Chapter Text
Hungarian Grand Prix weekends had a way of chewing people up and spitting them out, and this one had been no exception.
The heat clung to the air like a living thing, heavy and insistent, sweat running down necks before the sun had even climbed high. Every lap on track felt like it came at the cost of something—patience, focus, stamina—and the paddock seemed to shrink under the weight of it.
For Carlos, it had been worse than usual. Each stint behind the wheel was a battle, every radio call clipped, a blade’s edge away from snapping. By the time the checkered flag dropped, whatever reserves he’d had were scraped raw, leaving him running on little more than adrenaline and stubbornness, the kind that kept you upright long after your body begged you to stop.
Despite it, Alex had figured the short break between races would offer them both a reprieve. A few days to breathe. To stretch out sore muscles, maybe even sleep without the thrum of engines lodged in the back of his skull. But the paddock had a way of turning even silence into tension, souring peace before it ever had the chance to take root.
The first whispers reached him in the hospitality suite. Low, deliberate voices pitched just far enough away to pass for privacy.
They might as well have been standing beside him. Alex wasn’t trying to listen in, but some words cut clean through the soft murmur of background chatter whether you wanted them to or not.
Rut.
Carlos.
That alone was enough to make his shoulders tense. It wasn’t the words themselves so much as the tone of urgency, as though the people speaking weren’t gossiping so much as coordinating damage control.
It had the cadence of a conversation about a problem that might detonate if left unattended.
And then, clear as anything, one of the handlers muttered about too much stress kickstarting it early.
Alex was no stranger to this.
The rules about this sort of thing were explicit, etched into the paddock’s unspoken code as much as the official regulations. Alphas close to rut didn’t wander the corridors unless it was their own team’s territory, and Omegas shouldn’t linger outside other people’s rooms to avoid accidents.
It wasn’t just etiquette, of course. Avoiding incidents that the tabloids may feast on was one of the very first things F1 drivers were made aware of after all. One wrong moment, one photo taken at the wrong time, and it was a scandal that could stick like oil.
Still… Alex found himself frowning. The image of Carlos, locked away in his room for three days with nothing but bottled water and a temper that could curdle milk, didn’t sit right.
Carlos could be infuriating, prickly in ways that made Alex want to roll his eyes until they hurt, but he was still a teammate. A friend.
And the more Alex thought about it, the less sense it made to let him go without help simply because everyone else was too skittish to knock.
Sure, it was risky. Sure, the optics wouldn’t be perfect. But he couldn’t quite stomach the idea of his friend pacing a room like a caged animal, with no one bothering to check if he’d eaten or slept.
So, of course, Alex decided to do the one thing that looked the most like asking for trouble.
He went to James first. It seemed polite to inform their team principal. And maybe, somewhere in the back of his head, he wanted someone to tell him no before he got too far. Either way, he was there now. No backing out.
“Just so you know,” he began, leaning on the team principal’s doorframe like he had all the time in the world, “I’ll be bringing Carlos some food over the next few days.”
James didn’t even look up at first, his pen scratching across a page, the rhythm of someone half-listening. “Safety protocols,” he murmured, distracted, “and… unnecessary risks…”
When he finally glanced up, the pen stilled. There was a crease between his brows, a flicker of incredulity prominent on his facial features, giving away his thoughts clear as day. I’ve just realised I might have to stop you from doing something foolish—kind of thoughts. “You’re sure about this?” he asked slowly. “Carlos in his rut won’t pick and choose who he will spend it with—”
Alex, all smiles and falsified bravado—just cut him off with a grin—masking doubt under a layer of excuses. “Relax. I’m just making sure he doesn’t starve. It’s not like anything’s going to happen.”
James didn’t answer immediately. He just studied him for a beat longer than necessary, like he was weighing whether or not Alex actually understood what he was volunteering for.
Eventually, he gave a noncommittal nod, reluctantly returning to his notes, though not without a sidelong glance that carried more weight than words.
Alex didn’t think much of it then. In hindsight, those looks would replay in his mind with a sharper edge.
Though at the time, it felt simple. A couple of Tupperware containers, a knock on the door, a plate set down. Maybe a quick check to make sure Carlos wasn’t tearing up the place or climbing the walls.
Nothing dramatic. Drop off the food, exchange a few light jabs about staying out of trouble, and be gone before anything could start sliding into complicated.
Just three days. He could manage that.
Alex had been in enough driver debriefs with Carlos to know when he was sulking, irritable, or just plain fed up, hence why he could also tell that the offending scent radiating in the hallway was a tell tale sign that something was wrong. Just standing outside his hotel room, the atmosphere itself felt suffocating.
The corridor air was unnaturally warm, like someone had shut off the ventilation and left the heat running. It pressed against Alex’s skin, heavy and still, and beneath it all was a faint, sharp tang curling under the door.
His beta senses weren’t as keen as an omega’s nose or an alpha’s instinct, but even he caught the bite of it—stronger than it had any right to be, laced with restlessness and bad decisions.
For a moment, Alex toyed with the idea of walking away. No one would blame him. He could turn on his heel, leave the bag at the door, and pretend he’d never been here. But the thought of Carlos alone inside, pacing like a caged animal, had him forcing his hand to stay still.
His nerves were just reacting to the scent, he told himself. That was all. Nothing to be dramatic about.
Adjusting the takeout bag in one hand, he knocked lightly.
“Carlos? It’s me. I’ve got food.”
Silence.
Alex’s brows pulled together. Maybe Carlos was asleep. Or maybe… well. He was in a rut. The possibilities weren’t exactly hard to imagine.
He tried again, a little louder. “Mate, you’ve gotta eat something. If you keep this up, the team’s gonna—”
A sharp click cut him off.
The door swung open just enough to reveal Carlos filling the frame. Bare feet. Shirt hanging open over bare skin, collarbones stark against the light.
His hair looked like it had been dragged through by impatient fingers again and again, and his eyes, amber, but so dilated they were nearly black, fixed on Alex without blinking.
The scent rolling out of the room hit like a warm tide, dense and spiced, prickling along Alex’s skin, and coiling inside his lungs.
Alex tried for levity, curling his mouth into a grin. “Well. You look terrible.”
Carlos didn’t return it. He only stared, gaze steady and unblinking, as if he couldn’t quite work out whether Alex was real. When he spoke, his voice was low, roughened at the edges.
“Why’d they send you?”
Alex let out a short huff of laughter and lifted the bag between them. “Because I’m the only idiot who insisted.”
Something unreadable flickered in Carlos’ expression. His head tilted slightly, studying him like there was a puzzle to solve.
“I should start charging you for my friendship, honestly,” Alex added, breaking the silence before it turned strange.
That earned the barest twitch at the corner of Carlos’ mouth. Not quite a smile, but close enough for Alex to count it as a victory. The alpha stepped back in a slow, deliberate motion, leaving a gap for him to pass.
The moment Alex crossed the threshold, the scent inside wrapped around him fully, thicker than it had been in the hall, sticky-sweet under the heat, clinging to the back of his throat.
He set the food down on the small table, muttering, “Right. You should—”
He turned, and Carlos was suddenly there. Closer than expected, too close for casual.
“—eat,” Alex finished, voice trailing into uncertainty.
Carlos’ gaze moved over him in an unhurried sweep, from the curve of his shoulders down to where his hand still gripped the edge of the table.
When his eyes met Alex’s again, they gleamed faintly. “You smell… better than I thought you would.”
Alex blinked, caught off-guard. “That’s—uh—thanks?”
“It’s true,” Carlos said, stepping forward with quiet certainty. The table edge pressed into Alex’s hips now. “You walked in here… and my head stopped hurting.” His tone was softer, coaxing, almost relieved.
“That’s nice,” Alex replied quickly, lifting his hands to press against Carlos’ chest. The push was more symbolic than effective. “But you’re—y’know—rutting. And I’m—”
“A beta,” Carlos finished for him, with a faint shake of his head. “Doesn’t matter.”
The dryness in Alex’s mouth had nothing to do with the heat. This was edging toward territory he wasn’t equipped to handle. “I should probably go,” he tried again. “Just came in to drop off food.”
He angled his body toward the door, but Carlos’ fingers caught the fabric of his hoodie and pulled. The motion wasn’t harsh, but it was enough to close the space until their breath mingled in the heavy air.
“Please, Alex,” Carlos murmured, voice breaking on the edges of restraint. “Just… stay. I need—” He cut himself off, drawing in a sharp breath like even speaking cost him focus.
Alex’s heart kicked hard against his ribs. This wasn’t anywhere near the casual help your friend get through a bad mood territory he’d imagined earlier.
Carlos was never like this—never so raw, so stripped of his usual control. The vulnerability in his voice was a rare thing, almost disarming in its own right.
Maybe that was why Alex hesitated.
Long enough for the weight of the request to settle over him, long enough for instinct to lose ground to something harder to name. In hingdsight, he knew he shouldn’t have come at all.
God help him. Alex could just push him, walk out, slam the door to this overzealous Alpha’s face. Yet despite all the thoughts whirring in his head, he didn’t so much as step away.
If anything, he leaned in the touch.
Carlos’ grip shifted, fingers loosening from the fabric of Alex’s hoodie only to slide higher, cupping his jaw like he needed to steady himself there. His thumb swept along the edge of stubble, slow and deliberate, catching faintly on the roughness.
The contact lingered, like he was memorising the texture, pressing it into his palm.
The scent in the room changed, sharpening and thickening until it was almost suffocating. Heat, pine, a curl of something metallic-bright that made Alex’s skin prickle.
His head felt light, the air was too warm to draw in properly.
“Carlos,” he said, voice tighter than he meant it to be.
The thumb at his jaw pressed closer to the corner of his mouth, nudging his chin up until their eyes met.
“Just let me… just for a second.” Carlos’ voice was roughened to the point of fraying, like every word had to be dragged past instinct.
And then he was leaning in. Slow and deliberate, closing the distance with a carefulness that didn’t match the restless tension radiating off him.
His nose skimmed along Alex’s jaw, the brush of skin sending a cold-hot shiver down his spine. Breath hit his cheek, unsteady, like he was holding himself back, taking all of his effort and restraint to be gentle with the beta.
Alex in turn, stood stock still, holding his breath, fearing that any sudden movement will result in something they’d both regret. Carlos is in a rut, the alpha isn’t thinking straight. He repeated like a mantra in his head. He’d seen mindless ruts before, sure, but always from a comfortable distance, safely outside the blast radius. He’d never been on the receiving end. Never been in the room.
Carlos murmured something low against his throat, Spanish curling warm over his skin. Alex didn’t catch most of it, but the querido landed, warm and unmistakable.
“Carlos,” Alex said again, more force behind it this time, though his voice betrayed him with a crack. He should put a stop to this, he shouldn’t take advantage of his friend when he’s most vulnerable. “This isn’t… you’re not thinking straight—”
“I am,” Carlos cut in, the words brushing against the shell of his ear. “You’re here. You smell right. My head’s… clear when you’re close.”
Alex’s pulse thudded so hard it almost drowned out the words. Heat rolled off Carlos in waves, radiating through the thin gap between their bodies. Beneath his palms, pressed lightly to Carlos’ chest, he felt the twitch of muscle, the slow draw of breath that seemed to pull him closer without even trying.
And then there was no gap at all. Carlos’ hand slid down to his waist, fingers curling with a quiet, possessive pressure that dragged him flush. The movement was followed by the unmistakable roll of Carlos’ hips, slow, testing, the sort of action that spoke more than words could.
That was the moment it clicked, heavy and cold in the pit of Alex’s stomach.
He was here because Carlos’ rut-fogged instincts had crossed out every other name on the list and underlined Alex Albon, beta, friend like it was the only answer that made sense.
To him, Alex was the perfect substitute for an omega mate.
Carlos’ nose skimmed down to the base of his throat and stayed there, inhaling deep, almost shuddering with it. “Stay,” he murmured, voice hoarse. “I’ll be good. Just— stay.”
Alex knew he should pull back, shove him away, tell him to eat his damn noodles and sleep it off.
Instead, he just breathed out slowly, heart still kicking against his ribs, and muttered, “alright.” Alex never was good at making decisions when it came to his friend.
The sound Carlos made in return was low and unfiltered, a growl that vibrated through Alex’s chest more than it reached his ears. Before Alex could reach for another half-joke to cut through the heat of it, Carlos’ hands tightened on his hips.
The push wasn’t violent, but it was decisive, guiding him backward until his back met the wall with a dull thud. The air between them was gone, pressed out under Carlos’ presence, and the neatly packed takeout on the table was instantly forgotten.
“Carlos,” Alex began, but the name barely left his lips before it fractured into a sharp breath. His mouth was on him—hot, insistent—pressing against the curve where neck met shoulder.
His breath was warm, his scent thick, and Alex could feel each inhale drag over his pulse.
He lingered there, searching until he found a spot that made Alex’s breath stutter. Then he stayed, lips sealed to it, breathing him in like Alex was the only thing tethering him to reason.
Alex’s hands came up on reflex, meant to push him back. But they didn’t. They hovered just shy of Carlos’ shoulders, fingers twitching in hesitation. The heat radiating through the thin cotton of his shirt was near scorching.
Every muscle under his palms was drawn tight, a low tremor running through him as if he were holding back something he couldn’t quite contain.
Carlos hadn’t moved, and Alex could feel the slow exhale ghosting over his neck, the subtle shift of him leaning in just enough to make his pulse jump.
“Alex,” Carlos murmured, and it was less a name than a warning, deliberate, like it was meant to pin him in place as surely as the wall behind him.
Alex’s fingers twitched again. He didn’t know if it was to pull the Alpha closer or finally push him away.
The pause stretched, unbearably thin. Then Carlos tilted his head, his mouth brushing close enough for Alex to feel the shape of a smirk against his skin.
The first nip was barely there, just the faint catch of teeth over skin. The second had more weight, a sharper drag that made Alex’s spine press back against the wall.
Then Carlos’ restraint cracked, and he groaned—low, guttural, frayed at the edges.
The sound vibrated against Alex’s neck as his teeth sank deeper into his shoulder. The sting turned into a deep, claiming press of teeth that made Alex’s knees want to buckle in turn.
“Easy,” Alex managed, breathless, though the warning came out softer than intended, the edge already dulled.
He knew exactly what this was—rut-instincts spilling over, Carlos’ body demanding he claim what felt right, scent and teeth broadcasting mine to anyone who might get too close.
And god help him, Alex willingly let it happen.
Because Carlos’ weight against him didn’t feel threatening. It felt desperate. Reeking of loneliness that made it impossible to walk away when you knew you could help. Alex wasn’t an omega, couldn’t give him the biological release his body wanted, but he could be here.
Could keep Carlos from doing something he’d regret with someone who couldn’t handle him.
The hand on his hip shifted lower, fingers sliding down the curve of his thigh before gripping just above his knee. In one fluid pull, Carlos hauled his leg up, hooking it over his hip. The movement was rough with need, boxing Alex in so completely that the wall at his back became the only escape he had—and he wasn’t moving.
Carlos stepped closer, fitting himself into the space like he belonged there, the press of his body making the air around them hotter still.
“Three days,” Carlos eventually rasped against his skin, hips pressing forward just enough to make the promise tangible. “Stay with me. Please.”
Alex exhaled slow, tasting the heat-heavy air, the pine-sweet scent clinging to him now like it belonged there. His rational brain was waving every red flag it had, but his body stayed exactly where it was, leg hooked over Carlos’ hip, letting him take.
“Alright,” Alex heard himself say. “But if you tear my hoodie, you’re buying me a new one.”
Carlos laughed — short, rough — and then any space between them vanished completely.
Carlos didn’t so much lead Alex to the bed as he steered him there—close enough that their shoulders kept bumping, his palms a steady weight at Alex’s hips. Each subtle push forward felt deliberate, like Carlos was guiding him into a place he’d already claimed in his head.
Alex’s knees hit the mattress, and he barely had time to sit before Carlos was crowding in—leaning, pressing him against the bed, moving with a restless heat that made the air feel too thin to breathe.
Alex had been with alphas before, yes, but never like this. Not in the middle of a rut, not with someone whose every movement radiated need so raw it bordered on worship.
The bed dipped under Carlos’ weight as he climbed over him, one knee bracketing his hip, his hands were everywhere—skimming Alex’s sides, gripping his thighs, pushing under the hem of his hoodie.
Every touch felt greedy yet unhurried, as if memorizing the exact temperature of his skin was more important than getting anywhere fast.
“You’re warm,” Carlos murmured, the words almost swallowed by the space between them. The earlier growl in his voice had melted into something softer, almost reverent.
He dipped down without warning, nose dragging a slow path along Alex’s collarbone, scenting under his jaw, across his chest, and inhaling like he could pull Alex’s scent deep enough to keep it there forever.
Alex’s breath caught. “You’re practically bathing me.”
Carlos just hummed, a low vibration against his skin, and bit lightly at his shoulder before pulling back enough to meet his eyes. The pupils were still blown wide, but there was focus now, focus that is entirely on him.
His gaze didn’t waver. It held him in place more effectively than any grip, that single-minded intensity narrowing the rest of the world to the few inches between them.
Alex’s chest rose unevenly, caught somewhere between defiance and the urge to sink into that heat. Though what was left of his fire was quickly fanned out by need as Carlos’ hand slid down at his thigh.
Hips rolled down against his, slow but heavy, the press of his body made Alex acutely aware of every sharp edge between them. The alpha’s heat was searing, bleeding through layers of clothing until Alex was sure it was sinking into his bones.
Carlos couldn’t keep still. His mouth found him again and again—along his jaw, the slope of his throat, the corner of his mouth—pressing hot, deliberate kisses that left faint impressions of teeth in their wake.
When Carlos’ hand finally slid lower, it wasn’t the direct touch Alex had braced for. He lingered—palming his hip, rubbing slow, lazy circles over the sharp edge of bone. His thumb toyed with the waistband, dipping close but never past.
Every so often he’d press in just enough to make Alex’s breath hitch, then pull back like nothing had happened.
Then his hand drifted further, slipping between Alex’s thighs. The touch gentled there, fingertips brushing over the place Alex knew he’d have to get used to. The first pass made him jolt.
“Mm,” Carlos hummed, catching it instantly. “Too much?”
Alex swallowed, heat crawling up his neck. “No. Just— different.”
That earned a low laugh. Carlos leaned in, kissing the corner of Alex’s jaw, while his hand stayed exactly where it was—circling, teasing, never pressing in. It made his stomach knot and his thighs twitch against Carlos’ hips.
“You’ll get used to it,” Carlos murmured, his voice dipping into that strange, low affection that threaded through the rougher edges of his rut. “I’ll make sure you do.”
Then he began in earnest—not shoving, but easing him open with steady, patient pressure, retreating now and then to trace those maddening circles again.
Every shift in Alex’s breathing, every involuntary tilt of his hips, was met with a smug curl of Carlos’ mouth, like he could read him better than Alex could read himself.
A slick sound joined the heat between them—Carlos had dug into his pocket for a small bottle, the faint click of the cap followed by the cool, deliberate slide of lube over his fingers.
Alex hissed at the sudden contrast, but the discomfort barely had time to bloom before Carlos’ hand returned, coating him with that slow, unhurried thoroughness.
And then—because he could—Carlos wrapped his hand around his own cock, smearing the slick mess of pre-cum over Alex’s hole. The obscene heat of it made Alex’s spine jolt, thighs twitching like his body had betrayed him.
He shot Carlos a sharp glare for it, but the alpha only huffed a low, amused laugh.
“Cute,” Carlos murmured, as though the word was a fact, not an insult at the beta’s pride.
At last—whether out of mercy or simply to drag things out longer—he eased his hips back, letting the blunt head slide away. The loss was almost worse, leaving Alex raw and tense in the wake of it. Then Carlos’ hand replaced the absence, his fingers slick and deliberate.
The first glide inside was almost shy—if Carlos had ever been capable of shyness. He traced the seam of Alex’s sweatpants, knuckles brushing where he was already hot, testing, mapping.
Every touch drew something out of him—hips twitching, stomach knotting tight, his mouth parting without a sound.
“You’re jumpy,” Carlos said, voice amused. “Sensitive.”
“’m not—”
“You are,” he countered, slipping it inside at last, pushing until his finger was in up unto his knuckle. Alex gasped, hips jolting, thighs tensing, the heat of it burning right through him.
Carlos only moved once his breath turned ragged, fingers ghosting along the underside in maddeningly light strokes, stretching every second thin.
It was too much and not enough all at once. Carlos would work him open, then pause to mouth at his chest or slide a hand up under his hoodie, making Alex shiver. By the time his fingers pressed in again—skin to skin, where no one had touched him before—Alex was trembling.
Carlos didn’t push in right away. He circled, dipped shallow, withdrew. Again. Again. Until frustration bled into Alex’s voice.
“Carlos—”
“Hm?” Carlos looked up, calm to the point of cruelty. “Something you want?”
“Get on with it,” Alex snapped, though the heat flooding his face ruined it.
Carlos’ grin was slow, infuriating. “Get on with what?” His fingers flexed inside, drawing another twitch out of him. “Be specific.”
Alex tried for a glare, but his voice broke in the middle. “…You know.”
“Mm. No,” Carlos leaned in, his breath hot against Alex’s ear. “Say it. Tell me exactly what you want me to do.”
Alex was only half-aware of the words leaving his mouth—heat and irritation twisting together until they slipped out before he could stop himself.
“I need your knot, please.”
Carlos went still.
Then, in the next breath, he lost his restraint. Fingers pushed in with a sudden, sure force that made Alex gasp—half from shock, half from how much more intense it felt after all that slow torture. It was almost too much, enough to make his hips jerk away on instinct.
Carlos caught him instantly, hand braced on his lower back. “Shh,” he murmured, low and a little rougher than before. “You’re fine. Just— hold still for me.”
Alex’s head spun, every nerve ending alight. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to curse Carlos or beg him to do it again.
It came in waves—one moment feral, Carlos’ weight pinning him to the mattress, teeth dragging along the slope of his throat, the next easing back just enough to let a calloused hand smooth over his cheek, murmuring something low in Spanish that Alex didn’t need a translation for.
His voice was a tether, a warmth threading through the shiver racing down Alex’s spine, even as the rest of him felt stretched too tight.
When Carlos finally pushed in, the first slow press of him was enough to steal the air from Alex’s lungs. Christ, he’s— Alex’s brain stuttered, every thought scattering under the realization of just how big the intrusion actually was.
His fingers curled hard into the sheets, knuckles whitening as the burn bloomed and spread, leaving him teetering between bracing for more and wanting to push Carlos back.
It was too much—it has to be too much—yet he stayed still because the low, coaxing murmur against his ear made him feel like moving would mean missing something.
Carlos gripped Alex’s waist with both sturdy hands as he watched the veins of his cock bulge and squeeze inside the tight hole, pushing itself in, bit by bit, until he could feel himself sinking deeper into his tight heat.
Alex winced at the cock sheathed much too deep in him, feeling Carlos grow bigger, his dick was heavy against his insides and his hole was stretched taut, struggling with the sheer girth, he could almost weep at the the sensation… warm and soft insides fitted around Carlos’ cock with the tip of his dick shoved inside the deepest parts, almost bruising his guts in a cruel manner.
An obscene amount of excess precum trickled from his entrance, down to his thighs, not before the rough hands handling him suddenly swiped at the substance, smearing it and making a mess at his bottom—Alex jolted in response.
“T-that’s filthy.” Alex complained aimlessly, burying his head against the crook of Carlos’ neck, his eyes shined with unshed tears as Carlos snapped his hips up in turn, forcing the other man to let out a pained moan.
Carlos moved like he had all night to ruin him, slow enough that Alex could feel every deliberate inch sink deeper, then snapping his hips forward in a sudden jolt that punched a gasp out of him.
It wasn’t a rhythm Alex could brace for.
Every time he thought he’d caught the pattern, Carlos changed it—dragging a thrust out until the weight of him became unbearable, then grinding in so deep it was like he was trying to bruise something that wasn’t meant to bruise.
Breathless, half-choked moans tangled with the slick, obscene squelch of movement, filling the overheated air until it felt like there wasn’t enough oxygen left in the room.
Alex tried—he really did—to bite the sounds back, clamping down on his own lip until it stung, but they kept tearing loose anyway, desperate little gasps that didn’t sound like him. Not before this. Not like this.
The mattress dipped under the force of him, his frame caging Alex in so there was nowhere to run—not that he was sure he wanted to. The push and pull of him was relentless, a heavy, grinding rhythm that hit so deep it made Alex’s legs tremble with each drive.
He tried to match him, hips twitching forward in some uncoordinated attempt to meet him halfway, but his body didn’t have the same instinctive pace.
Every surge of Carlos’ hips made him clench down around the thick intrusion, breath catching in broken bursts he couldn’t disguise.
Carlos noticed—of course he noticed—because a moment later, his mouth was on Alex’s again, swallowing those sharp little breaths like they were just another part of him to take.
“Así… así, mi vida…” Carlos breathed, the words molten against his ear. His palm smoothed along Alex’s cheek as if coaxing him into surrender rather than forcing it.
The touch was tender—until it wasn’t.
Fingers tightened, holding him in place as Carlos drove in deeper, hard enough to send a tremor through Alex’s thighs.
“ Ah— ah—! ” The sound ripped out of him before he could bite it back, pitched somewhere between protest and want.
The air in the room was thick with heat—his own breath, Carlos’ breath, and the obscene sound of slick, steady movement that seemed to echo in his ears. He couldn’t keep quiet anymore; every time he tried to swallow the noise down, it just forced its way out as a broken moan.
Carlos’ weight was everywhere at once, pressing him into the mattress like the world itself had decided to lay on top of him. Every inch of him radiated heat, muscle strung tight under sweat-slick skin, moving with the kind of relentless focus that made Alex’s body feel clumsy in comparison.
His thighs shook from trying to match the pace, his lungs burning as though they couldn’t keep up with the air he needed. Carlos breathed like a man built for this—sharp, deep pulls through his teeth—while Alex’s came in stuttering bursts, his chest rising too fast, too shallow.
And still, instead of pushing Carlos away, his body kept dragging him closer. It was refusal. Refusal to let Carlos burn through this rut by himself.
His hands slid up, following the rigid line of Carlos’ spine until his fingers dug in, holding on like he could tether him there through sheer force of will.
His body ached from it, but the ache felt… magnetic. He caught himself rolling his hips back into it, chasing the feverish press of heat that sank deep into his bones.
Alex’s fingers soon found the sweat-slick line of Carlos’ spine, dragging up, then curling hard like he was bracing himself for impact.
The pace shifted—rough, quick thrusts that stole his breath entirely, then a slower, heavier grind that kept him pressed flat, the pressure a constant, inescapable weight in his bones.
Carlos’ hand came up without warning, fingers firm under Alex’s jaw, tilting his face until there was nowhere to look but into those eyes—dark, sharp, dangerous in a way that made something in his stomach pull tight.
“Mírame,” Carlos rasped, low and rough enough that Alex felt it in his teeth. It should have been a command, but his thumb stroked over Alex’s cheek with a touch so careful it almost undid him.
Then Carlos pushed deeper, slow enough that the change in pressure hit like a spark through his spine.
That’s when Alex felt it—the swelling at the base, thick and hot and beginning to press where there was absolutely no more room. His stomach dropped.
“Wait—” he hissed, half warning, half disbelief, fingers tightening against Carlos’ back.
The hold on his jaw didn’t loosen.
Instead, Carlos’ forehead pressed to his, his breath heavy and warm between them. “Sorry…” he murmured, the sound almost soothing if not for the way his hips kept that steady, devastating pressure.
Alex’s body arched tight, his heels digging into the mattress, one hand fisting in Carlos’ shoulder as though he could push him back—except he wasn’t pushing him away, if anything, he held him closer.
Carlos’ weight stayed, immovable, the slow grind of his hips unrelenting.
The knot pressed harder, stretching him in slow, merciless increments. Each breath felt like it might be the one that tipped it over, but it didn’t.
Carlos held him there, making him take it a fraction more with every exhale, every shallow thrust that seated him deeper before easing just enough to push again.
“Carlos—” Alex’s voice cracked around it, a mix of plea and warning, but the man only hushed him again, his thumb brushing lazy circles against his cheek as if this were nothing, as if Alex wasn’t shuddering apart beneath him.
The world narrowed to the slow, hot push, the dull burn sparking into something sharper, the sheer inevitability of it. Alex’s jaw ached from clenching, eyes squeezed shut until Carlos’ voice pulled him back.
“Breathe,” Carlos told him, patient in that ruthless way, and Alex did—only for the next drive of Carlos’ hips to breach him fully, the knot sliding in with a final, blinding stretch that left Alex gasping. His eyes squeezed shut, heat stinging at the corners, nails biting into Carlos’ skin.
The knot forced its way past the resistance and seated deep, locking them together with a final, dizzying stretch that left Alex’s breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps.
Alex flushed hot—scalding—heat crawling up his neck to the tips of his ears when he felt it, that sudden rush of cum spilling into him, thick and molten.
Carlos’ hips jerked in response, sharp and involuntary, his groan dragging low in his chest and spilling into Alex’s throat like it belonged there. The sound made something in Alex clench around him without his permission.
“Gonna fill you,” Carlos rasped, voice gone rough and unsteady, a mantra now more than words.
“Breed you ‘til you can’t walk… ‘til you can’t think about anyone but me…” His breath was hot against Alex’s skin, his scent curling heavy in the air until it seemed to stick to every inhale.
Alex wanted to laugh, to shove at him and remind him of the biological impossibility of it—he couldn’t get pregnant, he wasn’t built for it—but the logic snagged somewhere in the heat-haze thrumming between them.
The thought vanished when Carlos’ thrusts changed, slowing, grinding deeper like he meant to press it all higher, deeper, until Alex could feel it settling somewhere he didn’t have words for.
He felt rough hands smoothing over his side in a mockery of gentleness before gripping his hip hard enough to bruise.
Alex’s head eventually tipped back into the pillow, chest heaving in time with Carlos’. The air between them was thick with alpha scent, clinging to his skin, coating the back of his tongue.
His muscles trembled, his skin burned, but when Carlos’ mouth found his again, Alex kissed back without a flicker of hesitation.
Three days, he thought distantly. It should have terrified him. Instead, it left him dizzy with anticipation.