Dylan #3
I twist my neck, my vision hazy, the thump of my pulse loud in my ears.
Levi’s eyes lock onto mine as he slicks himself up and positions himself at my entrance, and the throbbing heat of him pressing against me is a final, sobering reminder that this is actually happening. We’re actually fucking doing this.
The ridiculousness of it nearly makes me laugh out loud, but then Levi is driving forward, and I’m stretching around him, and I can barely breathe.
“Oh.” The word falls out of me on a strained gasp, the intensity of him filling me taking me completely by surprise. It’s so much. So full. And when I close my eyes, focusing on the weight of him behind me and forcing my rigid muscles to soften, even alongside the burn, it’s so fucking good.
When I flutter my eyes back open, Levi is looking at me with a blissed out look on his face that makes my alpha preen, and he’s buried all the way to the hilt.
His eyes study mine for a long moment, but then he grins at whatever he sees there, one of those slow, infuriating smiles. And then he starts to move.
We groan in unison as he pulls back out before driving deep again, setting a slow, steady rhythm that rocks me forward against the leather, the sound of our skin slapping together obscenely filling the small space.
He picks up his pace, crushing my body forward against the sofa so his front is almost pressed against my back, angling his hips just right so the thick head of his cock presses against that spot inside me relentlessly, forcing desperate, ragged sounds out of me.
And Jesus Christ, I don’t want to fight back. I don’t want anything but the weight of him against my back and the overwhelming release of submitting to him like this.
“It feels good?” he pants against my ear, his lips dangerously close to my scent gland, but my alpha is completely okay with it. Alarmingly at-ease with his closeness.
I nod frantically, my head dropping forward as he bottoms out with every devastating jab of his hips. “Yeah,” I stutter, forgetting everything I ever thought about holding on to my pride. “So good.”
Then his hands are on my shoulders, holding me fast and pulling us together, my vision blurring as pleasure gathers in the pit of my stomach, building to a fever pitch embarrassingly fast.
Levi’s fingers dig harder into my shoulders, anchors keeping me pinned right where he wants me as the pace shifts to something frantic, his rhythm faltering as he edges towards his peak.
“Dylan,” he gasps against the side of my neck, his hot breath fanning over my burning skin. “Putain, you are destroying me. Stay right there. Don’t move.”
I don’t. I couldn't even if I wanted to. My fingers hook into the stiff leather of the sofa as the coils of tension in my lower stomach tighten to a breaking point, my inner alpha drowning in the thrill of submitting, of being taken apart by the only alpha who’s ever managed to get under my skin so completely.
Levi’s hips hitch, driving deep and staying there as his upper body goes completely rigid against mine. The sudden, intense spike of linen floods my senses as he boils over, but even during the throes of his orgasm he manages to reach around me, wrapping a hand tightly around my length.
And that’s all it takes. A breathless groan rips from my chest, my thighs trembling violently as the friction immediately takes me over the edge alongside him, spilling uselessly against the cushions beneath me, my eyes squeezing shut from the incredible, disarming force of it.
For a long minute, the only sound in the dressing room is the harsh puff of our synchronized breathing. Levi slumps forward, burying his face into the curve of my shoulder, his taut chest heaving against my back as our scents settle into a thick, quiet haze of exhaustion.
Footsteps in the hallway outside the dressing room snap us both back into reality.
“Merde.” Levi pulls out of me with a hiss, and I wince at the feeling of wetness seeping out of me and down my thigh as I straighten. My body feels broken. Sated, but broken.
Levi pads over to the door, pressing his ear against it and sighing in relief when the footsteps pass.
“You didn’t lock the fucking door?” I mutter harshly, turning to sit back heavily on the sofa, only narrowly avoiding sitting in my own mess.
“So what?” he shrugs, leaning down to scoop up his shorts. I try not to stare as he tugs them back on. “Can you blame me? I was about to fuck you. I was distracted.”
I roll my eyes, still catching my breath.
“Everyone probably thinks we left already,” he continues, picking up my shorts and throwing them at me. I catch them, and he pauses, pushing his dark hair back. “I should go. You will be okay?”
“Yeah, of course,” I say, slightly taken aback by the question. “I should go too. I’m dead.”
“Next time we fight—”
“I’ll knock you out, then make you suck my dick,” I finish for him, smiling weakly.
He huffs a laugh, eyes dancing. “We will see.”
Levi gives me one more look and a final, smug wink before slipping out the door. And I’m left alone, once again staring at my flushed, bruised face in the mirror, and wondering what the fuck just happened.
And when it might happen again.