Possessed By The God: God's Choice Series I (omegaverse bl)

Noah’s POV

I read about it once...truthfully? At least ten times and I never thought I’d be one of those people.

I’m a good omega. I’ve been good all my life.

When he wrapped his hand around my throat, my mind immediately took me to the room with Freya and men, but when I saw his eyes...everything changed.

His dark eyes didn’t look like they wanted to abuse me and throw me away. Those eyes looked like they wanted to make me understand that they own me.

Those people in Freya’s room smelt excited to use me but Elias smelled angry. And when I smelled the raw jealousy coming from him, I forgot about the fear trying to choke me up.

I had to run because at that moment, I was aroused. And even now, I’m still turned on by the smell of possessive anger that radiated off him.

I’m breaking out of my mold...goddess forgive me.

The heavy, wooden door of his room slams shut behind me with a loud noise. I need privacy, and I need it now.

My cock is stiff, my insides are warm, and I know I’ll fall apart if I don’t do something right now.

I run into the bathroom and get the faucet running.

The feeling rushing through me is like a repeat of what my heat feels like. This is a feeling I’ve only ever gotten with Elias, and even when Roman held me, I felt nothing for him.

The way he used to make my heart flutter was missing, all I felt was slick staining my boxers.

I tear my clothes off and slip into the water. I hold my breath and go under for a few seconds, yelling at myself in my head as my cock jerks underwater.

Noah, you shouldn’t feel this way.

Noah, you’re supposed to be pure.

Noah, you shouldn’t want him to touch you like that.

I’m applying all the self-help mantra I’ve been taught, but Goddess, I can’t hold it anymore.

I can’t.

I come out of the water, gasping for air as I wrap my hand around my swollen hardness.

I’m mad at Elias. I’m so mad at him, but I can’t think of anyone beyond his cold face. Oh goddess...

My brows draw together as my lips part, releasing a low-pitched and pathetic moan into the enclosed bathroom.

I feel heat crawling up my wet cheek. I feel so warm that I’m sure the water around me might evaporate. I feel so...good.

My breath stutters as I move my hand up and down my throbbing shaft awkwardly.

I don’t know how to masturbate. I’ve never done it to myself outside of heat. I’ve seen movie people do it, but I’d always been too scared to do it after being taught about its impurity.

Omegas are made to please. They are not made to receive pleasure. Their bodies are only wired to give.

Lies.

Elias Deus has given me pleasure more than once, and it felt heavenly every single time.

"Elias..." his name falls out of my mouth and at the mention of that name, something unravels in me.

There’s a way the air changes when you say the word ’death’, yes, I feel it right now.

I feel like he’s here in the room and looking at me with those inhumanely intense eyes.

"Ah..." I moan as I rub my palm over the crown of my cock.

My cock is smaller than his, but I imagine his hands doing this to me. His small but strong hand stroking my cock and watching me moan.

He’ll tease me and make me beg for more. He’ll say explicit words that would kill the false purity I have. He will make me say a dirty word.

"F-fuck" I stutter.

My breathing is growing heavier in the room. I’m whining and the sounds are bouncing off the wall.

What can I blame my behavior on right now? The hot sun? The moment at the beach? The way he looked at me like I am completely his?

I squeeze a little harder and my teeth dig into my bottom lip.

"Ngghh" my back arches upward. My nipples are tight and aching for his finger, or if I’m lucky...his mouth.

Forgive me, Goddess, this is who I am. I hate and crave the man who dares to make himself my deity.

My cock throbs, but it’s not enough.

I open my thighs, sliding my hand down my chest, dragging it down under the water and over my little belly.

I don’t stop moving my hand until I have gone past my cock and the tip of my fingers are teasing my hole.

I moan louder.

It’s a broken sound, but it makes more sense than what I’m doing to myself. I’m touching myself to Elias when I should be mad at him.

I push one finger into my tight hole, but it doesn’t feel right. It’s wet, but it doesn’t feel as good as when Elias did it.

I shut my eyes and tip my head back, imagining the emotionless jerk with me.

I imagine his hot breath fanning my neck, his teeth scraping the wet skin of my neck, and his fingers teasing me open.

The imagination is enough to push me off the edge.

My body spasms in the water as I cum all over myself. My shout is anything but muffled. My eyes roll back in my head and when it’s over, I drain the water.

I’m exhausted, but I drag myself out of the tub eventually.

I force myself to move, rinse my body in the shower, and destroy the evidence of my sin by using Elias’s bath products.

Once I’m done, I put on his clothes and get into the bed to wait for him.

Maybe tonight I’ll tell him everything. I’ll tell him the truth of how I feel about him. He might laugh in my face and use it against me, but it’s better than living like this.

I wait for him to come back, but he doesn’t. I look at the ticking wall clock and soon, I fall asleep.

Few minutes after I’ve fallen deeply asleep, the door creaks open and I open my eyes slightly to look at the person coming into the room.

It’s the man called my husband.

Elias walks over to the edge of the bed. He quietly leans over me and brushes my damp hair off my forehead. I can see him, but he feels like a fuzzy dream.

"Are you angry at me, Angel?" he asks and I nod, clouded by sleep.

He says something I don’t hear, and I watch him take his travel bag. I watch him pack things into it, return to the bed, look at me and leave the room.

I don’t want him going anywhere.

"Elias... I think I’m falling in love" I call tiredly and the door shuts with a heavy bang.

Why does he always leave when we’re close to something? Why? Why?!

"...with you" I complete the words to the empty room, bottom lip twitching from the absence of only audience I’ve ever wanted in my entire life, and the silence he left behind.

’What if this is Stockholm syndrome?’ a part of me asks.

’What if I’m falling in love?’ I ask it back, falling into the waiting and comfortable arms of sleep.