October 23rd (Dusk)
IN HIS DREAMS, THERE is no name hierarchy. In his dreams, the Alpha is Precious and he is Master. In his dreams, Precious comes undone with just one touch, one bite, one spank; he becomes like putty, wet, slick putty in his hands.
In his dreams, Precious' moan is as soft as his voice, as his hair. In his dreams, he can take fingers through those bloody curls, Precious on top him, astride him, under him.
But dreams is fantasy. Dreams doesn't exist in the real world. In reality, Precious is the Alpha. No more, no less. That title, that rank has put a distance the Alpha isn't ready to cross.
Tonight for some reason, Kamil is pouty. He is pouty and wistful that he finds himself entering the Alpha's office (shoes by the door of course) and making himself comfortable on the sofa. After his 'sit on my laps' comment, the Alpha avoided him.
The Alpha is a dickhead. Why waste such a fine day tiptoeing around him when he can't be avoided like a spill on the floor.
This isn't confrontation, Kamil convinces himself. He won't even ask questions. The burning question he'd needed answered has been answered.
No, this is a friendly call because what he wants in real life is to be a friend, to be a listening ear. It beats being avoided.
Grumbling, he glance around for something to keep him occupied and finds a book on the coffee table.
Without reading the cover, he opens to the bookmarked page and smiles slowly when the first middle paragraph catch his eye.
'You want to be fucked,' the wizard whispers, groping the boy's cock, squeezing the tip, watching precom roll out of the hole, trickling down his side. 'To be split open with my cock.'
The boy nods then shakes his head, desperately fighting off the desire dripping down his spine in sweat but gasps strongly when the wizard leans in, pressing his thumb right against his taint, and then his hole stroking him.
'I want to hear you say it.'
'No.'
Disobedient, Kamil thinks absentmindedly.
Turning him around, the wizard pins him against the wall, palms flattened, stomach tensing, cock throbbing, sinking two fat fingers into him.
'So fucking wet,' the wizard said, crooking his finger against the boy's prostate.
Lightly banging his head against the wall, a trembling moan hissed from the boy's lips, bucking his hips, pushing up against him when he feels the wizard's bulge between his ass cheeks.
He whispers and curses, sucks in a breath and moans, and when the wizard sucks on his earlobe, breath in his ear, he leaks.
But he still won't say it.
Defiant, Kamil completes, imagining the Alpha pinned against the wall, begging but stubborn, greedy and impatient, panting and leaking, hands locked behind his back, ass in the air, knees buckling.
Registering a noise at the door, he keeps the book back, clears his throat and rearranges himself seconds before the door opens. When the Alpha enters, their eyes meet and Kamil sees him flicker between him and the book.
"Hasn't anyone told you it's disrespectful to touch people's things?" he says but there's no reprimand.
Glancing at the book, Kamil is sure he placed it right but decides to act dumb. "What do you mean?"
Removing his jacket, vest and tie, Kamil's naked eyes roves the Alpha's body when he unbuttons exposing his chest, tufts of black curly hair like tiny spiralling circles. Kamil's mouth goes completely dry.
"It's a series. Can borrow you the books."
"What?"
"The book you skimmed through. Pay attention."
"It's kind of hard when I'm thinking about you sitting on me."
"Kamil...."
"My laps. I'm talking about my laps. It's not my fault your mind is gutter. It's no wonder reading filth like that."
"They're not all like that."
"I'm not judging. I know you're no prude, Alpha."
The Alpha just sighs, looking away and Kamil simmers, doesn't want to add anymore stress to his tired looking face. Someone like him shouldn't be pushed but gently nudged.
"Come here,"Kamil instructs as he takes off the hairtie, dark curls flowing to his nape, skirting his shoulders. "I just want you on my laps."
Sees him swallow hesitates but for a second before walking to him and dropping, kneeling on the space between his legs but Kamil arranges him on his (right) lap, intertwining their legs together.
Wrapping arms around his neck and inhaling deeply, Kamil freezes at the onslaught— unprepared to deal with the Alpha peppering kisses on his neck mumbling about how amazing he smells.
He chuckles, shifts uncomfortably because his stomach is kind of pressing on his semi-hardon.
"Alpha," he calls in a warning tone, "You're venturing into rough territory."
He leans back and stares from under his eyelashes. His hand darts forward like a cat's but withdraws it just as fast.
In a voice rougher than timber says, "Touch me. Go ahead."
Dreams might exist in fantasy but this isn't reality either. Nor a figment of his imagination.
This is a tear in the universe, in another fragment of time because there's no reality Kamil has ever been in that the Alpha's fingers dance around his neck, the other under his shirt ticklish, agonizingly slow.
Kamil likes how focused the Alpha looks, biting his bottom lip, eyes following the dancing fingers.
When the Alpha lets out a light moan, Kamil shoots forward and bites the bottom lip, growled at how strained and tight he is.
Eyes closed, the Alpha falls back into his neck, hot palms gripping his nape for dear life. When he grumbles, the volume reverberates through Kamil and his throat tightens and he's seeing stars.
"Alpha, I think you should stop mumbling into my neck," he curses the high heavens when the Alpha kiss the underside of his ear; his sensitive spot and deep from his stomach rumbles a warning. "Precious."
The little cheek had the audacity to chuckle into the dip of his collarbone. "It's too bad you can't spank me, isn't it?"
Fed up, Kamil grabs onto the silken curls and pulls his head away from him, chin tilted up.
"You cheeky little devil, you ought to be punished."
A slow grin spread. "Too bad. You're the one that wanted me to sit on you."
Yeah, regretting that now. His grip relaxes but he buries his hand there, fingers combing through it.
A slight tremor snakes through Precious when Kamil slides a hand down his spine feeling the smooth goosebumps, braving the journey to his chest, thumb casually flicking erect nipples.
"I had a dream about you this morning," the Alpha confesses suddenly, rearing his head back.
The hand paused, flattens against pulsating stomach.
"It woke me up."
"A dream, huh?" a knowing smirk sets. "What was it?"
He hesitates but it isn't because he's withholding information. It's because behind those rose tinted cheeks, he's reliving it.
"Tell me. What was I doing to you?"
In a rush of breath, the Alphaa reveals he was on his knees, Kamil's fists in his hair, cock in his mouth—fucking his throat, unbidden, unbridled, rough.
"You told me" a pause, a swallow, "that I am always hungry for your cock, always begging for your cock like the little slut that I am. That I... That I always want my mouth stuffed full with your cock."
Heavy silence descends. They're both struggling to breath, the room is chokehold with anticipation, with excitement, with sex they aren't having.
"Fuck," Kamil breathes through his nose and stammers, "I... I think you need to get off me. Now."
Precious scrambles off and away. Kamil finds it hard to breath, harder to control his breathing and it becomes worse when Precious comes back, kneels on the floor between his legs and flings a bottle of lube.
"I didn't mean—"
"It looks painful." is all he says. Kamil doesn't move. "Can I watch?"
"Say please."
"Can I watch, please?"
Kamil maintains eye contact as he whips out his erection. Precious doesn't remove his gaze but when he palms his cock and the coldness of the gel brings out a stammering moan, the deepest shade of red paints Precious cheeks as he tears his eyes away to his hands stroking.
Kamil doesn't look away.
He's deliberately slow at first, transfixed as Precious follows his movement from top to tip, smearing pre-cum over his length but when Precious breathes softly, he picks up the pace, throwing his head back and shutting trembling eyes against the ceiling.
His breathing becomes fast, uncontrolled and his skin sets on fire when Precious skips fingers across his thighs.
Precious face is burnt on his skin, seared in his mind but he brings his head back to watch the real thing.
His mouth is open, saliva dripping. Kamil wants to full his mouth with cock, fill his throat with semen, suck on his lips, bite his tongue, choke him.
The image hits him so violently he shudders and comes, splattering on his hand, pecs, thighs and the front of Precious suit, panting heavily. Wordlessly, Precious brings tissues and a wastebasket. Wordlessly, Kamil tidies himself and dumps the trash.
They're quiet for a beat, recollecting. He glances at the bulge in Precious trousers, quirks an eyebrow.
"Want to take care of that?
Instead of answering, Precious rubs himself on him and as quietly as a whisper says, "I'll dream of you again. Will you dream of me?
Kamil wraps an arm around his waist as he roll curls around a finger. "I don't think I'll ever stop."