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The situation had gotten a little out of hand. Not that it had never happened before. Jake had not always thought his actions through in advance and had not always stuck to the original plan. More often than not, he improvised, squeezed whatever he could out of his reflexes and acquired skills, using what was at hand and the opportunities presented in the moment to make the cards fall in the most favorable way. For one who hides in the shadows, there is no other path. But this time, even he could not have predicted the outcome.
"Fucking... hell."
His body was shaking with fine tremors, his mouth filling with saliva mixed with blood from his bitten-through cheek. His head was foggy from the intensifying scents pressing down on his sense of smell and perception. His fingers on the other’s neck absolutely refused to clench tighter to take one more meaningless life. Jake had stirred up a goddamn wasps’ nest and been cornered by his own animalistic need.
"You're... j-joking," a caustic, hoarse voice made him drop his gaze down, focusing his vision on the man flailing beneath him. He should already be dead, but Lockley was hesitating, trying to get a grip on himself. He froze, straddling the lucky son of a bitch's hips, not daring to move, making a conscious effort to ensure the vivid images flashing in his head remained nothing more than the fruit of his rampant imagination.
He will kill Marc. He will knock some sense into Steven. If they only knew about his existence.
"Y-you... omega whore, h-hah. Are y-you getting wet, you b-bi—... ghk!"
"Shut your mouth," Jake snarled, pressing his weight down on the struggling man against the floor, not allowing him to squirm too much. The pressure of his hand wasn't enough to kill, but it was enough to induce oxygen deprivation.
It wasn't just his body reacting to what was happening. The other’s boner was also distinctly pressing against his ass, making things more difficult. They were both breathing heavily, instincts scratching in Jake’s stomach, tearing from his throat in wild sounds that he stubbornly held inside. One of his alters — likely both of them, the idiots — had forgotten to take their suppressants. Now Lockley was forced to deal with a dozen heavily armed thugs locked in the same building with him, and on top of that — with a suddenly onset heat. What absolute fucking bullshit.
"We are running out of time," Khonshu's voice cut through in his ears, making Jake wince.
He knew perfectly well without the god’s remarks that he had to hurry, but in this state, thinking clearly was counterproductive due to the intensifying fever. The arousal was washing over him in waves. Of course, his body couldn't care less where or with whom he was. The mere fact that an alpha representative — whose pheromones were currently affecting Lockley, whether he wanted it or not — lay beneath him, was enough. With irritation, Jake noted how he thrust his hips a couple of times, grinding into the stranger's groin. He licked his lower lip hastily and shook his head.
The hunger won't let go until it's dulled, and reinforcements will arrive shortly. He's unlikely to get out without consequences if he doesn't alleviate his condition and regain at least part of his former self-control.
His eyes darted to the bloodied hand pinned to the parquet floor with a knife, to the firearm thrown to the far corner of the room, then to the thug’s face contorted in pain. Jake slowly inhaled and exhaled, loosening the knot of his tie.
He will have to use what's available. As always.
"Jake..."
"Stay out of this," he cut the god off.
His free hand's fingers reached down, fumbling impatiently with the fly and belt of his trousers, while his mouth brutally crashed against the stranger’s lips. Lockley did not expect a voluntary reaction; he was prepared for a one-sided interaction. That's why he couldn't hold back a muffled chuckle when the only functional limb of the alpha painfully grabbed him by the thigh, and the man forcefully pushed up into his ass, and the hostile kiss turned into mutual thirst. Fucking animal. Somewhere on the edge of his consciousness, a thought flashed: he should not let the body be treated this way — too risky. However, it dissolved in his head with a new thrust and the friction that followed, which made Jake's eyes roll back.
"Mierda."
They moved abruptly, Jake was still holding the freak by the throat, allowing him to make progressive thrusts, to impale him, surely leaving bruises on his skin from the rough grip. If not for the glove, the bastard would have dug his nails into him. They clashed teeth, bit and kissed until they tasted metal, losing all brakes. Lockley shoved his fingers into himself to the knuckles, arching — not very masterfully — to reach, and jerked himself off alternately, seeking relief and release. Without a cock inside it was half as engaging, but he was managing. He wouldn't let it go further, anyway. Not in the current circumstances, and not with some scumbag from the ranks of the expendables. The burden of choice had never been his duty. At least his involuntary partner's chattiness worked in his favor. Lockley even deigned to let him breathe more freely, listening to the heavy wheezes and quiet venomous words.
"Yeah, baby... entertain daddy, you depraved creature, until I pull you off me and shove the hilt of this knife into your heat-ridden dripping hole. I'd love to see you whine."
Jake laughed, breaking into restrained moans, stretching himself and pushing his fingers as deep as possible, riding that asshole with jerky movements despite the irritating layers of clothing. He will silence him forever. He will kill every last remaining bastard, completing his mission. He will go home, bury himself in the familiar scents, and, satiated with the ephemeral presence of Marc and Steven, he will fall asleep, leaving further worries to their shoulders. The mess of the heat will cover his tracks.
"Poor thing. Didn't expect it to hit you, huh? Well, it’s okay... it’s okay, just you wait... my friends and I will help. We won't leave... anything of you. We'll pass you around, you'll be... our doormat until we've had our fill, slut."
Uttering a guttural sound, Lockley yanked the bastard's hair, aggressively sinking teeth into his neck, biting through the flesh with a wet snap, feeling no pity. He squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing himself erratically, quickly, while the stranger writhed in agony. He did not fully understand what had pushed him over the edge: the mindless chatter or the images featuring his alters that pursued him. Lockley came violently, cursing and shuddering in ecstasy, feeling his underwear soaking through. It took a few minutes for the haze before his eyes to clear and for him to regain control over himself. He wiped the blood from his lips with his thumb, disgusted. His chin was also stained. Seems Jake had overdone it. The stranger's screams were testing his patience.
"You sick fucking freak! I hope you die, you piece of shit!"
"Eres molesto," he spat.
The fingers pressing on the larynx finally yielded to his mental command, and the grip became lethal. Jake watched with grim satisfaction as the man’s face turned blue, as the brat bandit dog suffocated, making pathetic attempts to resist while life was inexorably leaving him. Having finished the deed and made sure that what lay before him was nothing more than a corpse, Jake rose with a grunt. He buttoned up and straightened his clothes, clicking his tongue when he noticed the stain left on his trousers. The world remained bright and noisy, overwhelming, his surroundings swimming, but he had shed the primary tension; the time he'd bought should be enough until the next wave, enough for him to deal with the rest and get the hell out of here.
"Was that strictly necessary?" Khonshu sighed, clearly referring to everything that had just happened.
"Stupid question," Lockley shrugged — he was not about to make excuses. He kicked the lifeless body one last time and headed for the exit. "Y ahora vámonos."