Helping Hand

Riven 

The room felt smaller and tighter the second Kael pushed his joggers down just enough.

The waistband caught under the thick base of his cock, trapping it halfway, forcing the shaft to jut out heavy and obscene. I jerked my gaze away on instinct, my eyes snapping to the wall, the ceiling, or anywhere else.

“Eyes here,” Kael said.

His voice landed with the particular authority of someone who wasn’t asking. Of course he was an Alpha. And of course I’d backed down. Stupid hierarchy. I was still here trying to find my own place in all of this.

I turned back slowly, against every instinct I had, and then I was looking at something I had absolutely no business looking at, and my brain went very, very quiet.

It wasn’t as though I hadn’t seen cocks before. I mean, the internet exists after all, and I am a grown man. But there was a significant difference between a screen and… this. Between knowing something existed and having it exist directly in front of you, in your living room, belonging to Kael Dravin of all people.

His cock was thick and veined. The head flushed darker than the shaft, already slick at the slit with a single bead of pre-cum that caught the lamplight and gleamed. It looked… violent. Too big. The kind of size that made you instinctively clench and wonder how anything could possibly take it without tearing.

My mouth went dry.

Kael wrapped his right hand around the base, his fingers not quite meeting, and gave one slow, deliberate upward stroke. From root to tip. The skin dragged softly over the hardness underneath. His thumb swiped across the head on the upstroke, spreading that bead of pre-cum until the crown glistened wetly.

I felt the air leave my lungs in a quiet rush.

He did it again. Slower this time. Letting me watch every centimeter of the motion. The way the veins stood out more when he squeezed. The way the head swelled slightly darker each time his fist reached the top. The faint, slick sound of skin moving over skin.

My own cock twitched hard inside my briefs. I squeezed my thighs together without thinking. What the fuck was that? I hope I was wrong.

Kael’s eyes flicked to the movement. A tiny smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“You got lube?” he asked, his voice still that same low, even tone.

I shook my head once. Couldn’t speak.

He nodded like he’d expected it.

“Lotion? Oil? Anything slippery at least?”

“None,” I managed. My voice sounded cracked. I glared at him, or tried to. It came out weaker than I wanted.

Kael just hummed, low in his throat.

Then he lifted his hand away from his cock. He looked at his own palm for a second and brought it to his mouth. He spat once. The sound was loud in the quiet room. My stomach flipped.

“Hey—” I started, frowning.

He cut me off with a lazy shrug. “You didn’t want to give me anything. So…” He wrapped his spit-slick hand back around his shaft. “…this’ll do.”

The first stroke after that was obscene.

It was wet and loud. The slick sound of his own saliva mixing with pre-cum as his fist glided from base to tip. He twisted his wrist slightly on the upstroke, just enough to make the head swell and darken even more. A fresh bead of pre-cum welled up immediately, and he smeared it down the length with his thumb.

I couldn’t look away.

But I am still straight.

I am absolutely, completely, entirely strai—.

My heart was hammering against my ribs so hard I thought he could probably hear it. My cock was painfully stiff now, trapped against my thigh, leaking steadily into my underwear. Every time Kael’s hand moved, my own twitched in sympathy. I squeezed my legs together harder, trying to get any kind of pressure, any kind of relief.

He seemed to notice.

His strokes stayed slow — torturously slow — letting me see everything. The way his foreskin slid back and forth over the head. The way his balls drew up tighter with each pass. The way his abs flexed every time he twisted his wrist.

A low, rough and quiet groan slipped out of him. His head tipped back for a second, throat working as he swallowed. Then his eyes found mine again.

“Getting hard just watching, huh?” he murmured. 

“Hell no," I scoffed.

He sped up, just a fraction. The wet schlick-schlick-schlick of his hand grew louder, faster. His breathing turned heavier. His free hand braced on the mattress beside him, knuckles white.

“Shit,” he hissed. His hips jerked up into his fist once, twice. “Fuck… look at you staring like that…”

My mouth was dry. My cock throbbed so hard it hurt. I could feel the wet spot spreading in my briefs. This is normal, I told myself. Totally normal.

He stroked faster now — long, firm pulls from root to tip. His thumb kept swiping over the head on every upstroke, spreading the slick everywhere. His groans grew rougher and more broken.

I watched, helpless, thighs clenched so tight my muscles ached.

He was close. I could see it — the way his abs clenched, the way his balls drew up tight, and the way his hand started to lose rhythm.

“I’m going to come,” he muttered, his voice gravel. “Holy fuck! I'm going to come watching you watch me—”

His hips bucked hard. A low, guttural groan tore out of him. Thick ropes of cum erupted from the head — the first shot landing on his stomach, the second hitting his chest, the rest spilling over his fist and dripping down his knuckles. His cock jerked in his grip with every pulse. His head fell back. His throat worked as he panted through it.

When the last tremor finally left him, he let his hand fall away. His cock twitched once more, spent and shiny, cum streaked across his abs and chest in messy white lines.

He looked at me, his eyes half-lidded, chest still heaving, and gave a slow, filthy smile.

“What do you think?” he asked, his voice wrecked. “Like what you see?”

“No, I don’t,” I said, forcing the words out. My voice sounded thin, unconvincing even to me. “I’m straight. I’m not moved by whatever the hell you just did there. Now that you’re done… clean up and leave. The bathroom is there.”

I pointed at the door like it was a lifeline.

Kael laughed low and lazily, looking so unbothered. He rose slowly, not bothering to pull his sweatpants back up. His cock swayed with the movement, soft but still intimidatingly thick. He stepped closer. Close enough that I could smell the salt and musk of him, close enough that I had to tilt my head back slightly to meet his eyes.

I looked away again. Focused on the wall. The poster. Anything.

“Then tell me why you’re so hard, Mr. Straight Boy?” he asked, voice dark and amused.

My eyes widened. I whipped my head back to him. “And who said—”

Before I could finish, his hand shot forward.

He palmed my bulge through my shorts firmly with no hesitation. My cock jumped hard under his touch. I hissed sharply through my teeth, my hips jerking forward involuntarily.

“It’s so fucking obvious,” he murmured, squeezing once slowly and possessively. “You’re leaking through the fabric, Riven.”

I slapped his hand away, hard. My palm stung from the impact.

“Just go away,” I snapped.

Kael smirked wider. He stepped back, finally tugging his joggers up over his hips, but the outline of his cock was still visible — thick, obscene. He turned toward the bathroom without another word.

I sat there, chest heaving, staring at the bulge in my own shorts like it had betrayed me.

Can you just stay put? I thought furiously at my dick. You’re so fucking unbelievable. Goodness!

I squeezed my thighs together, trying to trap the ache, the throb, the humiliating wetness soaking my boxers. I could hear the faucet running in the bathroom steadily.

After what felt like forever, the water shut off. The door opened.

Kael stepped out, towel slung low around his hips, droplets still clinging to his chest and abs. He looked at me, and his eyes dropped pointedly to my lap.

“You’re still hard,” he said, almost conversational.

“It’s not your business,” I shot back.

“You’re still hard,” Kael said.

“Not your business.”

“Biologically speaking—”

“Please don’t.”

“—one’s body could get quite uncomfortable if it doesn’t get release.” He tilted his head. “Painful, even.”

“That’s a lie,” I said flatly.

“Is it?”

He crouched down in front of me slowly until we were eye-level. His forearms were resting loosely on either side of my thighs on the cushions. He was so close, enough that I could feel the warmth of him.

“You want me to help you?” he asked.

My cock jumped again hard. It was obvious. 

What a fucking traitor.

“What?” I choked out.

“Let me help you,” he repeated, softer this time. His hand hovered near my thigh just close enough that I could feel the heat of it.

I felt the throb intensify. My cock strained against the damp cotton, leaking more pre-cum. My breathing turned shallow.