containing your confusion. Or your irritation. "How is that your business?"
"Because you're my —"
"I'm nothing to you."
He set his jaw and took a second, biting back his frustration. "The mark on your neck says otherwise, omega."
"Well, I don't remember you asking permission to —"
"You don't remember?" There was that twitch at the corner of his eye again. He had a good poker face; you had to give him that much, but his emotions betrayed him whenever you brought up last night.
"No. I don't," you said flatly. "All I remember is waking up in your bed this morning with no idea of where I was or who you were."
He visibly paled.
"You don't know who I am?" His eye twitched again and his discomfort spread to the rest of his body causing his shoulder to tick upwards. "You don't remember any of it?"
"I know your name is Billy — I remembered that much when you walked in, but the rest..." you trailed off into a shrug. "Look, I don't really care how or why this happened. I just want to fix it. I want it gone. I don't want to be claimed."
"It's a little late for that."
"I don't care. You need to find a way to —"
"No."
You stared across the table at him. "No?"
"No," he repeated. "You're mine now, so you need to get used to it. I didn't force you into this, sweetheart, and I sure as shit didn't trick you."
"Sweetheart?" You repeated. "You listen to me; I'm not and will never be yours. I'm my own fucking person and —"
"Not according to the law."
The smile on his lips made your stomach turn. He was right. Worse, you knew he was right. He was an alpha, and you were just an omega, and the claiming mark on your neck meant something. It meant that you were his.
"So, what? You're gonna force me to be with you?" You asked through gritted teeth.
For whatever reason, that got a reaction from him.
"No. I would never force you to do something you didn't want."
"You already are," you said. You waited for a response but got none. "Why are you here? I won't change my mind. I don't want an alpha."
"We rushed things last night," he said, slipping back into that easy and controlled tone, "but I'm a man who always gets what he wants." He sat back and you said nothing. "I want you, omega. I'll do whatever it takes to win you over."
"How are you gonna do that?"
"I'm going to be here, in your life. You're not going to shut me out."
Realising that he was insane and unwilling to see reason, you pushed back your chair and got to your feet. The moment you turned to walk away, he stopped you.
"Don't forget your lunch, omega."
It took every ounce of restraint not to throw your drink over him as you grabbed your mug and plate, and stormed off to sit in the back room.
A/N : 😅 I hope you're all ready for the drama. If you missed the other posts about this fic, it's going to be shorter and much faster paced (about 3/4 chapters in total). This is the first thing I've written entirely in Ellipsus so if the formatting seems weird that might be why (also the spell check on ellipsus is weird, but I think I caught most typos). Anyway, how you all had a great two weeks. (I spent my break from writing having an existential crisis about my writing thanks to booktok drama, so I'm glad to be back posting weekly 😅😅)
As always I love and appreciate every like/comment/reblog and keyboard smash of love. Thanks so much for reading! Hope you all have a great weekend!
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