[EDITING] ALPHA UNIVERSE #5: DESIROUS

PROLOGUE

"Hello again", Cris said in front of the camera with a big smile, his eyes forming into crescents behind his mask.

Live comments immediately flooded on the lower left corner—most are deemed thirsty, but that's the point. This livestream is far from innocent.

"How's my day? Hmm, pretty relaxing, honestly, not much more eventful than yesterday. How about you, baby?", he spoke in his usual sweet tone, the nickname rolling on his tongue like a normal thing to say, a lopsided grin curling on his lips, satisfied with the effect he had just by reading the comments.

"Wow, thank you for the Easter eggs. Killforcris is your username though. Would you really kill for me?", he chuckled. "Nah, that's bad, darling. I don't tolerate that kind of behavior, understand?"

Series of yes, daddy, understood sir, copy master, swarmed the screen like they were all the users behind the killforcris account.

The BJ could only flash a big endearing smile and lean on the backrest, and all Cris' followers, or, I might say, fans, already knew what would happen next.

Cris sat comfortably on his big broadcast chair, rolling it a few inches back, causing his unbuttoned white polo shirt to display on the screen. His smooth tattooed neck, prominent collarbones, toned chest, and packed abs were all seen, alongside the black waistband adoring his fit waist.

It was surely a sight to see. Milking the eyes of the viewers, and maybe milking whatever the viewers would like to milk.

It wasn't long when he slid his hands down to his pants, unbuckling the belt, unbuttoning, and zipping off—the loud, distinctive sound sending on the viewers ears like an eargasm—a satisfying ASMR.

The fans weren't foreign to the BJ's size—fairly huge in length and girth—yet the view still had a wondrous effect on their bodies.

Cris' moans and low groans are a perfect bonus. His rigged breaths, how his chest heaves up and down in a slow, heavy manner, and his hand running on his shaft to chase his heaven.

All throughout the course, his head is thrown back, eyes shut close, and red wet lips open on the amount of pleasure. The mask that covers almost his entire face can't hide the satisfaction he is feeling.

His voice got raspier and his hips shuddered as he approached close, then a string of thick white liquid squirted out of its pink tip, landing on his abs, and some rolling down his hand.

The BJ came down from his high with a heavy exhale and one last pump, turning his head forward onto the screen as his eyes narrowed on the camera like he was stabbing every viewer's soul.

Unsatisfied comments never once reached the BJ's livestream.

Ever since his name came to light and his face downed on people's minds, he never left the top.

BJ Cris remained number one on the list of broadcast jocks, inside and outside of Maze Fantasia Studios.

Maybe it's the way he looked—one of the hottest men ever existed.

Or maybe the way his eyes run on you like a predator targeting his prey.

Or maybe the fact that he's a pureblooded alpha— born dominant and dominates every person he encounters.

But what about Lee Jeno?

The man behind the mask longs for contentment and natural comfort.

Feared but liked by many—feared but wants to be claimed by a ton.

Lee Jeno only wanted one—a lifetime partner.

He would always prefer an omega, as they were perfect to start a family, or maybe because of his dominant nature, he kind of wanted his partner to be dependent on him.

He won't complain if it's a beta, though it would be hard for him to relay his unsaid emotions as betas weren't gifted to sense pheromones.

An alpha would test his dominance, so he's not sure if they would understand each other so well.

In short, Lee Jeno wanted an omega. But why has this new alpha girl icked his senses and suddenly kicked his face with her clever tongue?

He never prayed to be with an alpha.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━desirous━☂

de·sir·ous
/dəˈzīrəs/
adjective: desirous

a state of desire, want, and craving.

in which a newly recruited choreographer accidentally fell on the deep hole of one broadcast jockey– both challenging themselves with their impeccable desires and the urge to dominate.

❝ fucking stay still ❞

❝ fuck you, i top ❞