Unnatural (The Wrong Alpha 1)

Haydn gave him a sympathetic look. “You look horrible. You should have woken me up.”

Royce didn’t answer.

After a moment, Haydn realized that he was staring at his neck. At the giant hickey—bruise, dammit—on it.

Before Haydn could say anything, Royce said in a low, strained voice, “How are you not pissed at me?” His gaze was still on the bruise, weirdly fixed.

Haydn smiled. “Do you want me to be? To get all offended? I could punch you if you want.”

When Royce just gave him a frustrated look, Haydn sighed. “Look... It’s not that it doesn’t ruffle my feathers. It does. Of course it does feel weird, but I guess I’m more tolerant than most alphas.” Haydn shrugged. “I had to juggle other alphas’ egos for years during war campaigns, Royce. If I got worked up every time someone wanted to out-alpha me, we wouldn’t have gotten much done.” That was true enough, but Haydn couldn’t admit that it was just a partial truth. Admitting that he didn’t find Royce’s alpha pheromones repulsive—that they actually made him feel good—was too fucking embarrassing. He was an alpha. Alphas weren’t supposed to like another alpha’s aggressive pheromones.

“All right,” Royce said gruffly, seemingly accepting the explanation. It was also possible that he couldn’t think clearly in his current state. An unfulfilled rut was a bitch.

“You shouldn’t have sent her away,” Haydn said, frowning as he took in the tension in Royce’s body. “Can I help you in any way?” The words were thoughtless, born out of sympathy for a fellow alpha. Haydn registered what he was offering too late.

Royce’s nostrils flared. His dark eyes flickered to Haydn’s neck for a moment before looking back at his face. He said nothing, but Haydn could smell his heightening arousal.

Haydn wet his lips. “Come on,” he said, softer. “You can tell me anything. I want to help.”

“I… you’ll be offended.”

His heart beating faster, Haydn raised his eyebrows. “Try me. I’m not easily offended.”

“I want to come on your face.”

Haydn stared at him.

Royce stared back, his face flushed, but his gaze challenging, hungry.

“Is that… is that the territorial thing?” Haydn said, licking his lips again.

Royce’s expression became rather tight. He gave a jerky shrug. “Probably.”

Haydn looked down and then around the room. Cleared his throat.

“Okay,” he said.

Royce’s eyes bored into him. “Really?”

Smiling crookedly, Haydn shrugged. “Why not? All I’ll have to do is sit there and allow you to jerk off.” He went back to the bed and sat on the edge, glad to do so because his knees were shaking with adrenaline despite the lightness of his tone.

Royce just stood there for a while, very still, before finally stalking over. He jerked his fly open and his cock sprang free, thick and long. It was about the same size Haydn’s own cock was, an average size for an alpha. But what counted as average for an alpha was very big by beta standards. Until Royce’s, Haydn had only seen omegas and betas’ erect cocks, and those were significantly smaller than an alpha’s.

This close, Haydn could see every vein on Royce’s cock. He could smell it, the musky, heady scent of skin, alpha, and arousal. Royce wrapped his hand around his cock and started stroking it, staring at Haydn’s face in a manner that was nearly feral.

“This is fucked-up,” Royce whispered roughly, sounding not quite himself. “But fuck, this is all I could think about as I lay in the bed that stank of you—wanted to come all over you—dirty you up with my jizz and then rub it into your skin.” His strokes were faster now, his hand nearly touching Haydn’s face as it worked his cock.

The smell of Royce’s arousal was so strong it was making Haydn’s head spin. The filth Royce was spewing didn’t help, either. His alpha instincts screamed that this was wrong, but his body didn’t seem to care. He swayed forward a little and Royce’s cockhead bumped against his face.

Royce made a low sound and rubbed his cockhead against Haydn’s cheek as he jerked himself fast and hard.

Haydn should have told him to cut it out. It wasn’t in the deal. But his body seemed frozen, his eyes caught in those black pools that seemed to hold him under some kind of spell as Royce fucking rubbed his leaking cock all over his face. Maybe it was the pheromones Royce was pumping out like crazy; maybe it was something else. Either way, his mind felt too hazy. He couldn’t think.

“Just the tip,” Royce ground out, rubbing the cockhead against Haydn’s mouth. “Come on. Just the tip.”

Haydn flushed, his own alpha scent spiking. This was too much. He couldn’t possibly—

But then a drop of Royce’s pre-come touched his mouth and Haydn’s senses exploded from how good it tasted. His lips parted involuntarily, and Royce growled, pushing the fat head into his mouth.