The Terms of an Alpha ✔️

t h r e e

Ender's thoughts had been consumed by Saint. It had been a week since they had hung out, but he couldn't shake Saint from his thoughts. He thought about all the dirty things he would do to him. There must have been something wrong with him because all he wanted to do was corrupt that golden boy. The kiss with him had been amazing. Ender couldn't believe that he pushed for them to kiss when he had a strict policy to only kiss during sexual situations. Something about those eyes and lips made him just forget all his rules he thought he had to follow. But the other part of him was glad they kissed. It wasn't like any other kiss he had experienced. It was without a doubt the best kiss he had ever had. He told Saint kissing boys was different than kissing girls, but clearly Saint's skills transferred over. Ender took pride in knowing that the kiss was also good for Saint too. He thought about Saint's large, rough hands getting lost in Ender's messy, thick hair. He was glad his hair was longer and now he didn't want to cut it anytime soon.

Ender wanted Saint. However, he also knew  couldn't, or rather shouldn't, mess around with Saint. It would be Saint's first time with a man, and as a rule, Ender knew Saint could easily get too emotionally invested. That was the last thing Ender wanted.

Still, Ender needed something new, and he didn't feel like going through the process of opening a dating app, holding a decent conversation, creating plans to meetup, and waiting to hookup. He wanted something now. That's why he wanted Saint. The Saint who should be off limits. Ender wasn't used to not getting what he wanted. Whenever Ender wanted something, he got it. There are firsts for everything though, and it didn't look like Ender could have Saint.

He let out a sigh and decided to ignore his wants.

London was much more compatible for Ender, and she was by no means a downgrade. Usually, she would have been just the person Ender would have wanted. So, hoping to distract himself from Saint, Ender texted London. Nothing serious, of course- just some harmless flirting. He figured if he could not have Saint, then London was the next best thing. He hoped to hookup with London, and then forget about all these UCLA students. He made a mental note to yell at Soph for taking him to that party.

Ender, come down to my office to talk, his dad mindlinked him. His serious tone could not have been a good sign. Ender knew his dad was going to bitch about something to him, so he slowly got out of bed, trying to delay the confrontation for as long as possible. Furthermore, his dad tended to be more irritable and on edge when his mate wasn't home. Alpha Darius was away overseeing some meeting between two other packs. He tended to calm Xavier down, but since he wasn't home Ender would have to deal with Xavier's full anger.

I'm busy, Ender replied, testing the waters. He needed to see just how mad his dad was.

Now, Ender, Xavier said, cutting off their connection. Well, he was mad. Ender wondered what he had done this time. It could not have been as bad as his other past mistakes he had made though, Ender rationalized, hurrying down to his dad's office.

+++

"Yes?" Ender asked, peaking into the office.

The office had a warm feel to it. The walls and floors were covered in rustic, light wood. Alpha Xavier sat in his white chair directly in front of family portraits.

Ender focused on the black and white photos. There was a family photo from when Ender was young. Looking at the photos always creeped him out. He looked so different now. He looked so happy and alive. Moreover, it was also strange to see how he looked without tattoos. Granted he was little in those pictures, Ender could not even imagine his body without all the ink. Ender loved his tattoos, but he knew his parents did not feel the same way about them. They couldn't understand why he would ruin his skin like that. In fact, his parents could barely understand Ender anymore. That wasn't exactly their fault though. Ender pushed his parents out of his life, and rarely made an effort to explain himself to them.