Levi
“You took your fucking time,” I say, ushering Dylan into the room and ignoring the quick burst of relief that washes over me at the sight of him at my door.
I take a second to admire the way his sweats stretch tight over the swell of his ass, more than a little sad I won’t be getting to use it again tonight.
“I wanted to give you time to recover,” he says gruffly. “Wasn’t sure if you’d be up to it after that knock.”
I follow him in, watching as he looks around the room like it’s not a carbon copy of the room he’s staying in. “Pfft. It was a tap.”
He gives me an unconvinced look that makes me grin. “And I wasn’t sure if you’d have gotten rid of your trainers yet. Mine were trying to drag me out to celebrate.”
“I’m sure,” I say with a wry smile. “No, I told them to fuck off as soon as we got out of the arena. I did not need a long breakdown of all my fuck-ups.”
I don't mention that I’ll be saving that particular joy for next time I’m at the gym.
Luke’s a good trainer with a pristine record, but my god the guy’s an asshole.
It’s all sunshine and rainbows until you lose a fight, and then he’ll tear you down until the only thing pushing you to win the next one is pure fury alone.
Dylan frowns. “That’s shitty.”
He looks so genuinely concerned that I almost forget that he’s here because he nearly knocked me into next week an hour ago and has come to fuck me as a reward.
“Hmm,” I hum, rounding on him. I get close enough that I can see the pulse kicking in Dylan’s neck. “But you are not here to talk about my asshole trainer, are you, Dylan?”
He shakes his head, swallowing thickly. “No.”
I lean in closer, hooking one finger into the waistband of his sweats and snapping it against his taut abdomen. “Then what are you here for?”
Dylan breathes in through his teeth.
“Get on your knees,” he grunts, pushing me down by my shoulders, although I’m dropping to the floor before the command has even finished coming out of his mouth. So what if I’ve been dying to get his cock in my mouth since last time? It’s a nice cock. Magnificent, even.
“No messing around, eh?” I smirk, pushing down his sweats and chuckling darkly when his cock springs out, already fully hard and hot in my hand.
My alpha bristles, not happy at being on my knees for another alpha, but the instinct to fight back is easier to resist knowing that he’s done the same to me before.
And my eagerness to taste him helps, too.
I take him into my mouth, swiping my tongue over his slit and savoring the salty taste of him as his thighs quiver. I tug lightly on his balls, flattening my tongue against the taut underside of his shaft and sinking down slowly, looking up at him through my lashes as I do it.
Basically, I remind him exactly why he’s been thinking about this for nine months.
And it works. Dylan looks like he’s one breath away from shattering like a pane of glass, his breathing ragged as his fingers flit between my hair and my shoulders, like he needs to hold onto something but can’t decide what.
And maybe I should find that funny, but it’s just so fucking hot.
He tastes like adrenaline and sweat, just pure alpha, and I think I could do this all night if he let me.
Just licking his cock and watching the expression on his face grow more and more blissed out until he falls apart.
I know I’m meant to be the loser here, but the way I can make the corners of his eyes crease and his lower lip twitch with just a flick of my tongue… well, that feels a lot like power.
“Ah—enough,” he groans eventually, pulling me up by my collar roughly.
I wipe my mouth with the back of my arm when we’re level, feeling way too smug for someone who just lost a fight.
Dylan’s eyes dance over my lips, no doubt red and swollen from use, and the rapidly-forming marks his fists left behind.
I’m still willing to bet that he looks more wrecked than I do.
“Are you going to fuck me?” I rasp, the question coming out as more of a challenge than I intend, but I can’t turn off that competitive edge around him, even when I’m supposed to be submitting.
It’s just too damn fun. Dylan flushes, turning his eyes away from my intense gaze until I guide his eyes back to mine with a nudge to his chin.
I’m pretty sure this should be the easiest question in the world for him to answer—I could see how hard he’s been training for this fight over the last nine months in every punch he threw in the ring.
He was more focused than I’ve ever seen him, putting everything into beating my ass—presumably so he’d win the opportunity to bury himself in it.
But he’s not saying anything. The cogs are turning behind those dark, pensive eyes, but no words are coming out.
“Cat got your tongue, mon grande?” I taunt, trying to get a reaction out of him.
I grip his jaw roughly between my finger and thumb, searching his eyes and expecting him to struggle or shake me off.
But he goes slack and still under my hold.
“I thought I’d be ass up on the couch as soon as I closed the door behind you.
Unless you’re getting cold feet? Feeling a little scared? ”
“Fuck off,” he spits, but it comes out weak.
My other hand slides slowly up his arm, tracing the impressive line of his biceps and shoulders, enjoying the feeling of the firm muscle under my fingertips.
The hotel lighting reflects off the contours of his body, casting them in an alluring, bronze glow.
“You were not scared last time, were you?” I continue, squeezing his shoulder hungrily and remembering how easily he submitted to me in that dingy dressing room.
I remember the way his lips parted as I opened him up, and how beautifully he came all over my cock, all the competitive alpha bitterness edged out of his scent until all that was left was that content, intoxicating sweetness.
And then I look at him. Really look at him. The slack jaw, the blush high on his cheeks and the half-lidded eyes. The way his muscles relax under my grip, all the tension easing away the longer I hold him still.
Holy shit. Holy shit.
“Mon dieu.” I slide the hand that’s anchoring his jaw down to his neck, digging my fingers into the pale, sensitive flesh as the realization that maybe he’s thinking about changing the terms of our wager starts to dawn on me.
The grip I have on his neck would have any other alpha trying to break my wrist on pure instinct alone, but Dylan doesn’t even flinch.
No—he fucking sighs.
And then he immediately looks totally horrified with himself. “Hmph, Fuck, Levi—”
“You want me to take you again, eh?” I say slowly, rubbing a soothing thumb over his neck. For once, I don’t tease him. Whatever internal crisis is happening behind those eyes, I don’t want to make it worse.
Dylan tilts his head into my touch, looking turned on and tortured at the same time. “Don’t make me say it,” he mutters.
“I won’t,” I hum. “You won tonight. You earned that much. But if you won’t tell me, you’ll have to show me.”
Dylan doesn’t move for a moment. Slowly, his hand comes to my hip, burrowing under my t-shirt so he can trace a firm, deliberate circle into my skin as a silent signal. And that’s good enough for me.
He already looks so fucking gone. I cup his jaw, pushing my thumb into his mouth, and he parts his lips and takes it inside like it’s a fucking prize, like he’s been waiting for it all night.
Maybe longer. His eyes are soft and hazy, and the way he’s looking at me should be so out of place on this tank of an alpha, but it fits him like a glove.
And fuck, this is dangerous. Dylan Long is dangerous—always has been.
So I kiss him. It’s reckless, and probably crosses every unspoken boundary between us, but fuck it. We’ve not signed any contracts. The rules of this wager are ill-defined at best, and getting flimsier by the second. And he just looks too fucking sweet to resist.
He makes a small noise of surprise in the back of his throat when I bring our mouths together, but he melts into me without resistance almost instantly.
It’s kind of breathtaking, the way his big body folds against my chest and his lips slide against mine as another one of those breathy sighs falls out of him.
Our tongues brush, his scent sweet and heavy as it intertwines with mine. He tastes like whiskey and caramel.
But the softness doesn’t last long.
The moment I break the kiss, the lingering tenderness evaporates, replaced by the intense heat of two alphas operating on pure desire, built up over the course of nine long months.
Our clothes come off quickly, a wild scramble of hands and bare flesh, until I’m pushing him back into the soft hotel sheets with a hand on his chest.
He goes down heavily, a rough grunt slipping from his lips, as I hook my hands under his thighs and pry them apart, slotting myself between them.
“W-what are you doing?” Dylan gasps as I spread the globes of his perfect ass, flinching like he thinks I’m about to hit him again.
I shrug nonchalantly, dipping my head down to lick a stripe over his hole and grinning when he jerks, his eyes clouding with lust and his thick eyebrows knitting together.
“You are still the winner, yes? And I am a man of my word. So maybe I am fucking you, but I am fucking you like a winner deserves to be fucked.”
Dylan buries his face in the crook of one massive arm with a broken moan as I get back to work, lapping at his hole until his legs are trembling around me. I only pull away to find the lube I stashed in my bag, haphazardly thrown into a corner when I got here earlier this afternoon.