Yeah, basically that.
“Ramsey laughed at me when I talked about watching one of those,” Gage admitted.
“Fuck him,” O’Neil said. Then he paused, looking worriedly at Gage. “But not that way.”
That made Gage laugh. “No, I wouldn’t.”
O’Neil grinned, leaning in. His gaze dropped to Gage’s mouth, and for a second, he looked... like he wanted to kiss Gage. Except he yanked his gaze away and started the movie.
Gage wasn’t sure what to think of that. He’d had some alphas hit on him before, but O’Neil... he seemed trustworthy. And kind. And vulnerable. And maybe... Gage could relax around him a little. Enough to share the popcorn, at least.
“Here.” He took O’Neil’s cushion away. For a second, O’Neil panicked—until Gage put the popcorn bowl in his lap. “That’s for you.”
O’Neil stared at the bowl, his eyes round. “All of it?”
“I’ll steal some.” Gage grabbed a handful. But O’Neil relaxed and smiled, turning his focus toward the movie.
About five minutes in, O’Neil leaned in, their arms brushing, his honey oak scent wafting into Gage’s nose. The close contact felt good. It felt like something casual, like they could relax without committing to anything serious. Gage slung his arm across the back of the couch; O’Neil scooted closer so his bicep brushed Gage’s side.
The characters in the movie threw around some bad food puns. Gage smiled; O’Neil snorted. Gage had thought maybe O’Neil might lose interest, but he was smiling both times Gage sneaked a glance at him.
Finally relaxing, Gage grabbed more popcorn, savoring the evening’s peace.
It was sometime toward the middle of the movie, when the characters were trying to escape from a leaking boat, that Gage reached for more popcorn. This time, his hand encountered no puffy, airy snacks.
Gage curled his fingers around something soft—where was the popcorn? Why did it feel like fabric? And what was that firm thing underneath that fabric?
It felt like a cylinder. A firm bread stick? He squeezed it, thinking maybe he’d be up for some bread.
Funnily enough, it grew thicker. It was quite a handful, actually. Was it... hard? He could’ve sworn it was just firm a moment ago. Gage tried tugging the cloth away in his search for the mysterious bread stick. He couldn’t get the cloth to peel off.
On the screen, the characters were leaping onto chocolate logs that had suddenly turned into crocodiles. One of them almost got bitten. The graphics were fantastic.
And the bread stick had... gotten as hard as a rock. Gage squeezed it again. What kind of bread was that?
He finally tore his eyes away from the movie, looking down. He found some gray fabric in his hand. It had wrapped around his bread stick, and there was a line across its tip that... was very definitely not bread-like.
In fact, that looked like a cock. It was heavy, like a cock. But it was far bigger than any other cock Gage had touched, save for his own.
Gage came to the sinking conclusion that he was, in fact, holding O’Neil’s cock.
O’Neil was an alpha. Gage had grabbed him like popcorn.
As he stared, O’Neil jerked against his palm, a dark spot spreading across the fabric. Gage released him like he’d been burnt. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
O’Neil wheezed, his face red, his chest looking like it might burst. He grabbed a cushion off the floor and shoved it down onto his lap, his eyes locked on the TV. “It’s fine,” he rasped. “Watch the movie.”
But Gage smelled the musk in the air now. He knew how it felt, having his own cock swell like that. He knew the tingle of arousal, he knew the feeling of his blood swooping between his legs.
His own body grew hot.
It shouldn’t. He’d never been turned on by other alphas. O’Neil was the exception. Gage stared blankly at the screen, his focus shifting. Next to him, O’Neil swallowed, squirming uncomfortably.
For a while, nothing happened. Then the far corner of the cushion lifted, and Gage thought he saw O’Neil’s hand slipping under the cushion. Then came the slow back-and-forth rhythm, the one Gage definitely knew.
He heard the hitch of O’Neil’s breath, he saw when O’Neil parted his lips in pleasure, his musk rolling between them. Was he stroking himself through his shorts? Or had he pushed his hand inside, and it was skin on skin?
Gage shouldn’t be curious. But he also remembered O’Neil moaning over his eggs. O’Neil looking so gods-damned pleasured.
He wanted to know if he could make O’Neil moan with his mouth. Besides, he had a favor to repay, right?
“I can help,” Gage said.
O’Neil froze. “What?”
Gage nodded toward the cushion. Then he slid off the couch, kneeling in front of O’Neil. And he grasped the cushion, tugging at it.
O’Neil swore; his breath rushed out of him. For an instant, something flashed in his eyes. Something primal. Something ferocious.
He looked like he might roar and slam Gage into the floorboards, he looked like he wanted to cram his entire cock into Gage’s mouth. Gage’s instincts wanted to meet that challenge head-on, he wanted to prove that he would win that fight.
“Fight me,” Gage rasped, yanking that cushion away.
O’Neil’s cock shoved up between them, straining so hard against his shorts that Gage thought it would rip a hole straight through the fabric.
It was big. Ravenous. It felt like a threat and a challenge, and Gage’s entire body tightened, preparing for a fight.
But O’Neil shoved his cock down, his eyes flashing. “I’m just going to bed.”
His voice had turned husky, dangerous. Sexy.
Gage never thought he’d describe this man as sexy.
Then O’Neil stood, and Gage got a faceful of his musk. Held down, O’Neil’s cock came within inches of his mouth. And for a second, O’Neil hesitated, his cock looking like it wanted to sate its hunger. Inside Gage.
What would that feel like?
“Good night,” O’Neil growled.
Then he turned sharply and made for the stairs, his shorts clinging to his ass with every step.
What would that ass look like, spread open? Impaled on Gage’s cock? Was
