His Alpha, My Beta

My dick surges with blood and my body tenses up. I moan, "Finish me off, you little cock-sucker. Eat me."

Once more I feel the welcoming heat and moisture of his mouth, deep-throating, licking, sucking, and teasing me. My mind spins rapidly from a combination of the alcohol and all the blood flow diverting to my engorged dick. I'm driven mad by the thought that he's going to drink my cum, my seed will be downed by a man who aches for it. He's going to love it, slurping down every last drop until my balls are drained.

And finally, I get that sensation...the edge...the point of no return. My cock goes numb momentarily as he sucks and licks; my scrotum tightens. Cum moves into position at the base of my shaft. The numbing sensation then rolls over the edge and plunges my body into electric jolts and spasms. I open my eyes in time to see the first spurts of my thick batter shoot out and land on his cheek. Then he holds my tip at the gaping entrance of his mouth, his steamy breath pluming over the sensitive, wet head of my cock. Ropes of cum sputter onto his tongue, sliding like a silvery river toward the back of his throat. His lips close down over my manhood, I feel his tongue shift as he swallows my load, and then he sucks out the rest. I release a stifled moan as my body shivers, and with one final breath, I collapse next to him on the couch, spent and exhausted.

Chuckling, I glance over at him, "You did good. You did very good." I catch my breath, looking around the room, noticing a chocolate streak on the floor next to the candy. "What time is it?"

Evan shakes his head, uncertain.

I stand up and go over to the kitchen to check my phone, "2 AM." I scratch my head, "We're both still a little buzzed, you can spend the night. You can make up the couch, I'll get you a pillow. I'm gonna sleep well in my bed tonight!"

He rises to his feet as I walk to my bedroom to gather bedding. I select a few things and then quickly return to the living room where I see him standing there, naked, with his head bowed and fidgeting with his fingers.

So timidly, so quietly he calls me with a shaky voice, "David?"

"What's wrong?" I ask, but almost as soon as I inquire, he looks at me with tears streaming down his cheeks. Those lips that brought me such pleasure, now quiver and tense up. Though I am in the room with him, he appears so frail and so alone.

And suddenly, everything becomes so clear. My drive to dominate and emasculate him is a reflection of the lack of control and the feelings I have in my life. His drive to satisfy and please me stems from the lack of appreciation he gets in his life. In our moment of intimacy and fun, we showed each other mutual respect, he played along with my game, and I treated him with the tenderness he wanted. He's not in love with me, nor am I in love with him. But as a friend, I do love him, and that trust, that bond, carried over into what we did tonight. He has repeatedly been used and dumped by men, and the whole reason I brought him over tonight was to forget that feeling. Now, as soon as my fun is over, I banish him to the couch and go my separate way, oblivious to the lack of respect I just showed. How could I do that?

Our friendship was not replaced with anything tonight, rather it's like a caterpillar becoming a butterfly, it morphed, and it changed into something better. Tonight he gave himself over to me, physically and emotionally, because he trusts me with that control; I am his alpha and he is my beta. And I want to console him to show my empathy and care for him; that is the duty that comes with such control.

I drop the blankets and the pillow where I stand. I don't know what to say. "Evan...come here," I cooed. Reaching out, I accepted him into my arms. His shaky breathing began to slow and steady itself.

I wipe a tear from his cheek and hold him closer, feeling him rest his head on my shoulder and bury his face into my neck. I'm so surprisingly calm about this intimate contact, enjoying the closeness of it. Our hearts softly beat against our bare chests, our silky skin brushing one another. Disconnecting from him, I bend to pick up the small box of chocolates, picking out the last one and popping it into his mouth. Then I cleared my throat, "Let's get cleaned up. We'll lay on my bed, and watch TV."

Together we make our way to the room, I let him shower first, and then I go after. Both of us wear nothing but our briefs as we crawl into bed. We lay beside each other and I turn on the television and select a show to fall asleep to. Evan is trying to keep his distance out of respect, but I know he needs to feel wanted, and I want to feel needed. I put my arm around his shoulders and guide him to lay against me, letting him rest his head on my naked chest. I enjoy feeling the warmth of our bare skin in such close contact, I never considered it would make me so serene, lulling me to sleep. I can't help but feel like tonight, he has liberated me...he made me realize that I am no less of a man for treating him to valentines chocolates, being a shoulder he can cry on, or sharing intimate moments like this.

What if tonight, it was Evan that broke down my walls and conquered me with nothing but an act of submission? In any case, comforting him is a service that has made me feel like more of a man than anything else I've ever done. Perhaps what makes you a real man is not defending your masculinity, but rather, using it to soothe the hearts and minds of others. I'm not diluting myself with the thought that all men should go fuck a guy, no. I suppose the simplest way to put it is: men shouldn't feel like they're less of a man for doing something they deem is an act of subservience.

-THE END-