Page 17 of Healing the Alpha

And then his mouth is back on me, and my hands are gripping his head and pushing him down and he’s swallowing me with no resistance.

“So fucking good,” I gasp, my cock stiffening, balls drawing all the way up as his tongue flicks over my slit and how the hell is he so good at this? “I’m gonna come, Max—shit—I’m gonna nut—”

Max pulls back until only my crown is in his mouth, jerking my length with a tight grip that makes my head spin as the first orgasm of my rut rips its way through me like a hurricane, shaking me to my core as I spill over Max’s tongue with a groan. I come so hard it’s borderline painful, and it does jack fucking shit to take the edge off my rut.

I come down too quickly, my cock still hard and throbbing, Max still staring up at me with blown out pupils and puffy lips.

“Don’t swallow it,” I say hoarsely, untangling my hand from Max’s hair and opening my palm underneath his mouth. “Spit.”

Max obeys without hesitation, opening his mouth to reveal the thick, obscene load of cum pooled on his tongue, before spitting it filthily into my hand. A thick rope of it stretches from his lips to the puddle in my palm, and I make a mental note to store this image in a place I can never, ever forget it.

“Good alpha. Turn the fuck around,” I growl. “Present yourself for me.”

Max can’t wrestle off his sweats fast enough, stripping naked and sliding onto his front. His body may as well be carved out of stone, honed from years of training and so, so different from the omegas I’m used to fucking. He’s strong where they’re weak, hard where they’re soft. Big where they’re small. And I want him more than I’ve ever wanted any omega; so badly it feels like I might splinter into a thousand pieces if I don’t get inside him right fucking now.

I instinctively try to use my broken arm to spread him open, huffing in frustration when I can’t.

“Tell me what you want,” Max says, twisting to look at me.

“Spread yourself,” I command. “Show me your hole.”

Max does as I say. His hole is dark and puckered, visibly tight and so clearly un-omega. No glistening slick to get him ready for me. But I have foresight. Because I’ve been thinking about this since way before I went into rut.

I drip the cum that’s pooled in my hand over his ass, watching it slide thickly down his crack. It coats his hole and runs down his taint to his balls, and I smear it over his rim, tracing a circle around the tight muscle until it’s winking at me.

“Oh shit,” Max groans, his grip on his cheeks slipping. “That’s so fucking hot, Ky. So fucking dirty.”

I use what’s left on my hand to slick my cock. My alpha is screaming at me to jam my dick inside him, to split him open and pump my hips until I’m breeding his needy hole. But the logical part of my brain is fighting back.

He’s not an omega. He’s not an omega. He’s not an omega.

I stare at his hole and the muscles of his ass and the curve of his waist, and I slide my cock between the warm meat of his asscheeks, and I hold myself back.

“Ky,” he says, half into the duvet, half into the air. “Take what you need. I fucking want it.”

I breathe out sharply through my nose. He’s still taking care of me, even now. And I may not be able to stop myself from fucking him, but if he can do this for me, then I can at least make it good for him.

I push a finger into his ass as slowly as I can manage, my mouth going slack as he clenches around the intrusion and makes a soft noise in his throat.

“More,” he whispers.

“Who’s in charge here, Max?” I say.

“You are, alpha,” he replies, shuddering as I push in deeper.

“Tell me how it feels.”

He hesitates as I pull back, only to push back in, right to the knuckle. He’s so hot inside. “Weird. Not bad.”

When he starts to push his ass back I add another finger alongside the first, my cock thickening as he buries his head in the bedcovers. When I feel him relax around two fingers, I add a third, stretching him out.

“A lot,” he says, sounding strained. “It feels like a lot.”

I crook my fingers, and he gasps, his hips jerking.

“Good,” he whines. He fucking whines. “Right there. God—”

“Tell me you want it,” I rumble, needing to hear it. “Tell me, Maxie.”