Chapter 9
In the depths of the Undercroft, a beguiling blend of cinnamon's seductive sweetness and baked bread permeated the air. Irresistible and tantalizing, the scent intertwined with the musty atmosphere, captivating as it ignited a primal desire deep within. It whispered of an Omega's heat, a beckoning that resonated like a siren's song in a realm shrouded in silence and shadows. The scent set Ominis's heart ablaze and alighted his senses- much to his irritation.
In the heart of this tumultuous sensory storm, Primrose writhed and contorted in her disheveled sanctuary as she fought against the constraints of her garments.
Her hands, driven by a desperate longing, clawed at the fabric that held her captive, as ragged gasps escaped her. The Omega teetered on the edge of madness, a heady mix of vulnerability and unbridled passion, unleashed by the relentless surge of her hormones.
He stood frozen, a breath away from the pile of scented bedding, a silent sentinel caught between duty and respect.
Forever enveloped in darkness, the void of light and color merely amplified Ominis’s acutely sharp senses. These senses, honed to an exquisite point, provided him with a kaleidoscope of sounds and scents. Primrose’s haunting cries of need echoed off the time-scarred walls of the Undercroft, weaving an intricate tapestry with the rapid tempo of her fluttering heartbeat. The resulting symphony was one of longing and urgency, a seductive lure that resonated deep within his very core.
He gritted his teeth against the internal tug-of-war that tested his every nerve. To say Ominis was conflicted by the choices before him was akin to claiming his ancestor, Salazar Slytherin, was a kind man- and the old bastard was most certainly not that.
His fists curled, knuckles pale against the force of his restraint. The Alpha in him growled a tumultuous demand, a visceral urge to charge forth, to claim his Omega, to bind her so thoroughly that his name would be etched into her very being.
While the gentleman in him whispered, urging him to handle this with respect and care for Primrose's autonomy…
Ominis knew too well the torment of having choices ripped away without consent. His past echoed with similar afflictions—different circumstances, yes, but the fundamental crux of his predicament was the same.
Ominis made a vow to protect Primrose, and that commitment was as unwavering as the steady thrum of his heart…He knew what had to be done, but going about it was a...difficult matter.
“Blasted book…”
The discarded tome offered no advice on steering through the treacherous straits of decorum. Its explicit guidance, uncomfortably frank, ran on the assumption there was courtship or some level of prior acquaintance between the participants.
Not a word on how to navigate rutting with a near stranger during her first heat…
With a grimace, he held the handkerchief to his nose once more.
If a heat bore any similarity to a rut, Primrose would recall each uttered word she made, every searing action with a vivid sharpness that would cut her to the core—every instance will be burnt into her memory with mortifying precision.
He tuned into her movements, the writhing and the cries for him to join her, to tend her needs- oblivious to the fact that she was imploring him to fuck her...
The aftertaste of this encounter would be unbearably shameful for the naïve Omega once the haze of her heat dissipated…
His goal was to make their encounter gentle and swift…for both their sakes.
His primal instincts surged through him, an unstoppable force resonating with clear and absolute intent. The contrast between his personal thoughts and the insistent cry of his inner beast was stark. Despite the enchanted handkerchief pressed against his face, Ominis understood the unavoidable merging of boundaries, the mingling of his rational mind with the instinctual flood of rut hormones. Protect, provide, breed, dominate... The singular urges rounded his mind, loud and incessant but a marked improvement to the blind fury and aching loneliness that eclipsed his past ruts...Not that Ominis would admit it...
Buttons popped, scattering and rolling along the flagstone floor as she ripped open the bodice of her dress, shimmying out like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon.
She hadn't explicitly chosen him, a fact that pricked at his pride. Yet, it only solidified his resolve to keep all of Primrose’s ‘firsts’ intact — Her first kiss, mating bite, the intimate connection of knotting her sweet, untried cunt…
Those precious moments were not his to seize... not yet.
Wand aloft, Ominis summoned the power of his magic, its potent energy swirling and filling the room as he fixated on her.
Primrose appeared as a delicate but vague silhouette in his mind's eye. Her petite form struggled to remove her corset, loosening the ties before flopping back into her nest with an adorably frustrated huff.
Suppressing a smirk, Ominis lowered his wand, captivated by her endearing display. She was a peculiar and enchanting little creature, and Ominis found himself inexplicably drawn to her.
He quite fancied her already.
Drawing in a deep breath, he pocketed his handkerchief and wand, taking the first daunting step forward.
The tantalizing fragrance of cinnamon and bread intensified, engulfing him. His heart thundered in response, echoing Primrose's erratic rhythm.
A decision needed to be made, a treacherous path had to be chosen- one that Ominis would inevitably fuck up no matter the sincerity of his intentions.
"Primrose..." Ominis's voice was barely a whisper, his words stumbling over one another in rushed confession. "I... wish there was time... time to court you properly. Do you want this, Primrose? Do you want me?"
Her heartbeat thumped urgently as she pleaded and keened in a daze of discomfort. At his stammered declaration, she nodded - a rapid bob of her head, a movement too frantic to be true agreement.
“Use your voice, Primr-”
She pounced upon Ominis with a startling, feral, swiftness.
Her hands clutched at him, tugging and pulling with unexpected strength. Like a man stumbling into an Acromantula-infested cave, Primrose ensnared him in the web of her passion. Her makeshift nest transformed into their shared sanctuary as Primrose drew Ominis’s tall frame over her, hands fluttering and insistent as they gripped his robe.
Incoherent pleas spilled from her lips, a mixture of pain and promises of her willingness to please him, to be a "good girl."
Even as her cries heated his blood, Ominis’s Alpha clamored to dominate her, to force Primrose to submit to his will. To answer his demands with swift obedience- He scowled, huffing, eyes closed tight as he fought to leash the more twisted desires.
I am to give, not take. He firmly reminded himself.
“Alpha, sorry, so so sorry-” She said, her words cracking with tears as Ominis’s internal struggle tainted his scent, “Don’t be mad, I’ll do better, I swear!” Pleading, she erupted into a plethora of whimpers and keening.
“Quiet now.” He had painfully little experience reassuring others- or being reassured himself. “You’ve done nothing wrong, dear girl.”
“But, your scent…Alpha'supset…”
“Not with you. I did not intend to frighten you, Primrose. I was lost in thought, nothing more.” Her silence was telling, he clarified, “I must focus to keep my head about me. You…you desire much from me now, but once your heat has passed, you may very well regret what we’ve done here. We can’t venture too far…”
“So Alpha’s not mad at me?” Her voice trembled with unshed tears, if it wasn’t obvious before, it was abundantly clear now that Primrose’s Omega had taken near full control.
“I assure you I am not mad at all, forgive me for the misunderstanding.”
“... I’d forgive you for anything, Alpha…” Whip fast her mood shifted, she chirped contentedly at his words, tugging him close until he felt her warmth through their clothing.
The sensation of her beneath him elicited a low, rumbling purr deep within his throat, an instinctive response to the primal connection. His body hovered protectively over hers, creating a shield that encompassed her vulnerability. Every nuance of her being became heightened in his awareness - the rapid rhythm of her breath, the warm dampness of her skin, the pleading undertones weaved into her voice.
Each precious sound directed him, guiding him toward their shared desires.
Her fingers curled tightly in his robes, the fabric rustling under her firm grasp as she daringly pulled the garment from his shoulders. With a nonchalant shrug, he allowed the material to fall, surprised when Primrose snatched it away, squirreling it beneath a pillow like a cherished trophy instead of casting it aside like the remnants of her own attire. She could certainly hold on to it...
Omega can claim whatever she fancies...
His heart throbbed against his rib cage, each beat echoing the urgency of their dire predicament. Swallowing hard, he shook his head to gather his scattering thoughts.
“I intend to...to take...responsibility...for you. If...if you’d accept...me...” His words faltered and stumbled, tripping over the hefty weight of his sincerity.
How utterly embarrassing.
This was not the smooth, eloquent Slytherin he was. In Primrose’s presence, Ominis felt as though he were navigating through a foreign language that constantly eluded his grasp.
Words, his trusty companions, were abandoning him when he required their support the most.
An Alpha ought to be a paragon of control - a beacon of unyielding strength and authority… To lead and to guard was the essence of an Alpha.
Despite his slender physique, mild demeanor, and subtle, almost feminine citrus scent- not to mention his blindness- Ominis was an Alpha.
His family never missed an opportunity to remind him of his shortcomings, yet since saving Primrose, he’d been able to embrace his superiority within his designation. She had sought his scent and clung to Ominis in the corridor as if she had implicit faith in his ability to safeguard her.
And now he was betraying her trust by losing his composure at the most critical juncture…
An irritated curse slipped from his lips as he chastised himself for his weakness, for the ineptitude he must have been projecting to Primrose.
Beneath the waves of frustration and self-reproach, a fervent need simmered. The need to shield, to comfort, to possess.
His longing for her, his omega, was insatiable. She required his strength...
With a determined sigh, he set aside his towering mound of insecurities, allowing his Alpha to edge closer to the surface than he’d intended.
His hands clenched in the sheets on either side of her, guided by the perverse instructions of the tome he’d pored over with Anne. The steps were explicit in their presentation, embarrassingly so, all with a singular aim - to simulate a mating mark.
For others to believe, Primrose had to exude his scent in a way that unequivocally suggested she belonged to him - his essence needed to be etched into her very being, inside and out, almost as if she were drenched in it. This was a natural outcome of a mating bite, a concept that was grossly inappropriate and yet, enticingly fascinating to his primal instincts.
He could maintain a clinical approach... He could refrain from touching her, treating the situation akin to how a Mediwizard from St. Mungo’s might treat an injury…
However, such a thought was distasteful.
While such an act would bring temporary clarity, it wouldn’t soothe her discomfort…for full relief, Primrose needed to climax.
Anne was insistent that Primrose lacked the understanding of how to propel herself towards such a precipice, hence Ominis would need to lend a hand- not that he claimed any expertise in such matters…
As an Alpha, it was in his nature to provide for a mate, to ease her torment with the comforting caress of his touch. He would place his faith in his instincts to guide him through.
-Provide! Protect!- His mind screamed in a looping cadence.
Relaxing above her he rested his full weight on her delicate frame, her small whimpers easing into a contented sigh that lasted only a moment before her ache returned with a fury.
His thoughts rushed through his mind in a flurry, but rut was quickly fogging Ominis’s panic.
Underneath him, Primrose was an untamed tempest, her body a beacon calling out to his most primal instincts. Her hands, uncontrolled and desperate, mapped a fiery path across his body. Each touch seared through his clothing, stoking the flames of his desire, threatening to consume the last fragments of his restraint.
He bit back a growl, grinding his teeth together in an effort to cling to his rapidly diminishing lucidity amid her heady scent and innocent touch.
"Primrose," he said, breaking the tempestuous symphony with his demand. His voice was a tether in the chaotic sea of desire, holding them both steady. "Be still."
The yielding sweetness of her obedience, despite the frenzied madness of her heat, was a beautiful paradox that both humbled and enthralled him.
"I need you to trust me, Primrose," His breath brushed against her heated skin. His heart pounded in his chest, a drumbeat of anticipation. "Can you do that? Can you trust me?"
She nodded beneath him, a silent affirmation of her faith in him. It was a trust freely given, a trust that wasn't forced by his Alpha command but simply requested. It restored a measure of confidence and clarity that his earlier self-induced turmoil had chipped away.
“Good Omega, such a good obedient girl.”
Born into a life of predetermined paths, this level of control was unusual for Ominis. Here, amidst the tangle of limbs and heated breaths, he wasn’t just a Gaunt carrying the weight of his family's legacy. He was an Alpha, tending to his Omega.
“Will you stay obedient?” He asked.
Dark desires flooded back, twisting his heart and leaving Ominis breathless. His cock hardened further, aching at the thought of Primrose fully submitting to him. He felt her nod as her fingers grazed his neck and shoulders reverently, a satisfied smirk tugged at his lips.
“Words, Darling. You must use your words.”
“I’ll be good…Obedient.”
This precious trust that Primrose had put in his hands was as intoxicating as her scent, a shared intimacy that wrapped around his heart in warm foreign tendrils. Now that he had a whispered taste of pure control, Ominis craved more. Her trust was more heady than any material power his tainted blood had ever yearned for.
“Lift your skirt. Now.” Her trembling hands wasted no time gathering her petticoat and chemise, jerking the fabric over her waist and hips with clumsy eagerness. “Good girl.” He praised, cheeks aching with the force of his smile.
Gentle, but quick. He reminded himself.
He mustn’t dally, regardless of how he ached to savor their encounter. Time was against them, Primrose needed Nurse Blainey and Anne would be back soon with the contraceptive potion…Hopefully, she would have the forethought to deliver some extraordinarily powerful suppressants for Ominis as well.
He traced the contours of her flesh with deliberate slowness, his lips descending to press a searing kiss on the exposed expanse of her lower stomach, just beneath the point where her skirts caught and bunched at the edge of her corset.
A gasp escaped Primrose’s lips as she writhed under the fiery caress, her voice coming out in breathless pleas. “Please...” she begged, desire palpable in every word.
“I’ll tend you at my leisure, Omega.” Ominis’ voice was a purr of dark promise as he slowly guided her hips to rise. With a tormenting lack of haste, he deftly slid her delicate underthings away to discover them drenched in slick heat. A smile tugged at his lips as he tasted the anticipation in the air.
His fingers embarked on a languid exploration, tracing a provocative path over her shapely legs. They meandered to the quivering tenderness of her thighs, painting a map of unspoken desires. Each gasp, each soft sigh was a delicious torment, forever etching themselves into the caverns of his memory.
“Temper your impatience, Primrose,” he said in a soft admonishment, a dangerous undercurrent of desire making his voice husky.
As a sudden cramp seized her, her thighs clamped together instinctively, hands pressing against her lower abdomen to soothe the discomfort.
Ominis swept her hands away with a gentle yet firm stroke, dipping down to curve his arms beneath her legs. With a possessive grip, he rearranged her to meet his needs. His lips grazed the sensitive skin of her stomach once more, his tongue darting out to taste her dewy flesh.
Perfection.
Primrose, in all her awkward fragility was perfection. She was the missing piece that completed his life’s intricate puzzle.
A Beta would never do. The submissive allure that stoked his Alpha instincts would be absent. Another Alpha would mean a constant power struggle, a relentless clash of dominance that Ominis had no appetite for...
But Primrose... Ah, dear Primrose. She was the epitome of his mind’s idea of perfection, the embodiment of his deepest desires, a salve to his soul’s yearning.
She was perfectly crafted being, certainly made for the sole purpose of tempting him, and for this moment she was his.
His touch was at once a study and praise, his kisses and strokes wandering lower on her form.
With effortless authority, Ominis coaxed her thighs to part, baring her essence to him. Her fragrance bloomed, a blend of cinnamon sweetness and honeyed warmth– as comforting and inviting as the hearth of a loving home.
A gentle moan escaped Primrose, her fingers entwining in his hair, moving with a tenderness that reflected their deepening connection. His hand cupped her sex possessively, finding pleasure in the tease of her soft, damp curls against his palm. Her whispered pleas filled his soul as he ventured further into her inviting heat.
Ominis, who had never known the intimacy of touch, relied solely on Primrose’s reactions– her expressive moans, the inviting way her body responded to his caresses, and her perfect scent.
“Please, please Alpha, I can’t bear anymore…” The desperation in her voice, the way her body arched beneath his hand, sent his desire skyrocketing. He held her in place with a firm grip, his own arousal straining against the confines of his trousers.
Ignoring his discomfort, he focused on Primrose, her innocence demanding his utmost care and attention.
“Stop teasing me!”
Her demand hit him like a bolt, stoking the dominant alpha within him. The idea of making her crave his touch, of pushing her to the very edge of satisfaction just to abandon her at the peak- again and again until she learned her lesson… To tease her until she knew her place… a fitting punishment that sent a thrill through him.
It was an unexpected desire, a twisted fascination.
He grunted, forcing his instincts to take a backseat. This was about Primrose, her first time, an experience that would influence all her future intimate encounters. He needed to be tender… and tender he would be.
Despite the growl of his inner Alpha, he conceded to her demands. Forgoing his initial plans, he fell upon Primrose with a growl. Promptly losing himself in the taste of her soaked sex. Cinnamon and honey. He huffed at the surprising burst of flavor on his tongue. Her cunt tasted of literal cinnamon and honey, a perfect reflection of her scent.
Good Merlin, I could live down here, he thought, lapping eagerly. She was delicious, a fine treat to rival any dessert- and Ominis had quite the sweet tooth...
Her appreciative cries accompanied each flick of his tongue, her honeyed taste was all-consuming. The sound of his name, the soft pleas, drew him deeper into the whirlwind of desire between them.
As her thighs tightened around him, he refused to be deprived of her enticing sounds.
“Open!”
His command was harsh, instantly she obeyed. With a low growl, he held her thighs wide. His word was an unspoken promise, ensuring not a single whimper would go unheard.
Her response was a whispered plea, a soft purring sound that was part apology, part yearning. “I-I need more, Alpha...”
A feeling of pride washed over him. He had brought her to this place of need, leaving her drenched in her own slick, her thighs and his face painted in it. His arousal throbbed, the fabric of his trousers a now familiar torment against his straining flesh.
Primrose’s needs were begging for his attention, and Ominis resolved to oblige, his own desire resonating in perfect harmony with hers. In the wizarding world, the bond between an Alpha and his Omega was more than just a vow, it was sacrosanct, especially given the scarcity of Omega witches.
To Ominis, duty was a companion he embraced when it resonated with his inclinations. And right now, duty fit him like a glove, mirroring his deepest, most intimate yearnings...
His mind spun with thoughts, a jumbled tangle of desire and possessiveness. He could still taste her essence on his tongue as he ascended her body. Her legs willingly parted to welcome him, a silent plea for his touch, as he hastily freed his throbbing cock.
The cool air against his heated skin sent a delicious shiver through him.
As she moved to reach for him, he swiftly caught her, restraining her wrists on either side of her head with a primal growl. His hardness pressed teasingly against the fabric pooled at her waist.
Endurance was on the cusp of its limit; Primrose’s touch would be his undoing.
A chorus of her sounds, chirps and moans, filled the air as he settled between her thighs, slotting together like two pieces of a whole. His arousal nestled at the entrance of her slick heat. The experimental push of his hips resulted in a shared moan of pleasure that echoed off the undercroft’s stone walls.
The air was thick with their shared passion, and the wet, deliciously explicit sounds of their bodies colliding. His grip on her wrists was shaky, anticipation turning his every nerve raw. The promise of claiming her innocence was intoxicating.
Primrose's startled gasp echoed in the room as the head of his cock notched at her entrance, nudging at her slit.
He held his breath, willing himself to remain in control.
“Want you, Alpha...”
Her voice was a seductive whisper. With a soft pull, she freed her wrist from his grasp, reaching up to trace the line of his jaw with a gentle touch before cradling his cheek. Her touch was a balm, her words echoing his own desires.
His mouth descended on her, that sweet curve where the collum of Prim’s neck met her shoulder. Ominis had every intention of marking her, of etching his claim into her skin for all to see.
Primrose offered no resistance, tilting her chin and baring her neck in sweet surrender.
Even if she didn’t understand the primal language their bodies spoke, her Omega instincts did. His tongue traced a wet, sloppy path up her throat, the taste of Primrose’s skin a heady contrast to the richer flavor of her sex.
The roll of her hips underneath him urged him to move. His cock pulsed at her entrance, promising the pleasure that lay ahead. The sensation pulled a low, guttural groan from his throat, the sound echoing in the undercroft's silence.
As he claimed her neck with his lips as Primrose's body moved beneath him in a rhythm that inflamed his need further.
With great care, he pushed into her, with the abundance of her slick and his saliva Ominis met little resistance. A moan escaped his lips as he invaded her untouched depths.
She whimpered underneath him, her body clenching around the tip of his length like a fist. A low growl rumbled from his chest, and in a moment of primal instinct, his teeth sank into her neck.
Primrose’s surprised cry echoed, her soft body instantly stilling, arms falling to her sides in an instinctual display of surrender that deeply satisfied his primal urges.
Her blood was as sweet as her scent, coating his tongue with its richness. His bite narrowly missed her mating gland, a sliver of self-control holding him back, reminding him of the innocence he was claiming.
Achingly slow, Ominis delved deeper until he met resistance – the last vestige of her innocence. Her tightness was a welcome vice around him, each intoxicating squeeze sparking waves of pleasure coursing through his body.
“D-don’t stop…” Breathless, she pleaded, “Cramps are fading…. Please, don’t wanna hurt…”
The heated whispers of praise that he breathed into her ear were as much for him as they were for her. "You're taking me so well," he said, peppering the bruised skin of her neck with kisses. “Such a perfect, tight cunt…There may be pain…”
“Please…”
His entire world became Primrose as he readied to breach her- she would feel glorious writhing on his knot…taking his seed…