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He’s not entirely sure what Rhys is angry about at first, what’s making a jaw tense and biting remarks to meet his every word, but Noah tamps down irritation to take in the way arms are crossed as the younger man paces his office, his posture rigid and the agitation rolling off him like waves of honey-colored silk that drape the firm set of his shoulders.
Noah responds with some snark and suddenly, the younger Alpha is in his space, palms pressed to the desk atop the papers he’d been glancing over. Noah frowns where he sits in his desk chair, legs crossed and fingers steepled together.
“I’m not sure what’s gotten into you, but I suggest you lose the attitude, Rhys.” His voice is hard, edge finely honed. It’s not often he and Rhys clash, their personalities similar yet different enough that they get along rather well and he loves the younger Alpha dearly. But the times that it’s happened are violent and have left them both aching, as when Rhys had pinned him and lowered himself down onto his cock despite the pain. Fortunately, it’s been a long time since they last argued.
A scarred mouth twists into a scowl that is still pretty on the rosy set of lips, but that he knows hides a deadly bite he’s been on the receiving end of before.
“Make me.” The words reek of petulance and the challenge hangs in the air but underneath is a plea that Noah has become familiar with, such as when fingers curl around the lapels of his coat before he’s even had time to close the front door, low growls demanding he make him stop thinking before he’s kissed breathless and bloody.
Noah can’t stop the way his lips quirk up as everything falls into place, the sudden anger and combativeness, the uncharacteristically short temper. Rhys’ head is full of thoughts he wants gone and can’t clear on his own. It isn’t a gentle grin, but a cruel one that he can see causes the downward set of lips to deepen but before the man can bite out a response, Noah is out of his chair and crowding him over the desk, a hand gripping tightly at the hinge of a jaw, Rhys’ hand grasping at his wrist.
“You know, you could ask nicely when you want something, Rhys. Behaving this way rarely puts me in a kind mood.” He knows that’s what Rhys wants; whatever thoughts crowding his head must have been particularly restless that day for him to provoke him so.
“Get off, Noah,” the younger Alpha hisses through gritted teeth, wincing when fingers tighten around that joint, uncaring of the bite of nails into a wrist, a free hand coming to a chest to push against a sternum.
“I will. Wasn’t that your intention?” Noah tilts his head curiously, watching fury swirl in darkened blue orbs but he can’t mistake the scent of arousal, despite him not being able to tell with the sudden rush of the smell of slick like with their omegas. Noah raises a hand to trail the pad of his thumb over the scar bisecting lips that are pulled back to bare sharp teeth.
He remembers when he’d received it, an incensed Alpha trying to retrieve the Omega that had been taken from him to be treated and sent to the Hallowed Estates to be placed with another Alpha. But the Omega had been brainwashed, had called the Alpha to him where Rhys tried to protect him, only to earn a knife slicing clean through his mouth and the sight of the Alpha killing his Omega in cold blood. It had haunted Rhys for some time but Noah hadn't been able to keep himself from bristling at the permanent mark on his mate left by another Alpha. It had rankled something awful, had made him more inclined to leave his own marks on the man whenever he had the chance.
“Let. Me. Go.” The firmly enunciated words bring him out of his reminiscing long enough to still the jerk of the man’s head in an attempt to free himself while the older Alpha was distracted.
“That’s not how this game goes, remember?” Noah clicks his tongue as he chastises Rhys, watching as it brings a flush of anger pooling beneath pale cheeks. “Let me refresh your memory. You irritate me until I fuck every last thought from that pretty head of yours as roughly as you can handle. Simple as that. And you’ve done a bang-up job of the first part, love, so we’re halfway there.” He sees the glint in eyes, knows that mischievous glow in ice blue depths, even a teeth grit together tighter. “Come now, give me a good fight, Rhys,” he goads and that’s all it takes for teeth to sink into the thumb still stroking the length of a scar, enough to dent flesh, but not enough to draw blood as he pulls the digit away from a tense mouth.
All at once, he releases the younger man to watch him jerk back, rubbing his jaw and glaring into amused hazel eyes but a quick downward glance tells him the man is hard, halfway at least, and so he closes the distance between them, avoiding a swipe at his temple to thread his fingers into the soft pale blond strands at the base of a neck to grip firmly and press their chests together, the grin on his face widening when fingers wrap around his throat, a growl rumbling in the younger man’s chest. They stand at equal heights, Rhys’ bare feet and his own shoes giving him an inch at most on the man but not enough to seem as intimidating as the towering figure of Dimitri with his broad shoulders and stern demeanor.
“Do you think you can overpower me?” Rhys demands, his fingers pressing into the artery framing Noah’s Adam’s apple, his thumb testing the give of his windpipe.
“I don’t need to. You’ll let me,” Noah responds, silencing a snarl with a tug against strands of gold as he uses his weight to push Rhys back against the desk, the lamp clattering to the floor. The grip on his throat is easily broken and he returns the favor with a shove of his palm against a trachea to press a back flat over rustling papers, arching the younger Alpha’s spine. A knee juts upward towards Noah’s groin and he takes the opportunity to carelessly force thighs apart and situate himself between the spread of them, a chest rising and falling rapidly beneath him. “See? I knew you’d be a good boy for me.” Noah grunts when a knee rises up sharply to connect with his rib cage, enough to merely warn him of his wandering tongue. Not that the man didn’t continue to remain hard against him.
“Bastard,” Rhys spits out, his throat vibrating against his hand and his hands gripping his wrist with a sting of nails. Noah ignores the curse and removes the hand from hair to trail it over a cheek in a gesture too soft in comparison to the way he presses into a throat to still any attempts to struggle, listening to breaths become shakier, more labored. He continues his downward trek over the heave of a chest and the flat of a belly where muscles reflexively quiver under his touch.
The long-sleeved black shirt the younger Alpha wears rides up over the chiseled cut of abs, which Noah takes the time to trace with unhurried fingers, teasing reluctant groans from still snarling lips. He’s thankful he doesn’t have to yank jeans down the curve of hips, only unlace the tie that holds sweatpants and tug on the elastic until it gives, slowly revealing more of the trail of dark golden curls he stops to toy with when Rhys begins to thrash, only continuing when he settles, his teeth no longer ground together. His mouth is open now to release harsh pants but his eyes are squeezed tightly shut, his head turned away as much as he’s able pinned under the older Alpha. He’ll allow it for now, he thinks, as he tugs sweatpants down to thighs to expose the hard length of a cock, pale flesh flushed hues of purple and ruby.
“You’re enjoying this, I see,” Noah taunts but eyes do not open and he’s only met with a rumble in a chest, a weak growl that makes Noah’s own cock twitch combined with the sight of the younger Alpha splayed out beneath him, offering him a seldom seen treat in the form of vulnerability.
Even before, it’s been a near constant trashing of teeth and digging of claws, but now seems to be that the man’s thoughts have taken most of the fight out of him after his initial confrontation. Most of the fight, anyway. Noah considers trailing fingers along a rigid length, perhaps teasing the heavy weight of balls that tighten with every flex of his hand around a throat, but he instead leans over the man, purposefully trapping his cock between them as he reaches into the top drawer of his desk for a small bottle of lube. Not able to produce any kind of slick, Rhys will surely need it.
“Spend a lot of time in here with your hand, Noah?” The older Alpha wasn’t aware Rhys’ eyes had opened until he speaks and he sneers at the jab, finding the corner of a mouth just so lightly turned upwards, almost imperceivable if he didn’t know what to look for.
“It’s a shame, really...” Noah hums out as he pushes sweatpants down further over powerful thighs until they can fall in a noiseless heap to the floor. “That you aren’t an omega,” he clarifies, curling his fingers beneath a knee, squeezing tighter at a throat when he meets resistance until he can raise one leg to spread Rhys. “You’re pretty enough.” He slick fingers easily and presses behind balls to the tight ring of muscle he seldom has the opportunity to savor. “And I’ll bet you’d be leaking slick for me right now, Rhys. Don’t you think?” He ignores the faint groan of discomfort when he breaches the hot tightness, unable to contain his own rumbling groan at how tight muscles clench. “Yes, you’d be positively dripping.”
Rhys’ back bows off the desk with a low shout when he nudges his prostate abruptly, too much sensation so soon, he knows, but Rhys knows the cruel man he can be, allows him his more sadistic moments as long as no lasting physical or psychological harm is done, the trust the younger man has in him sometimes astounding.
“Perhaps you need the wolf?” He offers and he watches as a brow furrows, knowing the last time he’d fucked the man like that, he’d bled, even after he’d been able to work four long digits into himself while Noah had watched, sometimes assisting with the press of a tongue that had made fingers tremble as the slippery muscle had slid beside fingers to slick them further. “Do I need to bend you over and split you open on my cock? Is that what it will take to calm you down? Spreading you open on my knot?”
He backs off his prostate to press the digit as deep as he can, before he eases out slowly and back in again. The breath that rattles past the hold on his throat is shaky and shallow, eyes staring yet unfocused up toward the ceiling.
“Stop fighting me now,” Noah pants, breathless, as hazy blue eyes meet his. “Let me give you what you need, Rhys. I’ll quiet that head of yours down.” The tightly wound muscles in Rhys’ body begin to loosen and at the sharp nod of a head, Noah releases a throat to instead press his palm to the warm back of a thigh, raising a leg higher so he can press a finger deeper, stretching as much as possible before he attempts a second finger.
“Noah...” He hears Rhys breathe his name and raises his gaze to see a head tilted back, pale golden strands a mess, eyelids fluttering as lips parted to release a low breath at the way a digit curls, allowing a second to slip in beside it.
“That’s it,” Noah soothes, the irritation gone and replaced with caring and gentleness. “My Alpha. I’d have you no other way, darling. You know that. I’ll help clear that pretty head, now just let me in. You’re so fucking tight.” He breathes the last words with a strained effort as he thrusts and scissors, two fingers still almost painful even with Rhys relaxing walls around him.
“I’ll be alright,” Rhys assures him, one hand settling on the wrist of the hand pressed to his thigh and the other reaching up to cup his jaw, stroking the stubble there with a gentle, soothing touch.
“I’ll not make you bleed so you’ll have to find some patience,” Noah huffs out, bringing the hand on a thigh to rest against a hip, taking in the way a back arches, muscles stretching and flexing like the limbs of a sleek predator, which for all intents and purposes, he is. “Fuck, Rhys...I’ll never be able to get my cock in you like this.”
“You will.” Rhys’ voice is rough, fingers gripping Noah’s wrist tighter when a third finger is finally worked in beside the other two with a squelch of lube and a faint burn that is rapidly soothed by the press of lips to the inside of a knee. “Noah, I...I apologize for—” Noah silences the young Alpha with a curve of fingers and a press into a prostate, hips jerking at the sudden movement.
“All is forgiven, Rhys. Hush now.” Noah hears the thump of his head hitting the desk when he lets it fall back, tired limbs lax over abandoned papers.
“Four,” Rhys breathes, smoothing fingers over a jaw and hitching his leg higher to press himself down onto digits, Noah’s swollen cock throbbing within his slacks at the hot suction when his last finger teases the stretched ring before slipping past with a long, drawn out groan falling from Rhys’ lips.
“Alright?” Noah questions as he lifts his hand from a hip to run through sweat slick hair, smoothing it away from features that had captured him the first time they’d met and made him want the man, despite them both being Alphas.
“Alright,” Rhys answers, using both hands to tug at the lapels of the vest Noah wears. “Enough preparation.” Noah scoffs at the deep command but slowly extracts fingers all the same and releases Rhys to unbutton his slacks, dragging his eyes over the pool of pre-cum leaking from a straining cock, untouched and flushed an angry carmine hue as it curves upward toward the rapid rise and fall of a stomach.
“You’re a cheeky one,” Noah hisses out with no heat in his voice, groaning when he extracts himself from boxers, squeezing the base to stave off the pressure building.
“No more talking, Noah. Just fuck me,” Blue eyes freeze him momentarily, watching him through golden lashes, and it takes several heavy beats of a heart for Noah to be able to move again, drizzling more lube on fingers to slick the length of his cock and press the soft tip to a stretched entrance, pushing slowly against the give of muscle until Rhys shifts, hooking a leg around his hips and tugging with a flex of his calf until the flared tip of Noah’s cock pops past the ring of muscle, causing the older Alpha to gasp, steadying himself against the desk at the sudden sensation of tightness and heat, his other hand clamping down on a waist to feel the way Rhys shifts, muscles flexing. “Noah.” The sound of his name breathed out, need filling an otherwise stoic tone, is enough to make him push his hips forward, groaning at the still tight grip of hot walls around him, aided by the slick of lube and the previous press of fingers.
“Rhys...God, you feel incredible,” Noah breathes and his hand is once again curling around a jaw, making muscles clench around him as he keeps pushing until his hips rest flush against the younger man, allowing them both a moment to adjust, knowing his fingers aren’t enough to thoroughly prepare him for his girth, before he’s dragging himself backwards, watching brows furrow and lips part, a sight on Rhys he’s not often able to see as he forces the thoughts from a head and takes him apart as he does to others. “It’s like you don’t want to let me go, love,” he purrs and he grins at the way cheeks redden, not a blush to speak of, but Noah finds he likes the way it looks all the same, pale skin splotched with pink.
When a firm thrust buries him inside Rhys fully once more, their groans mingle, and a hand presses to the back of Noah’s neck to bring him closer, pressing their foreheads together when another thrust grazes a prostate and makes an untouched cock jump between them. Muscles loosen around him and it’s easier to push past the tight quiver, angling the glide of his hips until he feels limbs jerk, nails scraping the back of his neck when he can hit that spot time and time again, sweat beading his upper lip and temples as his thrusts gain speed and aim until he can hear the heavy pants and the moans of the man beneath him being forced out of his lungs. The powerful slam of his hips rocks his heavy desk, makes legs scrape against the floor until he knows there will be scratches but can’t bring himself to care when Rhys is gripping him so firmly and so sweetly, inside and out.
All he can focus on is the grip of fingers and walls around him as he buries himself in tight heat again and again until he feels pressure build, feels his balls tighten until he’s sure he’ll spill any minute. When that feeling takes over, he wraps fingers around a leaking cock and strokes in time to his swift thrusts, pressing his thumb just beneath the swollen tip where a sensitive spot sits that he knows will have a vision fogging and limbs tightening.
He quickens the pace of his hand, and jerks back to watch a face as the man comes undone, wanting to commit every moment to memory as lashes flutter, jaw clenching around moans as fingers press tight into his spine, strong thighs tightening around Noah’s hips as he squeezes a cock firmly, just enough to send Rhys over the edge, jerking in his grip like he’d been struck by lightning and he releases the length now spilling over a stomach and chest to fuck him through it with brutal snaps of hips, the pulsing and tightening of walls around him bringing him to climax shortly after, a rough thrust burying him deep to paint spasming walls as he cups a face, cradling a jaw to taste his name on lips, a tongue meeting his lazily as he rides out the wave of his orgasm.
He luxuriates in the feel of the man against him, until lips part from his for a hand to comb through his hair.
“Thank you,” Rhys hums against his mouth, bringing him back into the present, though he stays inside the younger man a moment longer.
“Do you feel better?” His answer is a gentle rumble and reluctantly, he pulls back to slide his softened cock from a slick hole, slowly enough to tease one last groan from lips before he’s quickly tucking himself away. He offers Rhys a hand he knows the man won’t take but he does allow that hand to settle on his waist to steady him when he fixes his sweatpants, tugging his shirt off over his head to swipe away the remaining drops of cum from his stomach. The set of his lips from before is now lax, his shoulders now loose as he moves to stand on steadying feet. Noah thinks he’ll leave immediately but the younger man surprises him with a quick nuzzle against his throat before he moves to the bookshelf to take a book, seemingly uncaring of which before he’s settling onto the loveseat and crossing legs.
“Can I not just wish to be in your company?” Rhys asks and raises eyes to look at him, finding him still staring in the same position he’d left him in. “You’re looking at me as if I just sprouted a second head.” Lips are faintly tilted up with amusement and Noah huffs a small laugh as he returns to his desk, a comfortable silence settling over the room.