Dylan #2
I grunt, because fuck, I am. The hard push of his cock into my throat is going some way to scratching the unbearable itch that’s crawling underneath my skin, and even though my hand isn’t doing much more than loosely gripping my cock as I focus on the delicious heat of Levi against my tongue, I’m already seconds from blowing.
One more press of the blunt head of his cock against the back of my throat is all it takes for me to break, pleasure ripping through me in a violent burst and dirtying the inside of my shorts.
“Tu es incroyable,” Levi mutters, pulling out of my mouth when I’ve finished shuddering and groaning around his cock.
His length is an angry, swollen shade of red and glistening with slickness, and if I don’t get it inside me in the next minute I feel like there might be real, serious consequences to my mental and physical health.
“You have to fuck me,” I say, my voice rough from the abuse of the last few minutes. “Like, now.”
I stand on shaky legs and start pulling him over to the sofa, forgetting that his jeans are still halfway around his ankles.
“Let me take my pants off first, you fucking animal,” he laughs, but his laughter turns into a deep groan when I leave him behind to sort himself out, stepping out of my shorts and bending myself over the sofa.
I’m dimly aware that I’m effectively presenting myself for him—possibly the most submissive thing one alpha can do to another—but the primal arousal surging through my bloodstream and the unforgiving ache in my hole isn’t leaving me much headspace to care about it.
“Lube,” he says bluntly. “Where is it?”
Shit. It’s in the bedroom, but I am not waiting for him to go find it.
“Here.” I beckon him over, smearing his length with the mess of cum I spurted over my own hand thirty seconds ago, my insides swooping at the small curse he lets out in response. “I’m still prepped from earlier.”
“Earlier?” he says, sounding awed and so deliriously turned on it makes my stomach clench. “You fucked yourself before I got here?”
“Just fingers,” I murmur, resting my forehead against the back of the sofa as Levi positions himself behind me. “It wasn’t enough.”
“You needed my cock to be satisfied, oui?” he says, hands kneading the meat of my ass. “Dirty motherfucker.”
“As if you don’t love it.”
“Merde, I do,” he says. And then he finally, finally gives me what my body has been inexplicably crying out for since the moment the rut hormones started circulating in my body.
He presses the wide head of his cock against my still-slick hole, driving forward until he slides past the tight ring of muscle and into the eager heat of my ass.
“Holy shit,” I practically sob, the force of his first thrust rocking me against the sofa and filling me with a deep, aching pleasure. “More, Levi, please.”
He doesn’t tease me or make a smart comment about me begging. He just anchors his hands around the tight curve of my waist and pulls me onto him, angling his hips to hit that spot that makes me fall to pieces every time, not holding back a single iota of his incredible power.
He fucks me hard and fast, and it’s everything I need.
The brutal push and pull of his cock satisfies the physical craving that’s been gnawing away at me, and the ragged sound of his breathing and every little whispered French curse word satisfies something even deeper—the need to please someone else with my body, to make them come apart just like I am. The need to please him.
I’m so lost to the relentless, savage pleasure pulsing through me, my head dropping between my shoulder blades, that when Levi wraps his hand around my aching cock it takes me completely by surprise. My head snaps up, whirling back to look at him as a jolt of electricity sparks up my spine.
“Fuck, Levi. I’m close—” I warn.
Levi’s face is a vision of pure alpha power, all sharp lines and dark features, and goddamn if it isn’t the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.
With his cock branding me from the inside and his hand driving me into oblivion, it’s impossible to ignore how devastatingly, painfully attractive I find him. No one else has ever even come close.
“Come for me, alpha,” he pants. “Give it up to me.”
I come just like that, watching his lips part on a broken groan as I clench around him, the convulsions of my hole as I spill over his hand milking his own orgasm from him.
His brow creases in pleasure, his slick muscles tensing as he resists the urge to still inside me so he can fuck me through my own earth-shattering climax, goading every last drop of my release out of me.
When he finally nudges me onto the sofa, collapsing beside me with a dazed, satisfied smile on his face, I could cry with relief. My rut is far from over, but it’s quietened just a little, the edges well and truly softening when he scratches his fingernails over my knee absent-mindedly.
I want to bury my nose in his neck, but Levi gives me the next best option, cupping my jaw with both hands and dragging me over to him for a slow kiss that has me burning up again by the time he pulls away breathlessly.
A satisfied growl rumbles in his throat when he glances down at my lap, taking in the sight of my cock, still hard and dripping with a mixture of my previous release and a new wave of precum.
“Animal,” he grins, pressing another short kiss to my lips. “Take me to your shower. I will steal your shampoo and suck you off, okay?”
I nod happily, feeling hot and fragile and stupidly grateful.
—
The spiral comes later. I’ve been expecting it since I pressed the button to call Levi this afternoon, but it’s only in the depths of the night, when I wake up hot and slightly sore, that my brain has a chance to catch up with itself.
I don’t know what time it is when I blink my eyes open, but the street beyond my curtains is dark and quiet, and Levi is breathing deeply next to me.
His face is relaxed, lips slightly parted.
We’ve separated during the night, but one of his hands is still curled over the muscle of my thigh, occasionally twitching in his sleep.
I stare at the smooth contours of his face, and feel the first tendrils of shame and confusion twist around my insides.
Because this isn’t normal, and I know it.
Not sleeping with another alpha—that, I can deal with.
It’s uncommon, sure, but I’ve never judged it.
Marcus and Alex are proof of that: two of the strongest alphas I know, and the most solid couple I’ve ever seen.