It hurts not to move, but it would hurt worse to feel her agony grow stronger while he tried to satisfy himself, and neither one of them would get any true pleasure from it. Omega nuzzles her intimately, tasting the softness of her lips and the warmth of her gasps, and he runs his hands up her back and into her hair, stroking the thick black curtain with spread fingers.

But when he kisses her again and then she contracts around his aching cock, it drags a needy groan out of him, too raw and genuine to hide. It's all he can do not to throw her down and start fucking her all over again. Instead he smooths his hands down her back again and onto her waist, and he urges her to shift more, again, to roll her hips down on his, to ride him as fast or slow or hard or soft as she wants. She's not trapped by his arms or his body; his hold isn't crushing her tight anymore. Omega gives control over to Blue and prays to whoever's listening that she's willing to have it.

"Blue," he whispers in a voice hoarse with effort, "I'm yours, you're mine... I'm yours... you're mine..."