15. The Alpha
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THE ALPHA
Malakai
As I lift the barbell off the rack, the cold steel presses into my palms, grounding me in the moment. The plates clink faintly as I steady myself, and as I push through each rep, the burn spreads through my chest and arms, sharp and steady. It’s a good kind of pain, the kind that silences the voice in my head and reminds me of why I’ve been hiding out at the gym instead of acknowledging what happened last night.
I’m not even sure what happened, how it went from a fun night with Sophie to somehow involving Julian. As I push my body past the limits I’ve set for myself, my jaw clenches tighter. The taste of his cum on Sophie’s lips… the salty, bitter taste… it was the first time I’d ever tasted it, and I wanted more.
And fuck… being with Sophie was addicting. The way she was so responsive, the way she fought back, only to submit beautifully… it made me feel as if I’d earned her submission. I wanted to do it again, and not just the physical things, either.
I anticipated that being with Sophie would feel transactional. That afterward, they’d be eager to go home and talk amongst the two of them. And I’d be left by myself—plus Willy, of course.
But that’s not what happened at all.
After we’d all come down from the scene, the pizza arrived, and we sat around in my living room watching Halloween . It felt… normal. Julian and I complained about the carelessness of the characters while Sophie laughed—that half snort she tried to hide—and the way her eyes lit up when she glanced at me felt like we were sharing some secret. Julian sat steady and confident next to her, his quiet intensity filling the room as always.
When he smirked at me, I felt an indescribable ripple of… something. Like an unseen electrical current.
I didn’t expect to feel this way about Julian.
That easy connection we had, the quiet respect that simmered into something heavier, something that kept me awake most of last night after they’d left, was impossible to ignore.
I couldn’t help but watch the two of them, and how they fit together seamlessly, like two halves of a whole. Julian’s hand resting casually on her knee, the way he looked at her like she was everything, and yet, somehow, it didn’t shut me out. If anything, it pulled me closer.
I felt included.
Like I’d somehow slipped into their lives in a way that felt effortless, but wasn’t supposed to happen. And I hated that I wanted more—of both of them, in every possible way.
Wanting them was a disaster waiting to happen, but it’s too late now.
I am so very fucked.
Setting the barbell back on the rack, I run a hand through my sweat-soaked hair. My arms are shaking, so I need to call it quits before I’m rendered useless tomorrow.
Wiping the sweat off my face, I glance at myself in the mirror. I threw on an old T-shirt with the arms cut off, and I’m wearing a pair of gym shorts. For a second, I wonder what Sophie—and Julian—see when they look at me. I know I’m in good shape, and I’d have to be deaf not to hear what some of the older students whisper about me.
Priest Daddy is a new one, which is funny considering I’m a pastor, not a priest.
When I was up for the headmaster position at Saint Helena Academy, I assumed that my background as a Christian pastor might spark curiosity; and not in a good way. Luckily for me, the board liked my background in education and administration as a pastor. Plus, I was very clear about my commitment to upholding the school’s values. While I’m not Catholic, I’ve taken the time to deeply understand and respect Catholic teachings, ensuring I can uphold the school’s identity and traditions.
Today, though, I don’t feel very righteous.
What I did last night was certainly not very holy.
Turning around, I go still when I see Julian laying on a nearby bench doing presses. My eyes scan the area for a spotter, and I don’t see one.
Fucking hell.
He should know it’s not safe to do bench presses with that much weight and no spotter. Then again, Julian has always been spontaneous and reckless, something I can now attribute to his ADHD. When we were young, he always had grand ideas, fixating on a certain hobby or interest. So it doesn’t surprise me that he’s on the bench by himself. Why ask someone to spot when he can get it done alone in half the time? Who cares if he smashes his skull in the process?
Grinding my jaw, I stalk over to him and help him reset while cursing under my breath.
“You reckless buffoon,” I grumble. “Ever heard of a spotter?”
Julian glares up at me. “I’m fine by myself. I’m not even lifting that heavy today. But if you want to volunteer, by all means…” His words trail off, and he arches a brow.
My jaw tics as I help him with his next rep. I attempt to keep my eyes on the nearby carpet, but he’s shirtless and that’s not helping things. I can’t help but let my gaze wander down to his toned abdomen to the sharp lines of his Adonis belt, cutting like sculpted marble into his hips, drawing my attention downward despite my better judgment.
“Enjoying the view?” Julian asks, his tone arrogant.
I help him place the barbell back on the rack, and then I force my gaze back up to Julian’s smug face, my throat tightening as if the weight he’s benching is pressing down on my chest instead. His lips twitch into a smirk, and his blue eyes twinkle with mischief that only stokes the fire simmering low in my stomach.
“You’re insufferable,” I mutter, stepping back and wiping my hands on my shorts like I can scrub away the strange, unwanted heat crawling up my neck.
Julian sits up, rolling his shoulders as if to flaunt the definition there. “Don’t be shy,” he teases, reaching for his water bottle. “You’re welcome to stare all you want. I don’t mind.” He winks, and it’s so blatantly cocky that my irritation boils over, mixing with an ache I can’t quite place.
“Why do you do that? Do you enjoy being an asshole?” My voice wavers, betraying me.
I need to leave—now.
As I pivot on my heel, Julian’s laughter follows me, low and maddeningly self-assured. “Running away already, Kai? Don’t tell me I’ve scared you off so easily. Especially after last night.”
My fists clench at my sides as I make my way toward the locker room, the air feeling heavier with every step. I slam through the door and lean against the cool tile wall, breathing hard like I just ran a marathon. My heart hammers against my ribs, and I press a hand to my chest, willing it to calm.
What the hell is wrong with me?
No — what the hell is wrong with him ?
Why is he always goading me? Does he think I’m going to somehow bend to his will? It’s infuriating he’d think I’d ever let him get under my skin like this.
But… he already has, hasn’t he?
The memory of Julian’s smirk flashes in my mind, and I groan, dragging a hand down my face. He’s just messing with me. That’s what he does—pushes buttons, crosses lines, gets under people’s skin. He’s always been that way, even as a self-assured teenager. But why does he get to me like this? Why did I let myself?—
I shake my head violently, as if I can dislodge the thought. It’s nothing. Just irritation. Annoyance.
Except the way my pulse spikes every time he looks at me says otherwise.
The locker room feels suffocating, and I head for the sink, splashing cold water on my face. I need to pull myself together. Julian’s just trying to get a reaction, and damn it, he’s succeeding. But I won’t give him the satisfaction.
I won’t.
Shoving off the sink, I walk to the showers and close the individual shower door behind me. Stripping my clothes off, I turn the shower on and stand under the hot water for several long seconds. The scalding water rushes down my back, but no matter how hot I make it, I can’t wash away the memory of his hands on me. My skin prickles at the thought, my pulse refusing to slow.
I press my forehead against the tile, letting the water cascade over me, and for the first time, I admit it to myself.
I didn’t hate it.
My whole life, I’ve been the one calling the shots—structuring every scene, every relationship, until I was the center of gravity.
But last night, with Julian pulling me into his orbit, I felt weightless.
I shouldn’t crave that loss of control. But the thought of giving in, just for a moment, sticks to me like honey, sweet and cloying in a way I can’t shake.
Using the shampoo and bodywash the gym provides, I wash myself and practice keeping my mind calm and still. I focus on the feel of the water falling down my back, the feel of my calloused fingers running down my face, the way the hot water seems to calm and comfort me.
Especially when I turn my face up and close my eyes.
When I’m done ten minutes later, I feel more balanced. Quickly drying myself off, I wrap a towel around my waist and grab my dirty clothes, heading to my locker.
For the second time, Julian is there.
His back is to me, and for a second, I consider turning around and hiding somewhere so that we don’t clash again. But he must sense my presence, because he turns around to face me, setting his phone back down in his locker. He’s still shirtless, but I don’t let the sweat glistening along the hard planes of his chest distract me.
“Good workout?” I ask, keeping my voice even as I open my locker.
“Yeah. It was nice to work through some… frustrations.”
I keep my expression even as I put my dirty clothes in my gym bag. “I see,” I say slowly, not taking the bait.
“You know, I hardly ever get to talk to the men Sophie fucks after the fact,” he says a second later.
My hands still on the zipper of my bag.
Deep breaths.
Turning around, I smirk as I drop my towel.
To Julian’s credit, he doesn’t break eye contact. Instead, one of his brows arches up, and he crosses his arms.
“So… how was it? For you, I mean.”
Don’t take the bait. Don’t take the bait.
“You sound jealous,” I offer, pulling my boxer briefs on.
He scoffs. “Hardly. I have nothing to worry about.”
My eyes find his as I step into my sweatpants. “Yeah? You sure about that?”
I don’t even know why I’m saying these things. I know Julian and Sophie are solid. But for whatever reason, I feel insecure.
Julian’s lopsided smile grows as he walks over to me. He steps so close that he backs me up against the lockers, and the cold metal presses against my hot skin.
“Oh, I’m sure. My wife enjoyed her night, and so did I. Thank you for your service.”
My nostrils flare. His smirk doesn’t waver, but I swear I see a shadow of something darker in his eyes. Triumph? No—control. He’s always been steady like that, unshakable. It’s infuriating, really. Because right now, I feel like I’m coming apart at the seams.
Sophie is his. She’ll always be his.
And me? I’m just a fun distraction. Something shiny and new until they get bored.
It shouldn’t bother me. I should know better than to let it bother me. But the way Sophie laughs when she’s around me, or the way Julian’s gaze lingers just a second too long when he thinks I’m not looking, none of it feels temporary when I’m in the moment. It feels dangerous. Like maybe I could actually matter to them. Like maybe I’m not just passing through.
But deep down, I know better.
He leans in closer, his breath warm against my ear, and I clench my fists, fighting every instinct to shove him away—or pull him closer.
“What’s wrong, Kai? You seem upset,” he murmurs, his tone just condescending enough to piss me off. “Is there a problem?”
The way he says my name sends heat rippling down my spine, and I hate how easily he gets under my skin.
“Yeah,” I manage, my voice low and strained. “You.”
His grin sharpens, like he’s waiting for me to break. To lose the upper hand I’m barely clinging to. I can’t let him have it. Not again.
He knew what he was doing last night—having Sophie kiss me, pushing his cum into my mouth. The notion of him doing whatever the fuck he wants sends me over the edge.
Before I can stop myself, I grab him by the throat. My fingers tighten just enough to make his jaw clench. His pulse beats steady against my palm, mocking me with how calm he is, even now.
“You’re enjoying this a little too much,” I growl. “You’ve always enjoyed taunting me, haven’t you?”
Julian doesn’t flinch. If anything, he leans into my grip, his smirk softening into something more dangerous. “And what are you going to do about it?”
For a moment, I think he might give in. His gaze holds mine, daring me to push further. My hand is still firm on his throat, and the air between us feels like it’s humming with electric energy.
But then he grabs my wrist and yanks it away as if it’s nothing. In one swift motion, he spins me around and pins my chest against the cold metal lockers.
The breath whooshes out of me, and I tense, trying to twist free. His hand presses firm between my shoulder blades, holding me in place.
“See?” he murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “You like being put in your place.”
His words slither down my spine like molten iron, and I grit my teeth to resist the way my body reacts. My muscles coil like I’m ready to throw him off me, but the weight of his hand pressing me into the cold metal… God, it feels grounding.
The humiliation of it should make me snap. I’m not the type to be held down. I dominate every room I walk into, whether in the pulpit or the bedroom.
But right now, I don’t feel like a pastor, or a Dom, or even the version of myself I thought I knew.
Right now, I feel like someone teetering on the edge of something that terrifies me.
A shudder runs through me, equal parts frustration and something darker, something I don’t want to name. I hate that he’s right. I hate that he knows me well enough to see through the facade.
“How does it feel to be used?” he whispers, his voice low and lethal. “Payback’s a bitch, isn’t it?”
My stomach drops. The words hit harder than they should, causing my chest to ache with an unfamiliar pain.
Is that how he sees me?
Just another body to fuck and discard when they’ve had their fun?
My grip on the metal tightens. I could push him off me—end this right now.
But the sick part is, I don’t want him to let go.
Because if I’m just being used, why does it feel so fucking personal?
Why do I enjoy it so much?
My throat tightens, my mind flashing back to that night in our dorm room—the heat of his mouth on mine, the way I’d pulled him in only to shove him away like it meant nothing.
I told myself it didn’t matter back then.
But now, with his weight pinning me to the lockers and his voice in my ear, I wonder if it ever stopped mattering.
“I find it funny that you think you’re in charge,” I offer, my mouth moving against the metal as I attempt to push back against him.
He has me completely pinned, though.
“That’s because I am.”
I huff a laugh. “You think you are.”
I feel him lean in closer, his body impossibly steady, and the weight of his words presses heavier than his grip.
“No,” he says, the faintest edge of a smirk in his voice. “I know I am.”
The way he says it—the certainty, the challenge—sends a heat rolling through me, part anger, part something else entirely. I twist against him again, desperate to regain the upper hand, but he anticipates every move, his hand firm between my shoulders.
Each movement between us carries a weight that has nothing to do with strength, the air thick with something unspoken—something electric. This isn’t just an argument.
It’s a push and pull, a battle for control neither of us is willing to lose.
“I’m always the one dominating,” I snap, even though the words feel hollow with him pinning me like this.
There’s a beat of silence, and I hate how my pulse quickens when I feel him grin against my ear.
“Until me,” he says softly, the finality in his voice leaving no room for argument.
I go still, the words sinking in deeper than they should. His weight, his voice, his control—it’s undeniable.
And for the first time, I don’t know if I want to fight it.
For the first time… I think about submitting.
Before I can respond, Julian steps away and releases me. “I should go. Have a nice day, Kai.”
I don’t turn around to watch him go. Instead, I wait, panting like I’ve just run a marathon, until I hear the shower turn on in the other room.
The cold seeps into my skin long after his weight disappears, but the imprint of his palm stays, burning like a brand across my back. I force myself upright, dragging in a breath that sticks in my throat.
I press the heels of my hands against the locker, willing myself to feel disgusted.
You should hate this.
But I don’t.
I can still feel his breath on my neck, the way he leaned in, and the calm certainty in his voice when he told me he was in charge.
It wasn’t condescending. It wasn’t a taunt.
It was the truth.
As I tug my shirt on, I feel the weight of his absence settle in my chest.
I want to call Sophie. I want to hear her laugh, the lightness in her voice that cuts through the noise in my head. I want her to tell one of her jokes, or wax poetic about the romance book she’s reading.
But I also want to see Julian. Even if we spar. Even if we taunt each other, unsure of where to file these feelings we both seem to be developing.
And that’s the part I can’t reconcile.
I don’t just want to dominate.
I want to be wanted—fully, undeniably—by both of them.
Stepping into my shoes, I grab my bag and rush for the door.