Echoing through Alessio's head are self-deprecating insults - telling him he isn't good enough.
Crowned as the Alpha of half of Birchwood Forest, he discerns himself as weak and unfit to rule over those obligated to submit to him due to the vicious...
Storm's aesthetic pictured above. With a pair of gray sweatpants loosely dangling from his taut, bronze waist, Messiah stood at the countertops, sculpted out of wood, of the Victorian like apartment Alessio owned, whilst he mixed brownie batter into a bowl. Briefly glancing at him, Alessio dips a plastic spoon into the bowl of melted chocolate and hastily eats it.
Playfully, Messiah glares at him, to which Alessio responds by shooting him a wink. As he swirls his tongue around his chocolate-covered finger, Alessio purposefully scrapes his fangs across his plump, rose-like bottom lip. Messiah douses his honey waves with flecks of powdery flour, laughing quietly at the low growl he emits.
"Apologize," Alessio demands, his voice waltzing through the growl.
Onto the unblemished, white carpet Messiah slams him. "Apologize?" His olive eyes are challenging, almost daring, as he secures Alessio's wrists in his grasp. "What about you? Will you apologize?"
"Apologize for what...?" he croaks out. He flickers a smirk over to Alessio.
His legs are straddling his waist and his eyes are rivers of lust. "For giving me a hard-on, baby boy," he breathed down Alessio's ear.
"But I didn't do it on purpose," Alessio retaliates. "Why should I have to be punished?"
"Punished? Oh goddess, no." He litters butterfly kisses down Alessio's silky, caramel neck. "I'm going to show you what it feels like to be worshipped, to have your body adored as if it is a work of art. After we come back from the Greek restaurant with our friends, I'll travel the expanse of your body. Mark my words, baby doll," he coos huskily, as his fingers lightly skim Alessio's demin-clad thigh.
Alessio huffs. "Now, you gave me an hard-on. Fuck you," he growls.
"Not yet, baby doll. Later, you can fuck me all you want."
Her eyebrows arched, Rosen saunters into the pale-green kitchen, clothed in a cream, wool cardigan and an inky skirt that reached her knees. "Are you ready?" Her lips, painted maroon, were pursued in query.
His face showcasing a blank canvas awaiting an array of brush strokes, Messiah replied with, "No, we're not ready yet."
She gave him a small smile. "Well, you two go get ready. I'll finish baking the brownies," she says with a brief look at the chocolatey batter. Alessio raced to their room at the end of the hall, which was the largest out of three, whilst he tried to conceal his erection. But Messiah heard the chorus of snickers Rosen left in their wake.
"Aw, my baby doll is embarrassed," he teases. He braids his fingers into the honey waves of the blushing wolf and gently kisses his forehead. "What if I let you wear my clothes? Would that make you feel better?"
Aleskei howls gleefully at the thought of being indirectly claimed. "Yes," he says excitedly. He walks hastily over to Messiah's duffel bag and pulls out a unscathed, grey button-up.
Even though the shirt nearly swallows him whole, Messiah notes that Alessio looks unbelievably sexy in his clothes. "Ooh, can you straighten my hair?" He bounces joyfully on his tiptoes and on his face was a beaming smile. "I want to look good for you."
"Okay," he responds. "I'll straighten your hair, but just so you know, you don't have to look good for me. You can wear a trash bag to the restaurant and I'll still think you look like you descended from fucking heaven."
Blushing furiously, Alessio smiles.
°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°
Lost in the rivers of olive green, speckled with flecks of golden, as if he's admiring a stunning masterpiece behind a sheet of glass, Alessio's face showcases revelation when an array of clashing hues, shadowed by eyelashes, blinked at him. "Um, what were we talking about?"
A smirk on his face, Messiah enquires, "What would you like to eat?"
Alessio averts his chocolate eyes to the dark skinned man, whose hands were leisurely clasped around a small notebook, filled with large, boldfaced letters, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, his veiny arms exposed. He floats a wide, flirty smile over to Alessio, whose unruly waves were straightened and combed perfectly to the side.
"I'll have the Feta and cheeses," Alessio answers breezily.
"And to drink with that, beautiful?"
Without warning, Messiah weaves their fingers together and Alessio could sense the waves of anger, jumbled with jealousy, rolling off Messiah. However, his lips remained in a firm line.
"L-Lemonade," he choked out, while Messiah laid their woven fingers on Alessio's thigh.
"I'll be back with your orders," he says in a honeyed voice.
His thumbs gliding over the letters of his keyboard, Alessio shoots a reply to the previous unfold of events.
🌑Alessio🌑: What was that, Messiah?
Within a second, he began to type back.
🌕Messiah🌕: What was what, baby doll?
Alessio rolled his eyes at Messiah's attempt to play innocent, but even though he tried to prevent, he half smiled at the nickname.
🌑Alessio🌑: MESSIAH.
🌕Messiah🌕: ALESSIO.
🌑Alessio🌑: Why were you trying to prove you were my mate?
🌕Messiah🌕: Because I am, my love.
Bathing in a rose-like hue was Alessio as soon as his eyes trailed over the six letters on his screen.
🌑Alessio🌑: I know that!
From beside him, Messiah smirked at the childlike behavior of his mate.
🌕Messiah🌕: What do you not know, baby boy?
Faintly blushing, Alessio fires off a quick response.
🌑Alessio🌑: Why did you try to lay a claim on me in front of the waiter?
After the passing of a few moments, a message flashes across his screen.
🌕Messiah🌕: Because, my love, if I didn't, I'd be restrained by the bars of an iron cage and a fucking muzzle. I probably would have pounced on him. Hearing him calling you beautiful was infuriating. Because you're mine. You know that? You are fucking mine.
Alessio's eyes drifted to the empty plate in front of him, and again to Messiah's nearly empty plate.
🌑Alessio🌑: Leave our part of the check with Storm. We are leaving right-fucking-now.
Draping himself in silence, after sliding his phone back in his pocket, Messiah dropped a fifty in front of his warrior, whispering an order in his ear, and followed Alessio out of the restaurant, his coat thrown over his arm.
Mmm, so who's ready for a steamy scene in the next chapter? Let's just say Messiah knows how to kneel.... 🙊🙈🥵
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