Page 21 of Healing the Alpha

“Fuck, Max,” I growl, looking down again so I can watch the lewd way my cock totally disappears between his lips. “You’re a fucking menace.”

I know I’m done for when he looks back up at me. Those dark eyes, glassy and glinting with a wicked competitive edge which still has the ability to piss me off, even when I’m drowning in absolute ecstasy, staring up at me like he knows exactly what he’s doing to me and he’s loving every second of proving how much power he has over me. It’s pornographic, an image tailored specifically to make me lose my shit in record time.

My hips start twitching on their own, the pleasure coiling faster than I can get a handle on.

“Shit, I’m gonna blow, Max—”

I try to pull back, but Max tightens his grip on my ass and pulls me as deep as I can go, still staring at me with eyes that are just beginning to tear up, and I lose it. I barrel over the edge so hard it’s all I can do to cling to his hair and pray my legs don’t give way as I shoot down his throat, the sensation of him swallowing around me pushing me into a whole other level of sensitivity.

It’s unbearable. Sickeningly good. So mind-numbingly hot that I might never be able to look at Max again without getting pissed off by how fucking incredible he is at this.

He looks way too pleased with himself when he leans back on his heels, wiping his mouth with his forearm and reaching over to turn the water off as I sag back against the wall.

“So I win, right?” he smirks.

“Fuck off.”

“I’m the better blowjob-giver. I don’t think you can deny it after that.”

“This is not the time to be challenging me, dude. I’m an alpha in rut, I’ll fight you, I swear to god.”

“No, you won’t. I just drained all the fight right out of your balls.”

He’s not wrong. My legs have turned to jello, and the thought of fighting Max makes me feel a little queasy. I help him up to his feet, sliding a hand up his abs just because I can. “You’ve had more practice than me.”

He snorts. “By exactly one blowjob. Feel free to even the score any time you like.” I grab his ass as we step out of the shower, fully ready and willing to prove I can do better, but he swats me away, laughing. “Actually, give me a couple hours, my dick is sore as hell.”

Probably just as well, because deep down I know I could never, ever top whatever magic he just performed. Not that that’s going to stop me from trying, because I’d rather die than admit defeat.

“Movie?” he asks, toweling off my hair for me. “I think we could both do with looking at something other than your bedroom walls for a couple hours.”

“Sure,” I say, because nothing in the world sounds better than crashing out to a movie with Max next to me right now. “I’m not promising I’ll make it through an entire movie without jumping you, though.”

“I’d be offended if you didn’t, at this point,” he grins, and something about that makes warmth flare right in my gut. “I’m picking the movie, though.”

I groan, letting him dry off my legs before I tug on a pair of loose shorts. “You’re gonna pick a kung-fu movie, aren’t you?”

“Fuck yes I am.”

“It’s gonna be a Bruce Lee film, isn’t it?”

“Ding ding ding! Hey, don’t look at me like that, I’ve earned it.”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t exactly argue with that.

Max

I sit frozen on the couch, barely breathing so I don't disturb the heavy, warm weight pressed against my chest. The movie finished an hour ago. A boxing video plays on mute, light flickering across the dark living room while subtitles scroll across the screen. Kyle’s head is heavy on my sternum, his body relaxed into mine, my thumb brushing slowly over his hip.

He stirs with a low groan, his brow furrowing as he blinks his eyes open, groggy and disoriented.

“You okay?” I murmur, keeping my voice low.

He hums, rubbing a hand over his face. “I feel… like shit.”

“Your rut’s probably breaking,” I say softly, reaching up to press the back of my hand against his forehead. The violent fever has died down to a thrumming warmth, although his pupils are still blown out. “Let’s get you drugs and into bed.”

“Drugs sound good,” he mutters. “Bed sounds good.”