Hunter
Ilost an entire day to painting. My obsession clearly has no concept of time and seeing Evans shirtless, sleepy and relaxed in my kitchen had unlocked some sort of creative spark that I desperately wanted to capture on canvas.
I’d locked the workroom door behind me, barely aware of anything…
Other than him. My coffee was tasteless, my sandwich was like eating a sponge as all my thoughts focused on my alpha housemate.
All that lingered were errant ideas about what colours I needed, if I had the right canvas, where I’d last used and left my favourite brushes.
My mind was focused on how I was going to capture those flecks of caramel in his dark eyes.
Or the soft pink hue of his bottom lip, which was slightly darker than the top one.
Mine.
Mine.
Mine.
When Evans left with my father to hike the trail up the mountain, my alpha hyperawareness kicked up a notch, conscious that the mate it craved had left the building.
With my rut nearing, my base instincts were more dominant, more feral as that part of me took the helm.
During that phase, alphas were just as vulnerable as omegas in their heat.
The urge to breed, the mark, to claim would tear through my body and it would be a painful battle of wills to resist.
My father and sister were always careful to stay away from my cabin, even without my rut.
Dominant alphas found it easier to relax if their space wasn’t tainted by another scent and while I managed it back in Oakley, here they wanted me to have something that was just mine.
A place where I didn’t have to fight to keep control.
Evans was different. I liked how his bergamot lime was beginning to permeate everything.
It was like he was merging with me as our scents mingled.
It was still clashing, a jarring combination of spiced orange and lime, but I liked it.
Bitterness with sweetness. There was a battle for dominance even between our pheromones, but it worked.
It wasn’t for everyone, but that wasn’t the point.
I wanted to drown in that scent.
I wanted him.
Mine.
My mate.
The canvas takes shape and time drifts away in a blur of ochre and hues of cedar.
It’s him.
Always him.
His olive skin. Dark eyes. The dimples that appear when he smiles. The stupid things he comes out with. The silly little pranks. He’s taken root in my soul, and like a hungry weed desperate to survive, refuses to be removed.
Paint covers me, drying so it itches, pulling my skin tight, embedding itself under my nails.
I’d finally left my art room in the early hours of the morning but sleep avoided me.
Creeping past him on the sofa, I’d resisted the urge to scent him as I grabbed the sandwich and water he’d left out for me.
Instead, I settled for staring longingly, like some abandoned puppy before admitting defeat and heading upstairs with the sweaty red vest he’d borrowed that afternoon tucked under my arm.
With my rut due, it felt like ants were crawling under my skin especially being this close to Evans, the person my alpha had latched onto.
There’s no easy way to explain the restlessness to someone who has never experienced it.
It’s like my body isn’t my own as my alpha brain begins to take over, driven by need and desire. It’s feral and raw.
The increased levels of horniness I’d been struggling with back at Oakley were now ramping up, rising like a tide.
Pretty soon it would be a storm in which all sanity would have fled, leaving me shipwrecked with the need to mate.
To claim. To breed. I planned to be back in Oakley when that happened, so I could lock myself in my art room away from Evans for a few days.
The clock beside my bed ticks, the sound monotonous, but grounding as the light in the room shifts.
I push down my boxers and toss them on the floor.
Wrapping my hand around my cock lazily, I try to curb the edge of the need building low in my gut.
Grabbing the vest, I groan lowly, clenching it in my fist and bringing it to my nose, I inhale deeply.
It smells like the two us and fuck if that doesn’t make my dick throb.
I give myself a slow tug, letting my back arch as I do, breathing in the scent of us. I needed more. Wanted more. My cock leaks, dripping precum down my shaft as I fuck into my fist, hips moving of their own accord.
Fuck, Evans.
Evans.
Mine.
No, not mine, I remind myself. I just wanted him to be.
“Yo! Hunter, get up you lazy fucker!” My bedroom door crashes open, practically slamming against the sale as Evans barges, no knock, no warning.
He’s shirtless, wearing only another pair of slutty grey shorts that show his dick print and a cap that’s facing backwards. I drop the vest I’m holding, inhaling the real thing as his pheromones spike, flooding the room.
He freezes, nostrils flaring as his pupils blow wide open. For a moment he says nothing, and I wonder if he’s mentally checked out. Biting down on my bottom lip, I reach down to give my balls a gentle tug. He’s transfixed, not sure whether to look at my Prince Albert piercing or my dick.
“Are you just going to stand there and watch?” I say with a head tilt, jerking myself slowly, letting more precum bead on the tip of my flushed cock.
“Can I?”
Heat floods his cheeks as my mouth drops open. Did he really just ask me that? Rubbing the back of his neck he lowers his gaze, but I can still feel him staring at me from beneath his lashes. My best friend apparently had a kink for watching.
“Uh. Shit. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“I have no problem being watched…you already know that.” I wasn’t shy. I also wasn’t the one crossing the line here. But Evans was a big boy and if he wanted to play with danger that was his choice. Besides, it wasn’t the first time he’d watched. Little pervert.
His eyes darken as he takes a hesitant step forward. Almost like he’s afraid I’ll spook if he moves, his stare is glued to me, and it’s pretty hot, jerking off while he observes me.
“Looks like I’m not the only one who needs to take the edge off…” We both stare at the bulge in his shorts, no longer just a dick print but a full on tent situation.
The flush on his skin spreads, moving down his chest and turning the tips of his ears bright pink. The tension between us is palpable, thick and heavy with pheromones and lust.
Reaching up, I flick my nipple ring with a low moan. “Why don’t you pull out that fat cock and take care of the problem?”
I’m urging him to do it. Pull out his dick and come with me. Fuck, if I thought begging would work, I would do that too. I would get on my knees right now for him.
“It’d just be two dudes getting off. No homo bro,” I snort with a small chuckle.
“Don’t be a shithead,” Evans rolls his eyes, with a small sigh, the tension simmering now as the awkwardness fades and he commits to whatever it is he’s thinking.
I’m watching it all play out on his face, the want, the curiosity, the shame, the hunger as he licks his lips.
He probably doesn’t even realise how much he’s broadcasting.
He wants this. He just doesn't understand why yet.
He hesitates for a moment, but it barely lasts a full second before he’s crawling onto my bed. Unexpected, but I kinda dig it as he moves between my legs, pushing them further apart with his thick thighs.
“Fuckkkk,” he whispers, the word harsh and drawn out as he kneels over me, staring down. Pushing his sweatpants down so they rest below his balls, he pulls out his cock. He’s not wearing any underwear, but that doesn’t surprise me. It’s not like he packed for this trip.
He wants to touch me, I know he does but he holds back. Me spread before him like a buffet while I beat off is fine, but touching, that’s clearly a big no. I’ve already had his dick in my mouth, back in Crest Haven but whatever, I’ll take what I can get.
Evans leans forward, placing his palm flat on the wall near my bed, the position pushing my legs higher so that they’re now draped over his thighs.
With his other hand, he takes his cock and gives it a stroke.
It almost looks like he’s in pain, the way his body trembles, the mushroom tip of his dick flushed and engorged.
Fuck, I did that to him. I made him like that.
The bulge of his knot is already slightly visible, almost like he’s on the verge of popping it without even fucking anything.
The urge to touch it, to wrap my hands around it and squeeze, milking him until he’s begging and mewling my name is strong.
The need to please him, breed him, was fraying my nerves.
I knew I had to hold back, but I only had so much patience.
Just one word from him, and I knew I would crack.
I’d have the beefy jock on his back, impaled on my cock faster than the speed of light.
Just the thought alone has me moving faster, pumping my hand as wet noises and panted breaths fill the room,
Evans is so close now, his forehead almost touching mine, lips just inches away as his hand shuttles over his own dick. His precum drips onto my stomach, leaving a sticky puddle on my skin. Fuck, I want just a taste…
No.
Behave.
Not yet.
“Fuck, I’m so close,” he grunts, and I glance between us to watch as he jerks off, inches away from me. His cock would brush up against mine if he just moved a little closer. He doesn’t.
“I’m gonna cum,” I warn, playing with my piercing with the tip of my thumb as I tighten my grip. There’s a familiar electric sensation at the base of my spine, spreading through me, building to a crescendo.
“Do. It. Come.” There’s an alpha command laced in his voice, but I doubt he even realises he’s doing it. My dick does though, and my body arches as my balls tighten and I’m lost to pure sensation. Nothing but pleasure moves through me as cum hits my stomach and chest in thick, hot jets.
Fuck, he was going to ruin me.