Alphas Like Us (Like Us 3)

I wish that Dr. Keene fought for Farrow. Not because his son is a great doctor but because that’s his son. I can understand why Farrow stopped talking to him and why they have no real relationship. He only values Farrow’s talent, not who he is.

Farrow towers above me, and I follow his tattooed fingers that graze my neck before retying the loose strings of my hospital gown.

“I thought you wanted me naked,” I joke, but I can’t mask the real disappointment in my voice.

His mouth edges upward. His cool confidence overpowers the room. Intoxicating. “Do you want me to blow you?” he asks huskily.

I open my mouth to speak, but arousal swells my dick. I stiffen and an army of rules bears on me. “We’re in a hospital.”

He lets out another whistle. “Again, your perception today—”

“You’re not worried someone might walk in?” I try to gesture to his chest with my bad hand. I grimace, but thankfully, he’s not coddling me.

Farrow smiles wide and rests his knee back on the bed. “I don’t worry as much as you about anything.”

He does worry about my safety more than me, but I don’t point that out because his amusement is full-blown. “I’m not a prude,” I retort.

“I didn’t say you were,” he says, but he’s still staring at me like I’m the “purest” twenty-two-year-old human on this planet.

My left hand rubs my exposed thigh, wanting to dip under the blue fabric and touch my shaft. “Tattooed Boyfriend Gives Maximoff Hale Hospital Blowie—you like that fucking headline?”

He tilts his head, considering for half a second. “Eh, it could use an adjective or two. Best, Greatest, Most Earth-Shattering Blow—”

“Alright,” I say, pent up and needing friction. I would pull him against me if I could, but I have to settle with my commanding, unflinching voice. “Suck my cock.”

His chest collapses in arousal, but he ends up smiling. “You want me to suck your cock?”

I start to really harden. “Not if you keep teasing me.”

Farrow rubs his bottom lip with the hoop piercing and eyes the length of my body in a hot wave. He only has three piercings in right now: his lip, a silver hoop for his nose, and an obsidian spear earring that dangles. That last one was a Christmas present from me.

“Farrow—”

“Don’t sit up,” he tells me. I started drawing upward in a crunch, and I lie back against the inclined bed.

He leaves my side and puts his knee next to my leg. In one swift movement, his other knee is on the mattress. I already lie above the sheets.

I tent my legs and spread them a bit more. Just so he can… “Come closer.”

Farrow grips my kneecap. “Okay, Bossy, here’s how this works.” He plants a blazing kiss on the outside of my knee, his mouth ascending my leg, towards my exposed thigh. “You get one free blowjob for almost dying. But after that, you need to pull your weight.”

Pull my weight. Meaning, mutual ejaculation. We always both come unless we run out of time. Then we fight to be the one to shoot a load. Usually by flipping a coin.

That won’t change.

And this…

This is why I love the fuck out of him. Why he just fits with me. He’s not giving me any slack or reprieves for being hurt—except for one blowjob. I like that push-and-pull and to work for that affection. Not just someone lying down and offering themselves to me.

I also love giving head. And he’d say he loves giving it more than me.

His mouth brushes my flesh, his eyes on my eyes. “You’re smiling.”

I feel my grin. “What can I say? Assholes turn me on. Metaphorical and literal.”

“Me too.” His broad hand slides down my other leg. “Only I love the tight-laced assholes. Metaphorical and literal.”

Fuck me.

I lean back, my muscles contracting. The sheer idea of Farrow’s mouth wrapped around me in a hospital room makes me come undone. He’s my boyfriend, and there’s no NDA needed, no pre-planning or precautions. No worry that he’ll steal my clothes or my phone.

Public sex was never anything I could indulge in, and now…

His hand drives towards the hem of the hospital gown while his mouth works up my other thigh. His lips trace the faint scar from a four-year-old wound. A cut that he stitched.

As his eyes flit to me, I see that long-ago memory in them. Where he was twenty-four.

I was nineteen. At Harvard. Struggling. And he made my life easier, better—he was a comfort that I couldn’t quite grasp until I let myself. Until he let me.

Now he’s twenty-eight and on his knees for me. I know, I know, his mouth should be around my cock by now.

“Stop teasing, man,” I say in a heavy breath.

Farrow lifts his head, his earring swaying, and he slowly, slowly—agonizingly slow—rolls up the thin blue fabric. Stopping short of my rock-hard erection.

I groan. “Farrow.” I rub my thigh, trying not to give myself a hand job when his mouth is better.

Farrow nips my thigh with his teeth. Heat blisters in my veins, and high-speed mechanical beeping pitches the air.

His eyes meet mine again.

We’re both highly aware that we were just in a car crash together. Where I broke my collarbone. And I’m in a sling and hooked up to a fucking machine.

But maybe that’s why this is happening.

Because we need the distraction. Because being with each other, right now, feels like the calm inside a storm. Sometimes it’s just nice to feel good.

And sex—it feels really damn good.

Farrow frees my dick, wrapping his tattooed hand around me, and his tongue laps up pre-cum that drips off the tip—fuck.

I buck towards him, and he pulls back, a smile playing at his lips.

“Easy,” he tells me coolly. Like I’m too eager.

Goddamn. I root my left hand to the back of his head, my fingers lost in his dyed hair. “You’re a giant cock tease,” I tell him.

“And you love getting your cock teased.” Yes.

“Maybe,” I say flatly.

His pleasured eyes undress me. He squeezes my balls, and my legs spasm, my body almost shuddering.

Holy fuck. My eyes tighten as arousal amasses, aching for harder pressure.

Strands of hair fall to his lashes as he lowers his mouth again. He fists the base and sucks me in an up-and-down melodic rhythm. The friction tempts my eyes to roll backwards.

I narrow my gaze, breath

ing hard through my nose. Jesus Christ.

He takes all of me to the back of his throat. Sucking deep and hard. Electrifying sensations build up towards a shockwave.

Beepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeep.

“Kiss me,” I suddenly say.

Farrow breaks his intense rhythm and stretches over my body. Careful not to touch my chest. He holds my jaw, and I kiss him roughly, our mouths crushing together. He grips my shaft with a firm hand, rubbing me with perfect force.

To deepen the kiss, I tug forward—

“Dammit,” I wince, pain nailing my ribs.

Farrow looks more concerned, but he’s still jerking me off. He’s a keeper. I mean that seriously. “Lean back, Maximoff.”

I do.

“Relax. I know you’re obsessed with me, but try not to jump my bones.”

I’m nearing a nerve-scalding edge. So all I can get out is a non-threatening, “Fuck you.” My narrowed eyes drill into the ceiling as he sucks me off again.

“Fuck,” I growl into a low groan. Fuuuck. I lose concentration between the pressure his mouth wields and his grip on my balls.

I lose thought, and my eyes roll.

My waist arches, and I release against the back of his throat. Muscles burning, I ride the peak, and he milks my climax with his tongue and hand.

My head lightens for a bit, a good kind of dizzy, and as I come down, he rolls the blue fabric back to my thighs and wipes his mouth with the sheet.

“Can you come closer?” I ask in a deep whisper. I ache to hug him. To wrap both of my arms around Farrow. For his arms to wrap around me even tighter, stronger, and none of that is possible with my fucked-up shoulder.

“Put your legs down,” Farrow breathes.

I lower them flat to the hospital bed.

Farrow nears and then rests his knees beside each of my quads. Straddling my lap without lowering his weight. He leans in, gripping the top of the hospital bed.

I live my life for most of the world to see—for you to see—but there are a lot of moments just meant for him. And this is one.

We look into each other, and the toll of tonight catches up to us. How much he had to stay calm under pressure. How he’s depended on by security, how I’m the rock of my family—and sometimes, sometimes it hurts. Emotion pours over his face, my face. His eyes reddening, mine burning, and I slide my good arm across his shoulders.