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It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary that Babe had told him - nothing more scathing or inflammatory than usual at least. Which is why Charlie can’t put his finger on why he feels bitterness and something close to actual fury simmering within him. He doesn’t get properly angry or even resentful much (another matter altogether if anyone tries to hurt Babe) and if nothing else, Charlie prides himself on his placid temperament. It’s useful, much like his glasses. Makes him seem unassuming and harmless and what his detractors like to dismiss as “wimpy”. And that’s exactly what Charlie needs; it’s a small price to pay to avoid being perceived by others, to avoid being seen as he is.
He remains with his forehead pressed against the cool lockers of the backroom, forearms resting on either sides of his head to give himself some notion of privacy. An illusion of privacy is all it is, he knows, because North could come barreling in at any point and tackle him from behind, with Sonic hot on his heels, trying to rein him in.
Which is why the three deep breaths he takes are so important. In, out. In and out. In, out. This form of breath control had always helped Charlie to calm his nerves and ease some of his frustration. One thing amongst the myriad of other more vicious, dangerous things his instructors in the academy had taught him, but the one that had stuck with him throughout his adolescence.
It isn’t working today though. Not in the slightest. Babe’s words, once they’d both finished their practice laps and eased out of their car seats, keep running through his mind, the echoes getting louder and louder till they become a staccato.
-
“You better whip that ass into shape, Charlie.”
Babe’s signature crooked smirk, designed to be both devastatingly attractive or incredibly infuriating, depending on time and circumstance, as he patted Charlie on the back, had made an appearance.
“What kind of alpha falls into third place two times in a row and doesn’t even have the grit to improve? Where are those instincts?”
And then came the finishing blow. Classic Babe. Charlie loved him to bits and could write odes to his beauty, but the man never knew when to stop running his mouth.
“You really an Alpha? Should we check again?” Babe stepped a little closer to him and made a show of sniffing him. “I don’t want to have been wronged in this deal we made. There’s still time for me to do an exchange.”
This one prompted a roar of laughter from the team: the racers who’d joined them for the laps, the runners and the mechanics on standby. North’s obnoxious giggles stood out, with Alan’s chuckles, muffled by the back of his hand, floating in the background. Only Jeff, who’d been trying to make tentative eye contact with Charlie the moment he’d seen him tense up, remained solemn.
Babe hadn’t made any effort to lower his voice and everyone in X-Hunter as usual, was always a little too in their space for their own good.
Babe had then waggled his eyebrows at him, either not noticing that Charlie’s smile had faded and his fists had clenched, or more likely, choosing not to in the high of his successful laps.
“Better buck up, puppy, or you’ll have to roll over and show your belly to all the better racers out there.”
He knew that by racers, Babe actually meant, ‘Alphas’. He may as well have used that word, for all the good the replacement of words had done to calm the turmoil in Charlie’s chest.
Along with the sinking feeling of shame in his stomach, Charlie had felt a hot prickling in his eyes. Nothing new, he’d never been ashamed of the fact that he was a crier. There wasn’t anything wrong with expressing your emotions as and when they came, after all.
He glanced up at that moment and caught Way’s smirk, clearly aimed at Charlie, from the corner of his eye, as the asshole pulled a now distracted Babe into the throng of team members with a hand clamped around his wrist.
It was the surge of white, hot rage that seemed to have shot up from his chest all the way to his throat, momentarily impeding his speech and leaving him completely silent that was shocking even to himself.
‘You really an Alpha?’
That one question had occupied Charlie’s entire headspace and the more those words had rattled around in his head, amalgamating with the vision of Way’s smarmy smile, the more pervasive that streak of rage in his chest became, taking shape into something ugly and sharp.
-
Now, pushing off the locker and turning around to get his sneakers and kit, Charlie tries to take one last deep breath, knowing it wouldn’t do anything to contain the bubbling, confusing mess of emotions in his chest, but trying it anyway because frankly, he had no idea what else to do.
He had always been someone who had been very much in harmony with his Alpha side and he’d been blessed to have avoided the adolescent and teenage bursts of rage, loss of control and decline into madness that several Alphas in the academy had experienced. He’d always privately thought that it was because his Alpha side simply didn’t define him as much as it did other Alphas – his own calm temperament and happy-go-lucky personality had tempered that facet of him deep down inside that wanted to win and conquer and sometimes destroy. Charlie was perfectly alright just being plain, old him, no need for any special accolades or distinctions, no need to flaunt his Alpha pheromones and wave them like a neon flag. No need to prove his dominance as the Alpha of all Alphas, like so many others’ instincts desperately drove them to do. And that facet of his personality was exactly what had allowed him to merge into Babe’s orbit.
“Charlie, I’m heading to the showroom with Way first. He wants to show me some new tweaks he made to Kala’s engine.”
Speak of the devil. A devil who liked to name all his fancy cars, despite pretending he was above all those sentimentalities.
Charlie had been so caught up in his own ruminations that he'd failed to notice Babe enter his side of the locker room and come up right next to him.
He gives Charlie a pleased little smile, probably still reminiscing about the record he’d broken during the practice lap, and pulls him into a rough little hug that lasts no more than a few seconds. Charlie could scent his alpha pheromones, beneath the tang of sweat, metallic and sharp and tinged with victory. Where Charlie usually loved that smell, today, it makes something deep inside him revolt, an instinctual need to want to overpower that scent with his own, to douse those pheromones with his own, rising up within him.
“You get home and wait for me like a good little puppy. I’ll be back in a jiffy,” Babe’s smile sharpens and grows devious. “And then maybe you can show me some of your tricks.”
Charlie nods at him stiffly and makes no effort to reciprocate the hug or say a word, afraid of what would slip out of his mouth if he did open it to reply. But Babe either doesn’t care or has more pressing matters to attend to because he just ruffles Charlie’s hair like one would a dog and turns away to presumably follow Way.
Charlie’s head jerks away from the pat on his head, even though it's commonplace that he indulges Babe when he does that, even likes it. It feels condescending almost, after what had happened earlier. The lines of anger sparking in his chest start to burn as embers, the foreign rage mixed with something more primal building and building within him like steam without an outlet for release.
-
Once he’d gotten home, or rather to Babe’s “bachelor” pad, as he liked to refer to it, Charlie had immediately opted to jump into the luxurious rain shower, surmising that a cool shower would maybe right what was clearly going wrong with him today. He’d mercilessly twisted the heat dial till it stood pointed at almost the far right of the knob and braced himself while shockingly cold water rained down in gales on him, making an involuntary little yelp escape from his mouth.
It had worked for a second or two in clearing his mind, but by the time Charlie had finished the shower, dried himself off with one of Babe’s sinfully plush bath towels, mechanically dressed himself in his usual plaid and plopped onto the bed, he'd found that it had not helped one bit in solving whatever it was that was going on with his emotions.
He’s now laid across the bed on his stomach, legs bent at the knee and kicking up and down restlessly, unable to escape the turbulent mix of anger, shame and something primal that he couldn’t explain all coalescing in his mind.
Charlie knows that Babe isn’t the most tactful of people and that he almost always has no filter when speaking to others. He isn't used to genteel manners and polite facades, hell, he actively despises them and has no qualms about needling people who did put up those fronts. After all, he’s been to hell and back, and as he’s told Charlie and as Charlie knows as well, the people who put on those facades were often the ones who harboured the most malice and contempt in their hearts.
His Alpha is also a huge part of who Babe is – not just for performance (Pit Babe the Alpha racer champion, who's revered by millions), but also for the formation of Babe’s core personality. Babe is aggressive, domineering and never takes slights to that perceived dominance lightly. Charlie has seen his Alpha side rear up, claws out, almost like an enraged, prowling tiger, whenever Winner or a particularly belligerent racer has tried to taunt him.
Charlie doesn't mind that, heck, he likes that about Babe. He loves how confident and successful Babe is, how uncaring of society he is. It isn’t that Charlie is the polar opposite of him, but Charlie is indeed a docile Alpha with little to no Alpha presence who's content to stand by the sidelines, remain in the shadows and protect Babe, to watch him get everything he deserves in the world. At times, Charlie’s placidity costs him – he isn't dumb, he's well aware of the stares Babe gets from Omegas and Alphas alike, and at times, he does see Babe glance back, not out of actual interest, but curiosity. Charlie has always been irritated by these incidents, but they haven’t really stayed with him. He's confident that Babe likes him for who or what he is – an Alpha who isn’t particularly powerful or extraordinary and who isn't set on conquering the world.
Today though, it feels to Charlie like Babe had stepped out of line. Had he questioned whether Charlie was really an Alpha? Babe could be a lot of things to Charlie, but he wasn’t usually intentionally cruel. Which means he really had believed at that point that Charlie wasn’t Alpha enough. Alpha enough for Babe that is, a little voice in his head taunts him.
Charlie’s head is spinning now, the heat that had been accumulating from before now making his whole body thrum. If he hadn’t been so caught up in a maze of thoughts of Babe, Babe, Babe, he’d have realised that something was definitely wrong.
Was he not Alpha enough? Babe had not only insinuated that to Charlie, he had practically announced that in a megaphone to the whole team. Charlie wasn’t a boy who was particularly stuck on pride, especially not Alpha pride, which tended to be destructive, but that had stung something fierce.
‘He sure wasn’t complaining about me being Alpha enough when he was on all fours before me, begging me to finish,’ he thinks a little cruelly, and then blinks because he’s not usually like this. This isn’t him.
He pushes himself off the bed and starts pacing across the marble tiles of the bedroom, trying to think of what he could consult with Alan before the practice runs tomorrow, what he could have done better today, but it doesn’t work. The pressure in his chest builds and builds and he can’t think about anything else except Babe; Babe not thinking he was Alpha enough, Babe smirking at him condescendingly, Way’s grip on Babe’s arm like he had any right to touch what was Charlie’s. Charlie’s vision becomes almost hazy, his pacing becoming aggressively quick and loud.
It should have been a relief then as his fine-tuned senses pick up Babe's footsteps leading up to the entrance of the house, the ping of four numbers being entered into the digital lock and then finally the front door clicking open. But it’s not. Charlie knows something isn’t right with the way he’s behaving. If he were a little more lucid, he’d have recognised that he was engaging in primal behaviour, which he’d always detested and eschewed.
But it isn’t fully Charlie in control right now and the Alpha in him – so that’s what it is – snarls and crows when it picks up Babe’s scent, much smoother and softer now that the high of the practice runs has evaporated. Charlie gulps, knowing that he’d have to make a decision before Babe stepped into the bedroom. He could either suck it up, tamp down the fire roaring inside of him (his Alpha rebels at the suggestion of that, beating against the shields of his mind) and pretend like it was any other day. Or.. or what? Something deep down inside of him aches to do something else so Charlie just stands stock-still, closes his eyes and waits, his fingers clenching on the fabric of his trousers.
A subtle, earthy scent, tinged with the sweetness of honey, drifts closer at the same time that Charlie’s ears pick up Babe padding up the stairs casually, whistling a jolly little tune. The door opens.
“Hey puppy. What’s up?”
Babe’s opted for his usual comfortable black wife beater and lounge pants. All that black is a stark contrast to the expanse of alabaster skin that’s on display, interrupted only by the silver chain dangling from that delicate neck. Charlie’s eyes trace his pronounced collarbones, trail down to his bulging biceps and pectorals.
’He’s so beautiful when he has his mouth shut,’ Charlie thinks viciously, ‘so I better help him keep it shut.’
Charlie’s in front of him before he knows it, slamming the door shut with his palm and caging in his tormentor all in one motion. Had he jogged, had he run? He has no idea, and the primal part of Charlie, which has now almost completely taken over him, which now is making his blood thrum with “take, take, take, prove yourself as Alpha”, doesn’t care either.
To Babe’s credit, the only telltale sign of alarm that he shows is a miniscule widening of those wicked, siren eyes. But Charlie catches it and smirks. It’s rare that Babe is unsettled because of Charlie and he’s going to enjoy every moment of it.
“Where did you go?”
His voice is a hoarse murmur and he leans down to scent a path from those delectable collarbones, up the smooth skin of his neck to his sharp jaw and then nuzzles his nose into the soft patch of skin right behind his ear, revelling in the light tremor it elicits. Had Babe always smelled like this? Why doesn't he smell more like Charlie? There's barely a trace of Charlie’s Alpha scent on him.
“What’re you talking about, idiot? I told you I was at Way’s showroom.”
Babe’s voice is irritated and sharp as usual, but Charlie can pick out the nuance of uncertainty in it. How he can pick that up, he doesn’t know, but he’s enjoying the power trip. A primal voice is crowing in his mind: ‘Show him, show him who his Alpha is’.
“What’s wrong with you, Charlie?”
Babe attempts to lift Charlie’s chin out of the crook of his neck with a finger, likely to look him in the eye, but Charlie snarls, a sound he’d never even known he could even make and bites down hard on the soft, sweet-smelling skin at the juncture of neck and shoulder that he’d been nuzzling.
He’s rewarded with an immediate breathy yelp and a flinch, but Babe really has nowhere to go. He’s caught between a rock and a hard place, quite literally, what with the bedroom door cool on his back and Charlie pressed up in a hot line against his front.
“Shut up,” Charlie breathes, in between licking the hurt that he’d caused on Babe’s soft, malleable skin (he hadn’t broken skin, but he’d left behind a bright red patch that would likely be black and blue by tomorrow). “Stop squirming.”
On any other day, Babe probably would have laughed in disbelief and pushed Charlie away roughly before descending on him with a lecture. Hell, he could still do that now. Babe has about 15 pounds of muscle, an inch or two, and 10 years of martial arts training on him. Sure, Charlie has tricks up his sleeve too, but Babe doesn’t know that. To Babe, Charlie's just a skinny, naïve kid who'd be eaten alive if thrown into the real world without any help.
But today, as Charlie had already known somehow, as the voice inside him had reassured him, Babe stills obediently, his breathing growing shallow. Beautiful, powerful Babe’s first outward sign of submission to Charlie makes his blood sing in a way that it's never done before. The steam in Charlie’s chest has now built to the point of saturation and he knows if he doesn’t do something, anything, he's going to go feral.
”You’re beautiful like this,” Charlie murmurs, rewarding Babe with a rough suckling kiss to the very spot he’d bitten roughly.
There’s an aborted, small noise that escapes Babe’s lips at this and Charlie adjusts his glasses and lifts his head up to look at Babe.
It’s a beautiful sight. Babe’s eyes are wide, a little teary from the hard sting of Charlie’s bite, but most importantly, there’s that slight hint of awed submission in them that Charlie can’t get enough of.
“Charlie, what d’you think you’re d-“
Charlie shuts him up with a violent kiss, his left hand cupping Babe’s jaw and keeping him in place, not caring that it was less of a kiss and more of a clash of mouths. He can taste a metallic tinge of blood, likely from a cut on either one of their lips, but continues to violate Babe’s mouth with his tongue, barely letting him reciprocate. He doesn’t know how long the kiss goes on for, saliva trailing down from the corners of their mouths, but at one point, he can feel Babe faintly thumping at his shoulder.
“Ch-Charlie, mmph, can’t breathe,” Babe pushes at his shoulders and tries to separate them.
Charlie acquiesces for a minute and moves away, only to violently tug at one of the straps of Babe’s wifebeater, the fabric tearing like tissue under his hands. Had he always been this strong? He didn’t know and he didn’t care.
He can hear the hitch in Babe’s breath as he dips his head to lick a stripe from the brownish-pink nipple on display to his collarbone, and then back down to his sternum, which is barely exposed. Huffing in annoyance, he uses both hands to impatiently tear the rest of the wifebeater away. And then goes to town, licking all over Babe’s chest, smearing the saliva with his fingers and pausing only to give vicious bites to those tempting nipples.
Babe cries out whenever he bites, but Charlie doesn’t think he dislikes it, judging from the particular tone of his yelps. He continues to slobber mindlessly all over the chest and neck presented in front of him, ending his frenzied attack with a neat stripe up Babe’s cheek.
He then steps back and looks at his handiwork. Babe’s eyes are glazed over, shock still residing in them, but slowly being replaced by something sultry and giving. Those eyes, which usually command Charlie, are now looking to him, recognising something in him that’s worthy.
“There,” Charlie says, “you smell like me now.”
Babe nods slowly, doesn’t say a word.
A renewed sense of urgency and anger surges within Charlie. He can’t understand it, but he’s too far gone to rebel against it either.
“Still not Alpha enough for you?”
Charlie uses the thumb and index fingers of both hands to viciously twist Babe’s nipples and revels once again in the tears that well up in Babe’s eyes and the cries that escape his mouth. He doesn’t indulge in rough play usually, but he can’t stop himself today.
“No answer? What about Way? Do you think he’ll be a better fuck? Or maybe you’ve already found out.”
Charlie’s voice, which is usually chipper and bubbly, has completely morphed. Into something vicious, jealous and ugly.
Babe doesn’t reply, just swallows and looks at him wonderingly. For some reason, that strikes a chord with the Alpha within Charlie – that non-answer.
Before he knows it, his hand is around that slender column of throat. He can feel the blood thrumming in Babe’s jugular vein, can feel him swallow nervously as his hand tightens.
“You’re such a slut.”
Babe visibly flinches at that, want and anger warring in his eyes. His face turns a pretty pink as Charlie’s hand tightens on his throat, but he still doesn’t protest, silent as a lamb. Those siren eyes, fringed by dark, dark lashes, remain fixed on Charlie’s own in defiance.
Charlie tightens his grip till he notices Babe’s hands start to tremble, is about to loosen it because while he’s high on pheromones right now, he definitely doesn’t want to hurt Babe. Then, Babe croaks out something, eyes intense and focused, where they were cloudy with lack of air before.
“What was that?” Charlie loosens his grip, keeping his hand lightly around Babe’s neck just in case he decided to be a brat.
“I said-“, Babe coughs once, twice and then attempts to clear his throat. “I said that you’re my only Alpha, Charlie.”
Those words feel like soothing balm on scorched skin, a feeling that Charlie’s logical side can’t explain, but which makes the primal side of him settle down and then ignite in satisfaction and what feels like victory.
Charlie lets go of Babe’s throat, only to grip those sturdy biceps and yank him closer, till they’re nose to nose, eye-to-eye.
“Say that again,” he demands. “Now.”
Today seems to be a day for surprises because bold and brash Babe, who never backs down from a fight, who doubles down when he feels affronted, coyly drops his gaze and fixes it at a point somewhere on Charlie’s sternum.
“I said I’m yours, Alpha.”
Charlie’s Alpha thrums in satisfaction and pride at that. This was PitBabe, King of the Hallows, a legend of his own right – a powerful, capable Alpha yielding to him, to Charlie. He hadn’t realised it till now, but he’s rock hard in his jeans, straining against his zipper.
Babe doesn’t seem to have missed it though, considering the trajectory of his gaze. He looks down at the bulge in Charlie’s jeans, then dares a quick glance at his eyes, before dropping his gaze again. There’s a coy little smile, a little too close to his usual smirk for Charlie’s liking, playing at his lips, twisting that cupid’s bow into something seductive.
Charlie lets him wrap both his arms around his neck and press himself to his body. He realises that Babe still hasn’t met his gaze and is oddly satisfied by it.
“Can I make it up to you, Charl-“ Babe stops himself from where he was murmuring into Charlie’s ear. “Can I make it up to you, Alpha?”
That was more like it, Charlie thought. To keep Babe on his toes, he leans down and lands another vicious bite to the meaty muscle of Babe’s shoulder, making him groan and clutch at Charlie tighter.
“Making it up to me even before apologising?” Charlie must be running on pure instinct now, he’s sure of it, because he’d sooner put his own foot in his mouth than speak this insolently to Babe on any other occasion. He runs with it though, that hot rush of desire and possessiveness, and delivers another bite adjacent to the blooming red bruise on Babe’s shoulder.
“Ah-“ Babe seems to have realised that his usual tricks are useless in the face of this version of Charlie. “Charlie..”
He drops his hands to Charlie’s chest and twiddles with that one particular button, right down the middle of his plaid shirt. A nervous tic, Charlie has come to realise after weeks spent with this infuriating, impossible creature.
They’re both quiet for a moment. One part of Charlie is going crazy with the need to just slam Babe against the door and take what he wants, to hell with words, but the more rational part of him, which he’s always prided himself on, is present enough to keep him patient. He knows Babe has trouble expressing his emotions, vocalising his innermost thoughts, largely due to his traumatic childhood, but he also knows that this conversation is something that absolutely has to happen for their relationship to move forward.
Babe opens his mouth, closes it. Opens it and closes it again. If he weren’t so damn beautiful, looking like a Greek God with those unreal muscles, all that peaches and cream skin and impossibly seductive eyes, Charlie would have laughed at the ridiculous picture he made.
His patience pays off though. Babe heaves a deep sigh before he finally looks up from that one fascinating button on Charlie’s shirt and straight into his eyes. Charlie smiles at him warmly in encouragement when he sees the contrition in Babe’s eyes.
“Listen Charlie, I’m sorry. You know I’m always like this. I didn’t mean to say that you weren’t enough for me. I was just messing around.”
At that, Charlie’s smile drops and his ire returns.
“Messing around by saying I’m not Alpha enough in front of everyone? Is that your idea of joking around? Humiliating me?”
His hand moves to grip Babe’s wrist tightly, till the skin surrounding it turns white.
“Babe, I know we’re us and we do things differently, but I absolutely will not tolerate you treating me as anything but an equal, as an Alpha in front of the team.” Charlie knows his eyes must be flinty right now, his tone cold and unyielding, but this is something that’s non-negotiable to him.
Babe seems to have come to a realisation as well. Perhaps he hadn’t even realised what the actual problem was. He dips his eyes again in contrition and then raises them to meet Charlie’s, before using the one hand that was not being held hostage by Charlie to cup his cheek warmly.
“I’m really sorry, Charlie. You’re my Alpha. And I promise I’ve never thought otherwise.” He swallows and continues. “I can’t promise that I’ll be perfect, you know how I am, but I promise I’ll never do what I did today. I respect you, Alpha.”
There it is. This is what Charlie and the Alpha deep down inside of him have been waiting to hear. It feels better than he ever thought it could. Charlie finally feels like something has been reconciled between his logical and primal self – a little click and merge if you would.
Too soon however, he's yanked back to reality, not in a bad way at all, when a warm hand cups the bulge in his jeans and squeezes hard enough to make him jolt.
With his other hand, Babe loosens Charlie’s iron grip on his wrist and instead tugs his hand to rest on the tempting little dip of his own waist instead. Charlie grips that sweet curve with the desperation of a boy, or rather a man, who needed to anchor himself before a storm came.
“I like you like this, puppy. You’re so sexy when you go all Alpha on me,” Babe whispers into his ear. The warm little gust of air does nothing to calm Charlie’s erection, fuelled both by Babe’s touch and the primal instinct raging within him.
“How would you like to fuck me into next week, hm?”
The steam that had been building up inside Charlie finally breaks something within him and Charlie yanks Babe around the waist with one arm and half-carries, half drags him to their king sized bed. It’s usually difficult for him to manoeuvre Babe easily, considering their difference in mass, but he’s powered by something more than human today. Babe comes along laughing and pliant, knowing exactly what he’d done to Charlie with those words.
Once they’re at the edge of the bed he roughly tosses Babe onto the mattress and watches him bounce on it with the force of the throw. God, the man was a work of art. Shirtless, with Charlie’s marks on his neck and shoulder, now a dark red, standing in stark contrast to the porcelain of his skin. Charlie’s saliva glistens on his nipples and neck, igniting a new spark of arousal within him.
Babe knows how to push all his triggers, Charlie has to admit. He watches with hungry eyes, adjusting his glasses with one hand and pressing down on his erection with another as Babe shimmies out of his lounge pants. Charlie’s eyes narrow and his hand presses harder onto his straining erection. Babe had gone commando today.
Now there's only alabaster skin everywhere. Charlie doesn't know where to look, his eyes darting from strangely delicate feet to the hard defined lines of his abdomen, to his beautiful, pink erection and then back up to that chiseled, pretty face.
Babe knows just what he’s doing because he leans back on both hands, spreads his legs wide and smirks at him. The smirk that never fails to drive Charlie crazy. The one that makes him want to tame Babe, ruin him, destroy him until everyone knew that he was only Charlie’s. He should be the only one to see this vision.
Babe crooks his finger at him in a come hither motion and that’s all it takes for Charlie to divest himself of all his clothing in record speed. From the corner of his eye, he can see Babe laughing as he trips over the cuff of one leg of his jeans, but he couldn’t care less. His dignity is hardly as important as his urgency to get to the 7-course feast laid out in front of him.
Finally, he drops onto the bed and between those warm, muscled thighs, caging Babe in with forearms on either side of his head. Every inch of Babe’s skin is silken soft. Beneath the rugged image of himself that he’d carefully constructed, Babe had always made a concerted effort to take care of himself. Every movement Charlie made brought his now-raging erection in contact with the impossibly smooth skin of his inner thighs. Charlie thinks, or knows even, that he’s going to go crazy if something doesn't happen right now.
Babe’s big, walm palm comes to rest on his head and he looks straight into Charlie’s eyes with a tiny, genuine smile. The one that's reserved just for Charlie.
Not only was Charlie’s dick going to combust, so was his heart now. He can feel his primal, dominant instincts from earlier take a step back and he knows his cheeks have flushed a bright red.
“Calm down, my sweet puppy. I’m all yours.”
Babe’s voice is warm and affectionate, and Charlie’s heart feels full to bursting. Is this what it feels like to love someone so much that you would do anything for them?
He leans down and kisses Babe sweetly, lips closed and just caressing the warmth of Babe’s own. Babe however, seems to have become impatient, because his tongue pries open the seam of Charlie’s lips and turns the kiss into something hot and sensuous, his arms twining around Charlie’s shoulders and one leg coming up to wrap around his hip.
Charlie has to make a conscious effort to resist the instinct to grab the lube and just fuck Babe seven ways sideways, which is what Babe seems to be urging him to do. Instead he breaks the kiss to trail sloppy little kisses down his neck, stopping only to suckle on those brownish little nubs on his chest just the way Babe likes it. The hands gripping his hair desperately tell him that he’s doing a good job and he smirks around his mouthful.
By the time he gives Babe’s sexy, shallow little bellybutton a lick and comes down to the juncture between his legs, Babe is practically thrashing on the bed.
“Come on, Charlie, come on!”
Babe’s voice is hoarse and deep with arousal and Charlie takes a second to shelve it in his memory. Then he goes to town, licking a stripe up Babe’s sizeable dick and then back down, before suckling the head just the way Babe likes it. He braces himself with one hand on the bed and roughly spreads Babe’s thighs apart with the other. And then sets to work, hollowing out his cheeks, bobbing up and down till all that's coming out from Babe’s mouth is gibberish. Just the way Charlie likes it.
Babe’s hands are in his hair and when they pull a little too roughly on a bunch of strands, Charlie deliberately stops his motions.
Babe whines in frustration, but then realises something and looks contritely down at him.
“Sorry.”
“Sorry, what?”
Babe’s eye twitches in annoyance but his need clearly wins over everything else because his next sentence is practically a shouted plea.
“Sorry, Alpha!”
Charlie smirks at him and sets back to work. Babe has sneakily tossed a tube of lube from under the pillow to within hand’s reach when Charlie was distracted. While suckling on the head of that pretty dick, he uses both hands to uncap the lube and smears a generous amount onto his fingers.
But first.
Babe yelps in surprise and arousal as Charlie braces both of his hands on the back of his thighs, bends them backwards with surprising strength and puts his mouth on the warm, musky centre of Babe. They’d fucked roughly just this morning so Babe was still loose enough that Charlie could set his tongue into a point and push it in.
He’s rewarded by a long groan and when he glances up, Babe’s arm is covering his eyes.
“Don’t hide from me. Look at what I’m doing to you.”
To make a point, Charlie bends his thighs even further back so that what he’s doing to Babe is very much visible to the man himself. Babe’s eyes snap open and his gaze goes straight to where Charlie is now licking him open like he’s tasted the best thing in the world and can't stop. It’s a debauched scene, with Charlie’s glasses crooked on his nose, his innocent boyish face now focused and eyes bright with lust. Saliva's dripping down Babe’s inner thighs from where Charlie is fervently licking at him and Babe feels feverish with lust.
He looks like Babe’s Alpha and Babe wants nothing but for Charlie to make that even clearer to him. His own Alpha instincts crave it, need it even.
“Please, Alpha.”
Babe can barely recognise his own voice, it’s trembling and weak.
“Please what?”
Babe tamps down the urge to say something snarky. It’s easier than expected because the need to feel Charlie’s dick inside him, filling him up, overpowers every other instinct of his.
“Fuck me like you own me.”
That seems to have done the trick. Charlie’s eyes snap up to his and that deep brown gaze is so intense, so undeniably dominant that Babe shivers involuntarily. Charlie doesn’t miss that either and he grips Babe’s thighs just a little bit harder. When he removes his hands, Babe can see the red of his handprints on the sides of his thighs. It’s hotter than it should be when his little puppy transforms into a wolf.
Charlie shifts up the bed easily, in a motion so sexy that Babe’s dick twitches in pure need. His biceps bulge and as he hovers over Babe, his chest seems wider than it usually is. Is that an illusion? Has Babe lost his mind?
Charlie’s still staring intensely down at him though and Babe, other than being impatient, also starts to feel a little self-conscious. He raises a few uncertain fingers to his cheek.
“What is it? What’re you looking at?”
Charlie just smiles at him.
“Just looking at what I’m going to ruin.”
An audible groan leaves Babe at that, but before he can fully process it, Charlie has put both hands on his waist and flipped him onto his stomach before roughly raising his hips. He’s usually gentle with Babe, often needing prompting to be rough with him. But this? This side of his puppy is glorious.
His face is smushed into the mattress and his forearms are at an awkward angle – they’re probably going to start cramping if left in that position for too long, but Babe doesn’t care a single bit. He’s keenly aware of the sensation of Charlie’s finger, now wet with what he assumes is lube, trailing to his entrance.
He gasps when it’s pushed in roughly. Charlie has slender fingers and they do this way too often so it isn’t painful per se, but he’s still getting used to this side of Charlie – the one that’s rough and primal and handles Babe like his own plaything.
Charlie adds another finger quicker than he would’ve ever before and Babe winces at the sting, but welcomes it at the same time. His nerves are on fire and he feels like he’s never been this turned on his whole life. His erection is dripping steadily onto the mattress but he neither has the angle nor the space of mind to reach for it. Charlie has begun to thrust his slender fingers roughly, too roughly, into Babe and Babe’s body is rocked up onto the bed with every jarring motion, his head sliding up and down with the intensity of Charlie’s motions.
The sight seems to do something for Charlie because Babe hears a muttered “Fuck” (Charlie hardly swears so this delights Babe even more) before the motions still and Charlie withdraws his fingers. He waits for Charlie to reach across and grab the condoms by the drawer on the bed side, but all he hears is the shlick of the cap of lube being opened and then closed. His eyes widen.
He’s been telling Charlie for more than a week now that they could go without protection since they’d both gotten tested recently and well, Babe didn’t exactly want or need a harem now that he’s got his puppy. But Charlie had staunchly refused each time, muttering about how it was just safer this way.
Looks like all it took was the Alpha in Charlie to come out for him to finally acquiesce to Babe’s wishes. Babe rubs his inner thighs together in anticipation. He feels like he’s about to burst with how turned on he is and if Charlie doesn’t fuck him in the next 5 seconds, he swears he’s just going to flip him over and show him how it’s-
Oh.
Babe’s spine arches, involuntarily pushing his ass back into Charlie’s hips as he feels Charlie shove into him without any warning. It’s nothing like the smooth, gentle glides that Charlie would usually start with to get Babe used to his (quite sizeable) girth. He’d treated Babe like the doll he is and bottomed out at first thrust. The feeling is so intense, pain mixing with flickers of pleasure, that Babe has to pant with his mouth open. It feels so different from when they’d used a condom all this while. Charlie is thick and warm and slick inside him and Babe can’t get enough of the feeling.
“Is this Alpha enough for you, Babe?”
Charlie’s voice is low and serious. Babe can’t answer. There’re tears pricking at the corners of his eyes from the intensity of the feeling and so he just continues breathing in and out noisily.
One of Charlie’s hands lifts away from where it was resting on the curve of his waist and comes to rest on the side of his cheek, the side that’s not smushed into the mattress. A sharp bolt of tenderness strikes Babe at how sweet and caring his puppy, his Alpha is, even when he must be so overtaken by his own need. His first instinct is still to check if Babe is okay.
He pushes his cheek into the warm, slender palm and nods to signal that he’s good to go. More than good in fact.
And that’s when it really starts. Charlie shows him no mercy at all. He pounds into Babe, his dick swelling even more if that’s even possible as he hammers in and out of him at an incredible speed. Babe can’t see his face but he can feel drops of sweat plopping onto his back and sliding down, likely from Charlie’s forehead.
Babe thinks he might die from overstimulation. Charlie feels so big inside him and the warm palms on his hips have such a tight grip that Babe just knows he’ll have finger shaped bruises there for days to come.
Charlie stops to adjust his angle and toss his glasses off to the side. He then resumes his relentless thrusting but oh, just then, he hits a spot inside Babe that makes him twist in a full-body motion to the side. Charlie just grips his hips tighter, adjusts him back to where he was before and continues hammering at that spot with abandon.
Babe knows he’s making unhinged, too-loud noises, but he doesn’t care. This could be the last moment of his life and he would die peacefully. He knows he’s being dramatic, but again, he doesn’t care. Dramatics were part of his repertoire after all.
There’s saliva dripping from the corner of his mouth now from how hard and good Charlie is fucking him and he vaguely wonders if he’ll have trouble sitting in the car tomorrow. That seems to be the last thing on Charlie’s mind though, judging from the way he’s going at it like a jack-hammer.
Babe is getting close, so close and he tries to manuever a hand down to grip his dick, when Charlie abruptly stops his motions.
“Sorry, sorry-“ Babe doesn’t know what he’s apologising for but he instinctively retracts his hand and moves it back to brace it on the mattress.
But Charlies just wraps a warm sturdy arm around his waist and flips him over, placing an open palm under Babe’s head so that it doesn’t hit the mattress hard. The tenderness of that gesture isn’t lost to Babe and he turns his head and kisses the deceptively delicate forearm attached to that hand.
Now, he can see Charlie in all his glory, leanly muscled chest dripping with sweat and face more intense and hungry than he’d ever seen it. He looks so primal, looks so much like Babe’s Alpha that Babe moans loudly.
Charlie leans down to kiss him deeply in response and thrusts in at the same time, capturing Babe’s groan with his own mouth. His dick feels huge like this and Babe wraps his legs around Charlie’s waist tightly, not caring that it’ll hinder his thrusts. He wants to be close to Charlie, wants to merge into his puppy, become one with him.
Charlie seems to have the same idea with the way he’s thrusting so deep that Babe can practically feel him in his guts.
“Charlie, Charlie. Alpha, please, I need to come.”
Charlie grunts in response and starts making short, aborted thrusts, the hungry glint in his eyes more visible now that his glasses are off. He looks nothing like the puppy Babe usually refers to him as. He looks like a big bad wolf and Babe wants to memorise the sight of him like this. He’ll never get tired of looking at his Charlie.
When Charlie drops his weight onto Babe’s chest and uses his freed up hand to jerk Babe off, Babe knows that’s the end. After two more sharp thrusts, he comes into Charlie’s hand and onto both their abdomens, the slick making it easier for Charlie to continue thrusting. There’re literally stars floating around in his head and Babe can’t think of anything but Charlie, Charlie, Charlie.
Charlie has given up on bracing himself and is now resting his entire weight on Babe while thrusting rapidly and without any rhythm into him. That’s how Babe knows that he’s close. He likes how Charlie is now draped across him like a blanket. Babe is going to smell of Charlie tomorrow, outside and inside, and nothing else and the thought makes his spent dick twitch again.
Charlie lifts his head and looks into Babe’s eyes with a look that’s as much want as it is adoration and with one final thrust, he jerks and stills, eyes wide and mouth open in a wide ‘O’. Babe feels his insides become slick and slippery and he moans at the feeling. To have Charlie on his skin, on top of him, inside him, to have his Alpha all around him, Babe thinks it’s hard to find anything that’s made him feel this euphoric.
Charlie’s dick continues growing inside him and Babe shifts uncomfortably at first because he’s still getting used to being knotted. He’d never let any previous alphas knot him. He hates that sort of intimacy. And plus, he has places to go, trophies to win, people to piss off. When he’s with Charlie though, time stops.
His insides feel impossibly stretched but Charlie kisses the side of his head, rubs at his abdomen and Babe settles down. He won’t admit it to Charlie, but he likes this feeling. It feels like he’s being claimed. He has a feeling that Charlie knows as well. There’re things that Babe never has to tell Charlie because Charlie intuitively picks up on them.
He sighs in contentment and brings his hands up to pat his puppy on the head, hands sifting through soft, fluffy hair.
“I’m sorry, am I too heavy?”
Charlie’s voice is now back to its boyish self, almost no traces of the commanding Alpha left in it. Babe snorts and laughs at the same time at the duality of this kid. He loves it.
“You? Too heavy for me? Look at you and look at me and think about whether you want to ask me that again.”
Babe lazily flexes one bicep to emphasise his point and Charlie grins and flops back down onto Babe, his weight, comforting and warm, lulling Babe into a hypnotic, sleepy state.
“Plus, it’s not like you can actually get off even if you wanted to anyway.”
Babe pointedly glances to where they’re connected, where it’s slick and slippery and still raw, and Charlie flushes and hides his face in Babe’s neck.
“Baaaabe.”
Babe starts laughing again at how this puppy could transform into a wolf and then back to a puppy within seconds. That was definitely some food for thought.
He lazily cards his fingers through Charlie’s hair till he feels the kid’s breathing even out. And then buries his face in that sweet smelling hair and closes his own eyes.