Without a doubt [M]

Ivan's breathless moans spur me on, his hands clutching at my shoulders, pulling me closer. The way his body trembles beneath mine, so open and vulnerable, ignites something primal in me. I grind against him, each movement sending shockwaves of pleasure through us both.

The friction is maddening, the sensation of his slick warmth against me almost too much to handle. Every time our bodies align perfectly, I feel myself unraveling a little more, teetering on the edge of losing control.

Ivan's nails dig into my back, his voice breaking into soft gasps and half-formed words. "Zander… I—" His sentence dissolves into a whimper as I angle my hips, pressing against him in a way that makes his back arch beautifully.

I lean down, capturing his lips in a heated kiss, swallowing the sounds spilling from him. My free hand slides under his thigh, lifting his leg slightly to deepen the contact. The angle drives me wild, and I groan into his mouth, unable to hold back.

"God, Ivan," I murmur against his lips, my voice raw and unsteady. "You're perfect… so perfect."

He whines softly, his head tilting back as I trail kisses down his jawline and neck, sucking lightly on the sensitive skin. His scent is overwhelming, intoxicating, and I bury my face in the crook of his neck, breathing him in as I quicken my pace.

"Zander… I'm…" Ivan's voice breaks, and I feel his body tense beneath me, the telltale signs of his release building.

"Let go," I whisper against his ear, my voice barely audible over the sound of our labored breaths. "Let go for me, Ivan."

His body shudders, and with a soft cry, he does. The sight, the sound, the feel of him unraveling beneath me is enough to push me over the edge. My movements grow erratic, and I bury my face in his neck as pleasure crashes over me like a tidal wave, leaving me trembling and breathless.

For a few moments, neither of us moves, our bodies still pressed together, slick and warm. The only sound in the room is our heavy breathing, the aftermath of our shared moment hanging in the air like a tangible force.

I lift my head, brushing damp strands of hair from his face, and meet his eyes. They're wide and glassy, filled with something unspoken that makes my chest tighten.

"Ivan…" I begin, my voice hoarse, but he cuts me off with a soft kiss, his lips gentle but insistent.

"It's okay," he whispers, his voice steady despite the lingering tremble. "I'm okay."

I nod, resting my forehead against his, letting the quiet between us speak volumes. This wasn't just physical—it was something deeper, something I know I'll never forget.

I lie beside Ivan on the bed, the lingering heat of our bodies and the scent of our mixed pheromones filling the small room. The air feels heavy, intimate, like the room itself is holding its breath with us. My gaze flickers over to him, his flushed skin glowing softly in the afternoon light, his hair a tousled mess. He looks incredible—utterly wrecked yet somehow still teasingly composed.

"So," he says suddenly, breaking the quiet. His voice carries a playful edge, though it's soft and a little breathless. "Did you get the edge off?"

The unexpected question pulls a laugh from my throat, sharp and unfiltered, and I turn my head to look at him fully.

"Not even close," I reply, my voice rough, laced with honesty and amusement.

Ivan's mischievous smirk widens as he shifts lower on the bed, his movements slow and deliberate. His green eyes meet mine, sparkling with mischief and something darker, before flickering down to my still-unrelieved arousal. He licks his lips, the motion teasing, as if he's about to indulge in his favorite meal.

"What a weapon of mass destruction you have here," he says, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm. His fingers trail lightly along my thigh, sending shivers up my spine. "I don't think I'll be able to walk after being impaled on this big boy."

I choke out a laugh, but it quickly turns into a groan as the anticipation builds. "Ivan…" I say, my voice strained, but he doesn't let me finish.

He winks at me, that playful glint in his eyes driving me wild, before leaning down. His warm breath fans over my length, and I swear I'm already losing my mind. Then his tongue darts out, a quick, teasing flick that has me gripping the sheets.

"God, you're going to be the death of me," I mutter, my head falling back against the pillows as his mouth moves over me.

His tongue is talented—slow, deliberate, and utterly sinful as it explores every inch of me. He takes his time, switching between soft, teasing licks and firmer, more focused motions that make my hips jerk involuntarily. His hands hold my thighs steady, his grip firm but not harsh, and the combination of control and care has me coming undone.

The sounds he makes—soft hums of approval, the occasional quiet moan—only add to the sensation, sending vibrations through me that leave me gasping.

"Ivan," I groan, my hands finding their way to his hair, tangling in the golden strands as I try to ground myself. He doesn't stop, doesn't even slow, and the intensity of it all has me teetering on the edge far too quickly.

He pulls back slightly, just enough to meet my gaze, his lips red and glistening, his expression full of smug satisfaction. "What's the matter?" he asks, his voice low and teasing. "Can't handle it?"

Before I can respond, his mouth is on me again, and any coherent thought I might have had is obliterated. He's relentless, his tongue working in ways I didn't think possible, and I'm helpless against the onslaught of pleasure.

"God, Ivan," I manage to choke out, my voice rough and unsteady. "You're going to ruin me."

He hums again, the sound vibrating through me and I'm done for. The people that caused wars for omegas? I suddenly understand them, because right now if Ivan asked me to get rid of a world leader I would do it without a doubt.