She doesn’t mean to be there when it starts, nor does she mean to stay. But the eye contact you keep with Madelyn as she’s stuck hiding in Homelander’s wardrobe is enough to freeze her in place.
While she’d self assigned herself as John’s surrogate alpha, she never could make him whimper like that. Much less make him let go of the chip on his shoulder and spread himself open like a good omega. John’s uniform was torn to shreds, with little else left but the cape wound tight around his neck like a leash. You tug at it softly, and coo at him as he keens. She hadn’t known he knew how to make those sounds.
Her surprise isn’t lost on you, and you smile at her, as though knowing she’d never been privy to anything of the sort from John. “How we doin’ sweetheart?” You ask, body pressed lower against his. John whines, he’s unintelligible and his tone shaky. “Hmm,” she thinks you understand something in that mess of words as you toss aside the cape and hold him down with your hand.
John makes a sound in agreement. It’s not lost on you when the envy pools inside her, and she’s thankful the smell of sex covers the acrid scent of spoiled milk that starts to emanate from her. Madelyn presses her legs against each other, she can’t help but imagine herself in your place. Years of trying to get John to roll over and present amounted to nothing.
She bit her lip, hand diving between her own legs. It’s not enough that she can hear him. She wants him pliant beneath her.
She wants him begging to be fucked by her.
She wants to sink her teeth into his scent glands until he’s writhing and begging to be released.
She wants him plump, swollen and carrying her litter.
She can smell it on herself as the spoiled milk dissipates from her scent, turning warm, and giving way to something that smells sweeter. She bites her bottom lip harshly when the trickle becomes a stream then a flood. She leans against the wall, pushing her fingers deeper as she chases after her own fantasies.
You could laugh at her irritation, but it was hardly of import. You spin John on your cock, and he scrambles to wrap his legs around your waist. His face is tear stricken, mouth agape and eyes pleading.
You press a thumb on his tongue and his lips also around it to suck. “Atta boy.” It’s hardly much to praise, but he looked so pleased with himself when he did it. You ran your tongue over his neck, coaxing his scent glands to produce more of his scent and he writhed in response.
“Quit teasing!” He whined, words muffled.
You laughed at his impatience, and sink your teeth into his skin. He bites your thumb hard enough for you to feel it. You remove your thumb from his mouth, and you hear Madelyn cuss out and punch the closet door as she hears John wail. You push until you draw blood, only then do you relent, lapping up the blood at his neck. Your tongue travels up to his jaw and cleans away the fresh tears that fall from John’s eyes.
He catches your tongue between his teeth and tugs. You take the hint and kiss him, “Maybe this one’ll stay longer,” he muses, biting your lip and tugging you back in for another kiss.
“You said you’d breed me,” John’s voice is soft, a pout no doubt.
You cradle his head as it rests in the crook of your neck, a hand massages his arse, both knots firmly plugging his hole. Your other three arms hold him close—the one at his head, another around his middle and the last on his back. John’s dazed out of his mind if he can’t hear her exit the wardrobe. Then again she only has view of your face.
“I’ll put as many babies in you as you want, sweetheart,” you assure, arms winding tighter around him as you kissed his head. A threat wrapped in a promise to her.
She doesn’t stay any longer.
