Discovering his Inner Alpha

Spoiler/Trigger warning - This story contains a brief description of the rape of a minor from the standpoint of the victim. It is a plot device to explain the character's behavior and motivations. It is not intended to be salacious or erotic in any way. It also goes into a little about the treatment of the victim and the long-term psychological damage on the victim and those around her. My research on this was brief so apologies in advance for any unintended errors.

But ultimately this is a love story and an exploration of the protagonist's growth as a man and a lover. I enjoyed writing it and hope you will enjoy it too.

Mariella set down her iPad and pursed her lips, tilting her head and looking at me across the breakfast table.

"No good?" I said.

She shook her head. "No. It's really good. Maybe one of your best really. The characters are believable, the story flows nicely and the sex is really hot. It's just ..."

"What?"

"Reid, why are all your male protagonists so ... uhm ... passive?"

I had been writing and self publishing short form erotic fiction for a little over a year after numerous rejections of my more mainstream short story collections. I had a very small but enthusiastic following on a few publishing sites and was generating some decent revenue through Patreon. Not enough to allow me to write full time of course, which is why I was working as an Export/Import specialist for a major package and logistics company in Phoenix. My live-in girlfriend Mariella was always my first reader.

"How do you mean?" I asked.

"Well, they're always great guys. Good looking, sensitive and maybe a little 'hard to get' for one reason or another. Some women find that irresistible and really sexy. But sexually they just aren't very dominant or aggressive."

I was a little hurt by this. "I don't think that's very fair."

Mariella came around the table and sat on my lap, her iPad in hand. She kissed my cheek "Don't be hurt querido. But look ... here ... in Act 3. Melissa clearly wants Geoffry to make the first sexual move but he's hesitant. She had to do it. And again in Act 7 .... they've had sex several times already in the story but Melissa is still initiating and she ends up riding him to orgasm just like every other encounter."

I tickled Mariella a little and chuckled "You mean like you like doing most of the time?"

She didn't giggle and gently pushed my hands away. "No baby, I don't like doing that most of the time. I sort of ... need to."

I froze. My heart skipped a little. "Mariella?" In our 3 years together it was the first time I had even a hint of any concerns between us sexually. We made love several times a week and as far as I could tell she always had an orgasm.

She was quiet for what seemed like forever. Finally she said "Reid, you're a sensitive, creative and attentive lover. And you have a very nice cock ..."

"Thank you ... but?" I said. My heart was starting to pound.

"Buuuut, you just aren't very dominant when it comes to sex. I love the fact that you're such a gentle lover, but every once in a while ... I'd ... like ..." She paused..

"What? You'd like what?"

She lowered her head, her long brunette waves covering her face. "Sometimes I wish you would just fuck me."

I was a little shocked. Not by her language, Mariella was an accomplished bi-lingual cusser, but by the implications of what she was saying. Since the very first time we had made love she always told me how wonderful it was and how she cherished how sensitive I was in bed.

My mind raced for an appropriate response. All that came out was a bit of a lame "We fuck ... don't we?"

She looked up at me, her eyes were pleading. "No querido. You make love, and beautifully. But when I ride you ... I'm fucking you like I wish you would fuck me."

What followed in my mind was a montage of our lovemaking sessions over the last three years. So many of them ended with Mariella straddling me: on her knees or on her feet, facing me or facing away, her hands on my chest or thighs. She was a wild woman when she did that, pounding against me and driving my cock into her with a strength that bordered on violence.

Once, early on, I grabbed her hips and tried to slow her down. I remembered saying "Hey ... easy. I don't want to hurt you." Her response had been "You ... won't ... hurt ... me." delivered in rhythm to her bouncing before she threw her head back and cried out in orgasm.

"I'm .... sorry?"

She turned towards me and wrapped her arms around my neck, burying her face into the side of my neck and whispered "Don't be sorry my love. I didn't tell you before now because I just didn't know how."

I felt a hot tear hit my shoulder. My heart almost broke. I had never, ever made her cry.

"I'll do better." was all I could think to say.

I felt her head nod before she kissed my ear and whispered "Thank you."

I just wish I knew HOW to do better.

At heart I'm a romantic. I fall in love easily and quickly and truly enjoy wooing women. I've been told that I'm charming, gentlemanly and not hard on the eyes. I'm relatively short for a man, 5'8", but according to the few women I've been with I have decent looks, a good build and an above average and pleasingly thick penis.

I hadn't had that many partners before Mariella. A couple in college and a few on-again, off-again relationships since then. None of them were terribly sexual, more like a couple of close friends who ended up in bed for reasons neither of them fully understood. But I always wanted to please my partners and took a lot of care making sure they had an orgasm.

To me there is nothing more beautiful and erotic than a woman in the throes of orgasm. Seeing the tops of their breasts, their upper chest and neck redden as they writhe and squirm, hearing their cries or murmurs can bring me to the brink of my own climax even if I am just fingering or going down on them. It had even pushed me OVER the brink on a few rare occasions, which admittedly was a little embarrassing.

Nonetheless, when making love, all my attention was focused on the goal of giving my partner a mind-shattering orgasm before even thinking of my own needs or desires. And right up until Mariella had said what she did, I assumed that was a good thing.

I had watched my share of porn and read enough erotic fiction to know about the impossibly well-hung alpha males who ravaged women, taking their pleasure as they pleased, sometimes with regard for the woman's pleasure, sometimes not. Frankly I always looked down on them as brutish and insensitive louts who didn't deserve the beautiful women who inexplicably found them so attractive.

Which is why I was at such a loss on how and what to do to satisfy Mariella's request. I am who I am, and don't have any real desire to be anything else. I supposed I could fake my way through some sort of testosterone soaked scene from a porn movie. But me? Grunting dirty talk while mindlessly thrusting into the woman I loved? I just didn't think I could pull it off with any level of sincerity, not without some guidance or advice anyway.

Which is why I was talking to my closest friend Chuck over lunch, the closest thing to a true alpha male that I knew.

"Hey Chuck, you're ...uhm ... a ... top? Right?"

Chuck choked on his mouthful of burger, coughing and drinking some water before he choked out "Wh ... what??"

"Did I use the wrong term?"

Chuck was staring at me in disbelief but said "No ... no ... you used the right term. But man ... why the hell would you ask me that?"

Chuck and I were an unlikely pair of friends. We met in junior high school and played football together in high school. Granted he had been brought up to Varsity as a sophomore while I finished as a back-up player on the JV squad. We had kept up our friendship even though we had attended different colleges. Chuck had gone on to play Division II college football and looked like it. Well over six feet tall and 300 pounds of solid muscle with a shock of unruly red hair and a beard to match. Chuck's collegiate career and a potential long shot at the NFL ended with a tragic injury his Junior year.

I was the first person Chuck had come out to and I had even introduced him to his husband Javier, a co-worker of mine. I wasn't sure Javi was gay at the time, but I suspected so I took a chance. I liked them both quite a bit and wanted them both to be happy. It worked out pretty well.

I sighed "Chuck, Mariella wants me to fuck her. And I don't know how. I thought maybe you could ... you know ... give me some pointers."

Chuck's jaw dropped. "Are you telling me that you two have been living together for three years and have never ... " he did the finger into the fist thing.

"No ...jesus ... no ... we have. Quite a lot actually."

Chuck looked confused "I don't get it Reid, what's the gag here?"

"Mariella says I make love wonderfully, but sometimes she just wants me to ... you know ... fuck her."

Chuck took a minute to process what I said. "Oh." he said flatly. Then, with a little more understanding he nodded and said "Ooohh.". And finally, with a sly grin and a low chuckle "Oooohhhhhhohohooo."

I nodded. "Yeah."

He sighed, still chuckling. "Reid, buddy, you know I love you like a brother. So I'm going to be honest with you. You're no top and for sure not an alpha. Never have been. If you were gay I'm pretty sure you'd be a bottom, and a damn hot one too. You've got a great ass buddy. Hell, I even thought of making a play for you myself once."

"What?? Seriously? When?"

"In college. When you were between girls. Damn... what was her name ... the one with all the tattoos ..."

"Posy."

"Right ... her ... and the Philosophy major ...the hippy with the great tits..."

"Emerson."

"Yeah. Anyway, you were the only one I was out to and I was lonely and horny as hell. And you weren't in much better shape. Vulnerable and kinda sad ya know. So that weekend we spent in San Diego before our Junior year, I was going to try to ..." He shrugged. "Anyway, I'm not proud of thinking about it. In the end ...."

"Badump bumm ..." I said.

Chuck grinned his toothy broad grin through his beard "Good one. Anyway, you were my best friend and I didn't want to fuck it up."

"Badumm tsssshhhh ...." I said, and we both laughed. Chuck and I could talk and joke about anything, including the fact that at one point he had thought about me sexually. I wasn't offended or shocked. Honestly I was touched and a little flattered.

"Listen, Reid. You can't really fake what you aren't, especially when it comes to sex. Not in the long run anyway. If Mariella wants a douchey, alpha fuck machine maybe you should let her go find him and you keep looking for the right girl. One who'll appreciate you for who you are." He reached across the table and put a big muscular hand on my forearm. "The nicest, sweetest guy I've ever known."

I sighed, took a small velvet box out of my pocket and put it on the table next to his hand. He looked at me quizzically and I nodded down to it. He frowned and opened it to reveal the engagement ring I had bought for Mariella.

"Oh." he said, slowly closing the box.

"Yeah." I replied. "I love her Chuck. Please man, help me."

He sat back and stared at me for a long time. "This is beer and shots talk, not burgers and coke."

So that Saturday afternoon, in a crappy chain sports bar, Chuck gave me his advice.

"Don't ask for what you want, or what you want her to do. Just take what you want. But be careful, don't force anything. Look for signals, any kind of sign at all, and then move in with confidence. Take control and be ... I don't know ... kind of ..."

"Brutish?"

"Yeah, maybe a little ... sure. And don't be afraid to talk a little dirty. I mean, don't call her a whore or little slut or any of that bullshit you see in porn. But if you want her to maybe ... suck you off and swallow it ... tell her to. Don't ask." He paused and looked down at the table where I had a pen out and was scribbling things on a napkin. "Jesus! Are you taking NOTES??"

"Uh huh." I said, not looking up.

He laughed. "Fucking nerd. I hope you don't plan on having those in your hand when you try any of this."

"Fuck you Chuck."

He laughed.

I stared at the notes. I looked up and said "I'd feel funny talking dirty to her."

"Dude WHAT?!? You write fucking porn as a HOBBY!"

"It's not porn asshole, it's erotic fiction."

"Whatever dude. All I know is you'd be better at talking dirty than I am. While I was studying playbooks in college you were getting a degree in Literature. You know ALL the words. Anyway, don't worry about talking dirty if you don't want to. But be confident! Show her at that moment that you're the boss and are in control. Then ..."

"Fuck her?"

He took a shot, slammed the glass down, grinned and said "Yeah, fuck her cross-eyed."

A week later Mariella and I were in the kitchen. We were standing next to each other at the small center island making dinner and engaging in small talk. She was wearing yoga pants and a sports bra and smelled pleasingly of herbal shampoo and body lotion. Her latte colored skin glowed in the light of the sunset coming in through the windows. I was so hungry for her I ached. We hadn't made love the whole week. We weren't in a fight and she wasn't really giving me the cold shoulder, I just lacked the confidence to do anything and she seemed content to wait and see whether I was going to make good on my promise to her.

I could hear Chuck's voice in my head "Be confident dude!"

But how to get something started?

I cleared my throat. "I heard a hell of a funny joke at work today."

"Yeah? Tell me." she answered, continuing to mince cilantro.

"It's kind of dirty." I said hesitantly.

She rolled her eyes. "I grew up with five brothers. I've probably heard it in English AND Spanish."

I took that as a good sign. It was an old shaggy dog story I had heard years ago that ended with a clerk at a sex-toy shop telling his boss "Oh, and I sold your old thermos for $500."

She laughed and nudged me hard with her hip. "Ohhh, that's nasty. And kinda hot."

I heard Chuck's voice in my head again. "Look for signals, any kind of sign. Then move in with confidence." I moved around behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist.

"Hmm, you smell good enough to eat." I said, kissing the back of her neck.

She laughed. "If you eat now you'll spoil dinner."

"To heck with dinner." I said. With only half a thought to what I was doing I reached out and swept the food we had been preparing onto the floor and, tentatively at first, but then with more confidence, put my other hand between her shoulder blades and started to push her over onto the counter. I ground my hips into her tight behind, letting her feel my growing cock pressing between her cheeks.

"Reid? What are you ...." Mariella sounded confused.

"What do you think?" I growled. I was now trying to tug down her yoga pants.

"Baby ... wait ...."

I hesitated a minute. Was I doing the right thing? But without remembering Chuck's advice about not forcing anything I went on. "No, now." I said, and pushed down harder between her shoulder blades. Her head was almost down on the countertop and I had her yoga pants down below the crest of her hip bones.

"Reid!!! NO!!!" She put her hands flat down onto the counter, pushed up, spun around and slapped me ... hard. "What are you DOING?!?!?

I stood there, stunned, with my hand on my stinging cheek. "You.. said you wanted me to ..." I swallowed "... fuck you."

Her eyes were blazing, her jaw was clenched, her breathing rapid. "Fuck me ... yes ... not RAPE me you ... you .... PENDEJO!" She slapped me again, harder this time. I don't think she meant to, but she split the side of my lip. She saw it and her hands flew up to her mouth. She burst into tears and ran out of the room, tugging up her pants as she ran.

"Shit."

"Dude, you look like hell. And what happened to your lip?" Chuck asked when he came up to our usual lunch table the next day. I had slept fitfully on the couch, hearing Mariella cry behind the locked door of our bedroom.

I gave him a scowl and flipped him off. "I followed your fucking advice."

He sat down slowly. "Oh man, what happened??"

So I told him.

He looked mystified when I finished. "I'm so sorry man. How bad is it?" he said, shaking his head.

I touched my swollen lip gingerly. "It's not too bad. I put some ice on it."

"Not your lip jackass. How bad is it at home?"

"It's not good. But at least none of her brothers showed up to beat the shit out of me. And I don't think I should rush home today. I think I should give her some space."

"Good idea. Listen man, why don't you hang out with me and Javi today. We don't have any plans. Come over, hang loose, watch some football, have dinner. You can at least text her and let her know."

I thought about it for a minute, then accepted. She hadn't answered my knocks on our locked bedroom door, or when I tried to talk to her through the door. I had even texted her with no response. But I tried again while Chuck ordered breakfast. I just ordered coffee and we sat mostly in silence while Chuck ate. Finally, my phone vibrated on the table. I picked it up, glanced at it and grimaced.

"Bad?" Chuck asked around a mouthful of waffles.

I held up the screen to him. A middle finger emoji. He chewed, swallowed and whistled low.

"Well, if it comes to that you can stay in our guest room tonight."

Chuck and Javi lived in a modest, one-story ranch-style tract home in Queen's Creek. It was decorated in an odd combination of utilitarian man-cave, sports memorabilia and rustic southwestern.

"I'm home Sugar!" Chuck shouted as we walked in. "Be decent when you come out. Reid is with me."

Javier came out from the kitchen, as handsome, slim-hipped and lithely muscular as the day I had first met him at work. The bangs of his mop of coarse, dark brown hair were flopped down over one eye. He flashed me a brilliantly white smile outlined by a neatly trimmed goatee and mustache. He crossed to me and gave me a hug.

"Reid!! How great to see you! Is Mariella going to join us?"

"I seriously doubt it Sugar." Chuck said. "Trouble in paradise."

Javier backed off the hug, then saw my lip. "Oh BABY! Let me get you some ice for that! Then we can talk." He ran back to the kitchen, giving Chuck a worried look over his shoulder.

We sat on their patio, me in a chair holding a souvenir Arizona Cardinals towel with some ice twisted into a corner to my lip, Javier and Chuck across from me in a small rattan love seat. I repeated the story of what had happened the night before to Javi.

Javi's hand was over his mouth as I finished. "My god Reid! That .... well that just doesn't sound like anything you would EVER do! What on earth possessed you to DO such a thing!"

I glared at Chuck. He cleared his throat. "Well sugar, I ... kind of told him to."

Javi looked at Chuck in open-mouthed horror, then punched his arm, hard. "IDIOT!!"

Chuck flinched away, rubbing his arm. "Hey, I didn't tell him to do EXACTLY that!"

"LUMMOX!!" Javier shouted, and punched him again in the same spot.

"Goddammit STOP that! It HURTS!" Chuck shouted.

"It's not entirely Chuck's fault Javi." I interjected. "I ... uhm ... asked him for some advice of an ... intimate nature."

Javi rolled his eyes at me. "Then YOU'RE an even bigger idiot! Why would you ever ask for intimate advice from this one." He hooked a thumb at Chuck.

"Because I'm a top." Chuck answered, flinching away from an anticipated punch that never came.