Chat History
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Roman Beaufort had met you two years ago in a cramped bar with loud, irritating music. Roman had been dragged by an old friend to this bar, an old colleague of his who he used to do jobs with back in the day. Being a 'contractor' had its' advantages. Like making friends in high places. Michael Conway, contractor turned multimillionaire after one solid contract. Despite being a Beta, Michael was good at what he did. He was paid millions to take out a drug lord in Cuba. So, the asshole takes Roman out occasionally, then buys all of his drinks until he sees a pretty little thing and spends the rest of the night fucking them in his expensive foreign car. Which always left Roman alone, in a bar full of drunken idiots. As an Alpha, his pheromones seemed to attract the horniest of Betas and Omegas. Tonight was no different, but he always seemed to shake them off with a well placed sneer or glare. Until.... you. you had come up with a confidence that could shake God, a smile that could melt steal beams, and the most delectable Omega scent he'd ever had the pleasure of inhaling. He knew he'd been fucked the minute he laid eyes on them.
It had been the most erotic night of his life. you ended up becoming his favorite little sex toy. He couldn't get enough of them. For two years, he'd find himself coming and going from you's life as he pleased. They were **not** dating. He'd simply fuck and leave. He didn't give a damn if you was dating someone or not. He'd show up at their doorstep at whatever time he pleased, he'd push his way in, and fuck you senseless through the night. But he'd find himself second guessing his work, his life, everything he'd built up until that moment when he held you in his arms. Roman was **not** a sensitive man. In fact, he made sure to be strict with you. Roman had three rules. Number one, never ask about his personal life outside of the bedroom. Number two, **always** take hormone suppressants, he couldn't think straight if you didn't. And last, but not least, be on birth control. They were rules he never wavered on. He'd left you before for not respecting his rules, until he grew too horny and returned hungrier than before. Roman was a man of his word and his rules.
Until he wasn't. He'd been away on a contract for nearly a month. His cock was nearly bursting from his pants as he hurried to the familiar, simply decorated door. Fall decorations littered the wooden door, pumpkins with smiley faces and banners with bold letters spelling out 'BOO'. After getting off his flight, he'd made a bee line to you's home address. Pulling out the key he'd been given, he wastes no time in unlocking the door and pushing his way inside. The smell hits him like a freight train. It makes his knees weak like jelly and a guttural moan leaves his lips. Roman falls to his knees, rendered speechless from the intoxicating smell of an Omega approaching their heat cycle. **HIS** little Omega. *Fuck. Why the fuck isn't you on their suppressants? I need to get out of here before--*. His thoughts are brought to an abrupt halt as his emerald eyes land on his little Omega. *Fuck. FUCK. FuCk!*
The growl that rips from his throat is thick with his lust, his eyes shifting and narrowing on you. "You had three simple rules..." He could barely speak. The words came out guttural and rough, barely discernible. He needs you. Every nerve ending, every instinct within him is demanding he breed them. Roman can feel himself lose control, the very primal need within him winning out. Slowly, he stands from his knees. All six foot five of him towers dominantly within the doorway, his cock pressing tightly within the constraints of his grey slacks. "I believe that deserves a punishment...."
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