Noah was out of breath, but not from running.
Not from fear.
But from the way Theron's body pressed him down, from the way the alpha's scent wrapped around him, thick and unrelenting, drunk on the need they had fought for too damn long.
This was a mistake.
A glorious, burning, devastating mistake.
But fuck if Noah cared.
Because Theron was looking at him like he was prey, like he was something to be devoured, and Noah wanted it.
Needed it.
Theron's fingers dug into Noah's hips, hard enough to bruise, his golden eyes wild, wrecked, dangerous.
"This is your last chance," he growled, voice rough, shaking with restraint. "If we do this—"
"We're already doing this." Noah's voice was low, daring, a challenge he knew Theron wouldn't ignore. "So shut up and—"
Theron's mouth crashed against his, cutting off the words, swallowing Noah's sharp gasp as heat exploded between them.
There was no hesitation.
No caution.
Just raw, untamed hunger, a war of teeth and tongues and hands desperate to claim.
Noah's fingers tore at Theron's shirt, yanking it off, dragging his nails down the hard lines of his chest, reveling in the way Theron groaned, the way his body shuddered.
Then Theron flipped them, pinning Noah beneath him, holding him down like he belonged there.
Noah's head tipped back, exposing his throat—not in submission, never in submission—but as a taunt.
Theron's lips curled into a wicked smirk.
"You have no idea what you're doing to me," he rasped, teeth grazing skin, dragging down, down, until he reached Noah's collarbone.
Noah shivered, arching just slightly, but Theron felt it.
And fucking growled.
His hands slid lower, over Noah's waist, his stomach, his thighs—every touch deliberate, teasing, meant to drive him insane.
Noah's breath hitched. "You're taking your damn time."
Theron's golden eyes flashed.
And then he bit down.
Not hard enough to mark—not yet—but enough to make Noah curse, his body jerking, heat pooling low and unbearable.
"Patience, omega." Theron's voice was pure sin, dark and amused. His tongue soothed over the bite, his fingers curling around Noah's wrists again, pinning him completely.
A warning.
A promise.
And then
He went lower.
Noah wasn't trembling cause that would imply fear.
And fear was the last thing he felt.
No, this was something worse. Something deeper. Something that gripped him by the throat and refused to let go.
It was the way Theron's hands held him down, the way heat licked at his skin, the way golden eyes burned into him with an intensity that left him breathless.
"You want this?" Theron's voice was rough, strained—like he was fighting himself even as his fingers dug into Noah's hips.
Noah's breath hitched, but he didn't look away.
"Do you?" he challenged, his own voice just as unsteady, just as wrecked.
Theron's lips curled into a dark, dangerous smirk.
And then he moved.
A blur of strength and heat and raw, unfiltered hunger as Noah suddenly found himself beneath him, trapped, caged, ruined.
Theron's mouth was everywhere—his throat, his collarbone, lower, trailing fire down Noah's skin as he tore at the last barriers between them.
Fabric was nothing.
Restraint was nothing.
And when Theron finally pressed against him bare, hot, aching Noah felt it.
Felt everything.
The weight of desire, the depth of need, the absolute devastation that came with finally, finally giving in.
"Fuck," Noah gasped, fingers digging into Theron's back, nails raking down, pulling him closer, harder, deeper.
Theron groaned, a sound that vibrated through Noah's entire body, his control cracking with every second.
"You're gonna break me," he muttered, voice strained as his forehead pressed against Noah's.
Noah's lips curled.
"Then break, Alpha."
And Theron did.
He moved—slow, torturous, deliberate, dragging out every shaky breath, every sharp gasp, every moan Noah refused to bite back.
It was too much and not enough, all-consuming and utterly reckless, a push and pull of dominance neither of them wanted to surrender.
Teeth against skin.
Fingers digging deep.
Gasps swallowed in the heat of a kiss that burned as much as it soothed.
And when Theron finally snapped, when he gripped Noah hard enough to bruise, when his movements turned frantic, desperate, messy—
Noah let himself go.
He let himself drown.
And Theron went down with him.
The moment shattered—pleasure ripping through them, breaking past whatever last defenses they had left.
A low, guttural growl rumbled deep in Theron's chest, his lips finding Noah's throat, his teeth grazing that one spot—
Oh, fuck.
Noah barely had time to process the heat, the fire, the undeniable shift in the air—
Before Theron bit down.
Sharp, possessive.
A claim.
Noah gasped, his entire body tensing, his mind going blank as the bond snapped into place.
And just like that—
It was done.
Noah was marked.
Theron had claimed him.
And there was no going back.