10 Dates with Mr. Alpha (MXM)

Chapter 6

Chapter Six
Thrid Date (Part III): Bruise Me Where It Hurts

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Kiel hadn't seen Ronan in five days.

Not since the night in his room. Not since they touched without hate. Fucked without games.

And it wrecked him.

He didn't know how to name the space that had opened inside his chest—only that it ached when Ronan wasn't near. He'd wake up smelling him in the sheets, hearing phantom echoes of that low growl in his ear.

And now, here he was.

Leaning against a tree in the training grounds like he hadn't just torn Kiel open and left him raw.

"Missed me?" Ronan asked, eyes sharp, posture lazy. Dangerous.

Kiel clenched his jaw. "You ghosted me."

"You looked like you needed space."

"I needed a fucking answer."

Ronan stepped forward slowly. "You want the truth?"

Kiel folded his arms, heart racing. "I'm waiting."

"I couldn't face you because if I did, I was scared I'd take you against a wall again and never stop."

Kiel's breath hitched.

"Then stop waiting," he whispered. "Do it."

That was all Ronan needed.

They crashed into each other like a match to gasoline—hot, wild, brutal. Lips smashing, teeth clashing. Ronan grabbed Kiel by the collar, dragging him backward into the empty locker room. The door slammed shut behind them with a final, echoing thud.

"Say it," Ronan growled. "Tell me you want me."

"No," Kiel hissed. "Make me."

Ronan threw him against the lockers.

The cold metal clanged as Kiel grunted, eyes blazing. His cock was already hard in his pants, aching. The adrenaline. The tension. The fucking bond.

Ronan was on him in seconds, kissing him like he wanted to eat him alive. Tongue sliding past his lips, hands roaming roughly down his back, over his ass, gripping hard enough to bruise.

"I tried to stay away," Ronan muttered into his mouth. "I tried to be good. But I can't, Kiel. I can't when you smell like that—when you look at me like this."

Kiel's laugh was breathless, wicked. "So break me, then."

Ronan spun him around, shoving him against the lockers. "Don't tempt me."

"I am."

Clothes flew—ripped, pushed, discarded on the floor in a mess. Ronan knelt behind him, spreading Kiel's legs apart, inhaling the thick scent of heat and frustration.

He buried his face between Kiel's cheeks and licked a long, slow stripe up the crack of his ass.

Kiel howled, palms slamming against the metal. "F-fuck, Ronan—"

"I'm not being gentle this time."

"I don't want gentle."

Ronan growled and spat again, slicking him open with spit and fingers until Kiel was gasping, body shaking. He didn't tease long. Didn't wait. The second Kiel pushed back on his fingers, needy and shameless, Ronan lined himself up and slammed in with one deep, unforgiving thrust.

Kiel screamed. His knees almost gave out.

"Mine," Ronan snarled. "You feel that? How you lock around me?"

Kiel could only nod, mouth open in a silent moan.

Ronan pulled almost all the way out—then slammed back in. Hard. Again. Again. Over and over, until Kiel was just a mess of sounds and shaking thighs.

"Say it," Ronan commanded. "Say you're mine."

Kiel's lips trembled. "I—no—I won't—"

Ronan grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked his head back. His teeth grazed Kiel's neck, just above the claiming spot. Not biting. Not yet. But close.

"Say it, or I'll fuck you until you can't walk."

"Do it anyway."

Ronan growled.

He grabbed Kiel's hips and started fucking him in earnest—relentless, brutal, perfect. The sound of skin slapping, of moans and curses and the locker door rattling with each thrust, filled the room.

Kiel was shaking, moaning into his own forearm, trying to stay upright as pleasure wrecked him. His cock bounced with each thrust, leaking precum onto the cold floor.

"Touch yourself," Ronan panted behind him. "I want to see you fall apart."

Kiel obeyed.

One stroke—two—and he was crying out, body snapping forward as he came hard, ropes painting the lockers, his body spasming.

But Ronan wasn't done.

He kept going, chasing his own release, gripping Kiel's hips like they were his lifeline.

"I'm gonna fill you up," he growled. "Gonna knot you so deep you won't forget who fucking owns you."

Kiel whimpered, overstimulated, wrecked. "Do it."

When Ronan came, it was a feral sound, deep and raw. His knot swelled, locking them together as he buried his face in Kiel's shoulder, panting into his skin.

Kiel leaned his head back, resting it on Ronan's. Their sweat-slicked bodies were trembling, fused.

Silence.

Just their breathing. Just the pounding of two hearts that were starting to sync, no matter how hard they fought it.

"I hate that I don't hate you anymore," Kiel said quietly.

Ronan laughed, hoarse and breathless. "Yeah. Me too."

They stood like that for long minutes, locked together, caught in something neither of them could outrun.

When Ronan finally softened and slid out, Kiel turned slowly to face him.

"You're ruining me," he whispered.

Ronan looked into his eyes.

"No," he said. "You're saving me."