One Day Off

– Alpha Lyon

8 a.m. and my alarm rings. Shit. I forgot to silence it on my day off. So much for sleeping in on a Wednesday. I can hear Ryan in the shower, and all I can think about is the water running down my roommate’s lightly-furred muscled chest. What I wouldn’t give to be in there with him, on my knees, drinking the water as it collects his Alpha musk in every tasty drop. The water turning off brings me back to reality.

I get up and angle the blinds, looking out the bedroom window to the parking lot of our two bedroom apartment. I watch as a car pulls into a space in front of our building. A guy in a tight black t-shirt and even tighter pants steps out, toned arms covered in tats, and immediately my mouth begins to water. I wonder if he is a new neighbor, or a plumber, or one of the thousands of jobs porn has fabricated in my brain. He disappears for a minute before a knock on the door answers my question where he went. He’s here. He’s here for Ryan.

I tiptoe to my closed bedroom door and listen, thankful that my room is close to the front of the apartment. I hear Ryan walk past. The front door opens. No words, just two heavy slams: one was the front door closing, the other was a body thrown against the wall.

“You want this, you’re gonna have to earn it.” I hear Ryan’s commanding voice echo down the hall and into my soul. I hear the sound of tongue slurping flesh. I hear Ryan’s earthy moan. And I remember the first time I ever saw his cock. It was shortly after he moved in. We were sitting on my couch watching something on TV. He sat in the middle like he owned it as I clung to the side. I don’t remember what we were watching, but I remember looking over and seeing the head of his cock snaking out of the bottom of his shorts. I remember him looking over and asking me, “What?” I remember being speechless, nodding to his dick, and him laughing with  “It does that sometimes”-bravado. I remember he didn’t tuck it away with embarrassment or shame; he only spread his legs wider and lifted his arms above his head. I remember the smell that made the world around me disappear, beckoning me to fall face-first into his crotch.

But I didn’t. Because I’m a coward, a witness from the dark, from afar, from behind my closed bedroom door.

Like the time I came home late from work and found him sitting on the couch he now claimed as his own, legs spread wide like that night I first saw his Alpha dick, hands on the head of a cocksucking faggot, guiding him to completion. “It’s just my faggot roommate. Don’t worry about him, bitch. Worry about swallowing my load.” I hurried to my room and closed the door as he roared his cum down the cocksucker’s throat.

Or like the nights he would play his sex-club-music. It was always loud, but it was never loud enough to drown out the whimpers of the twink faggots his Alpha cock loved to fuck into oblivion.

Or even the times he would wake me at 2 a.m., knocking on my door, naked, hard, needing more lube, spending the next hour fucking some lucky fucktoy, my Gun Oil lubricating the cock I wanted inside of me. But I never made a move. Because I’m a coward. He knew what I was, and I knew I could never have an Alpha like him.

---

I hear the heavy steps stumble down the hall, banging against the walls and into my door, before going into Ryan’s room. There is no sound of his door closing. I am going to hear it all.

I move from my door and listen against the thin wall our rooms shared; the wall through which I had heard all of his orgasms, both solo and coupled, and have collected in my mind for nights when I was alone.

More slurping. More moaning. More panting gasps coming up for air.

“Fuck your dick’s big.” The voice sounds like Ryan’s, but Ryan is an Alpha. There was no way he would suck a fag’s dick. My brain races to recall the nights I heard him through that thin wall, always commanding, always dominating, always telling his faggots how to suck his Alpha cock.

“Take it. You’ve earned it.” That is Ryan speaking. That is Ryan moaning. That is Ryan who next said, “Fuck my ass.”

My breath catches in my chest as I hear Ryan begin to pant through the penetration. The Man I thought as the epitome of masculinity, the Man I fagged out to in my fantasies, the Man I called a paragon of all things Alpha – he is getting fucked. Hard.

His Alpha bravado fades away as his Alpha grunts become faggot whimpers. “Whose faggot are you?” asks an unfamiliar voice, punctuated by the sound of hips slamming against ass, the slapping increasing until it steadies into a rhythmic rut.

“I’m your faggot, Sir.” Ryan’s voice has raised an octave, become more airy, and I recognize the pleasure he is feeling as he takes the cock of a Man he views as superior to him deep inside of him

I wrestle with the contradiction of his roles, and wonder how, or if, this changes anything. I listen as they fuck in the bed where Ryan notched victories, only this time it is him being the conquered.

“I’m close. Where do you want me to cum, faggot?” The unfamiliar voice asks the question rhetorically. They both know the answer, but still I hear Ryan whimper,

“Cum inside me.”

The pounding increases to a frenzied pace until it stops, pauses, and is broken by the howling of the top as he empties his balls and his cock flexes with every ejaculation, filling Ryan’s ass with his superior seed.

“Clean me off, faggot.”

There is no verbal response from Ryan, only the sound of his muscled body shifting. And then the sound of sucking and submissive appreciation as he cleans the cum and ass and lube from the top’s cock with his mouth.

The two bodies readjust on the bed and I hear the fuckers catch their breath. I realize I had been holding my own breath from this revelation and I exhale. I look down and my dick is hard, yet still pathetic compared to the Alpha cocks I know are in the next room. Or can I even call Ryan an Alpha any more? Does it change anything to know he submitted to someone else? I am left with both more questions and aching balls.

“Tell anyone I enjoy being a fag and I’ll kill you,” Ryan jokes.

“Tell anyone we’re fucking and my boyfriend will kill us both,” says the other voice.

There is a laugh. Small talk is exchanged. I hear the visitor leave the apartment. I hear Ryan walk down the hall, cum most definitely dripping down his leg. I hear Ryan stop and knock on my door. 

“Don’t stay in there all day on your day off, faggot.”

Click on the next page number (4) to read our final story.