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Summary
Erling would have done what Jude wanted ages ago, but he could not conduct public indecency in the middle of the World Cup with millions watching. He would do almost anything for his omega, but this was too much.
"Jude, I can't—"
"Please, Erling, so my heat will end faster and I can play again." His bitten, spit-soaked lips looked very tempting to Erling right about now. More so, the Brit's pleading tone sounded so desperate that it made Erling's heart clench (and his cock twitch).
"Erling."
The Norwegian man forced his eyes to drag back up to wide-eyed, full pupils.
"Knot me. Claim me. Please, alpha."
Jude, ever so foxy, tilted his head back so more pheromones would be released from his neck's scent glands. A smirk painted his panting lips.
Erling lost it.
