Alphas: Supes and Badboys (8 Books in One)

by Myles, Eden

  He pushed my legs wide open so he could fit himself between my knees. My cock, already engorged, twitched and hardened further at the proximity of my gentleman’s presence, and I could feel the familiar ache of my balls slowly drawing upward against my body in preparation for what was to come. He kissed me until my mouth was numb with his kisses, then he lowered his mouth and snagged my throat in his teeth, hard. He sucked desperately on my Adam’s apple until I nearly cried out at the sensation, his teeth holding me there. Then he lowered his head to lick and bite as he moved lower over my chest and belly. He lapped at my navel, then moved lower, kissing my lower stomach until he reached the base of my cock. I grunted and held his head and arched upward compulsively. He finally gripped my cock, squeezing lightly until pearls of pre-cum formed. He licked them away, then blew gently upon the wetness of my cockhead until I trembled for him.

  “Oh fuck me, yes,” I said, barely aware of what was coming out of my mouth.

  His head nudged between my legs and I leaned back against the piano to give him better access. He boldly licked and sucked my balls deep into his mouth, the roughness of his tongue scraping across the thin, jumpy skin there. I moaned and thrust upward against him, my body giving itself to him. I was vaguely aware that the music had stopped, that people were surrounding the piano, watching us with great, avid interest, but at the moment I just didn’t care. Nothing existed except Mr. Karenina and his beautiful, learned mouth, the careful attention he was showing every part of me. He licked and nipped at the underside of my cock. His tongue traced down over my crack to my ass, and there he found me, quivering and ready for him. I cried out as he licked me, probing into me with the tip of his tongue, and I would have come had he not had my cock in his hand, controlling my rhythm.

  He hooked one of my legs over his shoulder and bent his head to lick and bite at my opening, his tongue moving in and out of my tight hole until my hips rocked against the top of the piano, begging him for more, for everything. While he licked me, he stroked and teased my cock until it pulsed and I found myself thrusting frantically against him. Once my ass was wet enough, he pushed two, then three fingers deep inside of me. I thrashed as the fierce pressure built inside, and it was only Mr. Karenina’s powerful grip on my cock that kept me atop the piano as he pleasured and tortured me. He stopped to undo himself, and I felt a flash of panic when I realized how every person in the room was going to bear witness to our lusty rutting.

  I groaned and tried to wriggle backward on the sleek surface of the piano, but Mr. Karenina pinned me atop it, spread my legs with both hands and positioning his enormous cockhead between my legs, ready to impale me. I started saying, “No…” but he kissed me, leaned into me, holding me down, and then started nudging his way into my ass regardless of my protests. I cried out as his cock impaled me, slowly and steadily, and then it was too late, and I felt my ass constrict around the hardness of his girth, and my body, betraying me, tried to hold him deep inside me. His hands gripped my hips to keep me in place while he fucked me hard and fast atop the piano. His balls slammed into my ass with each impact, and I grunted and my entire body convulsed around him.

  “Look at me, Daniel,” he commanded, his voice edged with steel. “Look at us.” And I lifted my head and watched him move in and out of my body. The erotic sight of his cock thrusting in and out of my hole, claiming me, making me his, almost brought me right then and there.

  I shivered and threw my head back, but he slid his hand around my cock once more, controlling my orgasm, slowing it down, while his other dug into my hip, controlling the rest of my body. His fucking increased and he bucked sharply inside me, his frantic lust becoming so wild he covered my body with his, holding me down while simultaneously dragging my hips up with each bruising impact, his breath growling softly against my throat. I closed my eyes and reveled in the torturous pleasure as it built and built. With my eyes closed, I thought how he was like some great and powerful beast mating with me, subjugating me to its hungers, swallowing me whole, no escape. The thought made me cry out with surprised pleasure. My body took him and took him until I screamed from the raw, savage pleasure of his ass fucking.

  Our two bodies writhed and thrashed until I thought I would at last split apart under the pressure of my unreleased orgasm. “Come with me now, Daniel,” he growled against the supersensitive skin of my throat, and I finally gave one long twitch and came into his hand while he let himself go. I felt him spurt hot and almost painfully deep inside my body. He came, and that triggered me to come again. He cried out in pure pleasure as the convulsions of my body worked to milk him of every last drop.

  Finally, he collapsed atop me, pinning me under his weight. He kissed my throat and said, “Good boy, Daniel. Welcome to the Dollhouse.”

  * * *

  “Hey, Daniel, can I talk to you, man?”

  I was sitting in the library, doing some research on currencies in ancient Constantinople for a paper I had due, when Simon came up to me.

  I glanced aside and was a little surprised to find him standing there. I think maybe I’d talked to him face to face only once, and that was earlier in the year when he’d caught me in the student café and asked me if he could email me this paper he needed edited. After that, we’d just spoken by email, and always just about his papers. I was a little surprised to see him in the library.

  “Sure,” I said, trying to sound casual, the way I did by email. “What’s up?”

  Simon sat down at the table beside me. He was a big guy, about six-two, a little shorter than Mr. Karenina, but he made up for it with a lot of football muscle. I looked over his sandy-haired, All-American good looks and felt my pulse jump a little in my throat. He was so casually handsome, like someone you’d find comfortable talking to anywhere, the kind of guy who would help you fix your car, or stop to help a turtle cross the road. He was also probably the kind of guy who wanted a family someday, a house in the ‘burgs, kids, a dog. I realized then that I was talking to the guy I’d wanted to talk to all year—the man, literally, of my dreams—and I didn’t even know what to say.

  “Do you do tutoring?” Simon asked, watching me with his bright, chocolate-brown eyes. He had beautiful eyes, and they were the first thing you noticed about his face. The second thing was his chiseled good looks and the dimple in his chin.

  “Well, not really,” I stammered. “I mean, I’ve never done it before…”

  “But you could, right? I mean, you’re a smart guy.”

  I smiled, maybe a little crookedly. “I hope so.”

  “‘Cause I need like massive help in economics. I’m fucking up my class big time…got a D on my last midterm. If I get another D, I’ll be in serious danger of losing my scholarship.” He looked at me, grimly, begging me silently with his eyes. “How much would you charge?”

  I really didn’t need the money, considering the outrageous sum Mr. Karenina was paying me to be his courtier, but I suddenly felt sorry for Simon. I didn’t want him to lose his scholarship. Unlike the other guys I knew here, he wasn’t loaded. If he lost his scholarship, he’d be out. I threw out what I thought was a reasonable rate and he snatched it right up. “When could we start? Can we do a session this Saturday before I have practice?”

  I squirmed a little in my seat. I was actually open this Saturday. Mr. Karenina had called me last night to tell me Kate had had an accident while on the set of the new X-Files series she was filming. She had done one of her own stunts and had broken her wrist in two places. It wasn’t a bad break, but the producer of the show had insisted she take a couple weeks off before they resumed filming. Mr. Karenina said Kate was flying back to New York so she could spend her recovery time with him. He didn’t say as much, but I got the impression that he was looking forward to doting over his daughter, so I had begged off his weekend, citing some important exams I had coming up.

  I thought about Simon’s request, and how lonely this weekend was going to be with just Sheri to gab at me, so I said, “Sure. Why not? What
time should I come over?”

  * * *

  We’d agreed on nine in the morning, because Simon had football practice at eleven.

  His dorm was a mess. Not that I was a clean freak or anything, but it was seriously littered with clothes that needed washing, fast food cartons, and haphazardly stacked textbooks. His high school football jersey and pennants decorated the walls. While he went to dig some sodas out of his tiny dorm Frigidaire, I went to look over his trophy collection.

  There were albums stacked neatly under the TV. I expected to find gaggles of football pics and girlfriend photos, but when I opened up the first one, I realized the album was actually a butterfly collection, which I found kind of weird. The same was true of the other albums. All butterflies, meticulously labeled and displayed on the pages, along with carefully penciled in factoids, habitat information and rough sketches.

  Simon stepped back into the room with two Mountain Dews and looked at me a little pensively but didn’t say anything about me looking at his bug collection. “You wanna start?” he asked only, and I put the album back and we both sat down at his cluttered desk to go over the ancient economics of Greece and Rome for the next hour and a half.

  I guess my seeing his collection really bugged him, no pun intended, because eventually he said, “I like Lepidoptera. I think they’re cooler than stamps or collecting toy soldiers or whatever.”

  “It’s all cool, man,” I said.

  Simon sat back in his chair and folded his arms against the back of his head. “Can I ask you something really personal, Daniel?” he said.

  “I guess.” I turned a page of his textbook.

  “Does anyone give you a hard time? Being gay, I mean?”

  “Not really,” I said. “Not that I’ve noticed. But then, I don’t really know what folks say about me behind my back.”

  “The guys I know think you’re pretty cool, actually,” he said, and his words uplifted me somewhat. “Most don’t even know you’re gay. You don’t act gay.”

  “Thanks, I guess.” I turned and looked at him. “You’re not out with them, are you?”

  Simon looked horrified, as if I’d asked him to stick his hand into a box full of rabid weasels. “Ut-uh. I wouldn’t know where to start, but I am thinking about telling them.”

  I wondered how that would go over—the star quarterback of the Columbia team being a butterfly-collecting closet case. Probably like a lead balloon. It was almost like a bad Lifetime movie plot or something.

  Simon shrugged and all his muscles moved in his upper chest and arms under his t-shirt. “I mean, I’d like to. The guys are always dragging me to strip clubs, you know? And they’re constantly introducing me to these chicks and stuff, and I have to keep giving them lame-ass excuses or pretending I like the girls they send my way, but it’s a huge drag. I’d really love to tell them and just get it over with, but then it might get back to my parents.” He bit his lip, then started telling me about his folks who lived in western Pennsylvania, and although things seemed slightly more modern and civilized out there in the Keystone State, I got the feeling he was in the same boat as I was. No matter where you went, parents were parents. They all wanted their sons to grow up, find a girl, settle down, and act normal and acceptable.

  I didn’t say a whole lot, but I found I really liked talking to Simon. Before I left his dorm, he asked me if he could kiss me. I was feeling comfortable enough with him to let him do it, and it was a warm kiss, not too wet. He didn’t ravage my face the way Mr. Karenina did. I liked that, but I was also a little disappointed. Simon ran his hand up the back of my hair, then slapped my cheek in a friendly way and told me he was looking forward to our next tutoring session.

  I got all the way back to my dorm before the guilt started setting in.

  * * *

  The following Saturday, Kate let me into Mr. Karenina’s kitchen and said, “How are you doing, Daniel?”

  “I’m good,” I told her. She looked beautiful, even with the sling on her arm, and I thought again how much she resembled her father. I thought how she was going to be on TV a long, long time, seeing how neither she nor Mr. Karenina seemed to age very much. I’d finally gotten up the courage to ask for her autograph, and as she smiled and scribbled her name lefthandedly across the photograph of her I’d printed off the internet, I said, “How does your arm feel?”

  Kate rolled her eyes. “Everyone’s treating me like I have a terminal disease, including Da. He’s been insufferable these last few days!” She led me into the breakfast nook, where she poured me a coffee. “Has the work been okay?”

  I took the coffee from her, wondering how much she knew about my relationship with her father. “Oh sure. It’s really easy. And your father is great to work with.”

  “Good. He’s really happy with you too, Daniel,” she said, leaning against the sidebar and cradling her coffee cup in her good hand. “I’m really surprised by the changes in him these last few weeks.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh yeah. When my mom died, it changed Da. He became very…introverted. He wouldn’t see his friends or even step outside the house for the longest time. He used to sleep with one of my mother’s ball gowns tucked under the covers with him. In fact, do you know that up until recently, he kept all her old dresses upstairs in her wardrobe?”

  “I didn’t know that,” I said. “But I bet you miss your mom.”

  Kate smiled and touched a small, heart-shaped pendant she wore around her neck and said, “I keep her with me.” And then, realizing how solemn the room was growing, she perked up and said, “I hear Da’s been getting out with you on the weekends. He’s being a real pioneer, isn’t he?”

  “He likes to go into the city on Saturdays,” I said and left it at that.

  “How’s Malcolm?”

  I almost choked on my coffee.

  Kate smirked.

  “You know about that? About the Dollhouse?”

  “That my mom was a courtesan? Yes, Daniel, I know that.” She stepped forward and laid a hand on my shoulder. “I like you a lot, and I know Da does too. You’ve been good for him.”

  “But…” I said, because there was always a but.

  “All I ask is that you be gentle with him, okay? Don’t ever lie to him. Don’t lead him on. That’s all I ask.”

  “I have no intention of hurting your dad, Kate,” I said.

  Her phone went off then, and she snatched it up and looked at the number. “That’s my agent. Da will be down shortly, if he ever gets done preening. Why don’t you have some more coffee?”

  “Sure,” I said. But after Kate stepped out onto the pavilion to take her call, I made a point of walking the rooms the way Mr. Karenina liked. I marked down a couple of hazards I noticed, then wended my way upstairs.

  I found Mr. Karenina in his bedroom, dressing. He was wearing trousers, but his white dress shirt hung open as he stood in a shaft of late morning sunlight by the window, struggling with his cufflinks. He looked gorgeous in the daylight, all black and white, like a man from another era—black hair, white skin, black pants, white shirt. I set my notebook down and went to him. “Would you like me to help you, sir?” I asked, feeling very Jeevesque all of a sudden. At least I knew now why it took him so long to dress in the morning before we went into the city. It was because he never asked for any help, even from Kate.

  He looked at me—or rather, at about the level of my chin—and considered my offer. I wondered if I’d said something to offend him. Had I hurt his pride by offering to help him? Had I made him feel like some cripple? But after a tense moment his face softened and he said, “Yes, all right, Daniel. Thank you.”

  I went to work on his cufflinks, which were difficult even with eyes. Then I asked him if I could help him with the rest of his wardrobe. I knew he could manage just fine on his own, but it had been two weeks since I’d seen him, and I wanted to touch him, I wanted to be with him, help him, and he seemed to sense that. He let me button his shirt, which I found was almo
st as much fun as taking it off him. When I reached his collar, he slid a hand against the back of my neck and jerked me closer so he could nudge my mouth open with his tongue. He kissed my mouth and inside my mouth. I moaned and he said, “I love it when you make those noises, Daniel, like you can hardly control yourself.”

  I made those noises while he kissed me. His free hand drifted over the front of my body and he fondled me gently between the legs, through my jeans. Then he pushed me back toward his bed and made me sit down. He continued to kiss me, pressing me into the mattress, and we made out for a while until we were both breathless. It was the best good morning kiss I’d ever had. “Your suits have arrived,” he told me as his fingers splayed over the front of my shirt, gripping the material. “Will you let me dress you, Daniel? Play with you?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  He went to the wardrobe on the opposite side of the room and showed me the suits, which were just as beautiful as the ones he wore. I assumed this was the closet he’d kept his wife’s clothes in, and I thought about what Kate had said about him sleeping with Elizabeth’s gowns.

  I let him play with me. It took all morning and most of the afternoon. I thought it was a somewhat odd fetish for a grown man to have, dressing and undressing his lover in the seemingly endless shirts and suits he had purchased, but not the oddest thing I’d ever heard of. And, after all, it was almost comforting, the way he handled me, gently but persistently, like some giant doll, like I belonged to him, like I was his plaything. Lost in a kind of personal reverie, he touched my skin and hair, stroked his hands across the fine fabric of the suits that clung to me. Along the way, he informed me that he and Elizabeth would play like this all day sometimes.

  By the time evening rolled around, I realized we’d never left the house, hadn’t visited the NorthStar offices at all, and I wondered what his evening plans were. He finally asked me to dinner, and then requested I accompany him to the Dollhouse this evening so he could show off my new wardrobe.