Omega Wanted: Bad Boy Mpreg Romance

by Stephan James

  I shook my head, “no Conner, I love you.”

  He gasped before pulling me into my arms and kissing me tenderly, “Oh Jason. I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear you say that! My feelings are the same, but I didn’t know, I didn’t know if you felt the same! I love you too!”

  The doors to the great hall opened and I took Conner’s hand, “Whatever happens, we are in this together.”

  “Forever?” he asked me, squeezing my hand.

  I nodded my head, “Forever.”

  We stood before the council, our hands locked together as they spoke, “Jason, we have decided that if you and your mate are willing to abide by our customs and marry and thus live in the village; we have no complaints against sparing Conner’s life.”

  I let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

  “Please understand, you will one day sit where we sit now as the head of the tribal, along with your mate and others. We only want for our lineage to carry on.” one said.

  I nodded my head, my heart skipping from my heart, “Understood.”

  They dismissed us and we spun around, eager to continue our embrace. As we walked to our new cabin, I still had one nagging question.

  “Conner?” I asked him. “Will you change for me?”

  He grinned, “When we get inside, we will do it together.”

  In the cabin, he sat on the bed. I wanted to be with him, but I knew he was curious. I shut the door and closed my eyes as I spoke; “Find the fire that I saw in you earlier. Find that heat and let it course through your body.”

  I did the same thing that I was telling him to do and felt the animal inside of me fighting to get out.

  “It burns,” muttered Jason.

  “It will, only for a minute, your body fights the transformation the first time,” I said to him.

  He fell quiet and I tried to concentrate, letting the beast come free. I felt the vampire mingling mixing with the wildcat in a euphoria that was unmatched save for Jason’s touch. Like nothing you could ever imagine, the two breeds of human mingled inside of me. My teeth started to form, usually long, but dull as the lion’s mouth goes were razor sharp. I felt the blood rushing through my body as my bones shifted into their new form. The transformation took longer than it had in the past. When I opened my eyes again, Jason was still sitting on the bed, looking dumbfounded.

  “My god, you are beautiful,” he said to me as he came to where I was standing in my lion form. My size reached his chest.

  My vision was even sharper than in had been before, I had the desire to taste blood, but not human. The lion was stronger than the vampire inside of me, controlling my desires. Instead it was pushing me towards different blood. I looked at Jason and started to shift back. I hadn’t removed my clothing, and now they were piled on the floor in shreds.

  “That was amazing, you were white!” he said. “I have never seen a white lion before!”

  I was shocked; my coat was golden as the sun normally, “What?”

  “Yeah, you were bleach white with blood red eyes.” he said to me.

  I was amazed, I felt like the world was open to the possibilities, but only one mattered in that moment, Jason. I took him into my arms and he laughed. I crushed my lips to his in a passionate embrace. I wanted to feel his body against mine. He broke away from me and quickly stripped down to nothing, it was a sight to behold, his cock was throbbing, I reached out to touch him, but he stopped me.

  “Not yet,” He whispered softly.

  I grinned before falling to my knees in front of him. I took his shaft into my mouth, the urgency to taste his flesh overpowering. As I did, his hands found the back of my head and pushed me further onto his manhood. I tasted his salty flesh and it drove me insane, my rod bouncing freely between us. He groaned out with desire as I picked up the pace and continued my assault on his dick. I wanted more, I needed more. Glistening nectar dripped from the tip of my shaft. Every sound he made drove me insane. I pulled away from him, gasping for breath.

  “Jason, I need you.” I whispered to him, licking his taste from my lips.

  He nodded his head as I tried to pull him down to the floor. “I know, I need you too Conner,”

  “Come to me,” I said to him.

  “No, it’s my turn.” he replied with a playful glint in his eyes.

  He grabbed hold of me, his strength surprising and thrilling. Pulling me to the bed, he whispered, “Roll over.”

  I did as he commanded and rose up onto my knees, shaking my ass for him in the process. He smacked me playfully before massaging my rear, his hand traveling down to my balls. When he grabbed hold of them, I shuddered with pleasure. I felt his staff at my entrance and pushed back against him, desperate for more than just the pressure, I wanted to feel him inside of me. I didn’t have to wait long. He positioned himself behind me before grabbing hold of my hips and pushing his cock into my ass.

  As he filled my opening, I moaned out in blind desire, pushing backwards until my body consumed all of his manhood. It sent waves of pleasure rocketing through my body. As his shaft reached its ending, I wiggled my body, feeling deliciously full. He started to move inside of me, pumping his body and pulling me backwards with my hips. I felt his shaft growing rigid and knew it wouldn’t be long. Under his skillful touch, I’d forgotten that he was still a virgin.

  His hands fell away from my hip and reached for my shaft, pumping me as his cock filled me up. I felt the climax coming. The heat washed over my body as his seed started to spill into me. I let the pleasure take me; I let the orgasm rock through me, pumping my body into his hand. My core clenched around his cock as I spilled out onto the bedding. We stayed there, locked together as the semen dripped all around us. The fireworks coming to an end as we struggled for air.

  Finally, we fell apart in blissful exhaustion, “My god!” I said playfully, “You are a natural!”

  He laughed, “I had a good teacher.”

  I gazed into his eyes; our love was sealed together by fate and by blood. We were bonded for life. I watched him drifting off to sleep and I knew that I would be happy with Jason, forever.

  **********The End**********

  Omega’s Superstar

  Description:

  Cam by all outward appearances had it all. Money, fame and any women he chose to take home that night, but something was missing. The LA scene was one of superficial happiness that left a person empty inside.

  Matt is a hot Hollywood producer who definitely didn’t look his age. Well adjusted and mature he was the total opposite from Cam. But who can resist a sexy bad boy? Or the better question is who would want too?

  When Cam finds out about Matt’s fiery secret, will he stick around? A baby wasn’t in this bad boy’s plan. How will Matt’s Father react to the news?

  ****************************

  A faceless man beckons Cam over the cliff’s edge. He’s never been so high. No buildings in L.A. are this high. Where am I again? The vodka, slouching over. The people. At the gathering he couldn’t make anyone’s faces out and his feet ached from dancing. And there was a dragon. A dragon flapping its wings. There aren’t any dragons in L.A. That’s what Cam thought before. Before he stumbled over the edge and–

  Bzzzzzzz, bzzzzz, bzzzzzzzz; bzzzzzzz, bzzzzz, bzzzzzzz; bzzzzzzz, bzzzzzz

  Cameron Leto’s brain is slosh inside his aching skull. He snaps off his sleeping mask, seething with annoyance. His iPhone, beyond arm’s length, is buzzing and buzzing and buzzing and won’t stop buzzing and the ear-splitting sound is making his headache worse. Based on the direction of the incessant vibration, Cam guesses his iPhone is atop a messy pile of clothes comprising last night’s outfit – on the floor, across his sprawling bedroom shag, piercing his brain and toying with him in the back pocket of his Louis Vuitton jeans. Cam is sure of his supposition. 100% sure.

  “Hey. . . Kendall. I mean, Kendra. Will you get that? Help a guy out?”

  The buxom chick in Cam’s bed groans. “It’s your phone,”
she says. But Kendall or Kendra rolls over and gets up all the same, stumbling like a zombie toward his iPhone’s light. She pulls it out of his jeans, throws the phone at him and returns to bed.

  “It’s Kara, by the way. . .”

  Cameron ignores her. He quickly scans through his texts, replying to none. He doesn’t even want to look at Instagram or Snapchat, because who knows what the fuck Cam posted last night? He’s been on a hot streak lately: naked strippers climbing all over his friends, off-roading in his Range Rover, smoking joints and railing cocaine in the VIP sections at L.A.’s snottiest clubs. When Cam’s fucked up, his iPhone is always out and ready to capture the moment. So all fifteen million of his Snapchat followers in every country of the world know exactly what they’re missing.

  Cam maneuvers to the app that controls his house, activating the master suite’s drapes. They begin to slide open, slowly, to give Kara and Cameron time for their eyes to adjust to California’s piercing, magnanimous summer light. Beverly Hills and the rest of L.A. spread out before them.

  “Oooooohhhhh,” says Kara. She leaves his bed again, walking over to the floor-to-ceiling windows to touch the glass. “Quite a view.”

  “You wanna grab coffee?” asks Cameron, ignoring her for the second time. “Need something for this hangover.”

  Cam checks the time. 12:43p.m.

  “Sure!” She reveals a toothy smile, pulling at the back of her panties. “Can I use your bathroom first?”

  Cam points to the bathroom door. Kara grabs her purse before scurrying inside. Now that they’re gonna appear in public together, Kara doesn’t give two shits that Cameron Leto didn’t remember her name. They never care, Cameron thinks.

  He stretches, gets out of bed and without considering underwear, slips his Louie Vuitton jeans over his ass cheeks for the second time in twenty-four hours. From the second drawer of his bureau, Cam removes a plain, pressed white T-shirt, pulling it over his head. He dons his favorite Balenciaga sunglasses to shield his pupils from the bright, unearthly light. His money clip and keys are already in his pockets.

  “Let’s go!” Cam yells.

  Kara opens the bathroom door. Her make-up is completely re-done, her hair coiled in a tight ponytail on top of her head. Cam’s impressed with Kara’s speed; most of his paramours never finish their make-up that quickly. Cam could throw up he’s so sickened by her unabashed desire for attention.

  They clamber in Cam’s zucchini-colored Maserati and cruise down the winding Hills to Seree’s, his favorite Japanese coffee shop. White vans are already trailing them.

  “So, are you sad your tour’s over? Why not extend it?” asks Kara. “Lots of extra dough.” Cam is remembering now that she’s a lyricist, in the industry, writing for some pretty big names this year. Cam can’t remember any of the acts, though. Or the name of her agent. All he knows is Kara’s nosey questions piss him off.

  “I’m not extending it,” he says. She looks disappointed.

  Cameron didn’t always live in L.A. He’s not even a native Californian, but was conceived and born in Irye, Nebraska. When Cam was thirteen, his mom uploaded a few videos to YouTube of her precious son playing guitar and singing songs he wrote during history class (while, of course, he should have been paying attention). The videos were never meant for mass consumption, but somehow – share after share after share after share – they garnered millions of hits. Cameron Leto was a sensation and the public wanted more. So, ten days after his thirteenth birthday, he moved to L.A., signed with Kaleidoscope Records, the biggest label in the industry, and started working on his first album. Cam never returned to a classroom again. He finished eighth grade via email and earned his high school diploma by bribing a lazy tutor to sign off on his G.E.D. certification when he was sixteen.

  Through his teens he released dozens of singles and three records, which all went platinum. He won 9 Grammys. He filled NFL stadiums with screaming fans for wild, unforgettable concerts. His songs have been played on nearly every radio station across the world. Everybody wants a piece of Cam Leto. Everybody wants to be him, and everybody is always telling Cam his life is perfect.

  But he doesn’t feel that way. He’s the only person that doesn’t want to be Cam Leto.

  So, about two years ago, he started acting out. He stopped listening to his mother’s advice about humility, about being thankful for your gifts and not showing off. Instead, he bragged about his money, posting videos on Instagram of him and his friends burning hundred dollar bills. He crashed priceless cars into telephone poles. He began excessively drinking alcohol and smoking marijuana and experimenting with other drugs. He moved from girl to girl – some the most desirable females in the world, singers and models and actresses – without ever showing a lick of empathy for her feelings, without ever showing the girl-of-the-moment the respect she deserved, even if they both knew their relationship was for the fans and the carefree sex and the tabloids. Oh, the media, Cam reflects, you can always count on them. They ate up Cam’s shenanigans with forest-fire speed and plenitude, plastering his face everywhere, sending countless tweets about his life, glorifying his asinine behavior and essentially twisting and evolving Cameron’s brand into an American pseudo-demigod and bad-boy connoisseur who doesn’t have to follow any rules. Cameron Leto: who can fuck whoever he wants. Cameron Leto: who is encouraged to behave in a way nobody else can ‘cause someone should have the opportunity, right?

  A few months ago, his mother moved back to Nebraska. Cam didn’t ask her to stay.

  Cam pulls up to Seree’s. The paps are already in position, blocking the sidewalk on either side of the coffee house’s façade. Kara plumps her lips in the Maserati’s pull-down mirror before slipping on her oversized sunglasses.

  “Ready?” she asks. She seems happier than a kid on Christmas morning.

  “Oh yeah. Always ready.”

  Cam gets out, circles the sports car, opens Kara’s door. The bulbs start flicking, a hundred flashes per second, everyone screaming his name and fans running across the street toward the coffee shop. He grabs Kara’s hand, looking down, and quickly leads her in the shop.

  The last thing Cam wants is to extend his tour. He’s not even sure he wants to make another record, even if he’s at the top of his game. He has enough money, enough fame, enough of everything. Cam wants to do something different. Get out of L.A. for a while. Something crazy, but a substantially different avenue than his “crazy,” humiliating teenage years. Something out-of-the-box.

  Cam’s not sure if he can be surprised anymore. And he wants to be stunned, for his blood to boil. To be freed.

  It’s 4a.m.

  Cam’s at some after party, at some producer’s place in Malibu. He nurses tonic water, casually examining the soirée’s scenery. Kara’s here, and she’s inching toward him, but he doesn’t want to take her home again. He may just fly solo tonight; whip the Maserati to Seree’s by his lonesome tomorrow afternoon.

  He finishes his drink, gestures to the mixologist for another.

  “Long time no see.”

  “Hi Kara.” She found her way to his side. Of course.

  “I forgot to tell you I had great time last night. Or should I say yesterday morning? I kinda remember the sun coming up during our last–”

  ‘Please,” says Cam. Various partygoers are eavesdropping on their conversation. He can already imagine the headlines tomorrow. Once again, he is disgusted by Kara’s desperate bid for attention. Cam pushes past Kara, parting the sea of trendy imbeciles to grab his latest drink. He heads outside by the pool, where fewer people are mingling.

  Cam stretches out on a beach chair. He sips his drink, takes out his iPhone. He has fifteen texts from fifteen different people and he hates every single one. Cam shoves his iPhone back in his jeans’ front pocket and decides to close his eyes, for just a minute or so, until he orders an Uber–

  “Hello,” says a deep voice. Cam jumps up, his eyelids spring open, spilling some of his drink. A well-built man with a thick, t
rimmed, jet-black beard sits on the edge of Cam’s beach chair.

  “Buddy you scared me,” Cam says.

  “I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “You snuck up on me so quietly!”

  The man laughs, but it’s more like a roar. “I am known for being taciturn,” he says. “But I assure you I didn’t mean to freak you out. I apologize.”

  “Whatever,” Cam says. “You’re good man.”

  Cam sits up in the beach chair, edging closer. So he can get a better look at the man in the dim, uneven floodlights.

  “My name is Matt Zaal,” he says, extending his hand, “And you are?”

  “You don’t know who I am?” asks Cam.

  For a moment Matt’s face is stoic, but then his expression crumbles in the most adorable, unabashed manner. “Everyone knows who you are Cam. But I can pretend I don’t. If you want.”

  Matt smiles, showing off bleach-white, tombstone-like teeth captioned by fleshy gums. His lips are covered with a light sheen of spit and bulge over his teeth. Matt’s beard is well-maintained and trimmed close to his face, revealing defined cheekbones and tanned, olive skin. His hair is shoulder-length; he brushes some out of his face before flashing another florid grin at Cam. As opposed to his own jockish, tall-and-skinny frame, Matt is brawny and muscular like a bull, his chest stretching his long-sleeved, black shirt to the brink. Thick, black hair creeps up the back of Matt’s hands and down his shins. Cam thinks this man’s whole body must be covered with this fur and suddenly, his cock jumps in his jeans. But Cameron Leto doesn’t understand the attraction…. A man’s hands and beard have never made him horny before…