The Possessive Rival Alpha pt3

Morning light slid through the branches and hit my face before I was ready for it.

Everything ached. Not from fighting. From last night.

From him.

I opened my eyes and Rowan was already up — standing a few steps away, hands on his hips, staring into the trees like the forest owed him answers.

His shirt was rumpled.

His hair messy.

And I knew exactly why.

He didn’t look at me when he spoke.

“You’re awake.”

His voice wasn’t cold.

Just… guarded.

Pulled tight like he was holding every emotion by the throat.

I sat up slowly, the memory of his mouth, his weight, his heat still burning across my skin.

“Yeah,” I said. My voice was rougher than I expected. “I’m awake.”

Silence.

Thick.

Heavy.

He finally turned his head just enough to glance at me — but the moment our eyes met, he looked away fast, jaw clenching hard.

We both remembered.

Every second.

Every sound.

Every mistake.

I stood, brushing dirt and leaves off my clothes, trying to act normal.

Trying to breathe.

Rowan cleared his throat.

“We should move.”

“Yeah.”

My chest tightened. “We should.”

We packed without touching.

Without talking.

Without acknowledging how different everything felt now.

But the glances kept slipping — quick, sharp, guilty.

And every time his fingers brushed mine by accident, he jerked his hand back like he’d been burned.

Two grown men, two Alphas, unable to even stand close without the memory of last night striking like lightning.

Once we started walking, the air cooled but the tension didn’t.

Rowan stayed a few steps ahead, voice short and clipped whenever he spoke.

“Tracks lead this way,” he muttered.

“Fine.”

The distance between us was ridiculous — like space could erase what we did, what we felt.

But when we finally stumbled onto the rogues’ trail, something shifted. He slowed down, glanced back, eyes softer for the first time that morning.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

I swallowed.

“Are you?”

He didn’t answer.

He didn’t need to.

The tension was still there.

So obvious we could smell it in the air.

But the moment the rogues appeared, we fell into sync instantly — like our bodies remembered how to move together even if our minds refused to.

We fought.

Won.

Dragged the rogues back to the Pack House.

This time when Rowan walked beside me, he didn’t stay far.

He moved closer.

Close enough that our shoulders brushed.

The High Alphas praised us, dismissed us for the night — and Rowan didn’t walk away like he usually did.

He stayed.

Watching me.

Waiting.

And when the Pack House fell quiet, he stepped toward me — slow, deliberate, eyes dark with something he couldn’t hide anymore.

“Adrian…”

Before he could finish, I kissed him—raw, passionate, dripping with sin. My mouth crashed into his, tongues tangling in a frenzy of heat and need. I gripped the back of his neck, fingers digging into the short hairs there, pulling him closer until our chests slammed together. He tasted like the wild—sweat from the fight, the faint tang of blood from a split lip, and underneath it all, that addictive musk that drove me insane. His hands fisted in my shirt, yanking me in, not pushing away. A low growl rumbled from his throat, vibrating against my lips, and fuck, it sent fire straight to my cock.

We stumbled back against the rough stone wall of the corridor, the cool surface biting into my shoulders as Rowan pressed into me, his body hard and unyielding. I broke the kiss just long enough to nip at his jaw, scraping teeth along the stubble, then dove back in, sucking on his lower lip until he hissed. 'Fuck, Adrian,' he muttered, voice wrecked, but he didn't stop me—didn't want to. His hips rolled forward, grinding his thickening bulge against mine, the friction sparking through the thin layers of our clothes.

I slid my hands down his sides, bunching up his rumpled shirt to feel the warm, taut skin of his abs. He was all muscle, carved from years of hunts and battles, and I traced the ridges with my thumbs, dipping lower to hook into his belt. 'You stayed,' I whispered against his mouth, breath hot and ragged. 'Why?'

His eyes locked on mine, pupils blown wide in the dim light. 'Because I can't fucking walk away anymore.' Then he kissed me again, deeper, his tongue thrusting in like he owned me, claiming every inch. I moaned into it, my cock straining painfully against my pants, already leaking pre-cum at the thought of what came next.

We moved like that—desperate, uncoordinated—until we hit a side door leading to one of the empty guest rooms. I shoved it open with my shoulder, dragging him inside without breaking contact. The door slammed shut behind us, the sound echoing in the sparse space: a wide bed with rumpled sheets, a single lantern flickering on the nightstand, casting shadows that danced over his sharp features.

Rowan pushed me down onto the mattress, following me with his weight, straddling my hips as he tore at my shirt. Buttons popped, scattering across the floor, and he raked his nails down my chest, leaving red trails that stung in the best way. 'God, I've wanted this,' he admitted, voice low and gravelly, leaning down to lick a stripe up my sternum, teeth grazing a nipple until I arched under him. 'Every damn night, thinking about your cock inside me, filling me up.'

His words hit like a punch, twisting the rivalry into something sweeter, hotter. I flipped us over, pinning him beneath me, my hands framing his face as I kissed him slow this time—tender, almost, tongues sliding lazy and deep. But the passion built quick; I couldn't hold back. I ground down, our erections rubbing through fabric, slick with pre-cum soaking the front of my boxers.

'Rowan,' I breathed, pulling back to strip him. His shirt came off first, tossed aside, revealing the broad expanse of his chest, dusted with dark hair that trailed down to his navel. I followed it with my mouth, kissing and biting along the path, hands working his belt loose. He bucked up, impatient, fingers threading through my hair to guide me lower.

I yanked his pants down, freeing his cock—thick, veined, the head flushed red and glistening. It slapped against his stomach, and I wrapped my hand around it, stroking firm from base to tip, thumb circling the slit to spread the bead of pre-cum. He groaned, head falling back, throat exposed. 'Adrian... please. Touch me more.'

That plea—messy, needy—undid me. I leaned in, tongue flicking out to lap at the underside, tasting salt and him. He shuddered, hips jerking, and I took him deeper, lips stretching around his girth as I sucked, hollowing my cheeks. Wet slurps filled the room, my saliva dripping down his shaft as I bobbed, one hand cupping his balls, rolling them gently. 'Fuck, yes,' he panted, voice breaking. 'Suck my cock like that—deeper, baby.'

I did, gagging slightly when he thrust up, but I took it, nose brushing his pubes, throat working around him. His free hand clutched the sheets, knuckles white, while the other tightened in my hair, not pulling away. I pulled off with a pop, strings of spit connecting us, and crawled up to kiss him, letting him taste himself on my tongue.

'Your turn,' he rasped, flipping me onto my back again. He stripped me fast—pants kicked off, underwear following—until I was bare under him. His eyes raked over me, hungry, and he wrapped a hand around my cock, stroking slow and teasing. 'Look at you, so hard for me. Bet your ass is aching already.'

I nodded, spreading my legs, pulling him down for another kiss. Our mouths moved sloppy now, all teeth and tongue, as he reached between us, fingers probing my hole. No lube yet—just spit from his mouth, slicking his digits as he pushed one in, knuckle-deep. I gasped into his mouth, clenching around the intrusion, the burn mixing with pleasure.

'Rowan—fuck, more.' I rocked back, chasing it, and he added a second finger, scissoring them, curling to hit that spot that made stars burst behind my eyes. 'There? Yeah, beg for it, Adrian. Tell me how bad you want my fingers fucking you open.'

'Please,' I whined, the word slipping out unbidden, romantic need twisting with the raw lust. 'Stretch me—make me ready for your cock. I need it so much.' His eyes softened at that, even as he twisted his fingers harder, thumb pressing my perineum. We kissed again, slower, his free hand coming up to wrap around my throat—not tight, just enough pressure to make my head swim, oxygen teasing at the edges.

The choke was gentle at first, his palm warm against my pulse, thumb stroking my jaw. 'You like that? My hand on your neck while I finger your tight ass?' I nodded frantically, cock twitching in his grip as he jerked me off in time with his thrusts. Pre-cum leaked steadily, making his strokes glide easy.

He pulled his fingers out, leaving me empty and whining, and grabbed the small vial of oil from the bedside—Pack House staple for nights like this. He slicked his cock first, fisting it a few times, then coated his fingers again, shoving three in this time. I cried out, the stretch burning sweet, and he choked me a bit firmer, leaning down to whisper against my lips. 'Breathe for me, love. Let me in.'

Love. The word hung there, turning the heat romantic, binding us tighter. I relaxed, pushing back, and he worked me open with patient, deep strokes, his mouth on mine, kissing away the whimpers. When he finally withdrew, I felt hollow, desperate. 'Rowan, please—fuck me. I need your cock inside me, filling me up. Begging you.'

He positioned himself, the blunt head nudging my rim, and paused, eyes searching mine. 'You sure?'

'Yes—god, yes. Choke me while you do it. Make me yours.'

With a groan, he pushed in—slow at first, inch by inch, the thickness splitting me open. I clawed at his back, nails digging crescents into his skin, and he wrapped his hand around my throat again, squeezing just right as he bottomed out, balls slapping against my ass. 'Fuck, you're so tight,' he growled, holding still to let me adjust, forehead pressed to mine. 'Taking me like a dream.'

Then he moved—pulling out halfway and slamming back in, the pace building quick and messy. The bed creaked under us, skin slapping skin, oil and sweat making everything slick. I wrapped my legs around his waist, heels digging into his ass to pull him deeper, and he choked me rhythmically—tighten on the thrust in, loosen on the pull back—making every breath a gasp of pleasure.

'Harder,' I begged, voice hoarse, tears pricking my eyes from the intensity. 'Fuck me harder—choke me until I see stars. Please, Rowan, I love it—love you pounding my ass.'

He obliged, hips snapping brutal now, cock dragging over my prostate with each drive. His hand tightened, vision blurring at the edges, and I came undone, babbling pleas. 'Don't stop—oh fuck, right there. Your cock feels so good, stretching me, owning me.' Sweat dripped from his brow onto my chest, mixing with mine, our bodies sliding together in a frenzy.

He released my throat to grab my hips, angling deeper, and I sucked in air, lungs burning, before he slapped a hand back over my windpipe, lighter this time, more teasing. 'Cum for me, Adrian. Milk my dick with that greedy hole.'

I shattered—cock untouched, spurting ropes of cum across my stomach, clenching around him so tight he cursed, thrusts stuttering. 'Shit—yes, squeeze me like that.' He kept going, chasing his own release, hand firm on my neck as he rutted deep, grunts turning to moans.

'Rowan—fill me. Cum inside my ass, please. I need it—begging you to breed me.' The words spilled out, romantic filth, and it tipped him over. He buried himself to the hilt, choking me one last time as he pulsed, hot spurts flooding me, marking me from the inside.

We collapsed together, his weight heavy and perfect, hand sliding from my throat to caress my cheek. He kissed me soft now—lazy, sated—tongue tracing my lips. 'Mine,' he murmured, pulling out slow, cum leaking from my hole as he rolled us to the side, spooning me close.

I turned my head, capturing his mouth again. 'Always was.' The tension from the morning melted away, replaced by this—us, tangled and spent, the rivalry burned into something deeper, unbreakable.

But as his fingers traced lazy circles on my hip, cock twitching against my thigh, I knew one night wouldn't be enough. Not by a long shot.