ommmfffgggggg YEEESSSS
it’s not weird if he takes just the tip. Their knots aren’t even remotely touching.
“F-Fuck… C’mon dude, this isn’t.. it’s not funny, alright?” Jesse whispers heatedly, straining to keep his voice low as a gaggle of other Deadlock members sleep just around the corner.
His pants hang around his skinny thighs, belt shucked to have it more comfortable, and Bertie’s hand is cupping his balls, fingers cheekily slipping behind and rooting around without finesse until he finds the small clench of the other Alpha’s hole.
Jesse hisses, fingers curling into Bertie’s shoulders. He lifts up onto the balls of his feet, legs dancing apart until they are restricted by his pants.
“And it’s not funny to wake up to you stuffing your fucking face with my ration, McCree,” Bertie hisses back, a flush spread across the bridge of his nose and his high cheekbones. He looks just as nervous and unsure as Jesse feels. “And if you don’t want me go crying to the boss, you should be a little nicer to me.”
“Fuck you,” Jesse grunts because Bertie’s fingertips, blunt and square, has wriggled into the tight clench of his body. Bertie stinks of Alpha pheromones, but they don’t set his teeth on edge as much as they should have. In fact, he feels nervously aroused. It’s been a while he fucked someone.
“Come on, McCree,” Bertie whispers, face so close Jesse can feel his breath against his lips. His tone has taken on a decidedly whining quality. “Just the tip, man. Nobody’s gonna ever know. Just… Just wanna jerk off into you, hm?”
Jesse groans, belly clenching tight. Fuck, that sounded hot. Fuck. He clenches his jaw for a second. Unclenches. Licks his lips. His fingers are kneading into the fabric of Bertie’s shirt as he throws nervous glances around the dark, dingy hallway. Just around the corner, they can hear the other guys snore.
“Alright,” he finally whispers, embarrassed at how hard he’d gotten. “Just the tip, though. Just the fucking tip.”
He turns around awkwardly, flushing hotter at how he has to hold up his pants so they don’t fall to his ankles.
Bertie is breathing hard and wet behind him and is on him in a second. There’s the clinking of metal as he fumbles with his fly, Jesse biting into his arm, trying to keep quiet. He wants to touch his cock; can already feel the tip being wet and needy, but between stuffing his mouth and holding up his pants, he has no hand free.
And then Bertie is on him, fumbling and cursing under his breath, inexpertly pressing the wet tip of his own cock against the tight clench of Jesse’s hole.
“Just the tip,” he can hear Bertie whisper under his breath; a little sibilant because he’s probably biting his tongue as he stares down, concentrating on the task at hand.
Jesse grunts when he takes the thing, eyes watering with the stretch and burn, lifting up onto the tips of his feet once more.
Bertie groans and Jesse closes his eyes at the fierce throb of his cock. It should be disgusting to get mounted by another Alpha, but all he feels is fierce, unadulterated lust.
“Just the tip,” Bertie whimpers like a mantra, and Jesse ripples around his cock and feels himself getting needy for it, which is when he doubles down on biting into his sleeve to keep himself quiet.
Cyberrat Writes 