Dylan #2
But now, with his scent wreaking havoc on my instincts and his bruised, magnetic face staring down at me, wrapping my lips around him somehow feels like the most natural thing in the world.
Levi gasps when I swallow him halfway to the hilt all at once, a choked sound that gives me just as much primal satisfaction as landing a punch. His fingers thread through the damp strands of my hair, the feeling of him pressing against my scalp strangely intimate as he pushes me further down.
Don’t choke. The taste of him—salt, sweat and his overwhelming scent—floods my senses as he slides deeper into my mouth, and I breathe through my nose, swirling my tongue around his crown until he hisses, pulls back out, and plunges into my mouth again.
And I just take it. It’s maddening and baffling in equal measure; I’ve hated this man for as long as I’ve known him, avoided him for years.
And yet here, in this room, on my knees and with his alpha scent practically seeping into my skin, my alpha stops fighting for dominance.
It’s totally quiet, crushed under the weight of his focused attention and the taste of him heavy on my tongue.
Levi clamps a hand more firmly on the back of my neck, his long fingers anchoring me into place as his massive thighs go rigid. “Oui, just like that, gros,” he groans, his accent thick and breathless, a dark praise that makes my own pheromones spike in a violent wave of receptive heat.
I grip the flesh of his thighs with my free hand, bringing the other up to cover the part of him I can’t reach with my mouth. I dig my calloused fingers into his skin, refusing to let him dictate the pacing entirely.
Before he can boil over, Levi suddenly grips my hair tightly, his breathing frantic as he pulls my head back. I let go of him with a wet sound, my chest heaving as I stare up at him, my vision slightly blurred.
“Attends,” Levi pants. “Stop. If you keep going, I am going to finish in your mouth, and we are not done. Not by a long shot.”
I wipe my mouth with the back of my forearm and let him pull me to my feet, trying to hide the tremor in my knees.
But before I can find my footing, Levi palms me through my silk shorts, grinning smugly as his hand makes contact with the heat of my erection and I let out a rough groan.
My balls feel like they’re filled with lead, hanging heavy and sensitive at the base of my neglected cock, and I hate how much I want him to touch me.
“I’m glad you are enjoying this,” he sneers, pulling his hand away so I have to bite back a pathetic whimper. “It will make it so much easier to fuck you.”
“Jesus, Bastien, do you ever shut up.”
“Not when I am having this much fun,” he laughs, tugging my shorts all the way down past my knees and completely exposing me to the warm air of the room.
His tongue darts out to wet his lips when he takes in the sight of me, his gaze turning predatory.
“Putain, you are a big boy, uh? Such a shame to let such a big cock go to waste, but rules are rules.”
To my surprise, he gives my cock one tight, lingering stroke anyway, as if he can’t help himself, a flash of pleasure burning through my lower half before he pushes me to the edge of the sofa, the cold leather pressing against my calves. I step out of my shorts.
“Turn around, Dylan,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a deep, commanding register that makes me shiver. “On your knees, hands on the back of the sofa. I want you to show me exactly how nicely you can submit.”
And fuck, my brain wants to bite back, but my body follows his instructions to the letter.
He curses brokenly in French when I’m in position on the sofa, and I’m painfully aware that he can see every intimate part of me right now.
I jump slightly when his hands land on my shoulders, tracing a reverent path down the muscles of my back, all the way to my ass, which he spreads open with his strong hands. “Look at you. Dylan Long. Fuck.”
I hear him spit, before a thick drop of slickness lands directly on my exposed hole. My cock throbs. He pushes his thumb through the wetness, spreading it over the puckered ring of muscle and sending an unexpected spark of electricity up my spine.
When he pushes the tip of his thumb inside me, I gasp.
“Relax, gros,” he says. “So tight. You have done this before?”
I hesitate, before shaking my head.
He hums, and the movement of his thumb slows, before he withdraws it. I huff out a frustrated breath, although I’m not entirely sure what I’m frustrated about.
“There are other ways I can fuck you,” he says, massaging my ass with one hand in a way I shouldn’t find soothing, but I do. “Slide between these big thighs, or your mouth again—”
“I’m not backing out now, Bastien,” I grit out, looking back with a face of steely determination. “You said it yourself, I’m a man of my word. And I’m not giving you something else to throw back in my face next time we face each other.”
Levi cackles, looking delighted. “Oh, so there will be a next time? You are not avoiding me anymore like a little baby?”
I bristle. “Next time you’ll be the one on your fucking knees—”
“You should be so lucky! You would not know what to do with me—”
“Can you shut the fuck up and fuck me?” I growl. “Jesus Christ.”
He laughs in disbelief, flashing his teeth gleefully. “Seeing as you asked so nicely.”
He grabs his discarded shorts off the floor, pulling a small bottle from the pocket and popping the cap.
“You were so confident I’d give in that you brought lube?” I say, affronted.
He gives me an incredulous look. “You would have preferred me not to? Are you crazy?”
I flush, because obviously he’s right, but I’m still offended by the audacity of it. Luckily, he doesn’t wait for a response from me before drizzling a generous amount of the cool liquid over my hole and pushing a finger up to the knuckle in one smooth motion, my initial gasp turning into a groan.
“That shut you up,” he murmurs, his free hand gripping my waist as he starts to move his finger.
“I—you—” I stutter, overwhelmed by the strange, slick drag of him against my insides. “Fuck.”
He chuckles darkly. “Good boy. Just take it.”
He pushes another finger in alongside the first, the stretch forcing a helpless sound from the back of my throat. I can feel my hard-wired alpha instincts screaming at me to fight back against the invasion, but they’re distant, and they only get further away with every hot press of his fingers.
My hands clutch the back of the sofa when he adds a third finger, my scent losing the final remnants of the bitter, combative edge it was holding on to and turning thick and syrupy.
Levi shifts his hand, and my hips twitch violently, all the air escaping my lungs as a sweet, electric ache blooms where he brushes against my prostate.
“Look at how you open up for me so well,” Levi pants, and I’m relieved that his composure finally seems to be fracturing.
His cheeks have darkened, the smugness in his tone replaced by a rare, raw note.
He withdraws his hand, leaving me cold and empty.
“Enough waiting. Look at me, Dylan. I want to see your eyes.”
That feels like a step beyond the wager, but fuck it. I’m in deep enough already, and maybe there’s a part of me that wants to see the look on his face when he sinks into me for the first time, too.