Chapter 117: Christmas Arc: Two
Samantha and Salmona watched Adama skip about the house waving a teddy bear around by the leg. The twins exchanged looks. Thinking their young Alpha daughter to be a bit weird. Then again, maybe that was how Alpha children were.
"What do you want for your birthday?" Salmona asked Adama while she sat on the bottom stair. She moved her silver hair over her shoulder while her twin leaned against the wall of the staircase.
Adama looked at her sire with a raised eyebrow. She stopped skipping about the living room and walked to her sires. "My birthday isn’t until spring," she said to them. "Hmm hmm, I’ll be fourteen then."
"Do you like anyone?" Samantha asked.
Adama shook her head.
"No Beta or Omega?" Salmon asked.
"Nope, no Alpha either," Adama said as well.
That was right. Times were different now. Same genders were something that was started to become a thing. Alphas with Alphas, Betas with Beta, even Omegas with Omegas. It was new and the twins didn’t really understand it.
Adama walked to the living room and sat on the couch watching television. Salmona got up and walked to the Christmas tree. Samantha walked up the steps and went to her room. She took her pants off as she closed the door.
She began to stroke herself to get herself erect. Lacy sat on the edge of the bed still in her night gown. She laid on the bed, her robe opening, her legs being pulled up, her cunt wide.
Squirt!
Pre cum squirted out of Samantha’s clit. Samantha walked to Lacy, sliding her clit up and down Lacy’s cunt. She then pushed herself inside the Omega. Her hips began to thrust, slow then speeding up.
The television blared downstairs, cartoon laughter muffling Samantha’s low growls. Lacy arched beneath her, eyes rolling back, fingers digging into Samantha’s shoulders. The scent of slick filled the room, sharp, sweet, almost chemical.
Outside, sleet ticked against the windowpane, a cold counterpoint to the heat building between them. Samantha’s movements grew frantic, her breath ragged against Lacy’s neck, chasing that familiar tightness coiling low in her belly.
Downstairs, the cartoons switched to a loud commercial jingle, briefly drowning out the slick sounds of skin on skin. Lacy’s hips jerked upward, meeting each thrust with desperate urgency. Her thighs trembled, slick soaking the sheets beneath them. Samantha’s knot began to swell, insistent, almost painful, as she buried herself deeper, teeth grazing Lacy’s bonding gland.
A silent gasp tore through Lacy’s throat, her body locking rigid, toes curling into the mattress as waves of release crashed over her. Samantha followed seconds later, a shuddering groan escaping her clenched jaw, hips stuttering as she spilled warmth deep inside. They collapsed together, sticky and spent, the only sounds their harsh breathing and the distant television.
"You’re on rut? I thought you were taking supressants?" Lacy said.
"I am, yeah, I think I may not be responding well to it," Samantha said.
Salmona found herself in the shed, looking out the window of the shed. She was alone, her pants were partially down and her clit was erect, spilling pre cum. She sighed and wrapped her hand around her clit.
She pulled her clitoral hood back, exposing the head of the clit. She picked at the tip, moaning softly. She was cold but it was so hard for her and them to get privacy.
The Alpha bent her knees a bit and began to jerk off.
Salmona’s breath misted the shed windowpane, each puff a ghostly bloom against the frosted glass. Her knuckles whitened around her clit, the hood peeled back, exposing the swollen head slick with pre-cum. The cold bit through her thin shirt, raising gooseflesh along her arms, but heat pooled low in her belly, a persistent, aching throb demanding relief.
Outside, sleet hissed against the corrugated metal roof, a rhythmless percussion that couldn’t drown out the wet, rhythmic slide of her palm. She braced her other hand against the workbench, scattering rusted screws and a forgotten wrench that clattered onto the concrete floor. The sound echoed, sharp and startling, but she didn’t stop. Couldn’t. Her hips jerked forward in short, desperate thrusts, chasing friction, each stroke drawing a low, choked whimper from her throat. The scent of her own arousal hung thick in the damp, oil-stained air, musky and urgent.
All the while her pre cum kept spilling. She looked out the window to make sure all was still good, that no one was coming to shed.
Salmona’s gaze stayed locked on the frosted pane, where sleet blurred the backyard into smears of gray and brown. Her breath hitched, sharp and shallow, as she worked herself faster, palm slick and tight around her clit. The cold metal edge of the workbench dug into her hip bone, a grounding sting against the mounting heat coiling low in her belly.
A gust rattled the shed door, the hinges groaning, a sound swallowed by the wet, rhythmic slap of skin against skin. She bit down on her lower lip hard enough to taste copper, silencing the moan threatening to escape. Her thighs trembled, muscles taut as wires.
"Ugh, fuck! FUCK!" Her cum squirted onto the shed floor, freezing over instantly.
Sloot, sloot!
Her cum still continuing to fall in puddles around her. "Fuck, its so much!" She moaned out.
She sighed, a breath of fresh air. She stood there for a while in the shed, calming herself down. She bent over and picked her pants up, tying the strings together. She placed her jacket back on and saw Lacy coming to the shed to get some fire wood. She opened the door.
"Salmona?" Lacy jumped when she saw her Alpha. She could smell the musk. Salmona got hard instantly and pulled her sweats down. "Be fast." Lacy ordered, just having done the deed with Samantha. Samantha’s cum still fresh in her cunt.
Salmona moved her hips frequently, feeling the warmth of Lacy’s cunt wrapped around her clit. It felt divine feeling her second nut come around.
The shed door stood ajar, letting in a sliver of icy air that danced across Salmona’s exposed skin. Lacy braced herself against the workbench, her hands tight as Salmona drove into her with rough, urgent thrusts. The scent of Samantha’s release still lingered on Lacy’s skin, mingling with the sharp musk of Salmona’s own arousal, a potent, animal tang that thickened the damp air.
Sleet hissed against the metal roof, a chaotic rhythm that drowned the slick slap of flesh meeting flesh. Salmona’s breath came in ragged bursts, fogging the frost-laced windowpane as her gaze remained fixed on the blurred shapes beyond, watching for movement in the winter-gray yard.
Then Lacy felt it, the cum release inside of her, the moans coming from Salmona who pulled out quickly even as the cum kept pouring from her clit.
Lacy and Salmona entered into the house with the fire logs. They placed them over at the fireplace and went into the kitchen to get started on dinner. By this time, Aurora had entered into the house after spending time with her friends.
Christmas music played in the background as Samantha walked down the stairs. She washed her hands and went to the refrigerator.
"What are we making to day?" Samantha asked, swinging on the door.
"Let’s have cabbage, rice, and salmon!!!" Aurora screamed out from the living room.
Salmona froze, knife hovering above the carrot she’d been slicing. The sudden shout cut through the kitchen’s quiet rhythm, the bubbling pot on the stove, the rhythmic chopping, the low mumor of Christmas carols drifting from the living room speakers.
Samantha paused mid-reach into the fridge, hand gripping a jar of pickles, knuckles whitening. Across the counter, Lacy flinched, dropping the potato she’d been scrubbing; it thudded onto the tile floor, rolling unevenly toward Salmona’s feet.
The scent of onions and simmering broth thickened the air, suddenly laced with sweat and sharp unease. Salmona’s pulse hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat beneath her thin sweater. She watched Aurora bounce past the doorway, oblivious, humming along to "Jingle Bell Rock," her footsteps fading toward the stairs.
But there on the floor, staring at them was a fat rat with Dumbo ears. They just stared at it. Lacy came around the corner and looked at the rat.
"Is that a rat?" Lacy asked. The rat looked at her as it knew it was being spoken to.
Adama peeked around the corner. "Oh yeah, that rat belongs to Jammy."
Jammy was the neighbor next door that was around the same age as Adama. Adama picked the rat up and began to cradle it like a baby.
"I’ll take her to Jammy," she said.
Aurora didn’t look up from her phone screen, thumbs flying across the glass. The rat sniffed Adama’s shirt collar, whiskers twitching against her jawline. Its tiny claws pricked through the thin fabric. Samantha’s knuckles stayed bone-white around the refrigerators door knob.
The Christmas music swelled, a trumpet blast of festive cheer then faded into a syrupy ballad. Lacy watched the rat with wide, dark eyes, her hands pressed against her mouth. Salmona’s knife hovered, trembling slightly, casting a thin shadow over the half-sliced carrot. The dropped potato lay forgotten near her boot, flecked with dirt.