Chapter 9: Sloppy Seconds Punishment
The scent of Peter’s room—cologne and sex—still clung to Derek’s nostrils as he slipped into the hallway, but it was quickly overpowered by the stronger, earthier aroma of Scott’s domain. Before the door had even clicked shut, a large, calloused hand clamped over his mouth from behind, and a solid, muscular body pressed him hard against the wood.
“Heard you were making the rounds,” Scott’s voice growled, hot and low, in his ear. The scent of forest and sweat was all around him.
Derek’s heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic bird in a cage. He could feel the hard line of Scott’s cock, already straining against his jeans, digging into the small of his back.
Scott’s other hand slid down Derek’s spine, rough and possessive, until it cupped his ass. His fingers didn’t tease; they dug into the sore flesh, spreading his cheeks apart with a brutal efficiency that made Derek gasp against the palm still silencing him.
“Fuck, they left you sloppy for me,” Scott breathed, his voice thick with arousal. Derek felt a thick, blunt pressure against his hole—not a cock, but two of Scott’s fingers, pushing inward without preamble. They slid in easily, past the over-sensitized, stretched ring of muscle, delving into the wet, warm mess Nate and Peter had left inside him. Scott worked his fingers in and out a few times, the slick, obscene sound loud in the quiet hallway, before pulling them out.
The hand left Derek’s mouth. Before he could speak, those same wet, cum-smeared fingers were shoved between his lips. The taste was potent, a complex mix of his own slick and the distinct, musky seed of two Alphas. “Taste what you are,” Scott commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Derek sucked his fingers clean, his own submission fueling a fresh wave of heat through his veins.
Scott spun him around, his dopey, handsome face set in a mask of pure hunger. He crushed his mouth against Derek’s in a punishing kiss, all teeth and tongue, before manhandling him towards the bed. He bent Derek over the rumpled sheets, the posters of forgotten bands looking down on them like silent witnesses.
There was no more preparation. Scott’s jeans were shoved down, and then the broad, uncut head of his cock was pressing against Derek’s entrance. It was thicker than the others, the foreskin providing a different, rougher friction. Scott didn’t ask. He just pushed.
“Oh, god,” Derek choked out as he was filled, the stretch a bright, burning shock after the brief respite. Scott’s hips met his ass with a solid smack of flesh. He was less refined than Peter, less brutally dominant than Nate; his fucking was pure, animalistic instinct. He set a punishing, steady rhythm, his grip on Derek’s hips bruising, the bedframe slamming against the wall with every drive.
“Yeah, take it,” Scott grunted, his body a solid, sweating weight on Derek’s back. “You’re just a hole for us, aren’t you? A perfect, tight little hole.”
The words, the relentless pounding, the feeling of being so utterly used and filled, sent pleasure coiling tight in Derek’s gut. He could feel his own cock, hard and leaking, bouncing with each thrust. He was close, so close, the pressure building to a breaking point.
Suddenly, Scott stilled, buried deep. He pulled out, his cock sliding free with a wet, sucking pop. “On your knees,” he panted, pointing to the floor between his legs. “Want to see that pretty mouth work.”
Derek scrambled to obey, his body thrumming with denied release. He knelt on the coarse carpet, looking up at Scott’s heaving chest, his flushed, hard cock. He didn’t need to be told twice. He leaned forward and took Scott into his mouth, swallowing him down to the root in one smooth, practiced motion.
“Shit, Derek,” Scott moaned, his hands fisting in Derek’s black hair. His hips began to piston forward, fucking his throat with the same primal rhythm he’d used on his ass. Derek relaxed his jaw, letting Scott use him, the head of his cock hitting the back of his throat with each thrust. The taste of himself, mixed with Scott’s pre-cum, was intoxicating.
The pounding on the wall started then—a furious, rhythmic banging from the room next door. “Keep it the fuck down, McCall!” a muffled voice yelled.
Scott pulled out of Derek’s mouth, a string of saliva connecting his cock to Derek’s swollen lips. A wild, reckless grin spread across his face. “They’re just jealous,” he snarled, and he hauled Derek back onto the bed, onto his hands and knees.
He entered him again in one brutal, deep thrust, knocking the air from Derek’s lungs. The force of it, the raw claiming, was the final trigger. Derek’s body seized, his back arching as he came untouched, his cum splattering the already stained sheets beneath him with a choked, guttural cry. His internal muscles clamped down on Scott’s cock in violent, milking spasms.
That was all it took. Scott roared, a raw, Alpha sound of triumph, and drove home one last time, pouring his own release deep inside Derek, adding a third, hot layer to the mix already filling him. He collapsed over Derek, both of them slick with sweat and breathing in ragged, broken gasps. The banging on the wall faded to a few final, disgruntled thumps.
After a long moment, Scott rolled off, his chest still heaving. He looked over at Derek, his expression shifting from animalistic hunger to something closer to his usual, easy-going self. “The hunt is tomorrow night,” he said, his voice casual, as if commenting on the weather. “Nate’s got a specific target in mind. Some townie who’s been mouthing off about the fraternity. Thinks we’re just a bunch of privileged animals.” He wiped a hand over his mouth. “He wants you to make the first cut.”