Page 9 of Healing the Alpha

His cheeks darken when he realizes what he’s said, but he doesn’t stop. I let out a breathy laugh that transforms into a groan halfway through.

“Thicker than yours,” I say.

Kyle chuckles darkly. “I’m longer.”

I don’t get a chance to bite back because Kyle twists his wrist, and it feels so unbelievable that my brain short-circuits. But his jaw clenches in pain at the same time, his scent souring as he falters and his grip loosens.

“Shit,” he grunts.

“Ky, stop,” I say, reaching out to him. “Your wrist—”

“I’m fine,” he snaps, stubborn to a fault. But when he tries to flex his hand again, he lets out a sharp hiss through his teeth. He stares down at my hard, aching cock, his fingers moving cautiously as something complicated passes over his expression. His dark eyes narrow, flicking up to meet mine with a sudden, fierce determination.

Without another word, he slides to his knees.

My breath hitches, my heart slamming into my ribcage. “Kyle—”

He doesn’t wait around to hear my argument. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and then his warm, slick mouth is closing around the head of my cock.

Hot pleasure pulses along my length as he sinks down experimentally, and my head falls back against the sofa cushions, my hands flying to his shoulders and resting on top of his tangle of hair.

“Fuck,” I choke out, totally overwhelmed by the suddenness of it all, by how utterly insane it is to have my best friend’s lips wrapped around my cock, his cheeks hollowing as my hips lift off the sofa.

We’ve known each other since we were kids. We’ve carried each other home from bars and sparred at the gym until we’re both bruised and aching more times than I can count. But now, with every hot drag of his tongue over my shaft bringing me a step closer to losing it, all of that just feels like a precursor to this.

I look down through heavy eyes. Kyle’s dark lashes are splayed against his cheeks, his face deep in concentration, the dark flush on his cheeks and the sharp line of his jaw making heat coil even more tightly in my balls. The suction of his mouth is relentless, his rhythm unfaltering, and I’m not sure if this performance is coming from some inane desire to win, or to prove he’s not useless, but my god, it’s working.

His eyes flick up to meet mine, his lips still stretched around my girth, and pleasure twists violently in my core.

“Fuck, Ky—I’m gonna—”

He pops off of me slickly, but his head immediately ducks back down to trail his lips along my shaft as he pushes up my t-shirt with his good hand. His fingers graze the bare, taut skin of my abs, making me shiver.

A broken groan tears out of my throat as I come hard, threading my fingers into his hair. Kyle licks fat, dirty stripes up my shaft as my hips jerk, his eyes inches away from where my cock is spurting onto my stomach in thick ribbons, but his gaze locked onto mine.

The whole thing is wild, and filthy, and deeply fucking confusing.

When I’m spent, Kyle rocks back onto his heels, wiping his mouth and flexing his wrist in circles. The air is thick with both of our scents, Kyle’s hazelnut fighting for dominance over my bright ginger, neither one winning out.

“I definitely win,” he says, his voice hoarse and a dazed smile turning up his lips. I’m too shocked to respond for a few long moments—still recovering from one of the most surprising, intense orgasms of my life—and his smile drops just a fraction, his voice edged with concern when he speaks again. “Max?”

“I call bullshit,” I say, and Kyle’s smile picks right back up again, his scent settling. I resist the urge to swipe my thumb over his cheek, just to feel how warm it must be. I wrestle off my shirt so I can use it to clean off, and I could swear Kyle’s eyes dance over my bare torso for a second longer than usual. “That was so far from a level playing field it’s not even funny. Mouth always beats hand, there’s no contest.”

“Hey, you had all the same tools available to you,” he says, eyes glinting. It’s crazy how quickly we fall back into our usual back and forth, even when the subject matter is completely unhinged. “I just chose the nuclear option.”

He braces his weight against my knee with his “good” arm to stand, but it buckles beneath him. I shoot an arm out to stop him falling between my legs.

“Easy, dumbass,” I mutter, letting him lean his weight against me so I can help him stand. “You just nearly fucked your wrist back up trying to prove a point.”

“I’m fine,” he says, but for once there’s no real energy behind it. He doesn’t push my hands off him, but his eyes meet mine, searching for something I can’t quite decode. Our scents are still hanging heavy in the air, rich with the remnants of our arousal and satisfaction. I get the sense both of us are carefully dancing around addressing the elephant in the room head on, even though it’s seeping into our lungs with every breath and leaving me light-headed.

I think about being the first one to broach it—to ask if this means things will be different now, or if we’re just going to pretend it never happened when I’m no longer sleeping on his couch and making his meals for him. The thought of that sends an unexpected cold chill creeping up the back of my neck.

But then something explodes on the television screen, and we both huff a laugh at the same time, our shoulders sagging. And I think maybe I’m happy to let it be for now. Maybe I’m better off not knowing, just for a while. We can figure our shit out when he doesn’t need my help getting up off his knees anymore.

“Sit back down before you break something else,” I murmur with a smile, pushing him down lightly by the shoulder until he sinks back into the sofa cushions. “I’m gonna get an ice pack for your wrist, and you’re gonna rewind the movie you made me miss half of.”

“That I made you miss?” he mumbles incredulously, although I’m already grabbing my discarded t-shirt from the arm of the sofa and heading for the kitchen. “The fucking nerve of you.”