Felix sobbed, body trembling around the deep stretch. He could feel every inch of Jake inside him—hot, thick, *claiming.*
"Yours," he whimpered immediately. "I'm yours—I've always been yours—*God!*"
Jake didn't give him time to adjust.
With a low growl, he pulled back and thrust in hard—setting a punishing pace from the start.
Each powerful drive made Felix cry out, his voice breaking into something raw and beautiful.
"Say it again!" Jake demanded between thrusts.
Felix was unraveling fast—every nerve alight.
**"YOURS! ONLY YOURS! JAKE—I'M ALL YOURS—"**
And with that scream—
Jake lost control completely.
His sound turned wilder—a desperate sound of ownership and desire—as the bed slammed against the wall in sharp, loud beats.
Moonlight glinted off sweat-slick skin,
and somewhere beneath tangled sheets,
a prince didn't claim an Omega—
**he claimed his heart.**
When it's all finally over and they're both spent, Jake pulls Felix into his arms - pulling the sheets over them. He presses a soft kiss to his forehead, pulling back to look at him in the moonlight.
Felix's eyelashes flutter in sleep, his lips parting slightly. He looks so beautiful, so content, his usual chaotic energy finally at peace.
Jake brushes a strand of hair away from his face, tucking it gently behind his ear. He can't help but feel a pang of protectiveness—a fierce, primal instinct.
Felix... is *his.*
Jake studies the gentle rise and fall of Felix's chest, listening to the sound of his breathing: soft and deep. He looks so *young* like this, somehow. Almost innocent.
In sleep, the sharp lines of his face had softened, the usual intensity replaced with something tender and vulnerable. Jake can't help but wonder what he's dreaming about.
He runs a hand through Felix's hair, letting the strands slip through his fingers.
"You're so damn pretty like this," he murmurs, voice low and affectionate. "All soft and quiet."
Jake pulls Felix closer, tucking him under his chin. The warmth of their bodies melts together, the scent of sex and sweat and *them* filling the air.
"Mine," he whispers into the dark — not demanding now, but tender. A vow spoken in silence.
Felix stirs slightly in his sleep, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he nuzzles unconsciously into Jake's chest.
Jake smiles —
And just like that…
He falls asleep too,
holding onto the one thing
he'd never let go.
Jake wakes to the sound of an insistent buzzing on the bedside table. He blinks blearily, taking a moment to get his bearings. His body is still sore from the previous night, and he can feel Felix's leg draped over his hip.
The phone buzzes again, shattering the silence of the room.
Jake groans, carefully extracting himself from Felix's embrace and sitting up. The sheets pool around his waist when he reaches for the phone—revealing a trail of bruises and hickeys that mar his skin.
Jake squints at the bright screen of his phone, still half-asleep. The words take a second to register, but when they do he's suddenly wide awake.
*"Grand hall. Guest. Dance."*
Jesus Christ… Jake groans in frustration, running a hand over his face. It's never anything simple, it seems. He glances back at the bed, taking in the sight of Felix, fast asleep and still curled up under the covers.
Jake's heart twinges at the sight. Felix looks so peaceful—so beautiful—and he hates the thought of having to wake him. Even more, he hates the idea of going to the grand hall and making nice with important guests.
He sighs, setting the phone back on the bedside table. It's time to be an adult. As quiet as he can, he pushes himself out of bed and starts searching for his clothes.
The cool morning air brushes against Jake's bare skin as he pulls on his pants, wincing at the ache in his muscles—*her reminder.* He finds his shirt crumpled near the foot of the bed and tugs it on.
One last glance at Felix — still asleep, lips slightly parted — and Jake reaches for his phone again. His thumb hovers over the message from his father.
*Guests from different countries… dancing…*
This wasn't just a summons. It was a *presentation.*
A show of power.
And he knew what that meant:
He'd have to bring someone.
His eyes drifted back to Felix.
...Maybe being claimed wasn't just about last night.
**It was about tonight too.**
He typed one quick reply:
*"I'll be there."*
Then another, softer thought followed:
*"You're coming with me."*
Then Jake ordered a new dress for Felix.
The dress arrives in a plain, unmarked box, delivered discreetly to the doorstep. Jake opens the box, lifting the garment carefully from its tissue paper nest. The velvet is sumptuously soft beneath his fingers. The jacket's gold embroidery glimmers in the light, the star patterns casting faint, dancing shadows over the dark fabric. The skirt is equally elegant, the layers of sheer ruffles giving it a regal flare. Jake can already picture Felix in it — can already imagine the way he'll look beneath the gold filigree and layered fabric.
Jake can't help but run his hand over the fabric again and again, tracing the shape of the jacket, the hem of the skirt. It's *beautiful,* and he can't wait to see it against Felix's skin — can't wait to see the way the blue brings out the colour in his eyes, the way the gold dances with his hair.
The thought makes his chest tight, makes his breath catch.
He swallows, setting the dress carefully into the box.
"You're going to look *perfect,"* he whispers to himself.
Jake's mind is racing as he makes his way through the halls back to his room—his thoughts a chaotic storm of anticipation, excitement, and anxiety. He can't get the image of Felix in the dress out of his head, and the thought of him in it *tonight* is already driving him crazy.
But he knows the real test will come trying to convince Felix to wear it. As much as Jake wants to see him in it, Felix can be so damn *stubborn.*
Jake pauses outside the bedroom door, heart pounding. He takes a deep breath, steeling himself.
Then he opens it.
Felix is sitting up in bed, one knee drawn to his chest and hair a messy halo around his face. His eyes—still sleepy and soft—flick to Jake.
"Hey," he mumbles, voice rough with sleep. "You're up early."
Jake gives him a small smile. "Got summoned." He closes the door behind him and sets the box on the bed with careful reverence.
Felix blinks at it once. Then again.
"...What's that?"
Jake grins — slow, dangerous, full of promise.
**"Your crown."**
Felix's brow furrows, curiosity and confusion playing across his features. He looks back and forth between Jake and the box, his sleep-tousled hair falling across one eye.
"My...*crown*?" he repeats, his voice still thick with sleep.
Jake nods, settling onto the edge of the bed.
"Open it."
Felix's hand slowly reaches out, hovering over the box for a moment before lifting the lid. The dress is carefully folded inside, the black velvet glimmering in the morning light. There's a sharp intake of breath as Felix pulls it out, his eyes going wide. He runs a hand gently over the fabric, his fingers tracing the gold embroidery.
"This is… *for me?*" he whispers.
Jake nods, watching him drink in the sight of the dress with a mixture of pride and trepidation.
Felix's fingers trace the gold embroidery again, his breath still catching. "It's… beautiful," he murmurs, almost reverently.
Then he looks up at Jake—eyes wide, uncertain.
"But… why?"
Jake's lip curls into a cocky smile, his gaze fixed on the dress in Felix's hands. His heart hammers in his chest, nervousness warring with anticipation.
"It's for the gala tonight," he explains, voice low and controlled. "The one my father is hosting."
Felix's gaze flicks back to the dress in his lap, then back to Jake.
"You… you want me to wear it?" he asks again, his voice still tinged with disbelief.
Jake leans closer, taking in Felix's confused, bleary-eyed expression, the messy sleep-mussed hair, the flush to his cheeks. He's so goddamn *gorgeous,* and it takes all of Jake's self control *not* to lean closer and kiss him right now.
But there's something else in those wide eyes he can't ignore, something vulnerable and uncertain.
He takes a deep breath, his voice low.
"I *need* you to wear it."
A flicker of something like hurt flashes across Felix's face, replaced almost immediately by suspicion.
"Why?" he asks, holding the dress close to his chest. "What's so important about this gala?"
God, he looks so defensive, so guarded. Jake can practically *see* the walls going up, brick by brick, as Felix braces himself for an answer he probably won't like.
Jake sighs, running a hand through his hair. He'd known this conversation wouldn't be easy, but he hadn't expected Felix to close off so fast.
"It's a diplomatic event," he says carefully, trying to keep his voice level. "Guests from various countries are coming. It's an important night for our country."
Felix's grip on the dress tighter, his jaw setting in a stubborn line.
"And you *need* me to wear this for that?"
Jake grits his teeth, frustration and worry gnawing at him. He takes a deep breath, trying to keep his voice steady.
"Yes," he snaps, a hint of impatience creeping into his tone. "I *need* you to wear it because it'll show everyone there that you're *mine.*"
It slips out before he can stop it, that possessive, *dominant* edge. And the second the words are out, Jake knows it was the wrong thing to say.
Felix's eyes go wide, his hands stilling on the velvet.
Jake's words hang in the air—raw, possessive.
And then… Felix smiles.
Not a smirk. Not a scoff. A *real* smile—one that lights up his whole face, soft and sudden and utterly beautiful.
"You want me to wear this," he says slowly, fingers brushing the gold embroidery again, "because you want everyone to know I'm yours?"
Jake blinks. He'd braced for defiance. For argument. Not… *this.*
"…Yeah," he mutters, voice low. "That's part of it."
Felix leans forward suddenly—close enough that their knees brush—and tilts his head like a curious cat.
"I like that." His voice is softer now, almost shy beneath the boldness in his eyes. "I like people knowing I belong to you."
Jake's breath hitches.
And just like that—the tension melts away into something warm and quiet between them.
Felix holds up the dress again with both hands, turning it slightly so the morning light catches the stars on the skirt.
"It's really gorgeous," he murmurs. Then glances at Jake through his lashes:
**"Think I'll make you proud?"**
To be continued