[GL] Someone Once Told Me the Grass is Much er on the Other Side-Chapter 119: Christmas Arc: Four

"What made you want to rape her?" The therapist asked. It was an Alpha female, her legs crossed with fair skinned, her hair in a ponytail and glasses. She had a small notebook in her hands, writing notes with a small point. She looked at Shatwa and waited for the younger Alpha’s response.

Shatwa sat on the couch unsure of when she started to get those thoughts. She thought back to when she was a child, nine. She swallowed and leaned in her seat.

"I, uh, I remember being around the age of nine and watching a movie with my parents. I had my first rut-"

"You had your first rut at nine?" The therapist asked. Shatwa nodded her head. "Wow, that’s young." She watched Shatwa nod her head again to acknowledge the age.

"And uh, the movie had a scene where a woman is stabbed and she’s screaming like crazy. I really liked the way she screamed."

"Did you? Did you feel some type of pleasure?"

"I don’t know," she shrugged. "I just know I remembered her scream and it made me feel...its like, I don’t know how to describe it. I wasn’t happy about it nor scared but...curious and wanting more, I guess, maybe," Shatwa exclaimed. She paused for a moment and sighed, taking a deep breath. "I know what I did was wrong. I feel bad as well, you know. Ruined my reputation, my family, and her-you know, she’s gonna have to deal with it. I messed things up for her." She licked her lips that were becoming dry and fidget with her hands.

"I understand," the therapist said softly, scribbling something down. She looked back at Shatwa and asked, "Do you remember anything else? Anything else that happened around that time? Anything that might have contributed to those thoughts?"

Shatwa shook her head no. She couldn’t think of anything else. The therapist nodded her head.

"I think we just need to find a healthy outlet for your desires so that way we can keep them fantasies," the therapist said.

Shatwa nodded silently, eyes fixed on the worn carpet fibers. Outside, rain began tapping against the windowpane, soft at first, then building to a steady drumbeat that filled the heavy silence.

The therapist’s pen scratched across paper, each stroke echoing like a tiny blade slicing through the quiet. Shatwa’s fingers dug into her thighs, fingers tightening up as she fought to keep her breathing even. The scent of stale coffee and bergamot from the therapist’s tea mingled with the dampness seeping through the walls, making the air feel thick enough to choke on.

Outside, the rain intensified, turning the window into a blurry mosaic of grey and green. Drops hit the glass like pebbles thrown by an invisible hand, each impact vibrating through Shatwa’s bones. She traced a water droplet’s path with her eyes, watching it zigzag down before merging with others into a dark smear. The carpet’s scratchy texture beneath her shoes suddenly felt unbearable, like sandpaper grinding against her soles.

Shatwa drove her car down one of the most dangerous sides of Ashley. A side riddled with drugs and street walkers. Home to an open secret right on Malcomb Blvd.

Cars lined up and down the street for the next hooker they could book and meet. Shatwa pulled her car up the line and waited for her turn. She went to her glove department and pulled out a condom.

When it was her turn, a male Omega leaned down. It would be her first male experience, but she would take it.

"What chu you want?" He asked her.

"Just anal," she answered.

"You don’t want no blow job?"

"No blow job," she said.

The Omega got into the car with Shatwa taking off in silence.

Shatwa drove through Ashley’s underbelly, the rain-slicked streets reflecting neon signs that bled color onto the asphalt like wounds. She kept her eyes fixed ahead, hands stuck on the steering wheel, the silence thick and suffocating between them.

The Omega shifted uncomfortably in the passenger seat, his scent, cheap cologne layered over sweat and something earthy, clashing violently with the stale air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror.

Shatwa felt the vibration of the engine through the soles of her boots, a low thrumming counterpoint to the frantic pounding of her own heart. She could feel the condom packet digging into her thigh where she’d shoved it into her pocket, a small, crinkling reminder of purpose.

She came to a parking lot that was empty and turned the engine off. Both parties got into the back seat. She pulled her pants down and began to stroke her clit, getting it hard and erect. He smiled at it. "You’re pretty big for a female Alpha."

Shatwa smirked putting the condom on as she watched the Omega pull his own pants down and get into position to have his ass fucked.

The Omega shifted onto his knees on the cracked leather seat, facing away from her. Rain hammered the car roof like impatient fists, drowning all sound except their ragged breathing. Shatwa positioned herself behind him, her erection hot and heavy against his cool skin. She felt the coarse hairs of his thighs brush against hers, smelled the sharp tang of his sweat mingling with rain-damp fabric.

Her fingers gripped his hips, fingertips pressing into yielding flesh hard enough to leave bruises tomorrow. He flinched slightly, muscles tensing beneath her touch, but didn’t turn. The silence wasn’t peaceful; it was electric, charged with unspoken transactions and coiled desperation.

Headlights from passing cars sliced through the downpour, fleeting ghosts that illuminated the sweat beading on the back of his neck before plunging them back into gloom.

Shatwa pressed the tip of her erection against the tight ring of muscle, a slickness of lube easing the initial resistance. A low groan escaped him, muffled against the leather seatback. Her own breath hitched, a sharp intake tasting of damp upholstery and the metallic tang of rain. She pushed slowly, feeling the incredible heat envelop her, the clench and tremble of his body beneath her hands. His fingers scrabbled against the seat.

The rain’s roar on the roof became a cocoon, isolating them in a world reduced to sensation. Shatwa’s focus narrowed to the slide, the pressure, the rhythmic clenching against her thrusts.

Her hands tensed up where she gripped his hips, her own thighs trembling with the effort to maintain control. She saw the goosebumps rise on his skin where fleeting headlights caught it, the sweat tracing paths down his spine.

His scent intensified: fear, arousal, cheap cologne dissolving into something primal and raw. Her nostrils flared, breathing him in like smoke. Beneath her palms, his muscles corded and jumped, a trapped animal’s tension radiating heat against her skin.

SLAP, SLAP!

Their breath came out with huffs and puffs, the car completely warmed up from the snow and rain that was outside.

The Omega gasped, his body arching against each thrust. Shatwa’s own breathing was ragged, shallow pulls of air tasting of ozone and leather and desperate exertion. Rainwater streamed down the windows, turning the world outside into liquid shadows, isolating them in this vibrating metal box.

Her hips snapped forward, a piston driven by something deeper than lust, a raw, clawing need for oblivion, for sensation intense enough to drown out the screaming echo trapped inside her skull. Sweat stung her eyes, blurring his form into a shuddering silhouette, the slap of skin against skin echoing louder than the drumming rain.

A tremor built low in her belly, coiling tighter with each thrust, a wire pulled taut. Her jaw clenched, teeth grinding against the urge to roar, to bite, to rend. The heat inside him was furnace-hot, clenching rhythmically, drawing her deeper. Her fingers dug into the flesh of his hips, anchoring her as the world narrowed to a pinprick of sensation: the slick friction, the frantic pulse beneath her thumbs, the sharp scent of sex and fear blooming thick in the humid air.

Her climax slammed into her like a physical blow. It wasn’t pleasure; it was obliteration. A silent scream ripped through her chest, tearing upwards but trapped behind clenched teeth. Her hips jerked forward, burying herself impossibly deep as wave after ragged wave of release shuddered through her core.

Her vision whited out, replaced by the phantom flash of a knife, a scream echoing not from memory now, but vibrating from her own locked throat. Muscles seized, locking her rigid for one endless, gasping second before collapsing forward, her forehead pressing against the sweat-slicked skin of his back.

She pulled out and took the condom off. She dug in her other pocket and gave the Omega a one hundred dollar bill. Shatwa dropped him off back on Malcomb BLVD and waved him bye.

She drove back on the highway heading back to her home, thankfully that Aurora had told her about this therapist. The Alpha smiled at herself, hoping she would be able to heal from this behavior.