Making The Alpha Submit (BL)

2: NORTH STAR

October 6th, xxxx

NUKA GETS A KICK out of selecting clothes for him to wear, Precious thinks, amused, not for the first time.

He watches the boy flurry about him smoothing creases that aren't there, cleans the whole length of the suit with a lint roller, bothers the cufflinks, fixes the silver jewellery brooch on the jacket pocket to the lapel, pins a miniature pocket watch atop, fidgets with the wine handkerchief in his left jacket pocket.

Precious takes himself in; curly air fixed tight in a bun, a silver brooch slashed through it like a cut popping the black of his irises, the slope of his cheekbones, highlighting the faint flesh scar that runs under his right eyebag like an eyeliner slip-up.

Nuka takes a sort of vicarious pride in his sartorial elegance that even though he only wears complete set of suits, shoes shined to a tee to top the ensemble always ignites a sort of dressmaker passion.

Precious takes pride in his sartorial elegance too. He couldn't imagine that there are people out there that don't take extra care in their appearance, their fashion-if only he can sport a cane without looking like a predisposed pimp or mafia or Goddess forbid, like the Blue Sun Alpha, he'll have walked around with it.

But as originality went, he won't be caught dead copying another signature look much lest a tyrannical look. It is enough that they are comically compared to by other Alphas whose territories are uncomfortably close, he will look like an absolute fool otherwise.

Waiting patiently for Nuka to finish his intense concentration on his shoes, Precious casually dips his hands in his pockets and posed, loving how the dark blue of the suit clashed finely with the silkness of his dark hair, white shirt mirroring the glint of his fangs.

Confidence behind clothes, a stray thought flashed but he pays it no mind. It is too early of a morning to be shaken by useless thoughts. The birds sang and through the curtains, he sees how bright today will turn out to be.

He only hopes bastard Alpha Blue doesn't dampen his morning cause he sure as hell ruined his night. A frown mars his beautiful face, the colour of the morning almost turning sour.

He holds everyone accountable to their actions, their promises but he especially holds Alphas to stricter expectations because what is the point of making a promise if you wouldn't keep them?

An Alpha's promise is their bond. He doesn't imagine that the rumours flying about of Alpha Blue changing his word like napkins is exaggerated; though living as close as twin rivers and of him sending omegas to waste his time, there hasn't been a reason for them to meet face-to-face alone. Not until recently.

Not until three months ago when he'd had enough of his omegas running through his turf like it is a playground. He'd taken the initiative to invite himself to the Blue Sun territory, bothered the Alpha for a meeting to try and resolve this territory issue once and for all.

Back then, he'd been surprised, wary even of how forthcoming the Alpha had been-it'd seemed that he too wanted to resolve the issue but was having too much fun disturbing his peace that a discourse hadn't crossed his mind.

Two weeks ago, they finally reached a consensus that on the fifteenth of this month, there'll be a lengthy decision debate. Specifically speaking, nine days from today of which Precious had forced him to promise there'll be no more unnecessary turf fighting-no more sending omegas.

He really despises people breaking their promises.

"All set, Alpha." Nuka beams, the fullness of his cheeks hinting at how young he is-not a day past seventeen.

He recalls the day he found the boy lurking behind his backyard, wild-eyed and bushy tailed-literally-as if waiting for someone to catch him, dumped without regard to his safety. That still annoys him truly. He can't believe an Alpha that doesn't care about his omegas exists.