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xtra7s · 10 months ago

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𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥

pairing: Billie Eilish x fem!reader

Synopsis: Billie had a bad day at an event and decided to let off some steam on Y/N.

Content: dom!billie, sub!r, strap-on, bil referred to the strap as her dick, fingering, aggressive sex, AFTERCAREEEE<3333

Word Count: 2.2k

masterlist

Billie walked into her house and slammed the door, throwing her keys on the side table and rushing her shoes off.

She stood there for a moment, letting the weight of the day sink in, her mind still replaying the endless stream of demands from her boss. The stress had become suffocating lately, squeezing the joy out of every waking moment. With a sigh, she made her way to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of red wine. As the velvety liquid embraced her taste buds, a sense of calm washed over her.

Lost in her thoughts, Billie's gaze wandered outside, where the sun cast its final rays upon the world. A glimmer of nostalgia flickered within her as she remembered her childhood days spent chasing fireflies beneath these very trees. Their gentle glow had always been a source of comfort, a reminder that magic existed even in the darkest nights.

Driven by a sudden impulse, Billie set down her glass and stepped out onto her porch. The air was still and carried a fragrance of wildflowers that danced with the evening breeze.

Y/N walks out behind Billie, wrapping her arms around Billie, and places her head on her neck. "rough day?" Y/N murmured, holding Billie while keeping her eyes on the scenery in front of her.

Billie leaned into Y/N's embrace, finding solace in the warmth of their touch. She sighed, her tension slowly melting away in the safety of their arms. With her eyes still fixed on the horizon, she nodded softly.

"Yeah," Billie whispered, her voice tinged with weariness. "Just one of those days where everything feels like it's closing in on me."

Y/N pressed a gentle kiss to the nape of Billie's neck, their lips brushing against the soft curve of skin. "I'm here for you," they murmured, their words carrying a soothing reassurance that washed over Billie like a balm.

A soft smile played on Billie's lips as she turned to face Y/N. Their eyes met, and in that shared gaze, she found an unspoken understanding that bespoke a love deeper than any words could convey. With a surge of gratitude, she wrapped her arms around Y/N, holding them tightly.

Billie grabbed Y/N's waist softly, kissing her gently. Billie grabs Y/N's hand and leads her inside to their bedroom, sitting down on the bed and pulling Y/N onto her lap.

Y/N straddled Billie's lap, their bodies melding together in an intimate embrace. Their kisses grew deeper, fueled by a hunger born from the desire to escape the weight of the world outside those four walls. In this sacred space, they could surrender to the love that bound them, seeking solace in each other's arms.

As their clothes fell away, piece by piece, the room filled with their shared gasps and sighs. Skin met skin, igniting a fire that burned away the remnants of stress and exhaustion. Their bodies moved in perfect harmony, a dance of passion and tenderness. With every touch, they whispered promises of love and devotion, building a sanctuary of pleasure where they could both find refuge.

Time became irrelevant as they lost themselves in this sacred union. They explored every inch of each other's bodies, mapping out the secret places that held untold pleasure. Soft moans mingled with gentle laughter as they reveled in the joy of their connection.

Billie held Y/N as she brought a hand down to Y/N's pussy, teasing her while kissing and sucking on Y/N's neck. Her fingers glided over the soft skin, barely touching the wet folds of her desire. Y/N let out a soft moan as Billie's other hand slid around her waist, pulling her closer. The heat from Y/N's body seemed to radiate through her hand, fueling the passion that was building between them.

Y/N gripped her hand tighter, their eyes locked in an intense stare as the tension between them reached a fever pitch.

Billie's movements became more insistent as she continued to tease Y/N, her fingers lightly grazing her clit before pulling away just as she was about to find relief. Y/N let out a cry, her hips bucking against Billie's hand.

As Billie continued to tease Y/N, their breathing became ragged and their bodies began to tremble with anticipation. With a sudden shift, Billie flipped Y/N onto her back, hovering over her with a wicked smile playing on her lips.

Y/N's heart raced as she looked up at the beautiful woman above her, filled with a mixture of desire and surrender. Billie leaned down, capturing Y/N's lips in a heated kiss as her hands roamed over every inch of Y/N's body.

Her fingers danced along Y/N's skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake. She kissed down Y/N's neck, sucking and biting on the soft skin as she made her way to her chest. She took one perky nipple into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it before giving it a gentle bite.

Y/N moaned in pleasure, arching her back and pushing herself closer to Billie. Her hands tangled in Billie's hair as she guided her mouth to the other breast, wanting to feel that same sensation again.

Billie obliged, giving equal attention to each nipple until they were both swollen and sensitive. But she wasn't satisfied yet. Her hand trailed lower down Y/N's body until it reached the apex of her thighs.

She could feel how wet and ready Y/N was for her, and it only fueled her own desire. With a teasing touch, she slid one finger between Y/N's folds, earning a gasp from the woman beneath her.

But just as quickly as she had started, Billie pulled away with a playful smirk on her face. "Not yet," she whispered huskily before leaning back down to capture Y/N's lips once more.

Y/N whimpered in frustration but also felt herself becoming even more turned on by Billie's teasing game. She couldn't wait any longer – she needed release.

Billie slipped a finger into Y/N, her thumb expertly finding Y/N's clit and rubbing small circles that made Y/N's back arch at the contact. She left more marks littered on Y/N's neck, marking her territory as she continued to pleasure the woman beneath her.

Y/N moaned out in pleasure, her hands gripping onto Billie's back as she urged her to continue. Billie gladly obliged, increasing the speed of her movements and adding another finger inside of Y/N.

The sounds of their bodies moving together filled the room along with their heavy breathing. The tension between them was thick and palpable, each touch and kiss sending shockwaves through their bodies.

As Billie continued to create a rhythm inside of Y/N, she could feel herself getting closer to the edge as well. But she held back, wanting to give Y/N all the pleasure first.

Y/N's moans became louder and more desperate, each one fueling Billie's desire even further. She added a third finger, making sure to hit all the right spots inside of Y/N.

And finally, with one final thrust of her fingers and a flick of her thumb, Y/N came undone beneath Billie. Her body shook with pleasure as she cried out Billie's name over and over again.

But instead of stopping there, Billie kept going – prolonging Y/N's orgasm as long as possible until she couldn't take it anymore. Then with one last kiss, she pulled away from Y/N not yet satisfied with how ruined Y/N is.

With a demanding but soft voice, Billie told Y/N to stay. Y/N couldn't help but obey, her body still trembling from the intense orgasm that Billie had just given her.

Billie walked over to her dresser and pulled out her strap-on. She attached it to her waist and walked back over to Y/N slowly, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

She could see the desire and need in Y/N's eyes, and she wanted nothing more than to fulfill every single one of those desires.

Billie climbed onto the bed, hovering over Y/N as she ran the tip of the strap on along Y/N's inner thighs. She could feel how slick and wet Y/N was already, making her own arousal grow even more.

Y/N whimpered at the teasing touch, wanting nothing more than for Billie to just take her already. But she knew that Billie loved to tease, and she loved it just as much.

Finally, Billie couldn't hold back any longer. She grabbed Y/N's legs roughly, pulling Y/N's body closer to hers as she positioned herself between her legs.

Without warning, she drove the strap-on into Y/N's pussy with a force that made both of them gasp out in pleasure.

The sound of their skin slapping together filled the room along with their moans of pleasure. Each thrust brings them closer to their own release.

"Your pussy is taking my dick so fucking good mama" The words came out as a desperate gasp, tinged with a hint of primal pleasure. Billie's lips were hot against the soft skin of Y/N's thighs, biting down roughly as she lost herself in the intense sensation of their bodies moving together.

Every thrust was met with equal force, their passion building to a fever pitch as they surrendered to their desires. The air was thick with the scent of sex and sweat, intensifying the raw intensity of their connection. In this moment, nothing else mattered but the overwhelming pleasure that consumed them both.

Billie could feel herself getting lost in the sensations and in the way that Y/N's body responded to hers. She gripped Y/N's hips tightly as she increased her pace, wanting nothing more than for this moment to last forever.

But soon enough, they both reached their climax – crying out each other's names as they rode out wave after wave of pleasure together.

Gasping for air, their bodies slick with sweat, they collapsed onto the bed in a tangled mess. Billie's heart raced as she turned towards Y/N, pressing kisses along her neck and jaw, savoring the taste of her skin. With a satisfied sigh, Billie removed the strap from her harness and placed it on the bedside table, making a mental note to clean it later. "You did amazing, baby," she murmured against Y/N's lips, showering them with soft kisses.

As she stood up to grab a towel, Billie couldn't help but admire Y/N's flushed cheeks and disheveled hair. She grabbed a towel and began to wipe down both of their bodies, taking care not to miss a single spot. After slipping into a pair of underwear and an oversized t-shirt, Billie gently lifted Y/N's legs and pressed kisses to her ankles before sliding a pair of underwear onto her limbs with tenderness and care.

After cleaning up and dressing Y/N in comfortable panties, Billie couldn't help but admire how beautiful Y/N looked, even in the dimly lit room. She gently brushed a lock of hair out of Y/N's face before leaning down to press a soft kiss to her forehead.

"Lean up for me please, mama," she mumbled under her breath as she helped Y/N sit up against the headboard. She slipped a shirt over Y/N's head, smiling at how cute she looked in Billie's clothing.

"There you go," Billie said with a satisfied smile as she handed Y/N her glass of water. "Drink up, mama. And go piss please."

Y/N nodded gratefully and took a sip of the water before setting it back on the bedside table. Billie then proceeded to turn off all the lights in the house, making sure everything was secure before returning to bed.

With a soft smile on her lips, Y/N stands up from the bed and walks to the bathroom. As she reaches the door, Billie returns from the kitchen, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Go piss girl," she spoke loudly, causing Y/N to stifle a giggle before entering the bathroom.

Y/N lets out a content sigh as she relieves herself, enjoying the quiet solitude of the small room. She can hear Billie's voice outside of the bathroom, Y/N notices that she's sitting against the doorframe waiting for Y/N. As they continue their conversation, the sound of running water providing a peaceful background noise.

After washing her hands and messing with her hair, Y/N walks out of the bathroom to see Billie waiting for her with a warm smile. The soft glow of light from the living room casts shadows on her face, making her look almost ethereal.

Y/N smiled and scrunched her nose up at Billie, flopping back into bed and pulling the blankets up to her face as she looked at Billie.

She crawled under the covers and pulled Y/N into her arms, letting out a content sigh as she nuzzled her nose against Y/N's neck. "You know I love you right?" She whispered into Y/N's ear.

Y/N turned around to face her with a sleepy smile. "I love you too, Billie," they replied before snuggling closer into Billie's embrace.

The two of them fell asleep in each other's arms, their bodies intertwined as they drifted off into a peaceful slumber. Despite all the chaos and stress that came with being musicians, this was their safe haven – where nothing else mattered except for their love for each other.

#billie eilish #billie eilish x reader #swarm #wlw #lesbian #lgbtq

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llunar-wing · 1 month ago

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⚣ Choice 💎

⚣💎 A/N → New original post on Patreon. This will be a three-part series. Little fun fact, I use a random picker wheel to help me decide what I should write my stories about and where I should set them. The choices for this one were the tropes of a Playboy paired with a Fake Relationship set in a Big City. You'd think something like that would be easy, but I went through so many drafts of this, it was crazy. Anyways, hope you all enjoy! Also a reminder! The full story will be released exclusively on my Patreon first and will remain exclusive until my next story comes out, which means...Karma will officially be released in full publicly! You'll be able to find it on my Wattpad and Patreon! WARNINGS: | Forced Touching & Light Sexual Harassment | Possessive/Jealous Behavior | Class/Economic Disparity | Emotional Angst | Sexual Angst | Sexual Themes |

⚣💎 Summary → An Omega faking romance with an Alpha who’s one part charm, two parts ego, and a dash of possessiveness? What could go wrong? Oh, just everything—including a will that demands a wedding. Cue the drama, awkward slow dancing, and a lot of “I swear this is just for show” moments. Welcome to the chaos, where love might just sneak in—if one doesn’t kill the other first!

⚣💎 Words → 33.3K

⚣ ENJOY 💎

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Tres Bellamonté, one of the world’s most luxurious and exclusive hotels, sat high on a hillside, overlooking the glittering cityscape below. Its castle-like architecture glowed against the evening sky, a beacon of wealth and privilege. The hotel’s secluded location only added to its allure, accessible to those whose wealth placed them in a tax bracket most could only dream of. Tonight, it played host to the illustrious Sinclair family—practically royalty among the upper echelons of society—for their annual charity gala, an event so exclusive it made the Met Gala look like a neighborhood potluck. Even the Kardashians had to pull strings just to snag an invite.

Inside, the ballroom was a spectacle of extravagance. Crystal chandeliers hung from gilded ceilings, casting a warm, radiant light over the polished marble floors. Every surface seemed to glisten, from the delicate gold accents on the walls to the glassware that sparkled beneath the ambient glow. Guests moved about with graceful ease, the soft murmur of refined conversation mingling with the delicate strains of live classical music.

If anything, the funds spent on hosting this evening alone could probably cover donations to every charity they claimed to support—enough to last each one a decade, at least.

Waitstaff glided through the crowd, offering trays of delicately arranged canapés—caviar on blinis, truffled foie gras, and delicate lobster medallions—paired with flutes of the finest champagne. The scent of these gourmet delights mixed with the subtle fragrance of fresh floral arrangements, creating an ambiance that was both decadent and refined.

Guests moved through the space with practiced ease, as if events like these were nothing but a day job to them. They walked around in heels that could pay the rent of ten people, wore earrings that could be classified as weapons, and flashed smiles as real as Jennifer Lopez's humility. Flowing gowns adorned with intricate beadwork and shimmering sequins, and tailored tuxedos that spoke of bespoke craftsmanship would be tucked into garment bags and hidden in closets, never to see the light of day again after tonight.

Everyone's outfits, a spectrum of colors that complemented the event’s white-and-gold theme, came in second only to those of the gala's hosts and guests of honor. Members of the Sinclair family and their partners for the evening were adorned in the striking combination of white and gold. The rest of the attendees, while no less elegant, wore hues that played off the aesthetic of the evening, creating a visual feast that matched the grandeur of the setting.

Standing near the grand entrance, Jethro Thorne shifted uncomfortably, surveying the opulent ballroom through narrowed eyes. Dark curls framed his face, softening the lines of his jaw, while a carefully groomed beard added a hint of ruggedness to his otherwise smooth features. His rich, warm brown skin glowed subtly under the light, accentuating his toned arms and the fullness of his frame—rounded and firm shoulders tapering to a defined waist. Jethro’s lean build leaned more toward athletic than delicate, but tonight’s outfit—a white and gold ensemble chosen by one of the many stylists he had assigned to him—seemed intent on emphasizing his curves over his muscles.

The fitted vest hugged his torso snugly, the gold accents drawing attention to the cinched waist and the contrasting fabric that wrapped around his hips. His slacks, while sharply tailored, clung almost too tightly around his thighs and backside, accentuating his rounded, shapely figure in a way that felt distinctly revealing. The gold-and-white design, while elegant, seemed to catch the gaze of more than a few guests as they lingered, curiosity barely masked by politeness.

He held a glass of sparkling water, gripping it like a lifeline, though he hated the stuff. But in a place like this, it was the only beverage he could stomach—the kind of event where everything had to bubble or come in a shiny bottle, because, apparently, drinking anything flat might as well have been the equivalent of drinking tap water.

And this was why he wasn’t meant for these kinds of events.

His deep brown eyes scanned the sea of well-dressed Alphas, Betas, and the occasional Omega, all moving effortlessly within a world built on old money and inherited privilege. The kind of privilege that didn’t just open doors—it built new ones, entirely out of reach for most. Compared to the life he’d known, the ease and excess these people exuded was almost grotesque. The more he observed, the harder it was to contain the growing disdain simmering within him.

For someone like Jethro, raised by a father and grandfather who instilled the values of hard work, discipline, and resilience, seeing these people live with lives spoon-fed to them—often on literal silver spoons, probably encrusted with diamonds—was sickening. He remembered every hand-me-down from his older brother Jorge and the way they’d shared everything growing up: the TV, the family computer, even the few video games they could afford as long as the bills were paid. And while he knew his life wasn’t the hardest out there, it made this gilded world feel even more absurd by comparison.

Weekend "outings" were limited to public parks, going to the movies and the local Applebee’s or Chili’s for dinner. Here, though? A weekend for these people meant a last-minute private jet to the coast, reservations at places where a glass of sparkling water could run you $25 and wouldn’t even blink if you ordered a $500 bottle of wine for breakfast, along with childhoods raised on horseback riding lessons and designer nurseries.

He thought back to his grandfather and father doing whatever they could to make sure he and his brother each had at least three gifts for Christmas—most likely from the clearance section, but given with love all the same. Meanwhile, he’d overhear these privileged brats bragging about their endless wardrobes from Gucci, Louis Vuitton, Prada, and whatever other brands they dropped with their veneer-polished smirks. His grandfather had made him and his brother volunteer at shelters every holiday season, where they’d watch parents struggle to explain why there was only one, or sometimes no, gift to unwrap. And here he was, surrounded by spoiled pests whining about how their parents didn’t buy them the exact custom sports car they wanted. Hard life indeed.

It made him bristle, seeing the glistening diamonds and custom-made shoes that these guests wore as effortlessly. And for what? Just another evening of excess, where they could show off to each other and feel a little more special than they had yesterday. The whole scene was a spectacle that felt foreign, like he’d somehow wandered onto the set of someone else’s life.

He adjusted the collar of his tailored suit, feeling the weight of the evening pressing down on him like that five-tier cake that looked ready to tip over with even the slightest nudge. This party, this crowd, this whole world—it all felt foreign to him, like an outsider looking in.

The opulence, the pretension, the constant undercurrent of judgment—it all conflicted with everything he knew. He had to stand a certain way because he slouched too much, and he had to make sure he knew the difference between a salad fork and a dinner fork.

They were both forks! Seriously, what’s the big deal? You pick it up, stab the food, and chew. Either way, it ends in murder committed by teeth. But, of course, that’s not how these prissy snobs saw it.

But, it wasn’t just the champagne that seemed to flow like water to these people, or the sea of tailored suits and glittering gowns. It was the constant undercurrent of judgment, the subtle way people glanced his way—curious, assessing. It was one thing for Jethro to feel like he didn’t belong here, these people seemed to go extra hard out of their way to make sure he knew he didn’t belong here with their subtle but shady comments and questions.

They might call it “intrigue” or “curiosity,” but Jethro’s bullshit detector had been finely tuned since childhood, and he’d lost count of how many times he felt the urge to remind these people what curiosity did to the cat. Yet, as much as these pompous peacocks and their holier-than-thou airs grated on him, they weren’t the biggest sources of his irritation tonight—though that didn’t make the temptation to slap half of them into next week any less appealing. Especially that Greenburg guy who felt the need to comment on his ‘shapely’ figure…

The true recipient of Jethro's simmering ire tonight wasn’t one of these overdressed socialites or self-important moguls—but rather, the man at the center of it all, the name everyone in the room had come to see, the reason for this ostentatious display of wealth and power. No, the honor of being the prime source of Jethro's aggravation belonged to none other than the heir to the Sinclair empire, the man whose presence commanded attention and whispered scandal in the same breath: Sebastian Sinclair.

Epitome of wealth and charm, known to the tabloids and general public as America’s Favorite Playboy, Sebastian Sinclair stood by Jethro’s side with a tall, commanding presence, olive-toned skin, and chiseled features sharp enough to make even a nun murmur a soft and breathy “Holy Jesus.” He watched the crowd with detached amusement, his alluring green eyes flicking to Jethro with a faint smirk, clearly entertained by the Omega’s discomfort.

Every time Jethro shifted, trying to put a few more inches of space between them, Sebastian’s hand found its way to the small of his back, pulling him right back into place, as though he were reeling in a wandering puppy. Every shift, every attempt to create a bit of space between them, Sebastian never failed to force him right back to where he was, if not, closer with a firm grip, guiding him seamlessly through the room as if to say, This one’s with me.

Jethro tried, unsuccessfully, to ignore the growing discomfort as Sebastian’s hand remained firmly on him, an unyielding presence that left him with little choice but to move in sync with the Alpha’s guidance. Each touch felt heavier than it needed to be, lingering just a second longer, drawing him closer in a way that felt far more intimate than necessary. As they navigated the room, Sebastian’s fingers pressed subtly yet deliberately into his back, their warmth almost daring Jethro to pull away—if he even could. Every subtle pull, every guiding nudge, seemed to blur the line between mere performance and something more unsettlingly real.

Leaning in close, his breath warm against Jethro’s ear, he murmured, “Would you relax?” his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the air between them. “You’re acting like you haven’t done this before.”

Jethro raised an eyebrow, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Right, because I’m totally in my element here, mingling with the high and mighty. But hey, I guess some of us just haven’t mastered the art of the smug smile and firm handshake.” He cast a pointed look at Sebastian. “Then again, this is your world, isn’t it?”

Sebastian’s gaze remained fixed on him, amusement sparking in his glimmering green eyes as his lips curved into that maddening, self-assured smirk. “And tonight, it’s yours too,” he murmured, his hand slipping down to rest at the small of Jethro’s back. The touch was warm and undeniably possessive which was strange and confusing for the Omega, but also a gentle yet unyielding reminder of the part they were both playing—a part Sebastian seemed to relish far too much and that Jethro was getting sick of.

“Would you cut it out?!” Jethro hissed under his breath, slapping the Alpha’s wandering hand that had grazed his backside one too many times tonight.

Sebastian’s smirk only deepened when Jethro slapped his hand away, his full lips curving into a grin that radiated a mixture of mischief and unapologetic confidence. His light, piercing eyes—somewhere between hazel and green—held a glint of amusement, an almost predatory gleam beneath thick, dark brows and long lashes that gave his gaze an intensity impossible to ignore. His curls framed his face, adding to his allure and highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the boldness of his mustache—a feature that, along with his high cheekbones and naturally sun-kissed skin, completed a look that effortlessly commanded any room he walked into.

The Alpha’s hand didn’t stray far; it drifted down again, this time lingering on the smooth lines of Jethro’s fitted vest, his fingers tracing along the structured seams that hugged Jethro's silhouette with a bold elegance. The vest’s gold accents glinted under the chandelier lights, emphasizing the shapely curves it sculpted against Jethro’s frame. Sebastian’s fingers finally settled with a possessive grip at Jethro’s waist, his touch firm and teasing, pressing into the tailored fabric as if staking a tacit mark. Each calculated caress was a reminder of Sebastian's authority—one the Alpha seemed all too pleased to assert, leaving Jethro fighting to keep his frustration in check, even as a confusing warmth blossomed within him.

“Would you stop that?” Jethro hissed, his voice low but tense with irritation. The way Sebastian’s touch lingered, just barely restrained, made his skin prickle with an uneasy thrill he didn’t want to admit. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

Sebastian’s gaze sparkled with quiet authority as he leaned in, his lips hovering so close that Jethro could feel the warmth of his breath. “Relax,” he murmured—a gentle word cloaked in an unmistakable command, the kind of soft-spoken order that left little room for defiance. His fingers pressed a bit more firmly at Jethro's waist, a subtle yet undeniable claim, one that didn’t go unnoticed by the lingering gazes around the room. For their benefit, Sebastian offered a polite, indifferent smile, his expression as effortless as if this display of dominance were the most natural thing in the world.

Jethro’s breath hitched, his immediate impulse to push back clashing with his body’s instinctive urge to submit, a primal response embedded deep within him as an Omega. The unyielding pressure of Sebastian’s touch awakened something unsettling, a strange pull to yield, to soften under the Alpha’s dominance. He didn’t want to acknowledge how his body responded, didn’t want to admit that some maddening part of him craved the firm steadiness of that grip. His jaw clenched as he forced himself to meet Sebastian’s gaze for just a second before looking away, struggling to conceal the simmering frustration—and the faint, unbidden confusion now tangled with it.

As they moved deeper into the crowd, the Alpha’s hand remained at the small of Jethro’s back, exerting a barely-there pressure that nonetheless managed to steer him effortlessly. It was light, almost delicate, but every brush of Sebastian’s fingers sent a ripple of awareness down Jethro’s spine, reminding him of the part they were playing tonight.

Sebastian was in the midst of entertaining a small crowd of admirers, his deep voice smoothly recounting a story that blended their shared past with exaggerated romanticism. “It all started when we were just kids,” Sebastian said, flashing a charming smile at the group. “Our grandparents were the best of friends—my grandmother adored the jewelry Jethro’s grandfather crafted. We practically grew up together, and years later, we reconnected after my grandmother's unfortunate passing when I had to pick up something she left at his shop, which Jethro now runs. Seeing him again and how tirelessly he works to keep his grandfather's legacy alive resonated deeply with me, and I knew right then that he was the one.”

The admiring crowd hung on to Sebastian’s every word, their eyes flicking between him and Jethro with a mixture of envy and fascination, as though they were witnessing a romance worthy of legends.

Truthfully, he was surprised he’d managed to keep up this act as long as he had, but he didn’t know how much longer he could hold out—especially with the subtle looks and veiled comments certain guests kept throwing his way, their smiles tight and eyes assessing even as they laughed along to Sebastian’s romantic tale.

“Oh, that’s so like Sebastian, investing in our less fortunate communities.”

“I always knew the day would come when Sebastian would settle down, but I pictured him with someone a bit more…fitting to his lifestyle. This must feel like a fairytale for you, doesn’t it?”

“I’m surprised he didn’t choose someone with a touch more femininity. Don’t take it the wrong way, dear; you’re charming and easy on the eyes, but even for an Omega, I’d have thought Sebastian would want someone a bit more delicate–a proper woman, if you will.”

And this was exactly why he wasn’t meant for these kinds of events.

With every dig and backhanded compliment, Jethro forced himself to swallow his irritation, keep on that polite smile, and nod along as though their words didn’t graze him in the slightest. And, mostly, they didn’t. He couldn’t give one fuck, two fucks, blue fucks, or a yellow fuck about what these Botox-pumped snobs thought of him.

But that didn’t mean he wanted to just stand there and let these people take cheap shots without a word in return. He’d love nothing more than to tell them they looked like the unfortunate love child of Voldemort and the Joker, or that no amount of designer wear could mask the lack of personality—or, more likely, the lack of anything in their pants worth bragging about.

The casual touches, the glances, the carefully crafted words—all of it fell perfectly into place, an intricately woven performance that Sebastian handled with ease. Jethro, on the other hand, felt as though he were merely a prop, his role to nod and smile in all the right places, maintaining the facade that he was truly enamored. It was a strange kind of entrapment, a surreal blend of duty and discomfort, made only more bewildering by the faint thrill of being the object of such attention, even if it was just for show.

He was supposed to be the doting partner, after all—loyal, enamored, content in the grasp of the wealthy heir. The whole thing felt absurd, a scene better suited for a play than real life. And yet here he was, a theatre nerd unwittingly cast in a role he was desperate to escape but found himself slipping into all too easily.

Something in the universe is out to get him.

Sebastian led Jethro seamlessly through the glittering ballroom, pausing here and there to introduce him to various guests. His arm remained snug around Jethro's waist, the warm, muscular hold both guiding and binding him to the Alpha’s side. It was as though Sebastian wanted to make his presence unmistakable, silently declaring to the room that the Omega was his—even if just for show. Jethro could feel the weight of each stare that followed them, every curious and envious gaze making him even more conscious of the Alpha’s touch.

As they stopped to greet another circle of admirers, Jethro took a moment to steal a glance at Sebastian’s suit. Tonight, the Alpha wore a custom-tailored masterpiece that left nothing to subtlety. A lavish gold and cream ensemble, it practically shimmered under the warm light, drawing the eye with intricate baroque patterns woven across the fabric. The high-lapel jacket was a work of art in itself, embroidered with elaborate gold designs that wrapped around his frame like delicate vines. Each swirl and embellishment seemed to be crafted to highlight Sebastian’s broad shoulders and tapered waist, the jacket hugging his powerful build in a way that looked almost painted on. The polished fabric reflected hints of the ballroom's ambient glow, casting a soft sheen as he moved with the grace of someone who owned the space—and probably everyone in it.

The vest beneath the jacket matched the decadence, with gold piping that traced down the sculpted lines of his torso, creating a striking contrast against the crisp white shirt underneath. A champagne-colored bow tie completed the look, adding a touch of playful elegance to an otherwise commanding outfit. Every detail was designed to perfection, from the slight shimmer of his pocket square to the subtle glint of the watch on his wrist. Sebastian’s attire radiated both wealth and authority, reinforcing his position at the pinnacle of this social sphere.

One of the guests, a silver-haired Alpha with a sharply tailored suit and a smile that barely touched his eyes, stepped forward, exuding an air of restrained authority. “Sebastian,” he greeted smoothly, the faintest hint of amusement in his voice, as though he’d been waiting for just the right moment to make his presence known. “It’s been too long. And who is this?”

Sebastian’s arm tightened ever so slightly around Jethro’s waist, a subtle but unmistakable display of possession. With that easy, practiced smile that seemed to put everyone around him at ease—or, more accurately, on edge—he turned his attention fully to the silver-haired Alpha. “Always a pleasure, Charles,” he replied, his voice smooth as velvet. He gestured toward Jethro with a casual elegance, his expression unreadable save for a faint glimmer of amusement in his light, piercing eyes. “This is Jethro Thorne, my partner.”

The word hung in the air with calculated weight, its meaning leaving little room for misinterpretation. Jethro stiffened, his polite smile wavering for a brief second as he felt every gaze shift to him, some with curiosity, others with thinly veiled skepticism. The Omega met Charles’s assessing stare with a practiced calm, hoping it hid the simmering irritation he felt at being so pointedly scrutinized.

Charles inclined his head, the sharp smile never quite reaching his eyes. “A pleasure, Mr. Thorne,” he drawled, though his tone held an edge that made it clear he was evaluating every inch of him. “Sebastian certainly knows how to pick his company.”

Jethro’s polite smile tightened, his fingers subtly digging into the glass he held, resisting the urge to say something that would surely shatter this meticulously cultivated image Sebastian wanted him to maintain. “Likewise,” he replied, his voice even but with a hint of frost that he hoped conveyed his disinterest in this thinly veiled appraisal.

The conversation continued, with Sebastian deftly guiding it away from anything too personal, smoothly deflecting Charles’s intrusive questions with the ease of someone who had long mastered the art of charming deflection. Jethro couldn’t help but feel a grudging respect for the Alpha’s skill; Sebastian was clearly in his element here, navigating the conversation with practiced precision, his responses polished and effortless.

Later in the evening, Jethro found himself standing alone on one of the grand balconies connected to the ballroom, overlooking the sweeping view of the cityscape below. The cool night air brushed against his face, offering a brief reprieve from the stifling opulence inside. Far below, the city lights sparkled like scattered jewels, winding rivers of headlights tracing through the darkened streets, while the towering presence of Tres Bellamonté loomed over the hillside, glowing against the night sky. The hotel’s turrets and castle-like architecture only enhanced the feeling of being high above it all, isolated from the world in a gilded fortress.

Jethro inhaled deeply, savoring the crisp night air as he tried to release the tension coiled tight in his shoulders. It was rare to find a moment alone in this gilded world, where the only thing he could hear was the faint hum of the city below, a world that felt infinitely more real than the one he’d just left inside. But, his moment of quiet didn’t last long as his phone vibrated in his pocket. Frowning, he retrieved it, half expecting to see Sebastian’s name, but instead, his store attendant, Isaac’s contact glowed on the screen.

He hesitated, the surprise quickly giving way to concern. Isaac rarely called him outside of work hours unless something was amiss. Stepping further into the shadows, he answered, his voice low. “ Hey, Isaac. What’s up? Everything okay?”

“Hey Jethro,” Isaac’s deep, warm tone was a comfort in the sterile, opulent setting around him even despite the undercurrent of tension to it. “Sorry to bother you while you’re out. Do you have a second?”

Definitely. Anything that kept him out of that suffocating room filled with over-perfumed, self-important imbeciles was well worth his attention.

"Yeah, of course. Everything alright, Isaac? Did something happen at the store?” Jethro asked, bracing himself for bad news and hoping it wasn’t about a robbery or something worse. “The store’s fine,” Isaac replied, though his tone held a cautious edge. “But…your brother stopped by.” Jethro sighed. Fantastic. He’d take a robbery over Jorge’s tantrums any day.

Jethro took a steadying breath, already bracing himself for whatever headache Jorge had brought with him this time. “Lovely. What did he want?” he asked, keeping his tone as light as he could manage despite the initial sarcasm in it.

Isaac hesitated on the other end, a pause thick with unspoken words. “Well, he was...looking for you. Seemed a bit irritated when he found out you weren’t here. Tried asking questions about the store’s finances. I didn’t give him anything, obviously, but he wasn’t exactly pleased when I told him his access had been cut off.”

Jethro clenched his jaw. “Sounds like Jorge.” He could practically see his brother’s scowl, the way he’d stand too close, trying to intimidate his way into getting what he wanted. “He didn’t break anything, did he?”

Isaac gave a low chuckle, though there was a hint of irritation beneath it. “No, he was smart enough to keep his fists to himself. But, can’t say the same for his language. He had few choice words about for me getting in his way as he described. Called me everything everything you can think of under the sun from a 'nosy pawn' to your little lapdog.” There was a subtle edge to Isaac’s voice, a hint of restrained annoyance as he recounted Jorge’s scathing remarks.

Jethro raised an eyebrow, his tone laced with dry humor. "Surprised he didn’t reserve some of his vocabulary for me."

“Oh, he had plenty for you, don’t worry,” Isaac replied, his voice carrying a trace of tension masked with humor. “But my mother taught me better than to repeat that kind of language. Especially in the presence of of others.” His tone held a touch of dry amusement, though the tension underneath was unmistakable.

Jethro sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He could easily picture the look on Jorge’s face—the narrowed eyes, the tight set of his jaw, his meticulously groomed features twisted into that familiar scowl. With his angular jawline and piercing gaze, Jorge had a striking presence, especially when he turned on that look, the one that said he was used to getting his way. “Please tell me you didn’t say anything back. You know how he gets.”

Ironically, if they’d grown up with a bit more money, Jethro could easily picture his brother fitting right in with these shallow, paper-thin socialites.

Isaac’s voice softened, an almost playful edge slipping in. “Relax, Jethro. I know how to handle a guy like him without stooping to his level. Let’s just say I reminded him that you’re the one who holds the reins now—and that anyone not respecting that should probably reconsider their approach. He didn’t take it well, but he got the message.” Isaac paused, his tone dipping with a hint of warmth. “But, I wouldn’t be surprised if he came back.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” Jethro murmured, already hearing the childish insults and tantrums his brother was known for. “Thank you, Isaac. You can lock up the store and head home if you want. I’ll probably be back hopefully within the next couple of hours.”

Isaac’s voice lingered with an easygoing warmth, though there was a trace of reluctance. “I think I’ll stick around a bit longer, just in case your brother decides to make an encore appearance,” he replied, a quiet resolve in his words. After a beat, his tone softened, taking on a note of genuine concern. “How about you, though? Everything alright on your end? Sinclair behaving himself, or do I need to drive up there?”

Jethro let out a huff of amusement, rolling his eyes despite himself. “I can handle him, Isaac… though, if anyone else decides to throw out another backhanded compliment about my outfit, my body, or whatever superficial nonsense they can think of, you might need to bring my bat from behind the counter.”

As he said it, flashes of the evening ran through his mind—Sebastian’s hand lingering at his waist, his fingers drifting down, pressing possessively into his hip or, more brazenly, giving his backside a casual slap and squeeze. Each intimate, uninvited touch felt like it crossed an invisible line, igniting a simmering mix of irritation and embarrassment on the surface. But beneath it, in places he stubbornly refused to acknowledge, was a flicker of excitement, a thrill he wished he could just ignore. Isaac’s voice, warm and steady on the other end, pulled him back to reality—a grounding presence he hadn’t realized he needed tonight.

Of everyone in that room, Sebastian should count himself the luckiest that Jethro hadn’t thought to bring his bat—because, honestly, he wouldn’t have needed even a hint of temptation to start his baseball career right there, with the smug Alpha’s face as his first swing.

Unbeknownst to him, Sebastian had already entered the balcony, the Alpha’s silent steps going unnoticed as he listened to the soft murmur of Jethro’s voice in conversation. He leaned casually against the doorway, his sharp eyes narrowing as he caught snippets of the exchange, his jaw tightening ever so slightly at the warmth in Jethro’s tone—a warmth he had yet to hear be directed at himself.

After another brief exchange of reassurances, Jethro ended the call with a sigh, slipping his phone back into his pocket as he tried to savor just a few more seconds of peace. But the moment didn’t last. The soft sounds of footsteps behind him were almost imperceptible, but the sudden shift in the air sent a chill down his spine. When he turned, Sebastian was already there, standing far closer than he’d expected, his gaze fixed on Jethro with an intensity that made his breath hitch.

Jethro fought to keep his expression steady, masking the flicker of surprise with a carefully measured indifference. But inside, his heart was racing, a conflicted mix of unease and a warmth he stubbornly refused to name, swirling in his chest as he held Sebastian’s gaze. The Alpha’s cool, polished exterior betrayed nothing, but there was something else—a charged intensity in his light eyes, a smoldering watchfulness that lingered a heartbeat too long. The faintest hint of a smirk played at Sebastian’s lips, a playful edge that only deepened the unsettling tension between them, as if he was enjoying whatever unspoken power he knowingly or unknowingly—likely the former—held over Jethro in that moment.

“Important call, was it? Careful, babe,” Sebastian drawled, a hint of a smirk curving his lips. “People might start to think you’re sneaking off to take calls from a secret paramour. Scandalous, don’t you think?”

There was an almost imperceptible edge beneath the playful tone, but Sebastian’s control was ironclad, letting only the faintest suggestion of something darker slip through his lighthearted facade.

“Hmm,” Jethro replied with an eye roll. “Something I imagine you’d be quite used to.”

Without waiting for a response, he continued, “The call was just some business back at the shop. Nothing major.” His tone was dismissive, making it clear he didn’t intend to elaborate. They might be playing the part of a couple, but that was all it was—playing. Sebastian didn’t need, nor was he entitled to, any further details about his personal life.

Sebastian’s smirk didn’t falter, but something subtle shifted in his gaze, a flicker of something unreadable that vanished as quickly as it appeared. He maintained his easy, controlled demeanor, yet the idea that someone else, someone like Isaac, having more of Jethro’s attention and trust than he did wasn’t a pleasant thought for the Alpha—yet he masked it with practiced ease, though it lingered, buried just beneath the surface.

Jethro’s jaw tightened, his gaze shifting to the side in an attempt to ignore the heat radiating from the Alpha, who now seemed closer than ever. The weight of Sebastian’s attention was like an itch under his skin, one he couldn’t scratch without giving away that he felt it at all. But Sebastian was relentless, his tone dripping with playful mischief as he continued.

Sebastian’s smirk deepened, clearly reveling in the way Jethro’s patience frayed at the edges, each comment poking at a nerve he could feel twitching. He leaned in slightly, the casual stance concealing a more deliberate purpose, as though he knew exactly what effect he had on Jethro—and enjoyed every second of it.

“Come on now, babe,” Sebastian murmured, his voice a low, teasing hum. “You’re standing here alone, brooding away from all the excitement. Anyone else might think you’re waiting for someone.”

Jethro rolled his eyes, forcing a dismissive chuckle. “Chill on the pet names, would you? And if I am, they’re taking their sweet time getting here,” he replied, his voice laced with sarcasm.

Sebastian’s smirk didn’t waver, his gaze fixed on Jethro with an almost predatory glint. “Oh, don’t tell me I’m cramping your style,” he teased, tilting his head as if genuinely curious. “I’d hate to think I’m keeping you from… better company.”

Jethro scoffed, crossing his arms. “Trust me, anyone else would be a breath of fresh air right now.”

Sebastian’s smirk deepened as he took a deliberate step forward, his broad frame inching closer. Instinctively, Jethro took a step back, only to feel the solid stone of the balcony’s ledge press against his spine, leaving him effectively pinned in place.

Sebastian took a step closer, invading Jethro’s space in that way only Alphas seemed to know how to do. “It’s not so bad, is it? All of this. I think everyone’s taken a liking to you. Even the skeptics can’t help but be charmed.”

Jethro scoffed. “Charmed. Right. Like a snake is charmed by a flute.”

“You’re not a snake, Jethro. You’re a diamond—beautiful and rare.”

“I’m not a jewel, Sebastian. I’m a person. And I don’t appreciate jewelry metaphors.”

“It’s not a metaphor. You really are one of a kind.”

Jethro rolled his eyes. “And suddenly, I’m wondering if you’re getting a little too into this.”

Sebastian chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent an involuntary shiver down Jethro’s spine. “Maybe I am,” he replied, his gaze sweeping over Jethro’s figure with an intensity that made Jethro’s pulse quicken. “Or maybe it’s just you… looking so innocent and pristine in that outfit. Makes me wonder if the rest of you is as untouched as you look right now.”

Jethro’s eyes narrowed, an incredulous eyebrow lifting as he shot back, “Is that your attempt at subtlety, or did you think that was actually charming?”

Sebastian smirked, unbothered by Jethro’s glare. “Depends. Is it working?” he asked, a glint of teasing mischief in his eyes that bordered on smug satisfaction.

Sebastian’s gaze didn’t waver as he took a slow, deliberate step closer, bridging the space between them on the secluded balcony. Jethro felt his back brush against the cool stone ledge, trapped by the Alpha’s nearness and the simmering, almost possessive glint in Sebastian’s eyes—a look that seemed at odds with his otherwise smooth, controlled demeanor. “Relax, Jethro,” he murmured, his voice infuriatingly casual, as if they were alone and not playing this dangerous game in the middle of a high-society spectacle. “You’re wound tighter than that corset they’ve got you in.”

Jethro’s irritation flared instantly, his jaw tightening as he shot back, “Forgive me if I’m not as comfortable as you in this overpriced parade.” He could feel Sebastian’s gaze sweeping over him, lingering on the way his fitted vest hugged his frame, emphasizing each curve and line he’d rather downplay. The Alpha’s eyes drifted with an almost unrestrained focus, catching on the snug fit of his clothes as if trying to brand the sight into memory.

Sebastian’s smirk deepened, though a subtle tension remained beneath it, something unspoken shadowing the amusement in his gaze. “On the contrary,” he replied, voice dropping to a warm, velvety murmur, “you look right at home in all that gold. In fact, you’re the only thing here worth admiring.” His gaze trailed down slowly, like he was savoring every inch, before he added with a slight edge, “And I intend to enjoy the view.”

Jethro’s cheeks flushed, an uncomfortable blend of anger and an unwelcome warmth stirring in his chest. “Keep talking like that,” he muttered, barely restraining his irritation, “and people might start to think you’re actually serious about this little charade.”

Sebastian’s chuckle was low and unapologetic, his breath brushing Jethro’s ear as he leaned in, closer than necessary. “Oh, I am serious,” he whispered, his tone carrying a note that was both a dare and a challenge, layered with something deeper and harder to define. “The question is…are you?”

Jethro held Sebastian's gaze, refusing to let the Alpha’s words unnerve him. “I think you’re confusing commitment with convenience,” he replied, his voice a low murmur edged with challenge. “Let’s not pretend either of us are doing this for any reason other than appearance and financial gain.”

Sebastian’s smirk remained, but his eyes flickered with something darker, an intensity that made Jethro’s pulse quicken. “I don’t know, Jethro,” he murmured, his tone dropping to an intimate whisper as he leaned in even closer. “From where I’m standing, this doesn’t feel like just appearances.” His gaze traveled over Jethro’s face, lingering on his lips with a heat that was impossible to ignore.

Jethro’s breath caught for a fraction of a second before he forced a scoff, tilting his chin up defiantly. “That’s rich, coming from the guy who flirts with half the city. Spare me the fake sentiment.”

Sebastian chuckled softly, the sound vibrating in the narrow space between them. “Oh, believe me, baby, if I wanted to be fake, I’d be a lot less… explicit.” His gaze turned unabashedly suggestive, trailing down to the tailored vest hugging Jethro’s frame. “You’d be surprised at the things running through my mind right now. For instance…” He leaned in close enough that his breath brushed against Jethro’s ear, his next words a crude, whispered suggestion that left no room for misinterpretation.

Jethro’s eyes widened as the words sank in, his cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and indignation. He shot Sebastian a sharp look, his irritation barely masked by the forced calm in his voice. “You’re really pushing it tonight, you know that?”

Sebastian’s hand moved with a smooth, stealthy confidence, slipping onto Jethro’s waist before his grip tightened, grounding them both in a way that felt more like an unspoken command than a casual touch. His fingers pressed firmly, possessively, as he leaned down, his voice a low murmur with a trace of venom carefully veiled beneath its smoothness.

“Interesting choice, slipping away for that call,” he murmured, his tone deceptively light. “I don’t particularly enjoy competing for your attention—especially not with someone who seems all too eager to imagine himself as anything more than a temporary convenience.” He paused, letting the words settle with just enough weight, his gaze flicking to Jethro’s, unreadable yet quietly, pointedly, unwavering. “But I suppose even the unimportant ones can get ideas… if you indulge them enough.”

Sebastian’s gaze flicked back through the glass doors, where a cluster of guests lingered in muted conversation, though one in particular stood out. Tall, well-dressed, and with an air of effortless charm that drew more than a few glances, Marco Greenburg stood near the doorway, his eyes noticeably fixed on the balcony. Marco was a familiar presence in these circles, an Alpha with a family pedigree that ran close to the Sinclairs. Unlike Sebastian, however, Marco’s ambitions were rooted in outshining others rather than maintaining any real legacy—though lately, it seemed his interest in surpassing Sebastian extended beyond business or social clout.

Sebastian’s lip curled in subtle irritation, his hand tightening just enough at Jethro’s waist to pull him a fraction closer. “Looks like some others have also convinced themselves they stand a chance tonight,” he muttered, his voice holding a casual amusement laced with something sharper. “You haven’e been giving anyone any ideas, have you?” Though his words were light, there was an unmistakable edge beneath them, something cold and unyielding in the way his gaze lingered on Marco, and the way his fingers pressed with unspoken dominance into the smaller male’s waist.

Jethro’s gaze narrowed, catching the barely veiled possessiveness in Sebastian’s tone. “You know, for someone who was clear in the beginning this was all just for show, you’re sounding awfully like you’ve forgotten your own words,” he muttered, unable to mask the bite in his words.

Jethro’s gaze narrowed, his voice laced with a hint of defiance as he caught the underlying possessiveness in Sebastian’s tone. “Funny,” he murmured, a subtle edge sharpening his words. “For someone who was so clear at the start that this is all just an act, you’re starting to sound like you’ve forgotten your own rules.”

Sebastian’s smirk held steady, his tone light and laced with mock amusement. “Oh, don’t worry, I won’t be letting anyone get the wrong idea—especially not your attentive little storekeeper, and certainly not Marco.” The playful edge in his words softened the warning, but his gaze told another story. His green eyes held a glint that was anything but casual, a subtle flash beneath the hooded lids and thick lashes that hinted at something unyielding. His mustache twitched as his lips curved into a lazy, almost smug smile, but there was a sharpness in his expression, a hint of tension around his jaw, betraying the playful tone he wore like a mask. For a heartbeat, the air between them crackled with a silent authority before the practiced charm slipped back into place, polished and impenetrable.

Before Jethro could gather a retort, Sebastian’s arm slid around his waist, drawing him in until their bodies were flush against one another, the closeness blurring lines that had been unspoken in their arrangement. Jethro’s spine stiffened, an involuntary rush of heat prickling along his skin as he registered the Alpha’s hand resting low, fingers splayed just above the curve of his backside—territorial, unwavering. Every nerve seemed to spark with awareness, a subtle thrill mingling with his irritation as Sebastian’s grip held him in place, unyielding and far too intimate for mere pretense.

“What are you—?”

Sebastian cut him off with a low, appreciative hum, his hand tracing the curve of Jethro’s waist as if testing the fit. “Remind me to tip the tailor extra at your next fitting,” he remarked, his tone light but his grip firm. “He certainly knows how to keep a guy’s eyes on the prize.”

Jethro felt his cheeks burn, a confusing blend of embarrassment, irritation, and a warmth he couldn’t quite shake settling over him. He shot a glare up at Sebastian, his own brown eyes narrowing. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Sebastian only smirked, clearly savoring the effect he was having. “I’ve been told.”

With that, Sebastian turned them around, directing them both back to the main event, putting back on his famous smile while keeping that same hand gripping into Jethro’s waist. The Omega looked up at him with an irritated glare, feeling how the hand crept lower, but Sebastian didn’t meet his gaze, keeping his eyes up and ahead of him.

Sebastian’s hand moved with a calculated, possessive ease as he turned them toward the main ballroom, his fingers slipping confidently to rest just above the curve of Jethro’s backside, a touch that sent a ripple of warmth through the snug fabric of his vest. The Alpha’s fingers pressed just below the small of his back, where the tailored slacks hugged Jethro’s rounded shape, their fit intentionally designed to catch the eye.

Sebastian’s grip tightened subtly, an unspoken assertion that felt as much like a warning as it did a reassurance—a mix of dominance and protectiveness that made Jethro’s pulse spike against his will. The Omega could feel each press of Sebastian’s fingers, a possessive warmth grounding him in a way that was both frustrating and oddly comforting. With that confident smile, Sebastian guided them back into the heart of the event, his arm possessively secure around Jethro’s waist, the silent statement to their audience unmistakable: Jethro was his tonight, an alluring prize wrapped in gold and white elegance, and no one was to forget it.

Jethro shot Sebastian a glare, his irritation evident, but Sebastian’s gaze remained fixed ahead, ignoring the heated look from the Omega at his side. “Relax,” Sebastian murmured, low and smooth, his tone somewhere between gentle and commanding. “Just play the part.”

Jethro gritted his teeth, forcing himself to relax beneath the Alpha's commanding touch, even as the firm grip sent an involuntary tingle through his skin, an uneasy thrill he was reluctant to name. Sebastian’s towering frame and powerful shoulders, wrapped in his opulent white suit that drew every eye in the room, exuding both authority and allure. The suit’s golden embellishments caught the light with each movement, emphasizing his broad chest and tapered waist in a way that seemed crafted to perfection.

As they stepped further into the ballroom, Sebastian’s hand shifted lower, his fingers always skimming just inches away from Jethro’s shapely ass but never taking the final stretch—a teasing touch that felt distinctly possessive, even protective. The subtle press of his hand sent an unmistakable message to the onlookers, a blend of dominance and reassurance that had Jethro’s pulse pounding, his mind a flurry of defiant irritation mixed with something inexplicably warmer.

“Care to dance?” Sebastian asked, his tone casual but with a glint of something deeper in his eyes.

Caught off guard, Jethro hesitated but eventually nodded, aware that declining would only raise questions. He allowed Sebastian to lead him onto the dance floor, the Alpha’s hand finding his waist as they moved together in time with the music. For a fleeting moment, Jethro let the room fade away, his focus shifting to the warmth of Sebastian’s hand and the steadiness of his hold.

But as they danced, a series of unwanted thoughts intruded. This was all just an act, wasn’t it? Yet, why did Sebastian’s touch feel so… anchored, as if grounding him in place? And why did the Alpha’s gaze flicker with a spark of something he couldn’t quite identify? Jethro’s mind buzzed with conflicted emotions—resentment, curiosity, and something dangerously close to longing.

Sebastian, however, seemed oblivious to Jethro’s internal turmoil, his gaze locked onto the Omega with an intensity that sent a shiver down Jethro’s spine. As the dance ended, the Alpha didn’t release him right away. Instead, he leaned down, his breath warm against Jethro’s ear as he murmured, “How about we seal the deal?” His voice held a playful lilt, but there was an edge beneath it, something darker glinting in his eyes that hinted this was more than just a casual suggestion.

They stepped off the dance floor, but before Jethro could fully process what was happening, Sebastian turned him slightly, positioning them where every curious gaze could find them. Then, with a boldness that sent a jolt through Jethro, the Alpha leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips—quick but firm, leaving a charged silence in its wake. Sebastian’s hand drifted lower, fully settling on Jethro’s ass in a way that felt deliberate, as if every onlooker needed reminding of exactly who the Omega was leaving with tonight.

Jethro’s mind spun, his heart racing as he registered the weight of Sebastian’s lips against his, the warmth of his hand, the shock from the crowd around them. The kiss was brief, but it left an indelible mark, a mixture of anger and a flutter of something he refused to name roiling within him. His warm brown skin flushed under the gaze of everyone around them, acutely aware of the whispers and speculative glances that spread like wildfire.

Sebastian, on the other hand, seemed perfectly at ease, a smug pride radiating from him as he straightened and led Jethro through the crowd. He wore that famous smile, looking pleased not only with himself but also with the reaction he’d elicited from the room—and from Jethro. As they moved, Sebastian’s gaze caught Marco’s in the crowd, the other Alpha’s face unreadable but his eyes tracking Jethro with a mix of curiosity and envy.

Without breaking his stride, Sebastian shot Marco a pointed, victorious look, his hand tightening on Jethro’s waist as if to silently reiterate his claim. The thought of Marco—or anyone else, for that matter—thinking they had a chance with Jethro seemed to irk him more than he’d admit. He almost wished that another Alpha who’d been all too attentive to Jethro, someone with a lovestruck, naive air, had witnessed the display as well.

The evening stretched on with Sebastian glued to his side, his hand never straying far from Jethro’s body, a constant reminder of his presence and his unspoken message to anyone who dared look too long at the Omega. By the time Sebastian finally suggested they leave, Jethro’s patience was wearing thin, his emotions a tangled mess of irritation, confusion, and the lingering heat of that kiss.

“I think that’s enough excitement for one night,” Sebastian murmured, his voice low as he leaned in, his breath warm against Jethro’s ear. “Shall we call it a night?”

Jethro barely trusted himself to speak, nodding in agreement, eager to escape the suffocating atmosphere of the ballroom and the endless scrutiny of the crowd. Sebastian took his hand without hesitation, leading him through the sea of onlookers with his head held high, his posture exuding pride and confidence. Jethro could feel the weight of their stares, the whispers that followed them like a trail, while Sebastian appeared unfazed, almost as if he thrived on it.

In that moment, a thought surfaced, one that sent Jethro’s stomach twisting in a strange mix of nerves and exhilaration. For a heartbeat, it didn’t feel like Sebastian was playing a part anymore—and the realization left him both unsettled and unexpectedly drawn in, like a flutter of butterflies he couldn’t ignore.

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