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===
Tom's nostrils flare, cedarwood, whisky and gun oil crawling up his nose from both sides, making him twitch irritably. The smell brings with it memories of irrational anger, tight grips, hard hits, back-breaking bends that an Alpha his size shouldn't be able to do, shouldn't want, but does anyway. It brings with it the taste of blood in his mouth, bold and unrelenting as he bites and gnaws at his lips, keeping in the sounds--can't let on that he's enjoying it, that he wants him to push deeper or tie them.
His ass aches. Not from the chair he's sitting on. From sense memory of a fat knot stretching him wide open. Something his body shouldn't be able to take, but does. And he doesn't know why he lets it happen. Every. Time. But he does, and his body sings with it, anger at its peak but he's still coming anyway, his orgasm taken out of him, demeaning words growled into his ear as he does, reminded of his position.
Tom just takes it. He takes it all because he doesn't know how to say no to it now. He doesn't know how it happened, how it got to that point, how he went from recoiling at him being less than a meter away to rejoicing when their bodies are in sync, walls of flesh and muscle forcing him up against walls, on his back, on his knees, using him, treating him like he's nothing but a couple of good holes to sink a fat knot into.
He's an Alpha. Not supposed to want another Alpha. And he normally doesn't. He normally turns his nose up at the thought of being with another Alpha. But not this one. Never this one. Never the one that lets him have it whenever they're together, the one that pushes all of his buttons, that fills him full to bursting with rage and lust, both fighting with each other--a war transpiring in his mind each time those hands are on him, in him, bending and twisting him, teeth tearing through his flesh, claws stabbing into him, coming back coated with thin sheens of blood that fall like tears until they drop and smear the dirty carpet.
When he's the one in demand with a beta or omega writhing under him, it's not the same. It's never the same as those strong, powerful hands bending him to their will, breaking windows, tables crashing to the ground, walls cracking from fists pummelling them. It's not the same as a hand sealed tight around his throat, the fingers digging into the back of his neck using their perch as leverage to yank Tom back onto each thrust, until he's crying--begging, screaming for something, anything, something to cling onto, something to hope for.
He doesn't know what that hope is. That Brody will let him finish? That he won't leave him broken, disgusted with himself and questioning his entire existence? There's not much that Tom can say about it really. All he knows is that he goes back there. Whenever Brody wants, whenever he eggs him on enough to go along with it. He's not sure how much of a fight he actually puts up anymore, but he does. He does because he has to or it'll feel like giving in.
A hand slams down on the table, shaking the once sturdy structure, the legs protesting the pressure. Tom follows the line of the arm up to sharp penetrating steel blue eyes that look royally pissed with him. More so than usual.
Ignoring the motherload of arousal crashing into him from the gaze alone, Tom narrows his eyes in challenge.
"What, Brody? Can't you see I'm eating?"
Brody doesn't move his hand. The table keeps shaking.
"What the hell do ya' think you're doin', Tom?" Brody questions, jaw set. "Do you know how long I've been bustin' my ass for that promotion?"
"Clearly not long enough. Or hard enough," Tom replies, sneering. "What does it matter anyway? Why should I even care?" He levels him with a cold stare. "I'll be out of your hair. Isn't that what you want? What we both want? Stop looking a gift horse in the mouth, asshat."
This doesn't seem to have a positive effect on the other Alpha. In fact, it must have the opposite one because a second later the legs have given up the fight and the table breaks apart under the weight of his hand. Unfortunately, it doesn't knock Brody off balance.
"You don't even like New Hampshire. Why the fuck would you wanna move there?" Brody demands, dismissing the smashed plate near his feet as he steps over it and hoists Tom out of his chair. "Did you do this just to fuck with me, huh? It's not bad enough that you took over half of my cases. No, you had to go and steal my dream job at the same time? Real nice, Tommy. Real nice."
"You're missing the point," Tom says calmly, when he's anything but. "I'll be leaving. You won't have to deal with me anymore. I won't have to deal with you anymore, so it's a win-win, dude."
Tom's back hits the wall so fast he's surprised he didn't burst through it, his head snapping back from the force. He smells blood at the back of his head, the slight burn of his flesh repairing itself at such a staggering rate makes his head rush.
Brody's fist burrows halfway into the wall by the side of his head, his other hand snagging the collar of Tom's shirt.
"I wanted that job, you sunovabitch," Brody spits, growling angrily.
Getting his bearings back takes a second. Once he has them, Tom grits his teeth and kicks Brody away from him, momentarily satisfied to see Brody laid out on his back, the floor a firm presence beneath him.
"Then you should have tried harder. Don't blame me for your poor effort or putting time and commitment into getting shit done while you dried out your liver and fucked anything with a pulse."
Brody narrows his eyes to fine slits, gets back up off the ground and cricks his neck to one side, rolling his neck and shoulders as he starts a light pass from foot to foot.
"You and me, right here, right the fuck now," Brody declares, loosening the knot in his tie and pulling it over his head. He chucks it down at the floor, a look of disdain curling his lips as he stares at Tom, bating him. "Or are you not Alpha enough to face me? Oh, that's right. You're not an Alpha. You're a bitch. My bitch."
Tom's pulse quickens in anger. Or lust. He doesn't know. But he takes his tie off as well, unbuttons the first two buttons of his shirt and regrets wearing white because Brody's clearly not looking to pull punches.
And he certainly isn't. The first hit has Tom's head reeling, barely a couple of strides forward before he's cupping his cheek on instinct. He lets his hand drop, cuts his eyes to Brody and advances on him, catching the next swing in an effort to launch Brody off his feet.
It doesn't work. Brody ducks under his reach, lips pursed as he carves a fist through the air heading for Tom's chin. Tom steps back in time, feeling like he's experiencing whiplash from the speed at which he needed to react. It leaves him open for a frontal attack, nimble fingers ducking into the gaps of his shirt and tearing it open, buttons flying all over the place, the little clicks on the ground drowned out by the fierce growl from Brody's throat.
Tom fights the hands on his skin, digging his nails into thinner wrists. He's impressed with Brody's resilience, not letting up even when Tom's claws come out and cut a small line. Brody acts as if it means nothing at all, face unchanging even when Tom manages to clip him on the chin.
A booted foot gets him on his back then, Brody wrenching his jeans off his body, throwing them off to the side and bending Tom in half, face so close to his, lips inches from sealing over his own.
"Are we fighting or fucking?" Tom grits, hating how turned on he is. Brody doesn't say anything, simply glares at him as he gets his cock out of his pants and pokes the head at Tom's dry hole. "Fucking, then? I thought you were gonna let me have it, Brody."
"Oh, I intend to. I intend to break you down to nothing, Tommy. I'm not gonna stop until you're begging me to," Brody enunciates his words with slow grinds that have Tom's cock throbbing between them. "Like I said... You're my bitch."
The way he says it has his inner Alpha raging, muscles bunching as he throws Brody off of him, to the side. Brody doesn't stay where he is long, tearing off his clothes, standing tall and proud, cock swinging like a pendulum as he scrunches up the last shreds of his clothes and tosses them, eyes on Tom's prone form the entire time.
Tom gets to his feet, hoping to hide the quiver in his legs as he rises to his full height, unable to prevent himself from bristling at Brody's entirely too unaffected state. Tom's used to other Alphas showing at least some intimidation when he squares his shoulders, stands as tall as he actually is and radiates that power through his posture.
Not Brody. No. Brody doesn't flinch at all. In fact, he looks even more cocksure, cock straining up towards his stomach, almost in a come hither gesture that really pisses Tom off, charging headlong into Brody without thinking, not ready for a foot jamming into his ankle, throwing him off his balance. He feels panic coming over him when the force of his rush is turned against him, the room spinning along with him as he's hurled straight through the nearest window, glass cutting into his skin, unable to heal the parts that bury underneath.
Those around the room stop and stare, taking in his nudity, curiosity lingering in the air. They know not to get involved. Alpha on Alpha battles are to be left for them to sort out. If one of them dies, that's on them. No one can get involved because it will just become a blood bath. So no one does anything when Brody comes a to stop next to Tom outside of the window, hauls him up to his feet and bends him backwards over the nearest desk.
Tom grits his teeth and switches their positions, desperately ignoring the heat in his groin as he slams Brody's head back on it, the metal caving in under the weight of it.
"That tickles," Brody says, smirking meanly at him as he brings his knees up, digs his heels into Tom's sternum and launches him back down onto the ground, the wind knocked out of him on impact, body twisting side to side as he groans. "You really wanna do this here, Tommy?" Brody questions, a fierce, hoarse whisper at his ear. "You want all of them to see how you give that ass up to me on the reg?"
He doesn't. They can't see him like that. They can't see Brody doing that to him. He'll lose the promotion for showing weakness to another Alpha. Hell, he'll lose the respect of the office for the same thing. Tom knows that they can't do this here, that he can't let it end here, where everyone else can see them.
So he kicks out. He swings, ducks, sweeps his feet, pushes, forces Brody back, embraces the wall caving in his spine, ignores the brutal crack of his ribs when Brody's knee flies up, solid like titanium beating against Tom's form. Tom slams his head into his nose in retaliation, the scent of blood heavy in the air. Fists pound against flesh, claws sneak out to join the festivities, long gashes ripping moans form sore throats, curses filtering through the air, rubble piling around their feet, forgotten as Brody's back splinters a closed door, a grunt the only indication that he feels it, body twisting their position, Tom's head splintering the wood further until there's a fine, jagged line from top to bottom.
One more push and he'll fall through it. One more push and they'll think Brody is winning. "Come on, Tommy," Brody teases, teeth bloody and grin wet and open. "You know you want this, so whaddya say we skip the in-between and get right down to my knot rammed up your fuckin' ass," he suggests lewdly, one hand wrapped around Tom's throat, the other searing a permanent brand on his hip, getting ready to turn him, rut against him in view of whoever is interested enough to watch.
Tom's so turned on he can barely see straight. And he knows Brody knows that. He knows that Tom's hole is pulsing like it has its own goddamn heartbeat and it won't slow down until Brody's buried balls deep inside him. He knows that Tom's one move away from bearing his throat for Brody to sink his teeth into, to tear into him, bite and gnash until Tom's left scarred, never to fully heal from the onslaught. He knows that Tom's not gonna last much longer, that he doesn't even want to keep on fighting right now.
But he has to. He has to keep fighting because there's more at stake than his messed up addiction for this other Alpha. This other Alpha who he loathes with all of his being and yet somehow ends up underneath again and again, clenching and writhing with pleasure-pain, so wrong it's right drilling into him with each press in, thrusts that turn his bones to mush and leave him aching when they're gone.
He should be disgusted by it. He shouldn't want another Alpha to turn him inside out, leave him open and exposed to the world, fill him with so much cum his stomach swells from it, his body not equipped to take such a lengthy amount in the slightest. Fuck him, he does, though. His eyes roll back in his head when Brody's knot locks them together, his fight or flight instinct on the verge of blending into one, ears a slave to the degrading shit spewed in his ear as Brody harps on about how much of slut he is for his Alpha knot, how Tom wants nothing more than to be an Omega bitch, probably wishing that instead of popping a knot, slick poured out of his ass so that he could take a knot like he was born to do it.
Maybe he was, anyway.
No. Fuck that. Tom can't let them see him sweat.
He grapples for the handle and turns it, allowing their combined weight to collapse into the room.
While Brody is momentarily surprised by the action, Tom shoves him off of him, kicks the door shut, locks it and spins on his heel.
Brody's recovered by then, tension in his jaw.
"This doesn't mean you've won," Tom says quietly, more measured than he would have thought given the level of arousal he's dealing with.
There's a smug grin stretching Brody's lips as he gets back on his feet. They stand there, staring at each other, and Tom senses a line of electricity connecting them, getting louder as the gap closes, Brody's hand coming up behind his head, throwing all of his weight into getting Tom bent in half over the nearby filing cabinet.
Brody's hand doesn't move, fingers curling around wisps of hair, pulling it back with a squeeze.
Tom feels Brody's thick, long cock riding the crease of his ass, pre-come dripping onto the small of his back. There's laboured breathing behind him. Anger? Arousal? Tom's not sure, but Brody's not holding back if the brutal slap to his ass is any indication, his teeth gritting from the pleasure-pain that explodes over him, ass wriggling without his permission when Brody spreads his cheeks with his free hand.
Instincts are snarling and snapping internally, telling him that this isn't right. He shouldn't be in this position. Not ever. The sensations rippling over his skin at the mere stroke of Brody's cock over his throbbing asshole is enough to cling onto that he can barely feel the sickening stab of wrong in his gut.
Surprisingly, Brody suddenly steps away from him and makes a sound of disgust.
"What the fuck're you doing, Tom?" he asks seriously, for once.
Tom turns his head to face him, ass still pushed out, shamelessly waiting to be filled. "Isn't this what you were aiming for when you stripped me of everything? You said you wanted me to beg. This not enough for you?"
Brody scoffs. "Oh, you're going to beg me, Tommy. Believe me. But not like this. This is just pathetic, even for you," he adds, and Tom wonders if he's reading the disappointment correctly. "If I wanted someone who was just gonna take it I'd find me some Beta or Omega to fuck around with."
"So you want me to fight back? And, what, take a shot at your ass?" Tom questions, pleasantly amused.
"If that's the motivation you need to stop being such a bitch, run with that."
"What does it matter to you?"
"I like the fight. I like to bend you, break you, make you come apart on my knot. It's not the same if you just give it the fuck up," Brody explains, looking altogether done with this conversation.
They don't often get past insults and harsh glares, so this is new territory for them.
"You could always chase a different Alpha," Tom suggests, shrugging.
Brody glares at him. "I'm not attracted to other Alphas."
"Right. So you're not currently hard. Nor have you knotted me more than twenty times. That was just my imagination." "Because you're a Giant ass little shit who needs to be put in his damn place," Brody snarls, suddenly gripping his hips and wrenching him against him. He turns them, shoves Tom's face into the wall and ruts up against his ass. "Don't think that makes you special."
Tom grins toothily.
"Knotting is not something an Alpha is supposed to do to another Alpha. Doesn't that make it special?"
A heated breath ghosts over the shell of his ear. Tom shudders.
"No. You're just an easy lay," Brody says, sneering, hips unrelenting now as he ruts against Tom. "An easy lay with the tightest ass I've ever had."
"Well, I don't have the luxury of easing the way for you," Tom replies darkly, hand flicking back to catch Brody off guard. The bastard snares his wrist and pins it to his back. "And you call fighting you at every turn easy?"
"No," Brody admits, the head of his cock pushing past the tight ring of Tom's ass, slicked by the obscene amounts of pre-come leaking out of him. The wide stretch has Tom gritting his teeth and thumping his forehead on the wall, ass working to push Brody out instinctively, but he carries on like it's a smooth glide, pressing against Tom's insides, rearranging him in ways no one else has ever dared to, and Tom's pumping out a heavy stream of pre-come before Brody bottoms out. "It's an easy boost of testosterone, though. Not to mention an ego trip," he tells Tom, pulling out then snapping back in with so much force the wall quivers.
"And yet you're not attracted to Alphas?" Tom shoots back, ignoring how his insides are on fire, how he's on cloud nine and he never, ever wants to get off, not when Brody's claws stab into the flesh of his ass and his heavy, huge balls stick to his taint.
"I. Am. Not. Attracted. To. Alphas," Brody denies vehemently, each word a sharp, determined thrust that knocks the wind out of Tom's sails, head lolling back, ass clenching around the cock inside him. He hates that he gets like this. Hates that he wants this so badly. "You're the only Alpha I've had on my knot, Tommy. And I'm the furthest thing from attracted to you."
"That's ironic," Tom retorts smugly, pushing his ass back onto Brody's thrusts. "Not often Alphas get it up for anyone that doesn't get their motor going."
"Maybe that's just you," Brody says, twisting Tom's hair in a vice grip and tugging his head back, effectively deepening the arch of his back, allowing Brody to go deeper, to stretch him even fuller than before. "Some of us aren't Virgin Mary's."
"Again. Ironic," Tom enunciates, turning his hips, arcing just enough to pound his fist on Brody's chest, who, instead of getting angry, throbs inside Tom's channel. So Tom hits him again, satisfied by the repulsion of his shoulder with each blow from his fist, Brody's rhythm somehow not faltering at all as he fucks into Tom without a care in the world for his lack of equipment to take the brunt of it.
Tom fights harder then, clenching around Brody while simultaneously pushing hard enough on the wall to have Brody landing on his ass, Tom's mouth falling open on a moan he barely manages to squash from the impact of the fall, Brody's cock positioned at an angle that has him almost seeing stars.
Brody snaps his hips up once. Tom gets his hands on the floor and tries to crawl away from him, not really wanting to let Brody slip from his colon but he feels like he needs to push back somehow. He doesn't make it far, Brody climbing over the back of him, keeping himself firmly lodged inside as he sinks his teeth into the nape of Tom's neck.
"We're not done here," he says once he releases him, and Tom feels confusion welling in his gut when a tongue lathes over the mark somewhat delicately. There's no time to question or think about it as Brody starts bunny-fucking him, pressing most of his weight down on Tom's back, cock drilling his hole and knot starting to fatten.
The familiar stretch floods Tom with anticipation, balls drawing up, cock pulsing out torrents of cum that almost makes his hands slip.
It's fast, brutal, hurts so fucking good and Tom's gone, mind zeroing in on the sensations building within him, Brody's slowly expanding knot, nothing but grunts, groans, growls between them that take on a new meaning when Brody snags a strip of skin between his teeth, fucks down hard into Tom several times, pulls him back so roughly onto his thrusts that Tom's convinced his organs are in the middle of an intense game of musical chairs, swapping and changing with each hard press in of Brody's thick as fuck cock.
And then Brody's knotting him, tying them together, hips never stopping their slow grind down.
Tom's body flattens to the floor, sweaty, used up, completely blissed out. He can hardly even hear the words coming out of Brody's mouth.
At some point, he falls asleep.
When he wakes up, Brody's asleep too, he hasn't pulled out of him and it doesn't look like he has any plans to move.
Great.
===
Pushing out what feels like ten gallons of Alpha sperm in the office bathroom is embarrassing. Realistically, it should not be this much. When the knot recognises that it's not attached to a breedable orifice, it should lose interest after six or so pulses. Not keep up a persistent, stomach-bulging stream that can last upwards of two hours maximum.
It's bad enough that his hole is sore, tender and pretty pissed off with him if the shocks to his spine are any indication. His ass will heal in a couple of hours or something. That's semantics. It hurts now, and that's what's important. He's pushing out cum now and that's what's frustrating.
Frustrating because he kind of didn't want to let it go, actually.
If Tom's being real with himself, he wanted to plug it up even if it's severely unhealthy for an Alpha to do that. Alphas having sex with each other isn't unheard of, after all. It's just extremely rare and has a don't ask, don't tell feature to it that the rest of the world abides by. No one is given shit for it. They're treated differently when it comes to light, however. That's something Tom has seen more than once in his travels and he doesn't want the same thing to happen to him.
He's not sure what's wrong with him. When did his life go to shit? Oh, that's right. The first time Brody tied them together and fell asleep wrapped around his body, sealed up inside him, releasing bursts of cum that would do absolutely nothing to get him pregnant, and yet showed zero signs of slowing down. Tom had woken up intermittently, ass clenching reflexively around Brody's knot, head angling up to check the time on a perceivable clock.
The first time it happened, Brody tied to him for over two hours. That's practically unheard of. Even for Alpha/Omega ties. When his knot deflated and he slipped out, stirred awake by Tom rolling away from him, Brody made out like Tom wasted two hours of his life, how he's such a fucking pain, groaning and griping, sniping and pointing fingers in his face as he gathered his shit up, cast one more pissy glare in his direction and then left like the remnants of a storm.
Not that he would ever say the words out loud, but Tom felt... safe when they were tied together, and comforted by Brody's arms wrapped around him, warm, sleepy breaths puffing over the nape of his neck. Brody's face sometimes nuzzled him throughout the tie. Tom didn't know what to say or do about it so he kept still, tried not to react to it. The worst thing had been gentle kisses and content mmms behind him, strong arms squeezing him tighter as another round of cum pumped into his channel. Worst, for reasons that Tom doesn't completely have a grasp on himself.
Fortunately, the swelling in his belly is rapidly going down. Another few pushes and the rest can work itself out of his system at a later time. Tom seriously needs to get some work done for the three to four hours he's been away from his desk, already having agreed with himself that he'll stay overtime to make up for it. He's not sure if Brody will do the same thing. He hates missing happy hour after all. Always the first to complain when they're told that they need to stay back to finish the current project, which he has no issues making Tom's problem entirely, amping up the insults and challenging literally everything he says just to get a rise out of him.Tom finishes up in the bathroom, thrilled to find out that no one is in there with him. He takes his time washing his hands, ignoring the little pulses of his asshole with each step he makes out of the room and back to his desk.
When he sits down with a wince, he hears a snicker coming from a few cubicles down. His eyes narrow but he doesn't say anything. No need to even look up to know that Brody is smirking smugly in his general direction.
"Jackson and Xander, get your dumb asses in my office right now," Polina, their managing director demands, her voice carrying over the large office space to them with ease. No one turns to look as they both get up. Brody pays no attention to him at all, all charm as he sidles up to Polina. "Wipe the smirk off your face, Jackson," she grits, thumbing behind her, and Brody grumbles something under his breath as he passes.
Polina passes them both and circles her desk, the jacket of her pantsuit riding a touch as she takes her seat, staring coldly at them until they do the same.
"What's this about, Poli?" Brody questions, one eyebrow quirked in amusement.
Ignoring his use of Poli instead of her actual name, Polina says, "This pissing competition between the two of you needs to stop. Right now. I'm not dipping into the company funding to pay for your reckless behavior anymore. Too many tables, desks, windows, doors, even staplers have been harmed during your many, many fights and I'm on my last nerve." She's right to ignore it. Brody wouldn't have listened anyway. It's clear that she's not done, so Tom keeps his ears open. "Until you have resolved your issues, or, one of you decides to quit because you're not Alpha enough to be rational, you won't be welcome back to work. Instead, you'll be attending a couples retreat--"
"A what?" They both parrot.
Polina acts as if they hadn't said anything at all.
"There you will attend classes on learning how to better understand each other, how to exist in the same room without tearing each other's throats out--or, at least, how to be civil because I can't walk out of here one more time and see this place a wreck. I know that you're protected under the Alpha's Law act, but I, frankly, don't care. You need to get your shit together, stop being total knotheads, and start working as a unit. Do you have any idea how much you could get done if you worked together? Hell, I could probably retire by age 45, get myself a nice beach house, live there with my beautiful wife... Anyway. I digress. The retreat starts in three days. Get out of here, pack, be there when you need to be there, don't let me down--you know the drill. Now get out."
Brody sputters for a little while. Eventually, he aims a this is all your fault/watch your back, Jack/stay away from dark alleyways/you're next/I'm going to fucking murder you/It's your funeral, pal glare at the side of his head, nods primly to Polina and then storms out of the office, shoving anyone that crosses his path out of the way. He only knows this because he hears more crashing and cursing and Brody warning them he's going to do it if they don't get out of his face.
There's something rooting Tom to his seat, a pile of dread so heavy and deep that he doesn't have it within him to stand. A couples retreat? What the hell? What is Polina trying to say or do here? Tom's confused, feeling cornered with the development. He doesn't know how to process it.
Should he quit his job? He could, has enough savings to last him until he finds something else--permanent, away from Brody.
His heart pangs at the thought of leaving the other Alpha behind, making the pit in his stomach expand even wider, nausea crawling up his throat. Tom's palms are sweaty when he curls his fingers in, forcing himself to nod tersely before standing to get out of the office. Polina made no motion to suggest she had been waiting for him to leave, or even knew he was still sitting in front of her in the first place.
Tom gathers up his things as fast as he can, paying no attention to the odd looks that he's getting as he darts out of the office, wondering what hell he just signed up for.
===
When Tom turns up at the couples retreat, he's not expecting to see Brody here, even though it's that or lose his job. But he is. Here, that is, arms crossed over his chest, brooding lips pursed in annoyance as he waits to check in to the hotel resort they'll be staying at for the retreat. Tom thanks his lucky stars, that, even though it's a couples-themed retreat, Polina didn't book them in the same room. Instead, she wisely chose ones that are on the opposite sides of the building.
They would have to climb stairs or take elevators and cross halls just to bitch the other out if they felt like it.
Tom pulls his suitcase along with him to the check-in desk, pretending that Brody's not even there as he starts talking with the Beta clerk, who looks between them like they know something they don't. It's odd, a frown tugging at Tom's lips in question of it. The Beta doesn't rise to it, passing him his room key, the itinerary and a welcome pack that he accepts with a nod of thanks, failing to remain oblivious to Brody's harsh gaze directed at the side of his head.
Clearing his throat, Tom wheels his belongings away to the elevator, teeth gritting when he senses another pair of wheels rolling after him and heavy footsteps.
"This is supposed to be our retreat, honey," Brody mocks, getting ahead of him and smashing the button on the elevator. "You're gonna make me look like I'm not even tryin' if you walk past me like that."
Tom's probably wrong... Yeah. No, he's totally wrong. There's not a chance that Brody's anger seems more directed at his lack of acknowledgement of the other Alpha than the utter inconvenience of this couples retreat.
"Sorry. I didn't see you," Tom lies, refusing to look at him while they wait for the doors to ding open.
Brody's back is to him for the time being, shoulders so rigid they look like they're about to snap.
The position of his legs is tenser than usual, and the fist not around the handle of his suitcase is clenched, showing the whites of his knuckles.
"Stop staring or I'll have to start charging by the second," Brody voices to the door, tone a mix of exasperation and irritation. "How long is this elevator gonna take?!"
"As long as it takes," Tom replies calmly, a smirk playing on his lips when it chooses that moment to open up. "There you go, Sparky. No need to have a meltdown."
Brody looks down at his feet, bottom lip pushing up his top one, whispers something under his breath and then steps into the elevator, putting as much distance between them as he can.
The moment the doors close and they've both settled in, Tom's back protests the weight of Brody's body crushing it against the wall. He really should have seen this reaction coming.
"We're here because of you, dick-bag," Brody spits, eyes sweeping down to Tom's lips and then back up, grip on his shirt shoving him again, jostling his frame. "You don't get to be all high and mighty about this."
"We're here because you clearly can't keep your hands off of me," Tom challenges, wincing from Brody's claws biting into the skin of his wrists as they're pinned by his side. "That's not helping your case."
"What're you tryin' to say, Xander?" Brody's eyes are like molten fireballs.
"That you've got a thing for Alphas. Just admit it. You'll feel renewed, or something."
"You're wrong. I don't have a thing for Alphas."
"No," Tom grins cheekily, not sure where all this sudden confidence came from. "You have a thing for one Alpha. Me."
Tom stumbles on his feet from the force of being spun and shoved to the opposite side of the elevator, Brody's shoulders rising and falling, eyes narrowed to fine slits as he stares him down.
"You don't know what you're talking about," Brody says after a few minutes of intense staring, eyes cutting to the number appearing above the door. "This is me," he announces cooly, grabs the handle of his suitcase and spares no more glances back as he steps off, leaving Tom to get his breath back and will away his erection.
===
The first thing on the itinerary is called Tell Them How You Feel, and Tom is already thinking of it with resentment before he's even taken his seat on one of the, admittedly, comfortable chairs.
Some couples are holding hands. Some are not. Brody is having an argument, stating that he and Tom are not a couple so there's no need for them to have to sit next to each other. The Omega group leader tells him that that's his assigned seat and his boss assured them that they would have their full cooperation. It's the first Tom's hearing of it, however, just to piss Brody off, when the Omega group leader motions for his corroboration, he offers it willingly.
Brody looks like he bites back a growl, offers the Omega a small look, I know it's not your fault and I'm sorry I was being an ass, we good smile before taking his assigned seat. He doesn't look at Tom this time, much less give way to knowing that he's actually sitting next to him all. Hasn't said anything since what Tom said in the elevator apparently ruffled his feathers. Whatever. Tom didn't want to talk to him anyway.
Now that all are seated and accounted for, the session starts. Couples admit what's bothering them. There are some tears, denial, assertions that the other Were is lying. Tom doesn't listen, much. He's figuring out what he's going to say when it comes to their turn because he hasn't been able to think of anything the entire time that everyone else has been harping on about all their damn problems.
At least Brody looks just as uncomfortable as he is with the whole situation.
The time to talk comes around all too soon in Tom's opinion. He still doesn't know what to say, and he really hates that they have to look at each other while they say it. Look them in their eyes and tell them how you feel. Get it all out in the open. Then you can start to understand each other better. But what do you say when you've been enemies from the word go? When your first meeting with each other ended in bloody lips, cuts in more places than one, clothes shredded, barely hanging onto their bodies and a wave of adrenaline so powerful you passed out? Tom has no clue where to start. He's positive that Brody doesn't, either.
He decides, after a while of nothing but blinking and coming up short to just say the first thing that comes to his mind.
"I don't know what your problem is with me, Brody. From the get-go, you've been on me about one thing or another, starting fights over the stupidest shit that most here wouldn't even believe if I told them about it," Tom starts, choosing to pretend that his heart isn't beating erratically in his chest from having to hold Brody's intense gaze. "I'll admit that since we started this... whatever this is, I've intentionally done some things that would rub you the wrong way, piss you off, and you've done the same to me. Y'know, that became our thing and that's fine, and who doesn't like a bit of rivalry... But, dude... Why did I become the bane of your existence within the first, what, five minutes of meeting me?"
Tom thought that Brody wouldn't actually respond at all.
He's wrong.
"Okay, I'll bite. I don't respect Alphas that don't respect themselves," Brody begins, gesturing vaguely to Tom. "You walked in that first day with your shoulders hunched, clothes swallowing up your frame so that people couldn't see how tall or built you were and it pissed me off. You didn't even have an opinion until four months into the job when you finally opened your mouth to argue against a point that wasn't made by me. I don't know what you were doing. Maybe you thought that if you kept to yourself you wouldn't become a target. Well, look how that turned out? You're a fucking powerful Alpha, Tom. You should act like it from time to time. Not always. No one's asking you to be a dick or start swinging it around for all eyes to marvel at it or some shit, but it shouldn't have taken me hounding you, among other things to wake your ass up and push you to start presenting more as the Alpha you're meant to be. It doesn't mean I care or anything. Just don't wanna work with a pussy--not that anyone other than an Alpha is a pussy or whatever--you guys know what I mean."
The revelation is both shocking and kind of flattering, actually. Brody hated him from the word go because he wasn't acting Alpha enough and hiding his strength and stuff. Well... Tom supposes that kind of makes sense. He did make himself smaller so he didn't emasculate any of the other Alphas. Not that it ever bothered Brody, the challenge rising in his eyes every time Tom stood to his full height and squared his shoulders, ready to fight back. Maybe it's just the fight that Brody lives for, that knowledge that he's dominating a, by all rights, powerful Alpha.
"And the other thing?" Tom prompts, not really sure why he asked.
Brody licks his lips. "I told you already."
"You said I was, y'know. But that's not true. It happens maybe 1/10th of the times that we've gone at it," Tom reminds him, heat creeping into his cheeks as he suspects that the couples around the room are starting to catch up. "So I'm not easy. What gives?"
A plump bottom lip gets caught between straight white teeth for a single beat before it's released. "It feels good. Really, really good. And I won't apologise for that."
"I'm not asking you to, but..."
"But what? You want to snuggle afterwards or something?" Brody says, rolling his eyes. "Sorry. I'm more of a hit and run type."
Tom snorts, completely forgetting that they're not at all alone. "I wouldn't exactly call over two hours a hit and run, Brody."
"I can't control my knot, Tommy," Brody admits shamelessly, and the confusion must show on his face because Brody adds, "I'm not an asshole. I think Weres should be able to fuck whoever the hell they want and not feel guilty about it. Except for, y'know, the obvious."
"Yeah..."
"That doesn't mean I'm attracted to other Alphas."
"So I'm really?..."
"Yeah, you are," Brody tells him, for once not glaring at him. "Truth is, you're the only Alpha I've done... anythin' with."
"Same here," Tom admits, feeling mildly uncomfortable now that they're having some kind of heart to heart.
The feeling doesn't go away until he falls into a restless sleep that night, dreaming about Brody holding him tight against a wall, knee rubbing up over his crotch and lips on his.
===
The following morning, Tom's barely got his door open, ready to go down and have some breakfast when he's shoved back roughly, feet just about keeping him from keeling over. The door shuts in front of him, Brody's profile coming into view. He turns to Tom, face passive as he approaches him, saying nothing, eyes boring into his as he yanks his belt out of the loops, gets denim down past his ass and then propels him backwards onto the bed.
Brody stalks up to him, settles between his legs, hands going to his jeans to unbutton them.
"What are you doing?" Tom asks, far more out of breath than he should be.
"I'm horny," Brody states simply, getting himself out of his jeans before stripping Tom's bottom half the rest of the way, fingers biting into his legs as they grapple and hoist him back so his ass is hanging off the end.
"I thought--" Tom clears his throat, swallows. "I thought you liked the fight?"
"I don't want to fight right now. I want to fuck," Brody replies, jerking his cock with one hand, using the other to gather up pre-come on his fingers to do a quick, half-decent job of preparing Tom's hole for him.
"I know this is a couples retreat, but like... I'm sure you can get a Beta or--"
"Shut up, Tommy. I don't want to risk hanging around if I tie with some nobody I won't even remember the name of," Brody replies, guiding the head of his cock to Tom's hole. "You're here. You're available. We've done this before. You're not saying no, so how `bout you shut your mouth and let me get us there, huh?"
Tom opts not to say anything, struck by the knowledge that this is the first time that Brody has fucked him on his back. And it's also the first time that Brody touched his cock. The first time he jerks him off while pounding into him, a deep, gravelly voice demanding that he come. Tom does, almost violently, half-aware of Brody's constant stream of complaints as he lays over him, irritated by the cum sticking to his chest while they tie.
Like most of the time, Brody falls asleep while tied to him. Unlike most of the time, Tom feels a kiss on the side of his neck and he has no idea what to think or feel when, instead of being disgusted by it, he wants him to do it again so badly it actually physically hurts.
===
Now that two of them have gotten past glaring and spewing hateful bullshit, they've been talking about things that actually interest them. Things that they share in common. Some of them are a stretch. Tom has an eclectic taste in music. Brody likes classic rock and he's not very flexible on that. A couple of songs, it turns out, Tom's a fan of, and Brody talks his ear off about everything he knows about the band, the origin of the song, the meaning of all the lyrics, and Tom is surprised to note that he doesn't get bored of listening to Brody talk or feel like he needs to interrupt at any point.
Even more surprisingly, when it's his turn to talk and he goes on about geeky shit, Brody listens to what he has to say, even if it looks like he would rather be either fucking him, beating each other senseless or murdering the plate of burgers resting on the table to their right.
It's during a rant about air travel that Tom asks, "Does this mean that... y'know, the war is over? Should I call the press and schedule an interview?"
Brody snorts.
"You're all right, Tom. Just stop being something you're not and I won't have any problems with you. But, if you ever feel the need to release some stress and wanna go toe-to-toe with someone actually able to keep up with you, well, you know where to find me."
===
Amazingly, a couple of months ago Tom and Brody were at each other's throats at the drop of a hat. Now, they're getting along fine, Brody doesn't glare at him the moment he sees him or start a fight with him the second he says something he doesn't agree with. The mood around the office is healthier. Everyone, including Polina, has noticed the change between them, and, smartly decided not to press and risk stirring the pot, and Tom made the conscious decision to offer the New Hampshire position to Brody, who refused to take it because he hadn' earnt it, so he suggested that they offer if to someone else.
Tom would be lying if he said that he didn't miss the fighting. It kept things exciting, made the blood pump through his veins--made him feel alive even. At this rate, his body's gonna start regenerating cells purely from the anticipation of the next hit. The next hit that's not going to come because Brody hasn't touched him since they got back from the retreat.
Nothing. No shoves. No grips. No grapples on his shirt collar.
Tom actually misses it. He misses the pseudo intimacy that came from it, Brody's body smushed up against his own, all that naked skin flush with his, sticking to him as the exertion built and built, tempers flaring, skin rippling from the force of skin slapping skin, Tom's wrists bound over his back, trapped in the seal of Brody's hands, deep grunts and low growls penetrating the fog of his mind as Brody pounded away at him.
He's ashamed to admit that he's jerked off to it. He never used to do that. Maybe because it was more regular than he was letting on. Tom doesn't know. All he does know is that work isn't exciting anymore.
Perhaps that's why he's... Considering something.
Alphas that like to get with other Alphas do have places that are willing to facilitate that type of meeting. Tom's been contemplating for a while whether or not he should give it a shot. After all, he's had sex a couple of times since he's been back. With Betas. One Omega. And while they got the job done, it didn't give him that... fulfilment that he's been searching for since that night in the hotel when Brody tied them on his back.
Tom has to look within himself here. Does he like Alphas? Is he maybe... into Alphas? Or is it Brody? Is it just Brody that he wants to submit to or is there more to it than that? Has he been deluding himself into thinking that he would one day settle down with a Beta or Omega, have a few pups and have an apple pie life?
He doesn't know how to answer that. It's hard to imagine, is what he will say. And he's never found himself staring at any other Alphas in that way, but maybe that's simply because he didn't try to look enough.
"Shoulders back, Xander," Brody projects across the room, nodding in satisfaction when Tom adheres to his demand. "Keep `em that way or it's your ass."
The rebel in him wants to clap back, rile Brody up, get those hands on him. He almost drops them. Almost messes up his whole posture. Almost asks Brody what he plans to do about it. He doesn't.
Things are good between them. Brody's thing about Tom diminishing his own power has been brought up a couple of times. Brody's told him again and again that hiding your true nature is dumb and irritating, that he's free to do it around whoever the hell else but not him.
Even Brody has admitted that it's weird, this sort of obsession he has with Tom remaining true to himself, highlighting it on occasion, laughing about how royally pissed he actually used to get when Tom tucked himself into the corner and tried to not stand out in a room full of other Weres.
Brody confessed to him that he would bristle the whole way through the meeting, getting more and more agitated the longer Tom dipped his legs, hunched in on himself and gave off the impression that he was trying to disappear.
It's bizarre, truly. But it's also... kind of sweet. Not that he would tell Brody that.
Tom shakes his head and gets back to work, deciding that it wouldn't be so bad for him to at least try and see if he might be sort of into other Alphas, outside of Brody.
A couple of hours later, he smells cedarwood and gun oil to his side, nose twitching before his head turns to greet the owner of that unique scent. This time, it's with a friendly smile, which Brody shockingly returns.
"Hey, Sasquatch."
"Hey." Brody perches on the edge of his desk. Tom feels the full weight of his scent mixed with the day's sweat and musk crawl up his nose and gets instantly hard in his pants. Shit. Maybe he really is attracted to Alphas.
"I was gonna get a couple of beers after work. You in?"
"Oh. Uh, I actually have plans," Tom says, ignoring the tightening of his throat. "How about tomorrow?"
Brody quirks his lips. "Plans, huh? Doin' what?"
"Nothin' important. I promised a friend I'd help them move some stuff. I know it's late but they couldn't get a time slot until the evening," he lies in return, hoping he's not sweating as much as he thinks he is.
Next to him, Brody narrows his eyes marginally, assessing him. After a few beats of uncomfortable silence, on Tom's part, Brody nods his head and steps back.
"Sure. Whatever. Have fun movin' shit," Brody says, playing it off like he's not bothered and failing miserably.
Why is he bothered, though?
===
Tom finds out why a few hours later when Brody's dragging him down an alleyway, forearm hooked around his throat. His feet kick and slide on the ground, hands grappling for purchase, nails piercing the flesh of Brody's arms but the other Alpha acts like it's nothing more than a bug landing on his skin that will eventually fuck off.
There's music pulsing through the walls. Tom feels it thrumming along the ground, wondering if anyone in the club would actually hear him if he cried out. Should he? Brody's never done this before.
He tries to speak but his words are cut off by the seal of Brody's arms. Eventually, he stops resisting and lets himself be dragged to wherever the hell Brody's taking him.
Which turns out to be his car.
At the door, he releases Tom. He looks really fucking pissed off. More so than Tom has ever seen him in the entire time he has known the other Alpha. Who the hell peed in his cereal?
"Get in the fucking car, Tom," Brody grits, throwing the door open. "Now."
"What? No. What the fuck was that?" Tom questions instead, putting a hand around his throat to check for bruising. There isn't any but that's not the point. "You show up out of nowhere, don't even say a word and start hauling me off without warning. I mean... the fuck, Brody?"
"Get... In... The... Car," Brody says slowly, icily, nails elongating to their true length, teeth breaking out of their cage. "Right now."
Tom chooses to believe that it's curiosity that gets him in the car and not Brody's reddening eyes--something he's never seen before--or the fact that he's literally shaking with rage. The door slams behind him and then Brody's getting in the driver's side, peeling out of the lot so fast the tyres scream.
Throughout the drive, Tom opens his mouth several times to speak. To ask questions. Something. Each time he goes to do it, he's stopped by the sharp look that Brody turns on him, knuckles so white on the steering wheel it looks like they might actually tear through the skin, which, with reluctance, keeps Tom quiet.
Even when the car stops, Brody doesn't say anything to him. He removes himself from the car, comes around to Tom's side, wrenches the door open, slings him out and into a wall and then closes the door behind him.
"What is your--"
"Shut up," Brody snaps, passing him, time freezing when their eyes meet for a few breaths, Brody's fingers curling into his collar and dragging him up to the front door, where he turns the key in the lock, gets the door open and encourages Tom to get inside. In the privacy of what must be Brody's house, Tom tries to take a glimpse of the interior, however, is offered no chance because Brody's shoving him through the house, taking long steps each time to close the distance, only to shove him back again, all the way to a bathroom, where Brody shreds him of his clothes--that he paid good money for--and pushes him into the shower cubicle. "You fucking reek," Brody says, nose scrunched in unbridled disgust, jaw clenched so tight Tom thinks it might actually break.
He feels the spray of the shower raining down on him but he hardly notices it. Brody grabs the showerhead, coats him in several plains of water before snatching the shower gel out of a little wall attachment and a luffa, squeezing a fat dollop out of the bottle. Then he's scrubbing Tom's skin, the material of his clothes getting soaked but it looks like he couldn't care less, jostling Tom around, stretching his arms out, bending him to get better access to certain areas, scrubbing him redraw.
When he's done, Tom is amazed by how hard his dick is. Who would have thought being washed would be something he's into.
And then Brody says, "I can still smell them on you," his tone is nuclear, nostrils flaring. "What the fuck were you thinkin', lettin' those knotheads touch you, huh? If you wanted to get fucked, you know where I am. I told you that before... remember?"
"That's what you're pissed about?" Tom snaps, shoving him. Brody's too angry and rage-fuelled to move from his spot, so all Tom gets for his effort is a shoulder jerk. "I wanted to see if I'd like it."
"Well, you obviously like it, Tom," Brody tells him, eyeing the state of his hard, leaking cock. "You've been with me enough times."
Tom glares at him.
"With someone else. Some other Alpha. Some other knot, Brody. It can't just be you, can it?"
If anything, this just makes Brody angrier.
"You don't need another knot. I'm right here. Ready. Willing. Able. So stop with this, this, whoring your ass out to the closest thing with a dick and come to me when you're horny, yeah?"
"Not coming to you is the whole point! How am I supposed to know if I like to be with Alphas or not if you're my only option?" Tom replies, pushing wet hair out of his face.
"I'm a pretty good option," Brody hits back, tearing his clothes off. "In fact, I'm the best option. Why would you settle for second best, Tommy? That just makes no sense at all," he adds with a laugh that he probably hopes sounds casual.
Tom goes to say something. Thinks better of it. Glares harder instead. "You make it sound like no one else should have the privilege of knotting me or something," he replies with a roll of his eyes, taking a step out of the cubicle. He doesn't make the step, Brody's naked, wet body pressing him back into the tiles, breath warm and eager on his throat.
"I got there first. I know how you tick. They're just gonna use you and then toss your ass aside--"
"Isn't that what you've been doing this whole time?" Tom reminds him, a sour note to his voice. "I don't see how it's any different if I let a different Alpha fuck--"
"Don't say it," Brody grits, hands sealing around his ass and squeezing just this side of painful. "I own this ass. It belongs to me. I've marked it. I've bitten it. I've fucked it. I've filled it. By all intents and purposes, your ass is mine, and no one else's."
"So this is just some territorial bull? You dumped inside me first, now no one else gets to?"
"That's right," Brody agrees, lips almost touching the flesh of Tom's moist throat. "It's the rules of the universe, Tommy."
"No, it isn't." Tom snorts. "What's really going on here, Brody?"
The shower continues to rain on them, the pitter-patter a tranquil ambience warring with the heat emitting from their eyes and the rapid thump of pumping hearts against their cages. Brody's silent for a long time, hands flexing intermittently on their perch. It feels like he's about to stop everything, tell Tom to forget what he saw, forget all of it, go home or back to the club or whatever, but don't bring what happened here tonight up again.
He's wrong, again.
Brody says nothing with words. He says it all with his body, lips sealing over Tom's, hands turning tender as they knead and lift the flesh of his ass instead of digging blunt fingers into it. Tom doesn't mind the roughness, but the soft treatment is also kind of nice. So is the arm snaking around, the eager tongue delving into his mouth, tasting all of him. Brody's throat is whirring, creating a tickle on the roof of Tom's mouth. He ignores it in favour of giving in to the heat rushing through him, the need that's been building up ever since that first day that he saw the other Alpha creating eye-sized craters in the side of his head from across the way--even then he felt something awaken within him. He just didn't know what to call it, where to box it inside his head, how to even approach it.
The shower shuts off, their wet bodies stepping back and out of the bathroom, lips attached until Brody's led them somewhere, reaching blindly for a handle, eventually breaking it when he can't seem to jiggle it down without having to use his eyes. Tom groans as his back tears the door off its hinges, Brody spinning him, licking the top of his back as he walks him forward, shoving him face-down on the bed. He starts at the base of his spine, licking and kissing his way up to the top.
Maybe he's apologising for using him as a battering ram? Tom doesn't really care. It feels too good to fucking care right now.
Tom's legs spread without his permission, knees bending, hips rising up, ass presenting an open invitation of its own accord. Brody makes a clicking noise in the back of his throat and flips Tom onto his back, sealing one hand around his ankle to pull him back down the bed, their groins meeting, cocks pulsing and sliding against each other as Brody bends Tom in half so he can get his lips back on him, fucking his tongue in and out of his mouth, growling throatily between kisses and nips to the tender flesh.
They're breathing into each other's mouths when Tom feels a finger stroke over his hole. He remembers then, that he lubed himself up just in case the Alpha he ended up pulling wouldn't have even bothered to try and prepare him.
Brody shoves three fingers in roughly, curls them up and over and starts a brutal assault on his prostate that has Tom's legs stuttering. "Any of them fuck you?" he asks, sweeping his digits back and forth, pressing up on the fourth stroke. "Any of them get to know what it feels like to have your tight, powerful body writing on their cock?"
Tom shakes his head harder than he needs to, hands palming Brody's face. "No. I didn't get that far."
A breath of relief is the only response that Tom gets, a hand guiding him back down onto his back. Tom hooks his legs around Brody's waist without him needing to do anything, and he's grateful that he makes no comment on it.
Brody pauses with his cock in his hand, positioned at Tom's hole, prepped and ready to go. Tom can't help but wonder what's on his mind, why he's suddenly hesitating when he's never had an issue just fucking into Tom before.
"You get what this means, right?" Brody asks, riding the crease with slow, concise strokes.
"What... what means?"
Brody raises an eyebrow and pushes just the head inside then takes it back out again. "This."
"We've done this a few times now, Brody. You'll need to be more specific."
"Fine," Brody replies grumpily, bending to catch Tom's bottom lip between his teeth, letting his canines elongate until they pierce the flesh and blood seeps from the wound. "Now you," he implores, jutting his lip out. Tom swallows the sudden lump in his throat, checks Brody's eyes for any insincerity, and, when he doesn't find any, lets his own fangs layer over the top of his teeth and mimics him. Brody smiles then, sealing their lips in a rough, soul-melting kiss, red smears on the corners of his mouth by the time he's done. Tom's probably in the same condition but he has no idea.
"That's... Mating ritual?"
"Mating ritual," Brody parrots, licking his lips. He hooks his arms under Tom's legs, bends him back and then slides to home base in one thrust.
The only sounds Tom can make after that are grunts, groans, whines for more, pleases and whatever else falls out of his mouth when Brody's effectively turning his brain to mush, snake-like hips performing figure eights that have Tom's toes curling so hard his feet start spasming.
He feels like his heart is in his throat, getting closer and closer to projecting out of his mouth if Brody doesn't stop making him feel every fucking inch of his cock on these long-ass drags that are so good but not enough in the slightest, and he doesn't want him to speed up, but he also wants him to finish bottoming out before next Christmas.
Fuck. Tom's body is lit with... something otherworldly, pulse going wild enough to make Tom feel sick from it. He ignores it, spreads his legs wider, loops his arms tighter around Brody's neck, scrunches up his face when Brody bends him in half, hands steepled around Tom's nape, pounding down into him with such force that the bed collapses under their weight. It doesn't stop them. They don't even pause, Brody grabbing his wrists and trapping them above them, bloody lips swallowing his moans as he presses down, snapping, churning, circling until Tom's eyes roll back in his head, spit runs down the side of his mouth and he thinks his heart might have stopped at some point because he's not sure he's even breathing. Brody pulls out then, and Tom barely has time to utter a completely unintelligible complaint. He's turned onto his front, face pressed into the mattress, arm tugged and bent behind his back as Brody slots back into place, using the hold on his wrist to wrench his body down and Tom's up into every thrust, the sound of the impact closer to a thunderclap than the usual pounding of flesh. Tom's throat is sore from crying out. He can't moan into the sheets because he doesn't have time to catch the fabric between his teeth. The violent, agonizing pace leaves him no room to do anything.
Tom feels like nothing more than a fleshy bodysuit that Brody purchased online to have his way with whenever he's in the mood, knowing that he doesn't have to hold back because it can't feel. But Tom can feel. And he's loving it, insides so full he feels like they're one thrust from exploding.
His vision is full of bursts of colour, eyes tightly closed, the veins all over his body taut and screaming but he can't tap out. He can't because it feels too fucking good to let it end here--who gives a shit if he can see the entire rainbow behind his eyelids?
Brody's dripping sweat and blood onto his back. Tom's muscles are tensing and relaxing. He feels boneless. He's not even sure what day it is anymore, let alone what he was doing ten minutes ago, too swept up in the earth-shattering speed at which Brody's pounding into him.
He doesn't ever want it to end. But he knows that it's going to have to.
And then he feels it... Teeth. Sharp. Sharp fucking teeth breaking the skin of the nape of his neck, those hips finally slowing down enough for him to draw in breath and cry out at the sensation as Brody starts slow-grinding into him, keeping his teeth embedded for five minutes, enough for the ritual to take effect. He released Tom's arm after the first minute, moved it to his side and just held both there, chest flat over Tom's back, cock buried to the hilt, hips doing tentative, almost adoring circles as he latches on.
When it sets in, he licks up the trail of blood, turns Tom onto his back again, kisses him softly but meaningfully. Brody hikes Tom up onto his lap, offers a cheeky smirk that holds within it something he's not ready to say with words yet. That's okay. Tom's not either. But he takes the offering when Brody seats himself back inside, rocking them as he lowers his head for Tom to give a bite of his own.
Tom takes the offering, holding on for dear life as Brody nips and licks his chest all the way through it. Tom cleans him off with his tongue as well, draws back to pitch forward and connect their lips. It's needier this time, hands roaming his back, hips, ass, legs, keeping him warm and limber, eventually crossing over the small of his back, dipping him to lick and suck, nip and mark his neck up, lips feather-soft on the side of his throat as he's lifted up and down, accepting everything that Brody is, everything that he has to offer.
He's accepting that it doesn't matter that he's an Alpha who likes taking the knot of another Alpha. Well, one Alpha in particular. His Alpha... And, holy shit, he's Brody's Alpha, too. He's accepting that he shouldn't question it. Life is full of little pleasures so why the hell not, right?
They're not hurting anyone. Brody's the only Were to ever make his skin crawl in all the good and the bad ways. He's the only one that makes him passionate about anything other than work--it's... maybe this was meant to happen? Maybe this--
"Stop thinking," Brody admonishes him, laughing. "We'll have time to think and freak out later. Right now I just wanna enjoy this--you, us... whatever."
Tom wordlessly agrees with him, arching his back when Brody pins him again, arms still looped around the base of his spine, body laid out as far as it can be so Brody can lick the sweat off his throat and tuck his head under his chin, the creases around his eyes giving way to his impending orgasm.
"Fuck... C'mon, Tommy--you gotta come first," Brody encourages, delivering sharp, mind-bending snaps that have Tom's balls drawing up. Or maybe it was just Brody's suggestion that did it. "Yeah. C'mon. Come. Do it. Come for me!"
As if that's all he needed to hear, Tom's cock throbs eagerly between their bodies, thick white ropes of come shooting out of him, coating their skin in a fine layer that Brody snickers at.
"Interesting choice of moisturiser you've got there," he says and Tom's far too gone to tell him how awful his joke is. He focuses his efforts on the vibrations coming from Brody's throat, the stuttered breaths leaving him, the arms tightening around his waist and the half-curse that gets lost in the sensation of Brody's knot bulging out, locking them in place, tying them for the first time as mates.
"F-fuck... Ho-holy shit," Brody stammers, and Tom can feel why--the amount of cum being pumped into his channel with each burst is ludicrous. Brody buries his face in Tom's neck, body twitching, shifting, squirming, breath hot and moist on his skin. Tom brings his arms up around him when he gets his bearings back, hands slick. He curls an arm around Brody's head, bends forward to kiss his crown and strokes his back for ten minutes. He absently wonders if Brody's legs are ever going to stop jerking randomly. "Christ... This feels fuckin' amazin'."
"I can tell," Tom comments, fucked out, blissed-out, worn out but never happier. "Why don't you rest. You've done all the hard work after all."
"Yeah... That sounds like a good idea," Brody agrees, nuzzling Tom's neck. He kisses him softly. "You're beautiful, by the way."
"Hm?"
"Beautiful. For an Alpha. Just wanted to say it. Don't go making a big deal about it."
Tom isn't really sure what to say for the longest time. He settles on not saying anything at all, while secretly thinking that Brody's a pretty damn beautiful Alpha himself.
Maybe he'll tell him in the morning.
FIN
Once again, comments greatly appreciated! Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it. If you came, let me know when you did and how many shots. I'd love to know. ;)
--Kieran