rencissancealpha

[rencissancealpha]

"Yeah, you're still pretty, Sunshine," Salem murmured softly, smirking a little despite himself and in complete contrast to the events that had unfolded moments earlier. But that was just testament to the effect that Liam, and Liam alone, had on him. He didn't know what it was - he'd never known - but since the two had linked hands in kindergarten that fateful day, he connected with the Kingston heir in ways he never had, or could, with anyone else. Despite the time, the distance and the hurt- even now, the drunken jock in his arms meant the world and more to him. "Nice abs, by the way."

At first he'd taken the other's request to be carried as a joke that he rolled his eyes at, but every little hiss he heard the other take and every shift and stumble actually hurt Salem more than it probably did Liam and soon the black leather clad half of them brought them to a slow stop with a deep sigh and without warning, swooped one of his muscular arms down, knocking the back of Liam's legs in - almost like he'd done to Pete earlier with his boot - but his other arm had stayed at Liam's back and the swift motion caused the other to fall - and lift - into his arms. He shifted a little, surprised that the other wasn't that heavy- he actually felt almost exactly how he had the last time he'd carried him. "No need to thank me," he said solemnly as he began walking towards the Kingston manor, "I promised you that I always would ... that never changed for me."

Salem tried desperately not to think about the other's warm weight against him, or that he could smell him clearly now- a little scuffed and dirty from the tar, and a little boozy and sweaty from the party, but he could smell that same deodorant and cologne that Liam always wore. His Sunshine smelled like the woods and summer and soft laughter over golden grass. It made his jaw clench as he fought against the flurry of emotions storming inside him. He had set Liam back down before offering to let him go unseen without him. He was surprised - something else that only seemed to ever happen at Liam's hand - at the other's response. He glanced between Liam and the house- it looked so much bigger than before. The same bones as he remembered, but since they'd embraced their wealth and expanded it, it was now nearly double- possibly triple- the size. But it still looked warm, cozy and inviting. So did Liam.

"I mean, I did have a knife fight planned for midnight but I guess I can reschedule," he joked lightly, the corner of his lip curling in a smile. "Before we walk up, let me fix you up a bit more though," he murmured, not waiting for response or permission before he softly ran his hands through Liam's familiar brunet strands, or when he grabbed the bandana in his back pocket he usually used to clean his blade if needed to dab at the corner of the other's lip and then using his hands to dust the other's clothes off and straighten him out. "Now you don't look too much like you got the shit kicked out of you," he said with a small sense of accomplishment before taking Liam' his arm's hand- a muscle memory movement from a past life that he didn't realize he'd even done until they reached the front door. But it felt so good. Liam's palm was warm and soft like always and his fingers took up the spaces between his own perfectly. Salem hadn't touched anybody except through punches and attacks since ... well, since he and Liam had last spoken.

He took a deep breath, the dim sounds of one of the Kingston parent's affairs audible along with glasses clinking and warm laughter, he was clearly battling to keep his emotions in check but also clearly falling right back into old habits, before slowly opening the door for Liam and letting him walk through first. He didn't know what to expect from Liam's family or friends - he knew how people normally reacted when he walked into a room but these were people he'd actually grown up with ... and people close to the man he had loved ... and hurt. Whatever would happen though, Liam, the person who mattered most, seemed okay with him being here, and that was all that mattered to him.

Normally, Liam would make a quick appearance, socialize a bit, have a drink or two, dance, and then sneak away when everyone was distracted. His parents called it networking, though he had no interest in it—his siblings did plenty of that. Still, they insisted he stay active in the community, remain likable, stay popular. That was what mattered. But partying and heavy drinking had never really been Liam’s scene. Tonight, though, the stress had caught up to him. Everything felt like too much, and he gave in just enough to try and feel something other than pressure. Even if things looked fine on the surface, they weren’t. He was overwhelmed. The game earlier that night was proof. Everyone expected him to lead them to victory, and what should have been a fun, exciting match had turned into something suffocating. He couldn’t let them down. He never could. People had expectations. Plans for him. Always.

There had only ever been one person who didn’t put pressure on him, who didn’t expect him to perform, achieve, or impress. But that person wasn’t in his life anymore, and Liam didn’t know why. Even his siblings, in their own ways, added to the weight. So he picked a different party to show up to—one where he could slip in, be seen just enough, then disappear among the crowd. It was easier to blend in with people who wouldn’t remember much the next day. As the night wore on and everyone got drunker, he faded into the background. And for a while, he was actually having a good time. His mood lightened. It felt like he could breathe again. Like maybe he was ready to face the world after all. But that burst of confidence, that fleeting feeling of relief, made him reckless. He made dumb decisions—ones he couldn’t take back. And while he wanted to blame someone else, the truth was, it was on him. Thanks to his pride, he didn’t ask for a ride, didn’t call one, didn’t take a safe route. He could have used a rideshare. He could have walked with someone. But he didn’t. And now, it was too late.

Common sense finally kicked in with every hit he took. All he could hope for was that it would end quickly, and the guys would take what they wanted. Liam wasn’t sure what they even wanted—they didn’t ask for money, he hadn’t said anything that would’ve provoked them. Maybe they just wanted to hurt someone, and he’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or maybe they knew something. Either way, the pain was real and steady and personal. The group didn’t rush. They took their time. Liam could taste blood and wondered if this was where it ended for him. There were still so many things he hadn’t done. So many things he’d wanted to say. He tried to call for help, but his voice barely worked—too much alcohol, too much fear, too much damage. Even if someone heard him, he didn’t know what they’d do. Or what the guys hurting him would do if they noticed.

All he could do was take it and hope it ended soon. But then something shifted. The air changed. Everyone froze. All eyes turned toward someone new. Liam didn’t have to look to know who it was. He recognized that voice instantly. Salem. He stood there like a shadow made flesh, like the embodiment of danger, like someone who’d walked through hell and come out colder. People ran. Liam didn’t. He had never been afraid of Salem, not even now, not even after everything. Not even with a blade in his hand and death in his voice. Salem was still his best friend. The boy from his past. The only person who had ever truly seen him. Even with time and distance between them, Liam knew that core part of him hadn’t changed.

He stayed where he was, trying to breathe through the pain, letting Salem’s voice ground him. When Salem said he’d been watching over him, protecting him, something in Liam cracked open. He had so many questions. So many things he wanted to understand. But there was no time. Not here. Not now. All he could do was lie still and watch everything unfold, heart pounding, blood in his mouth, body aching. It all happened so fast, and yet it felt like forever before the attackers were gone and it was just the two of them. Despite everything, Liam smiled when Salem moved closer. “Okay, whatever you say, moonlight. Still lurking in the dark, I see,” he muttered, voice rough but laced with quiet affection. He let Salem look him over, didn’t flinch. This was the Salem he knew. Maybe changed in every visible way, but underneath, still him. No one would believe it—no one would believe that Salem had ever been gentle, or kind, or soft. But Liam knew better.

“But it hurts so much. Am I still pretty, though?” he asked, half-joking, voice thick with pain and drink. He wasn’t slurring anymore, but the alcohol was definitely still in his system—just enough to knock down whatever was left of his walls. “Can’t you just carry me? I’m hurt,” he pouted, leaning into the drama like they were teenagers again. When Salem didn’t move right away, Liam added, “Fine. If you let me go, I’m dragging you down with me.” Then he pushed himself to his feet, biting back a hiss as his entire body protested. He held onto Salem, breathing hard.

“Thank you. I really appreciate you coming to my rescue,” he said quietly, the words sincere even if he was still half-smiling through the pain. As they walked together, his steps uneven, he tried to hold onto the warmth in his chest—something he hadn’t felt in a long time. When they reached his house, he didn’t want to be alone. Not yet. Not like this. “No! It’s fine, you can come in, please. I don’t want to be seen like this, and I’m not sure I can make it up the stairs,” he said, voice growing smaller. “I’m not embarrassed or afraid to be seen with you—unless you have somewhere to be?”

[rencissancealpha]

[rencissancealpha]

NOAH BECK

[rencissancealpha]

"Fuck yeah, you can put a show on for me, Baby Doll," Peyton said slurredly but also thinking that that was the single hottest thing anybody had ever offered him and his entire body felt a flash of heat from the very idea of it. "Already know you're worth it," he breathed between kisses, "You're worth the entire fuckin' world to me," he revealed without a second thought, private thoughts and feelings now lubricated by the booze and sliding from his tongue and lips freely. The older brother pulled Parker close—closer than close—until their bodies fit tight together, chest to chest, heartbeat to frantic heartbeat, like two tectonic plates grinding and sparking beneath thin skin. The heat wasn’t just physical, but a fever in the air that made every inhalation an act of desperation. Peyton’s hands mapped the tension in Parker's back, the lean, unexpected strength threaded through softer flesh, and he realized that whatever fire had started, it was burning up their differences just as quickly as their similarities had ignited it.

“I want you to taste me everywhere,” Peyton said, and his eyes weren’t mocking or shy—they were hungry, puppyish, dark as oil. Parker's scent and his own were undeniable now- the room practically reeked of sex and wolf musk in the most delicious way as the bodies craved more than just words and kisses and brotherly bonding. When he could smell Parker's slick he almost lost his cool completely as every fibre in his being wanted to pin the other down and knot into him. If his rational mind hadn't already been lost to alcohol, it was certainly lost to lust. He watched as Parker easily followed his request, immediately moving his lips and hands all over his body, making him quiver and moan in sheer pleasure as the person he wanted this from the most, finally gave it to him. As they kissed, the alpha felt the world shrink to this: the suck and slide of their hungry mouths, the press of cock against cunt, the catch of breath when Parker's tongue darted to his nipple and circled there, lascivious and intent. That shock of pleasure—it was new, so intense it almost scared him, and Peyton bit Parker's lip a little too hard because of it, tasting the tiniest bloom of blood and feeling wickedly, stupidly, impossibly proud. He wanted Parker to mark him back, to make him feel wanted, needed, not because of some perfect, predestined hierarchy, but just for this: the sweat and moans and the thrum of their animal hearts.

He didn’t say any of that—words were for later, if they survived the collision course of their bodies. Right now, Parker was sucking hard on his neck, leaving marks that would scandalize any breakfast table with their mother at it, and Peyton could only let his head fall back and let the warmth and wetness overwhelm him. The older alpha then grabbed Parker’s hair, tugged his head back, and devoured his mouth with the kind of messy, urgent kisses you could only share with someone whose lips belonged nowhere else. This was their first time ever being so intimate but everything came as naturally as if they’d been going at it for years. His hips twitched up, rutting shamelessly at Parker’s hand, and he gasped when the other’s fingers grazed and squeezed him with accidental expertise that bordered on cruel. “See what you do to me?” he grunted, grinding, daring Parker to match him, and even if Parker was smaller and technically the omega, Peyton would have sworn the little brother was the one lighting the fuse in both of them. He wanted to tease, to string Parker along the way he did all those faceless sluts who he’d used as surrogates for his brother, but there was no playing here—it was all need and surrender, every touch hitting straight to the bone. Parker’s body was trembling, his breath shaky and sharp, but the look on his face was the most confident Peyton had ever seen him. “Fuck, Baby…” Peyton groaned.

When the other was straddling his hips, he finally couldn't take it anymore, "I love you so fuckin' much," he slurred, looking directly into the other's eyes, "Fuck. I need you more than I've ever needed anything in the world ... in my life.” He didn’t even register that while he was saying this, he was maneuvering Parker’s smaller frame and his massive cock into alignment, and he looked at the other longingly, their eyes holding one another for a silent moment- a question asked in their gaze if they were both ready. Peyton’s pupils went lunar with hunger and delight, his tongue darting out just for a second, almost like he was tasting Parker on the very air. Then the alpha reached down, gripped his omega by the hips, and pressed in. The sensation was thunderbolt-cold and fire-hot simultaneously. “My omega,” Peyton growled, “God, you’re the most incredible thing I’ve ever felt in my life.” Peyton began working his hips, sliding inside the other with a care that was foreign to him. Each inch was a slow-burn, each push a hunt, and each pull a desperate attempt to never let go. Parker was so tight it brought Peyton’s vision to a standstill—milked every nerve ending into a glorious, blinding overload.

Peyton had a reputation—one that, in some ways, overshadowed the rest of the family. Whether that was a good or bad thing depended on who you asked. Parker wasn’t sure how his brother felt about it, and he wasn’t about to ask, either. There were plenty of reasons people talked about Peyton, but the biggest was his promiscuity. Parker wouldn’t be surprised if there was an omega that Peyton hadn’t slept with—female omegas, to be exact. Male omegas were already rare, practically extinct. Not that it mattered. Peyton had never shown the slightest interest in men. He was as straight as they came. If there was ever any doubt, you could just ask the trail of lovers or ex-boyfriends whose girlfriends he had slept with—or outright stolen. If Peyton wanted you, it didn’t matter if you were single, taken, married, mated, or even celibate. The only thing that ever mattered to him was getting what he wanted. More often than not, people tried to get close to Parker just to use him as a tool to get to Peyton—or to his brothers in general. But Peyton was always the easiest to access, the one people gravitated toward. And that was exactly why Parker was so sensitive about it. It was hard to tell who actually cared about him and who was just using him. Which was exactly what had happened tonight. He had finally built a small, close-knit friend group—one that had nothing to do with his brothers. But the girl had teared open an old wound he had tried to ignore.

Peyton had never seemed interested in settling down, mating, or claiming anyone. If anything, he was the exact opposite, leaving behind a trail of broken hearts. Parker had always felt relieved that his brother never brought them around him—at least Peyton had that much consideration. But there had always been something else beneath that relief, something he hadn’t been able to name. Until tonight. Jealousy. Whether this was just Peyton looking for a release after being cockblocked or if their instincts were taking over, Parker wasn’t sure. Maybe this was something they both needed to get out of their systems. But as they kissed, and their hands explored each other, it felt like so much more than that. And the way Peyton spoke—his words raw, sincere—made it impossible to believe otherwise.

Peyton’s growl sent a chill down Parker’s spine. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard it, but this time, the context was entirely different. His grip tightened instinctively around his brother's dick, still inexperienced, but eager. There was no question about who was in control here. “Too late?” he asked, his voice breathless, seeking confirmation. His heart pounded against his chest at the thought. It seemed he wasn’t the only one feeling this way. Too many times, Parker had caught himself staring—watching Peyton when he was barely clothed, during a workout, or just sweaty and hot from the day. There had been dreams, too—ones he always forced himself to forget the moment he woke up. But to know that Peyton had been thinking about him like that? It felt surreal. “Maybe after this,” Parker murmured, voice thick with need, “we can head back to my room… and I can give you that show.” Stopping now wasn’t an option. He wanted to see this through—to give Peyton at least one orgasm. To have this moment together, even if he wasn’t sure they'll regret it after. Peyton’s confession left him momentarily speechless. Had he really been picturing Parker when he was with all those others? Heat coiled in his stomach at the thought. “Then give it to me,” Parker said, voice steady despite the chaos inside him. “And I’ll give you exactly what you want. Let you live your fantasy… and prove I’m worthy of your alpha seed.” Now that he thought about it, there had been too many close calls. That night on the yacht—they would have crossed the line if his brother and the staff hadn’t interrupted them. Parker had run off before things got out of hand, before his scent could betray him. He had put distance between himself and Peyton after that, convincing himself it was for the best. But it hadn’t mattered. Because they were sharing this moment with no one to interrupt or stop them. And his body had ached for what it had been denied.

Parker’s omega instincts were in full control now. His scent begged and pleaded for more, his body responding with desperate whimpers, moans, and needy little sounds that filled the space like a melody. Their lips stayed locked until the need for air became too much, breaking apart only to gasp for breath. His slick ran down his thighs, the thick scent of arousal saturating the room. Peyton gave him a moment, shifting his focus to Parker’s neck. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin, sending a shiver down Parker’s spine. It was something Peyton had been raised never to do to an omega—but he did it anyway. A promise. A reassurance. A silent claim, as if to tell the world this one is mine. And Parker let him. His mind was lost in the haze of lust, his body completely surrendering to Peyton’s touch. He barely even registered being moved to the bed until he heard his nickname roll off Peyton’s tongue. He wasn’t sure when it had happened, but right now, it didn’t matter. As soon as Peyton finished speaking, Parker moved on top of him, pressing a deep, lingering kiss to his lips before trailing lower. His mouth hovered over Peyton’s chest, his fingers mapping the hard planes of his body. “I’ve always wanted to do this,” Parker confessed, voice hushed but thick with need. “Your muscles have always driven me crazy. You’ve always been stronger, more built…” His other hand slid down, tracing the ridges of Peyton’s abs, “And I’m glad to have you as my alpha.”

[rencissancealpha]

[rencissancealpha]

As Phoenix listened to Parker speak, he couldn't help but softly trace small circles where his hands rested on the other, or nuzzle his face into the youngest's hair and breathe in his familiar smell. Small movements, not enough to distract or stop the other from speaking, but things that he had missed doing more than anything from when they were younger and the two would bond like this without a second thought. The other was also clearly in emotional distress, something he could not only hear and see but he could even smell it and that kicked his protective instincts into overdrive, making him want to physically show the other that he was safe, that he could speak, that his big brother wasn't going anywhere.

Since Parker had gone off his meds and been able to live as an omega, his smell hadn't so much changed as it had developed more complexity- and Phoenix found himself liking it all the same, and not just because the new notes and depths of the scent awoke primal reactions within him. The other just letting him hold and bond with him like this meant the world to him, it was like they were finally in the eye of the storm finding some solace and peace in what had been the most intense few days of their lives. It was this morsel of comfort that made it easier to listen to some of the very difficult things the other needed to get off his chest. It was the honesty that hurt the most—not the revelations themselves, not the faults confessed or the ways their parents’ cruelty had shaped them, but how naked Parker let himself become. Phoenix could picture his little brother’s childhood, the moments he’d missed, the moments he could have interrupted and maybe even changed if he’d known to look closer. And at the same time, he couldn’t deny his own guilt. The memory of laughing with Peyton at the expense of some omega, the careless way he’d played along, was a spider skittering across the back of his mind. The truth was, he’d always thought he’d be enough—his presence, his affection. He’d figured as long as they were together, nothing could be that bad or that permanent. But the reality was, he’d never known what Parker was really fighting—never acknowledged that it might be a war inside and out.

He let his hand run gently along Parker’s arm, the skin goosepimpling under his touch. He didn’t try to fill the silence immediately, letting the words Parker had spoken hang in the air and then settle, like dust falling after a house is torn apart. He wanted desperately to say something comforting, to offer the right apology, but nothing seemed big enough or true enough—not after all that. It occurred to him, painfully, that there had never been a right way to handle any of this. That sometimes loving someone was just a mess you spent your whole life cleaning up, knowing you’d never make it perfect. Phoenix pressed his lips to the crown of Parker’s head and breathed in the scent again, letting it steady him, soften him. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and careful—like if he raised it, the moment might shatter. “I should have been better,” he said, not as an apology but as a fact, heavy as gravity. “We all should have. I can’t give you back what you lost. I remember that vow-” he couldn’t help but smile at the warm memory, “And I want you to know that even though it didn’t seem like it, we never broke it. We always wanted you to be happy and to be safe and do everything we could for you,” he sighed, “We didn’t do the best job- sometimes that was our fault but most of the time, I’m sure you can now see, was out of our hands and we were young, dumb and trying to figure it all out while figuring ourselves out- it’s all-” he laughed quietly, despite the heavy topics, “It’s all a bit of a mess, really.”

Phoenix squeezed Parker’s hand, thumb brushing over his knuckles. “But you’re right. If we’re going to fix it, or at least stop making it worse, we have to start over—do it the real way. Not the way Dad wanted, not the way it happened, but how it should have been from the start. We decide how we want things to go. And that includes how you want it.” He looked down at the younger, his gaze gentle but more anchored than before. He wanted to ask so many things. Did Parker ever forgive him for not showing up at the tree even though he did it for him? For all the times Phoenix, or his brothers, had done something thinking it was better for all of them? Did Parker know that, even now, Phoenix would kill or die for his baby brother? So many questions, so many follow ups and responses, but, something inside him stilled. Something in the back of his mind, after just this little while of Parker’s physical and emotional responses told him that they had time. That there would be plenty time and space for those specifics, for them to nurse each of the thousand cuts they’d suffered. Part of him also couldn’t help but hope the same for the other alpha’s of the house, that his brothers would also get a chance to heal with Parker- it seemed almost inconceivable for them to reach such a golden place, where they could all truly break free of the chains and shackles put on them by their father, their species and each other. But, by God, if he could find a way to make that happen, even if it were the last thing he ever did, Phoenix would fight for it.

His calmness was a protective response for both of them, but it didn’t mean that an overwhelming part of him wanted to be intimate with Parker right now. His red blood coursed through his heart and each pump seemed to cry in desperation for a kiss, for a rut, for him to make sweet, passionate love to boy he cared about most in this world; but in the end, his protective side held fast, as it always did. However, there was a clear break in his composure when the other whispered his name and admitted his love for him to- like heaven’s gates were flung open and cherubs descended, trumpets and music in hand - but then the gates shut in his face when the other rejected him in the same breath. It was dizzying and Phoenix physically shook his head to try and get his thoughts straight as he heart the other out. The urge to argue, to plead, to make Parker change his mind right then and there—it came on like a fever. But Phoenix ground his teeth and let it pass, instead choosing to listen, to really hear what Parker needed from him. The world had always demanded instant obedience from Phoenix, but Parker was different. He was his own person with his own mind, and that was one of the things Phoenix had always loved about him—even before he’d allowed himself to put that name to the feeling.

He took a slow, steadying breath and let the silence linger a moment more, until the sound of Parker’s pulse—even, determined, calling out to him through the delicate skin of his wrist—reminded Phoenix what mattered most. He pressed his forehead to Parker’s, both a sign of acceptance and a show of solidarity. It was pure instinct that trusted Parker in this moment, in this risky moment that could make or break their entire family even more, a decision that could truly sink the ship that was desperately patching holes. “Okay, Kitten,” he said at last, voice low, a small smile coloring his lips as he returned the other’s sincere gesture by using the pet names that had long since been collecting dust- a subtle but deep and powerful gesture of love and trust. “Whatever you need. You go out there, you do whatever it is you need to do. I’ll be here. You come back, and ... we’ll try again.” There was no question in his voice, he believed the other's promises, though, there was a tremor in his voice, but not from fear or anger — it was relief. Phoenix wasn’t losing Parker; he was finally, maybe, starting to keep him. He didn’t want to let go, but he made himself do it. Gave Parker room, both literally and metaphorically, to be who he was, to breathe, to define the boundaries of this new world they had cobbled together from the shards of the old. "But ... before you go ..." he cupped Parker's face like the other was the most precious thing in the world to him, "... Kiss?"

It was a lot to take in—too much, maybe. And for a second, Parker wondered if he should’ve just let Phoenix go. Given them both space to breathe, to think. But in that split moment, he hadn’t been thinking clearly. He’d acted on pure emotion. On instinct. Like a kid again, terrified of losing his older brother all over. His mind flashed back to that memory—waiting under their tree, the one with their initials carved into the bark. He’d waited for hours, clutching onto hope like it was all he had. But Phoenix never came. He only gave up when the sky began to burn orange and the sun started to set. And when he got home… there they were. His three brothers, laughing and playing without a care, without him. Like he’d never even existed or mattered.

That memory still stung. Still left a bitter ache in his chest. And now, that fear crept in again. What if this time was the same? What if he let Phoenix walk away and that was it? What if he never came back—if he realized he actually did hate him? That thought was enough to crush him. Even though he wasn’t that little boy anymore, the damage was still there—quiet, buried, but far from gone. He’d been forced to grow up too fast. To be strong. To survive. Not just away from his parents, but from his brothers too. Maybe that’s where the anger came from—the part of him that refused to forgive, that curled up and snapped instead of healing. The whole situation was messed up, no denying that. But Parker wasn’t sure what exactly he was angry about. It was like everything had been tangled together for so long he couldn’t tell where one hurt ended and another began.

Still, he didn’t want Phoenix to leave. And judging by the way Phoenix slid into bed without hesitation, maybe he didn’t want to leave either. It might’ve been too soon for something like this—close, intimate, charged with history and heat. It could cloud their judgment. They hadn’t even talked yet, not really. Parker hadn’t said his piece, hadn’t let out the words building inside his chest. There was still so much left unspoken. But maybe… maybe this was a start. Maybe just this—sharing the bed, breathing the same air again—was the first move toward something like peace. Especially with the way Phoenix adjusted them, like muscle memory, like he remembered how they used to fit together. There had been some truth in what he’d said earlier—Parker could feel it in the way he held on. Not just to him, but to the version of them that had almost been lost.

Silence stretched out between them, not uncomfortable, just necessary. A pause to let things settle, to sift through the emotional wreckage. Parker didn’t know how to say everything he felt—not yet—but Phoenix? He seemed to know what he wanted to get off his chest. And Parker let him. He listened. And somehow, that was even harder to process.

The alpha didn’t hold back. He was careful with his words, sure, but there was a quiet urgency in the way he spoke—like he needed Parker to understand, needed him to feel it too. Every word was threaded with something raw, something real. And just in case words weren’t enough, Phoenix backed them with action—drawing Parker closer, letting their bodies press together in that way that said I’m here. I mean this. Don’t look away. It wasn’t just comfort—it was confession in touch, in warmth, in the gravity between them. By the time Phoenix fell silent, the air was thick with things finally said. And now it was Parker’s turn. He could feel the choice sitting heavy in his chest, but deep down, he already knew the answer. He’d known the second Phoenix didn’t leave. Still, he had to say it. He had to be honest—not just with Phoenix, but with himself. His voice came out low, rough around the edges, but steady. “Bunny—Phoenix…” he said, the old nickname slipping out before he could stop it. But he didn’t take it back. Not this time.

“I still remember,” Parker began, his voice barely above a whisper. “Even though the memories are starting to blur with time, I can still see it—how we used to play together, how you three used to dote on me like I was your whole world. I was your baby brother. And you were so proud of that.” His throat tightened, but he kept going. “Before she passed, Grandma told me how the three of you vowed to protect me—how you loved me before I was even born. How you planned everything out: how you'd treat me, take turns spending time with me, even made piles of things to share. I always thought it would be like that. I didn’t know it was just a dream—a fantasy. That I was meant to live a different kind of life." His eyes met Phoenix’s, the pain sharp and unfiltered now.

“I didn’t understand what was happening. How could I? But as soon as I reached the age when my abilities started kicking in, everything got ripped away. All I was told was that I was different, and that I couldn’t be around you three anymore." His fingers curled into the blanket. "Why? Because you might hurt me. Because you might treat me differently if you knew how ‘special’ I was. I had a hard time believing it. You were my brothers—you made me feel like I was your whole world. I tried to push back. I tried to fight it. I rebelled. But all it got me was punishment—more isolation, more surveillance. Yelling. Restrictions. Imagine being told the people you love the most would kill you if they knew the truth about you. That you—dad’s perfect, loyal soldiers—would turn on me.” His voice broke then, just for a second. “They drilled that fear into me until it stuck. Until it was the only thing I knew. So I started watching from the shadows. And for a while… there were moments that made me think it wasn’t true. That maybe you still cared. But the second anyone found out, it was shut down. Like it didn’t matter. Like I didn’t matter.” He swallowed hard, the silence stretching heavy between them. “And the worst part? You all moved on. Like it was nothing. Like I wasn’t even worth a glance.”

His eyes shimmered, glassy with the weight of loneliness. “Eventually, when I was old enough to understand, they told me why I was different. Why I was special. I was an omega—a male omega. The first one in generations to break the lineage.” He let out a bitter laugh, quiet and sharp. “Our bloodline was something sacred. Proud. Powerful. Guarded like a damn fortress. If anyone had found out what I was... it would’ve destroyed everything. Our reputation, our legacy, the structure that held our family together. She told me how omegas—especially male omegas—were treated. How I would’ve been killed or abandoned right after birth to make sure no one ever knew I existed. How Mom and the other omegas risked everything to protect me and keep it secret." He blinked, trying to keep the tears from falling. "God knows what would’ve happened if Dad had found out. Or if you three had been told—or worse, figured it out on your own and accidentally let it slip. You were just kids. One slip-up, one innocent mistake, and it could’ve all fallen apart.”

Parker took a deep breath, steadying himself. He couldn’t fall apart—not yet. Not before everything was out. “I won’t lie to you and say I understood it all back then. I didn’t. Not really. I didn’t know there was still so much being hidden from me. And even though I didn’t get it, I followed the rules. Because I had to. Everything was riding on me.” He gave a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “It was pressure I never asked for. Never wanted. But I carried it anyway. I had to move forward—like none of it mattered. Like that was just... how things were supposed to be.” His gaze dropped, almost ashamed. “Alpha training started early. And yeah, I know you three had it bad. But for me? It was worse. I was being trained twice as hard. Two different lives. Two different sets of rules. Sure, Dad went easier on me—but only because Mom asked him to. Because the last thing anyone wanted was for me to fall behind, to prove that I couldn’t even handle the basics of being an alpha.. No one wanted me to look weak or incapable. I couldn’t afford to.” He paused, swallowing hard. “Mom was training me too—teaching me how to act like an alpha, how to do the things you were all born knowing. But at the same time? I was taught to be ashamed of it. Afraid of it. To carry it like a curse.” His voice cracked then, but he kept going. “On top of that, I had to start hiding. Hiding my omega side. Hiding me. Mom couldn’t always be there to cover for me. Eventually, I’d have to handle it alone. If it ever came down to it—I had to survive it alone.”

He really had to resist the urge to just bury himself into Phoenix—to let him wrap around him and hide him from the world. It would’ve been so much easier than reopening wounds he’d buried deep beneath years of silence. “I know what you’re thinking,” he murmured, voice tight. “And what you’re probably going to ask: why didn’t I give any of you a chance? Why didn’t I trust you?” He hesitated, then pushed forward. “Our relationship wasn’t in a good place back then. And… there were a few times I considered it. Really. I wanted to believe I could.” But then he had to remind himself: they hadn’t been raised like he was. His brothers were trained under their father’s rule—his beliefs, his ideology, his worldview. That cold, merciless way of thinking. Still, Parker had clung to hope. He wanted to believe they were different. That his brothers weren’t just carbon copies of their dad. That maybe—maybe—they’d understand. “Until I—” He stopped, the words dying in his throat. His stomach twisted at the memory.

He had held onto that fragile hope for as long as he could… until the day it shattered. He hadn’t meant to overhear it. Just passing by. But he caught Peyton’s voice—loud, laughing, bragging about an omega he’d slept with. Like it was a game. A conquest. Something to be proud of. But what cut the deepest… wasn’t even Peyton’s words. It was Phoenix. And Preston. They said nothing. They just laughed along like it was fine. Like it was normal. Like that kind of talk didn’t mean anything. That was the moment he realized hia secret would never be safe with them. That sealed it.. “Any chance I had of telling you—it died right there.” He swallowed the knot in his throat. “I’m not ready to talk about it… not yet. Sorry.” The hurt was still too raw, too close. Even now, just thinking about it made his chest ache.

He remembered how he’d gone to his room after that, unable to hold it in. He broke down, crying into his pillow until his mom heard him. She’d come in, sat beside him—and for the first time, told him everything. The full truth. She told him how rare male omegas were. How disrespected. How they weren’t seen as people—but as things. How they were hunted. Bought. Used. Treated like property. How some were sold into slavery—sexual, physical. Others used as bargaining chips, forced into political marriages to make powerful alliances. Not protected. Not loved. Prized. And that’s why she kept him hidden. That’s why she did everything she could to keep him safe. Because she didn’t want that life for him. Not ever.

“I thought I was destined to be alone,” Parker said quietly, voice low and tired. “To keep hiding who I was for the rest of my life. And for a while, I accepted that.” He paused, hesitation flickering in his eyes before continuing. “That was… until I met Adam.” He hesitated to bring him up or mention his name, knowing how much it trigged them. “I didn’t know he was your friend,” he added quickly. “Well—technically, he was my friend first. We had those dumb little playdates when we were kids, remember? But that’s not the point. The moment he showed any interest in me, you hated him. Treated him like he was the enemy. And I didn’t even like him like that—not at first. But the pressure you three put on me—how you acted, how you treated me—I couldn’t take it anymore.” He looked down at his hands, voice softening. “I already got enough of that shit from Mom and Dad. Then I was getting it from you, too. I just needed space—some freedom. Some kind of control over my own life. So… I rebelled.” He shrugged helplessly. “It was wrong of me,” Parker said quietly. “I shouldn’t have done it. I know that.” He let out a shaky breath. “But it was the first time in a long while that you actually seemed to care about something I did. And it shouldn’t have taken a potential romance to get that reaction out of you.” His eyes flicked away, shame flickering across his face. “So yeah… I took it out on you three. I got petty, and defensive, and I shouldn’t have. But in my defense, you did corner and confront me like I’d committed a crime. I felt attacked, so I pushed back.” There was a bitter smile tugging at his lips. “I guess we all got something from Dad, huh?”

“I started hanging out with him more,” Parker said, voice soft with the weight of the memory. “Adam was the first person in a long time who I could let my guard down. It felt nice. there was no pressure on a title or designation. I could just be… myself.” He paused, fingers fidgeting in his lap. “It reminded me of how you three used to make me feel. I missed that. I wanted that feeling again, so I clung to him for it. Because for a moment, it felt like being your baby again. Like I was once again loved.” His gaze dropped, “I don’t even know when everything got so messy,” Parker said, his voice quieter now, almost like he was talking more to himself than anyone else. “When it all got lost and confused. Maybe it was our parents. Maybe it was just… everything.”

He glanced over, a little hesitant. “I always felt like you only cared because you had to. Like I was just another responsibility. I didn’t know that wasn’t how you really felt.” His throat tightened as he tried to put the next part into words. “I wanted to be close to you again. I missed you. I just… I didn’t know how to come back. I didn’t know what would happen if being around you—or any alpha—started to affect me. I didn’t know if my secret was really safe.” Parker looked down at his hands, voice dropping. “And then look what happened when you did find out.”

“He was also the first person I ever told my secret to. And he didn’t treat me like I was broken, or dangerous. Not like Mom and Dad did sometimes. He just… listened. Yeah, he got protective, started trying hard to ‘woo’ me.” Parker let out a short laugh—dry but not bitter. “From what I could tell, he just wanted to take me away from all of this. Thought he could win over our parents, make everything official with some big plan—courtship, engagement, the whole fairytale thing. He really believed he could keep me safe.” His voice wavered. “I wasn’t sure that was what I wanted. Things went really slow. We hadn’t even kissed or have made things official even though he wants to” He went quiet for a moment, eyes flicking up before dropping again. “He knew I wasn’t safe,” Parker whispered. “And… I appreciated him. I really did. I liked him. But… I don’t think I ever loved him. Not in the way you’re supposed to.”

Parker looked at him again, eyes tired but focused. “Everyone always expects something from me,” he said quietly. “People pretend to be my friends just to get close to you three—whether it’s for status, friendship, or wanting to be your mates. And I had to learn how to protect myself from that. Because no one else ever did.” He paused, his gaze softening. “I mean, yeah,” Parker murmured, “you all usually knew what was up. You could spot when someone had used me a mile away, and most of the time you didn’t even bother interacting with them. But even then… it still had to play out in order to know” He shrugged one shoulder, fingers fidgeting with the edge of his sleeve. “And by the time I realized what was happening, the damage was already done.” There was no bitterness in his voice—just tired honesty. A quiet kind of hurt that had settled in long ago.

“That’s why it felt so easy to let Adam protect me,” Parker said quietly, eyes lowering. “It felt nice… familiar… safe, even. Just like how you three make me feel.” He let out a soft sigh. “And I’m not gonna lie and say I didn’t imagine what life with him could’ve looked like. Not because I wanted that life—not really. It’s just… sometimes, when things got too heavy, I’d let myself imagine a future. Something simple. Something where I wasn’t constantly hiding. But if I’m being honest? Most of the time, that life… it didn’t have him in it. It had you. Preston. Peyton.”

His voice cracked slightly. “I had those feelings, those thoughts—but I buried them. Told myself it couldn’t happen. That it was wrong. Too complicated. Too dangerous.” Parker’s jaw tensed, like it took everything not to let the emotion spill out too far. “And I knew—know—that Dad would kill us before ever letting that happen. So yeah… it was easier to just let things with Adam play out. Go through the motions. Pretend like maybe that path was safer.” He paused. “I think even Mom was hoping we’d run away together. Just so I wouldn’t have to keep living in fear, keep hiding who I am.” His voice softened, almost a whisper. “But the truth is… I never seriously thought about leaving. Because no matter what kind of life I imagined for myself… it never felt right without you three in it. In some shape or form.”

He let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know what happened that day. I missed a dose after you, Preston, Presley and I fought. Remember when I asked if I could stay with Adam and his family, and dad said no. I should’ve been fine anyway, but… I wasn’t.” He rubbed at his arms, shame flickering across his face. “I panicked. I called Adam for help. The plan was to get me locked away somewhere safe, at least until it passed. But my heat hit hard, and I wasn’t thinking straight. I asked him to take care of it. Quick. I thought you weren’t going to be home, and if he got it over with fast enough, maybe you’d think I brought some random omega home.” His voice cracked. “But that wasn’t how I wanted my first time to go.” Parker blinked hard, jaw tight.

Now came the topic—the situation—that had started everything. “You have to understand where I was coming from,” Parker began quietly. “I never wanted you to see me like that.” His chest rose and fell, a shaky breath pushing through the tightness in his throat. “I was already vulnerable… and my heat just made everything worse. All the emotions, the confusion—it was too much. And hearing the three of you saying those things about me—awful things—that hurt.” He shook his head, the memory raw. “And then… afterward, when you held me down and… well, you know the rest.” There was a long pause. “To be clear, I don’t regret it. I just wish it had happened differently. I don’t blame you either—it was a bad situation. Your instincts took over. I get that. But instead of giving me a chance to breathe, to process—just a little bit of time—you all just… decided for me. And yeah, maybe I would’ve understood. Maybe I would’ve accepted you three as my mates.” His voice wavered, but he didn’t stop. “I didn’t even get an apology. No one asked me how I felt. Instead, you just started planning everything like I had no say. It felt like… Mom and Dad all over again, y’know?” He pulled in a breath that rattled in his chest. “Of course I was mad. Of course I was upset! Hurt. Put yourself in my shoes. How would you feel if an omega took advantage of you during your rut and then just—decided—you were mates? That your whole life was now theirs to control? Planning your whole damn future without asking? You would be upset too! I mean you already upset about it being your first time—even if it didn’t hit you right away. But now you're here, saying you regret how it happened. That you would’ve done it differently. And I believe you. I do. But all of this could’ve been avoided… if you’d just given me a chance. Time to come around. I would’ve said yes. I would’ve wanted it.”

His voice dropped again, thick with emotion. “But instead of trying to understand where I was coming from, you expected me to submit. Like I didn’t have a choice. Like I was supposed to just play house and be an omega because you decided that’s what I was now. Like I wasn’t me anymore. Just a role. A responsibility.I was locked in here. No say. No control. This is exactly what Mom warned me about.” Parker’s eyes found Phoenix’s again—tender, aching. “I don’t think it was your intention to treat me like that. But… you acted like an alpha. Not like my mate. Yeah, I was fed. Taken care of. Technically. But is that what you wanted? Just to keep me alive? To just feed me and house me like some responsibility? Like I was a burden you were stuck with—not someone you chose?” His voice softened then, trembling at the edges. “I get where you were coming from. I do. And… you don’t have to apologize. I know that wasn’t you. Not the real you. For what it's worth, i'm sorry too.” He shut his eyes for a second, trying to steady his voice. “Phoenix…” he whispered. “I love you too. I think I always have.” Parker reached out, his fingers curling gently around Phoenix’s hand. “I want the life you dreamed about. The one I used to dream about, too. I’m still figuring things out. Processing how I feel about the other two. But as for now… I want to give you a chance.” Then he blinked, cheeks flushing slightly. “No—I mean, yes, I want to claim you. I do. But not like this.”

His gaze locked with Phoenix’s, burning with honesty. “It has to be special. If you really trust me—if you want to be my mate and my alpha—you’ll let me go do something first. Alone. Outside. Just for a little while. I promise I’ll come back. I’m not trying to escape. But if we’re really going to bond—if this is going to be real—it can’t start like this. Not something that happened by force or accident I just want to make it memorable. Something good. Something ours. A new start.” His voice cracked again, soft, raw, and pleading. His fingers squeezed Phoenix’s hand gently. “Please, Bunny… trust me.”

[rencissancealpha]

[rencissancealpha]

Presley reacted instantly as the other charged at him. Clutching Parker to him so hard that it must have left prints, a knuckle white grip on small omega, lifting him so easily it was as if the younger weighed nothing. That initial sensation—breaking through, being fully sheathed—ripped a gasp from his throat. Parker’s entire being clenched around Presley, an immaculate, clutching heat that made him let out a deep roar, guttural and full of disbelief mixed with unexpected pleasure. The wet noise of their bodies coming together was vulgar, but nothing ever sounded so right. Presley buried his face in Parker’s shoulder, his insides slithering with electric pleasure, his mind a wreckage of want.

He managed, somehow, not to thrust wildly, but only just. Presley spread his legs a little to get more stability in his stance, catching his breath with loud, heavy pants before finally lifting his head and gazing at the other with the most love-struck expression. He cupped Parker’s face, thumbs gently brushing away the evidence of their both undone feelings, and kissed him deeply. Presley groaned, the vibration in his chest traveling up and through Parker. There was nothing delicate left between them now—not with Presley’s cock buried inside, “God, you’re perfect,” Presley mumbled between desperate, wet kisses, his hands everywhere—all at once—palming the back of Parker’s thigh, clutching at the ridges of his trembling spine. The rhythm between their bodies was rough, raw, instinctual. Presley could feel the pressure mounting in both of them, the carnal scream for release, and Presley had never felt anything so close to sublime as Parker’s walls milking his cock, as the sensation of omega slick and needy heat.

Presley’s rhythm quickly picked up into a full-on rut, feeling his cock swell into a knot inside the other and connecting them absolutely and completely, the alpha banging his brother down on the length of him, his hips snapping up with growing authority. The room shook with the surge of their locked bodies, with Presley’s every motion. Sweat dappled both of them, and beneath the scent of heat and sex, bodily fluids completely merged as sweat mixed with sweat, spit with spit, slick with pre-cum, the salt of his skin and the ache of his voice, the way he whispered his brother’s name between grunts and gasps. He wanted to last, to draw out every inch of this new reality, "—fuck, Kitten, you were made for me,” Presley said, a supplication, a worship. “You were always mine, you hear me?” The words, low and desperate, as he continued to pound up and in with a rhythm that was both feral and precise.

The two rutted for who knew how long until it was evident they were both getting close now, parties and other people completely forgotten as the flow of alcohol and intimacy fueled them into the night. Presley’s hands found the smoothness of Parker's back, nails digging in with each snap of his hips. He locked eyes with Parker and in those dark, wet lashes, and flushed cheeks, and the way Parker’s lips wobbled with every breathy gasp—he saw the entirety of his world. Presley had fucked before, but never knotted, that was something that only Parker had been able to bring out of him. But beside that—this was still different to every time before. The mutual surrender, the way Parker’s skin trembled at every touch. The way his own heart stuttered when Parker smiled, just a flicker, through his whimpers, moans and tears. Maybe that was the difference between every fuck and the first time you actually made love to someone. No one had ever given themselves to him this completely. No snide remarks, no playful back-sass, no subtle power struggle. He looked at the boy he loved more than anything else in the world, lifting an arm to cup his face as he continued to wreck his cunt, “Fuck- I’m gonna … I’m gonna …”

It felt natural—like he was always meant to give himself completely to Presley. Parker had never felt anything like this. Not even with Adam. The feeling had been similar before, but never this strong, never this overwhelming. He was completely drunk on Presley’s scent, lost in it. His own scent seemed trapped in a bubble, something only Presley could smell, as if no one else was allowed to smell it. He wasn’t sure if it was intentional or accidental, if it was his doing or Presley’s. But it didn’t matter. Every precaution he had ever taken crumbled, useless against touch of Presley. His omega side—suppressed for so long—was finally being embraced and released. Parker wasn’t thinking anymore—he was running on pure instinct, pure need. The only thing that mattered was pleasing his alpha. Proving he was his. Being claimed by him. Nothing else was important. It felt right.

When he was younger, Parker had looked up to Presley like he hung the stars and the moon. He was the leader, the oldest, the first of the three to reach out and take care of him. Looking back now, Parker realized he’d had a crush on him—something innocent, something pure. He never could have imagined they’d end up here. There had been moments, close calls—like that hike where Parker got hurt, where Presley had carried him all the way back. But he had always dismissed it as fantasy, nothing more than fleeting thoughts. Yet Presley’s hands were very real. The way they roamed his body, the way his fingers worked him over—it wasn’t a dream. It was happening.

The slick coating Presley’s hand seemed endless, soaking through Presley’s now ruined, probably stained jersey and streaming down Parker’s thighs. He wasn’t sure if it was because he had gone so long without producing or if it was simply the overwhelming effect Presley had on him. Before he could question it, his thoughts were shattered by the feeling of lips against his neck. A shaky moan left his lips. This was dangerous—far too dangerous. It would be so easy for Presley to mark him, to claim him right here and now. Parker should have stopped him, should have pulled away. But instead, his body betrayed him, his neck tilting instinctively, offering itself up without hesitation. The kisses sent wave after wave of desire through him, each one unraveling the last of his resistance. Maybe it was his scent speaking for him, saying all the things he couldn’t. Maybe it was Presley’s inner alpha taking over. Either way, a very loud moan filled the room when teeth finally sank into his skin, Parker knew. It wasn’t a true mark—no blood was drawn, no bond fully sealed, and they hadn’t knotted. But it was something. The start of a claim. A light mark that tethered them, allowing Presley to sense him—his emotions, his presence, his distress. It wasn’t permanent, but as long as they remained close, it would remain.

He should have been worried given if anyone got close enough or noticed then it would surely unleash hell. The whole thing was taboo. you weren't supposed to be mated to your brother. what would his parents think? Peyton and Phoenix? Yet, it didn't feel wrong. rather he felt as he was whole. like the final piece of a puzzle had been complete. As if their souls and wolves were always meant to be together. his entire body was reacting in ways that he never experience before. parker had always been independent but now he was completely submissive to the other. even as he felt himself getting closer to his climix, he felt as he couldn't do so without the alpha permission and blessing. it was as if he had given the other complete control. their kiss was far from awkward and clumsy.

Parker should have been worried. If anyone got too close, if they noticed—it would unleash hell. What they were doing was taboo. You weren’t supposed to be mated to your own brother. What would their parents think? Peyton? Phoenix? But none of that seemed to matter. Because it didn’t feel wrong. If anything, it felt like everything had finally fallen into place—like he was whole for the first time. The missing piece of a puzzle had clicked into place, as if their souls, their wolves, had always been meant for each other. His entire body responded in ways he had never experienced before. Parker had always been independent, stubborn in his own right, but now? Now, he was completely submissive to Presley. Even as he felt himself teetering on the edge, trembling with the promise of release, he knew—he couldn’t finish without his alpha’s permission. Without Presley’s blessing. It was as if he had surrendered everything, given the other complete control over him. And when their lips met, it wasn’t awkward or clumsy. It felt like reunited lovers—two souls who had been apart for years but never lost their rhythm. Parker was new to this, inexperienced in every way, but with Presley leading, he knew he had nothing to fear. Nothing to doubt. And somehow, despite it all, the alpha’s fingers never stopped.

“I love you too, my firefly,” Parker murmured, his voice breathless, eyes flashing with something deep, something primal. Something that took over. Before either of them could reach their climax, Parker suddenly pushed Presley back. His heart pounded, his body thrumming with instinct. Then, without hesitation, he jumped—trusting Presley to catch him. And he did. One arm wrapped tightly around the alpha’s shoulders, holding on for dear life. The other hand reaching to grab the alpha's large, thick and leaking cock until it was near his own soaking folds. Parker then pushed himself down until Presley was fully inside him.

[rencissancealpha]

Presley had felt more emotional turmoil in the last few days than he had in the last few years. Being the pseudo-head of their family, though he was prepared and trained for it, hadn’t been easy as they were re-writing the traditional pack rules as they went. Things between Parker and himself had been tense and quiet- a complete opposite to how things were between Parker and Peyton which was tense and loud and both of them at opposite ends from Parker and Phoenix’s relationship which had somehow blossomed in the midst of the carnage and chaos. It’d been a deep wound when Phoenix came down one night smelling completely different, immediately raising his and Presley’s guard and the news hit them like a tidal wave. That had seemed to only make things more tense between Parker and the brother’s he hadn’t bonded with. Pey started disappearing a lot more and turning back up with more injuries and Pres’ booming voice became a rare sound in the house as the giant of the clan seemed to speak less and less, brooding quietly.

Pres knew he needed to accept that he wasn’t Parker’s chosen mate and move on but something inside him simply couldn’t. There was something that felt … off. From what he - and his brothers - studied, there was a clear-cut feeling when an omega was claimed and not available, but, if that was the case, why was Parker in his dreams every night? Why could he not shake the feeling that their connection wasn’t complete, that there was still more between them? Was it brotherly love he was getting confused with because of that night back at their old house? It was hard to say and his head became a war ground of emotions, though he remained stoic and clearly tense, he forged forward with his duties and despite everything, still treated Phoenix as he always had as a fundamental part of him couldn’t hold anything against his brother. At the end of the day, no matter what any of them did, Presley would take a bullet for them. After a while, he’d even started letting Parker’s chosen alpha weigh in on decisions regarding him, agreeing with Phoenix to allow Parker some more freedoms within the household but drawing the line there - at least for now. If Parker ran away, the consequences for all of them were unimaginable and he just wasn’t willing to risk putting them all, Parker included, in that kind of harm.

Phoenix needed to run errands, having asked Pres if he could pick up some of the household chores that day and he’d agreed. One of them including folding up some laundry he’d done and scented and taking it up to Parker. A simple task, on the face of it, but one that the biggest of the wolves had been dreading. When he reached Parker’s room and saw that glimpse of almost child-like excitement, something he hadn’t seen in years directed at him, then watching it immediately fade, stung. Deeply. The oldest brother looked like he’d spent considerable time preparing for this conversation but had already forgotten his lines. He offered the bundle, extending it awkwardly, neither a peace offering nor a declaration of war. Their hands brushed, and the static was almost audible. “Phoenix said these were for you.” Presley’s gaze prickled against his back, twin embers of resentment and hunger. The silence expanded between them, then Presley blurted, “I made some food, too. If you wanted.”

The once proud, majestic face of their pack looked truly lost, almost shy as he tried to find the words. “And I wanted … to say ‘congrats’ … for you and Bun- Phoenix,” he scratched the back of his neck, “I know it’s late but it’s … I …” he took a deep breath and let out a sigh, “I’m not going to lie, I wanted it to be me,” he admitted, his eyes cast to the floor. “And I …” he looked back up at Parker, “I miss you,” he shook his head, “I know this isn’t ideal for you- for any of us,” he conceded, chewing his lip and glancing at the door behind him. This was already more words than he’d said in the last couple weeks combined and it felt like fighting against his own nature to be this vulnerable, but at the same time, around Parker was the only place he felt like he could be vulnerable. “And Phoenix talked to me about some of the stuff you shared-” he raised his hands defensively, “Not everything! Not like, private things, but he told me a bit about how you felt about … about that night,” he sighed again, his eyes falling closed. All of this was a crack - a weak point - in the armor shown only to Parker. “And … I just wanted to say that … I’m sorry,” he opened his eyes slowly, “I’m sorry for how it happened but … I’m not sorry that it did happen,” he said with a little shrug, “I dunno how to explain it- it- it doesn’t matter,” he dismissively said to himself. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this open and transparent, and if he was honest, it made his skin feel raw, like there was no fur to hide behind. He could feel the vulnerability like a rash under his skin, but the words, once started, wouldn’t stop. “You’re my family. Even if I’m not—” Presley’s jaw ticked, and he looked at Parker with something close to defeat. “Even if I’m not your choice.”

His face turned to the ground as he nodded to himself, having gotten out everything he wanted to say, even if it wasn’t in the way he’d rehearsed or hoped, it wasn’t perfect, but it was done. “Anyway - food’s ready whenever you are … it’s not as good as your cooking but-” he shrugged with a little laugh, “I’ll just leave it for you in the usual spot,” he said with a final nod, now turning to leave the bedroom, unsure if he felt heavier or lighter.

Things had gotten... better. Well, at least between him and Phoenix. Parker wasn’t sure if it was Phoenix’s way of making up for what happened, or just his natural instinct to care. Either way, things had shifted. It had been easier to forgive and forget after they finally talked things through—and even more so when they realized, a bit later, that they’d lost their virginities to each other a different night. They’d both been too drunk to remember.

Now, they were fully mated and bonded. Parker had become more emotional, vulnerable, and clingy than usual—still adjusting to all the sudden changes but Phoenix didn’t seem to mind. If anything, he was happy to indulge him, meeting his needs without hesitation. Parker even had a bit more freedom now—well, freedom around the house at least. That was all Phoenix had been able to negotiate. Presley and Peyton still flat-out refused to let Parker leave. They didn’t trust him, convinced he’d try to run if given the chance.

He’d overheard the argument the night they found out about the bond—Presley and Peyton had not taken the news well. Parker hadn’t accepted either of them yet, and it clearly stung. Not that he’d ever been all that warm to them in the first place. Presley had tried, once, but had mostly been met with silence or passive-aggressive comments. Peyton, on the other hand, usually just got insults, sarcasm, or flat-out rude remarks—conversations that always spiraled into small arguments.

Now, Presley barely said anything at all. When he did, it was clipped, like he wanted to say more but kept holding back. Peyton was worse—tense, angry, clearly suppressing something. He didn’t stay long when he came around, barely spoke. His visits felt more like hostile check-ins than anything else. Phoenix had been trying to get them to make peace, but he wasn’t pushing. He knew better. One wrong move and Parker would shut him out, too—and now that they were mated, that was the last thing either of them wanted.

Speak of the devil—Parker caught Phoenix’s scent coming up the stairs. Excitement bubbled in his chest, and he got up quickly, ready to greet his alpha with a smile and a hug— Only to freeze when Presley walked through the door. “Phoeni—oh,” Parker said, his voice dipping with disappointment. “It’s you.” Presley stood there, holding a bundle of clothes—some of Parker’s, and a few of Phoenix’s that he had stole, freshly washed and obviously scented for him. The air between them thickened. // @rencissancealpha

[rencissancealpha]

[rencissancealpha]

The crowd in the conference room had started as a restless, gossipy ocean of sports reporters and media personalities, but by now they'd grown hushed and attentive, hanging on Nathan's every word, letting out cheers and appreciative tones at the end of each statement. Even Colby, whose mouth had been primed for smirking comebacks, was slowly losing his edge beside Nathan’s effortless charisma. Nathan didn't care about them cheering, he cared only about the man who had asked him the questions in the first place. His Princess. To everyone else, Mike, and to him; so much more than he could explain or describe. Even from the distance between them, Nathan zoned in on the other enough to notice the way his Princess' cheeks had turned a soft shade of pink and noticed the little blush creeping up from his neck that had caused it- pink really suited the man in profound but natural way, whether it textured his skin or colored his clothing. He’d also noticed the other looked taken aback by his responses as he’d given them but something told Nate that it wasn't in a bad way. Something about the other's aura called to him the same way it had when they were together; he didn’t know what it was but he could feel that his Princess wanted him as much as he did. Maybe it was those eyes. The other was perfectly composed but there was a sparkle in those doe-eyes that he didn’t see when Mike looked at Colby or when he glanced around the room. Maybe it was the way his soft, pink lips parted ever so slightly as he breathed. Maybe it was the fact that, possibly unbeknownst to the other, but his entire body was pointed towards Nathan. Maybe it was his Neanderthal brain taking over, maybe he was crazy, but instinct and these tiny clues that he didn’t even register told him the other needed him.

Nathan needed to figure out how to get the other in the crowd alone before Colby, still solemn and glaring next to him on stage, or the press or anyone else could cut them off. The press conference eventually wound down, and as planned, Nathan's team started to usher him toward the elevators. The ritual of handshakes, charming banter, and side-eye glances between the rival managers was already in full swing, but Nathan’s attention was singular. Colby was still on stage, always the last to leave any photo opportunity and clearly wanting to get in a few last words to any lingering media personnel who cared. Perfect. He could sense his Princess moving through the crowd, not away from the commotion but sideways—lingering, as if his feet didn’t know where he wanted to go. For a man who had always moved with purpose, the hesitation was telling. Nathan made an excuse to pause and take a phone call, stepping behind a potted palm, trusting his manager would corral the press hounds and keep them busy. He watched as Mike finessed his way along the hallway, phone in hand, pretending to catch up on urgent texts but really looking up every couple steps. There was a meeting point ahead, an alcove by the restrooms, a natural pocket of privacy in the otherwise exposed corridor. Nathan intercepted him with a gentle, practiced ease, like they were strangers converging by random chance. His movements were subtle and natural, “Two minutes,” he said, voice low enough to get lost in the white noise of the crowd. “That’s all I’m asking, Princess.” Nathan gestured into the alcove, giving Mike the lead.

Inside, it was much quieter, and the marble floors caught their reflections at odd angles. Nathan turned so he was blocking the view from the hall and leaned in, so close anyone watching would assume they were having words over the other’s public interrogation. “I’ve missed you … you haven’t answered any of my texts,” There was a smile in his voice, but the rest was naked vulnerability. He took a slow breath, looking the other in the eye, “That night, it meant something. I know you don’t want to talk about it, but…” He ran a hand through his hair, searching for words. “It’s in your eyes every time you look at me. The same way it’s killing me not to reach for you every time I see you.” Nathan closed in another half-step, lowering his voice so it couldn’t escape the tile and marble. “Spend the weekend with me, let me prove it,” he murmured, “Tell fathead that you're sick at home, you picked up a cold from someone in the crowd. I’ll cancel everything and take you anywhere in the world you wanna go. Just you and me, again,” his own eyes sparkled at the proposal, “I ... I can’t let you go, Princess … I need you.”

Mike really didn’t like the way Nathan was looking at him. And it wasn’t for the usual reasons people disliked being stared at. There was no malice in it. No judgment. Nathan looked at him like he was something rare—like he was fragile and brilliant all at once. Like Mike was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. And that? That did something to him. No one had ever looked at him like that. Not even Colby—back before he turned into a complete jackass. Mike had tried to push, to test him, to see if he could crack that calm exterior. Provoke a reaction. But Nathan never flinched. He just kept smiling, kept watching him like nothing else existed, like Mike was the only one in the room. No one else noticed. They were all too busy watching the supposed showdown between Nathan and his “rival boyfriend,” completely missing the point. They didn’t see the truth. That Mike was still walking around with faint marks on his skin—hickeys and bruises he hadn’t bothered to explain. Marks Nathan had left.

He couldn’t help the flicker of disappointment that crossed his face. Mike had wanted the rumors about Nathan to be true—really, truly wanted that. Because if they were, then maybe he could finally move on. Let it all go. Pretend what they had never mattered. It would’ve been so much easier to hate him. But then Nathan answered. And the way he said it—the softness in his voice, the way his eyes seemed to cut right through him, like he wasn’t just talking about some hypothetical person but him—it made Mike’s heart stutter. He hated that it still got to him. His mind betrayed him, flashing back to the way Nathan had touched him that night. How careful he’d been, how he whispered praise like Mike was something sacred. Not just using him. Not treating him like a hookup to burn through and forget. Sure, later that night things had gotten rougher, kinkier, but even then, it had meant something. Nathan made it feel like they were making love. Like Mike was more than just a body. Like he mattered. The memory hit him hard, heat rushing to his face. He looked away, hoping no one noticed the flush creeping up his neck. If they did, maybe they’d just assume he was pissed off at Nathan’s answer. Frustrated. Annoyed. Not... remembering. Not falling all over again.

When Mike looked back at Colby, the expression on his face was unmistakable—annoyed, simmering, barely holding it together. Typical. He probably thought the crowd would turn on Nathan, that some kind of public shaming would unfold. But he hadn’t expected Nathan to be so damn charming. That effortless way he talked, the calm, the smile—it worked. People weren’t turning on him. If anything, they seemed more interested. Which meant Mike would be catching heat for this later. No doubt Colby would twist it around, act like Mike was supposed to sabotage Nathan more, make him look worse. As if he’d been handed a script and just refused to follow it. But no one told him to do anything. He’d acted on his own, hoping to get clarity—hoping Nathan would slip, or say something cruel, or maybe reveal that what happened between them had meant nothing. That it was all just some petty move in a rivalry. But that didn’t happen. And that "king" comment? It sent his brain spinning. Was that some kind of callback to what Nathan calls him—princess. Mike muttered a half-hearted thanks under his breath and slid back into his seat. He didn’t have the words for what he was feeling. Just static and chaos and something that might’ve been hope. All he knew was that he had to survive the rest of this—whatever this was—and get out before Nathan got the chance to corner him again. Because if he did… Mike wasn’t sure he’d be able to walk away a second time.

[rencissancealpha]

[rencissancealpha]

It was evident that the events of their recent past had finally pushed Peyton to a breaking point. The muscular alpha was at a complete loss- he'd been left in the dark about so much at this point he didn't even know if any of this brothers, let alone Parker, even really liked him. Peyton thought maybe they'd all get a fresh start in the new house; he'd hoped beyond hope for it, but then was made to watch as it seemed like everybody else got that except him. That being said, he'd spoken more and been more honest in the last few minutes with Parker than he'd been with anyone - even himself - ever. But, it was a lot, possibly too much, and when, at first, Parker seemed only able to respond in that same contemptuous tone he always ended up taking with him - and seemingly only him - Peyton felt himself further shutting down, feeling his heartbeat and the blood rushing past his ears getting louder than his brother, who's voice seemed to be fading away more and more with each biting remark.

"We just wanted you to be like us ... and with us," he murmured softly, his head pointed downwards and his eyes looking nowhere in particular, "Like, we never hated you, we hated the system that was put in place around you," his voice was monotonous, like each word lost a little more color and life. When the other brought up the yacht, he felt his eyes lift up, but not by much, "I did it because I thought the person I wanted the most rejected me," he admitted with a weak shrug that was probably barely noticeable, "I thought we'd finally had our chance and you ... didn't want it. Didn't want me," the words didn't even carry sadness anymore, like a narrator reading off a teleprompter, "So ... I did what I always did at the time."

"No, I wasn't treated the same," he murmured, correcting the other but without anger or resentment, emotion still vacant from his confessions, "Pres was the oldest and got the respect and the family pride and before you, Phoenix was the youngest and the baby that got all the attention and the new things- and after you he became the pretty boy and the bright star- I was always the middle kid that couldn't measure up, or got picked over," he shrugged again weakly, "And maybe you didn't realize it- just like mom and dad probably didn't realize it either- but it felt like everyone always got picked over me for one reason or another." He heard something against the window and his eyes finally looked up to notice that it had started lightly raining and water now gently tapped against the glass.

"Because I couldn't have you," he said softly, finally looking Parker in the eye, "I wanted them to be you- I was trying to find a cheap imitation of the real thing," he tried to explain. He no longer hid the details or his inner thoughts- honestly, everything was so far-gone that he didn't see the point in not being totally upfront now, "Whenever I was with them, I could only finish if I pretended it was you," his bitter laugh returned, "They were never you, though- Christ, none of them even came close," he lifted his hands slowly to rub his face, "And I didn't treat them right because I was just ... just constantly angry at what I couldn't have ... and angry at them for not being that for me," he held his face and shook his head at himself, "You don't," he sighed, "It was stupid- I'm stupid," he slowly dropped his hands, "I was just trying to fill a void that was shaped like you and nobody else fit."

He looked at the other, hurt but understanding at what he said- it made sense that Parker would think he thought of him the way he thought of the others, when, in his own twisted mind, Parker was different, Parker was special, Parker was leagues above the throwaway omegas that had been in his life. He hated that the other's idea of him was of his own doing, he couldn't argue that- couldn't explain it more than he'd already tried and so he just sadly nodded as the other spoke. When the other admitted to forgiving the others quicker than him, that felt like an arrow to the shoulder, a thudding, flesh-ripping wound- but when Parker repeated something that he vaguely remembered saying that fateful night the four of them spent together, that felt like an arrow to the heart. It was his fault. "I- I only meant that that's how you were letting Adam treat you," he stammered, his lip quivering, "You were just going to let him claim you then and there like you weren't anything special. Like you don't deserve more than a 'quick fix' or whatever reason you were going to let that-" he stopped himself from getting angry at Adam as he always did, simply not having the strength, "-let him- and I -" he shook his head, "I never meant it like that- I never me-" but Parker cut him off and he hadn't really been able to explain his thinking before his brother continued and every word, every sentence, felt like another arrow shot.

"No, you haven't," he whispered when the other claimed to have forgiven him, something that his actions and the way he spoke now clearly contradicted, "And I don't blame you," he added, having finally been enlightened to the whole picture of what had been going on around him. He flinched when the other said he treated him like a hole, turning away from him. That was the second or third time that Parker had claimed something like that and something about it disgusted him every time. His little brother was clearly saying it repeatedly in different ways because he could tell it was what hurt him most and each time he did, it was like barbed wire across the other's heart and mind, putting him through pain too excruciating to process in the moment and leading to his outburst. It was a brick house as the wall didn't react in anyway but in sound. He hit it again, and again, like the trees in the wood - the physical pain echoing his emotional pain and offering empty solace in a most primal way. Like a swan song ripping from his soul as it felt itself needing to shut down to protect itself from all that was happening to it, and so he was moved to finally saying his goodbyes in a last ditch attempt to protect himself, to get some semblance of himself out and away from all the pain.

When Parker grabbed him, the hulking beast of their family was so physically and emotionally drained that he had nothing in him to stop the other. The world was grey and sound lost all variation and the life behind his eyes was truly gone. The unexpected slap that ran across his face snapped his head to the side from the force of it and, truthfully, Peyton didn't feel it. He was numb. It didn't anger him as it might have a little earlier. It didn't upset him. It just felt like what he'd expect from the other after getting every last jab in on him before he left and truthfully, hearing the pain the other had suffered from misunderstandings at his own hand, he felt like he deserved it. He didn't know where to go from here but he knew he needed to get out from where he wasn't wanted. He tried to move again but Parker's hold kept him there and then the other started speaking again but this time - possibly for the first time - they weren't insults or accusations, they weren't snide remarks or sarcastic retorts, they weren't carefully calculated venomous daggers in the form of words - it was the other telling him ... that ... he loved him. Followed by a litany of assurances and sentimental confessions. It was everything he thought he'd never hear. Everything he thought the others would get but never him and at first, he almost thought that he'd truly been sent over the edge, that the slap had actually pushed him to a literal psychotic break- but, no - it was ... it was really happening.

Parker started revealing memories that he thought the other had forgotten, including parts of the stories that he'd never known and things that he knew but thought never mattered as much to his brother as they did to him. The brawny middle brother stood silently as he took in a part of Parker that he'd never gotten to see before. That was when he started to feel it - the warmth in his cheek, one that grew until he felt the feint after-sting of the slap. Parker's voice had also become clearer as he spoke, suddenly not sounding like he was shouting at Peyton from another room. His heart lifted when the other brought up the time they'd spent together, just the two of them. He instinctively reached out when the omega moved away from him but then he watched him return with one of his unpacked boxes, blinking blankly as he wasn't sure what he was looking at until Parker explained it. "I ... I have a box?" he murmured in disbelief. He was sure that Phoenix and Presley did too, and that was fine, it wasn't a competition to be the only alpha, or the only brother to be meaningful to Parker ... Peyton just wanted to be an equal. To be included. And right in front of him, Parker began to reveal something he didn't know existed; physical proof that he was.

He gingerly took the Stitch plushie and the red-cheeked alpha cracked a smile- not a measured, flirty smile or even one of his signature handsome half-grins but a stupid, goofy smile that showed his teeth as he looked at the toy and suddenly, even though the colors were a little faded on the old plushie, the world itself seemed to take on more color again. For some reason he lifted the toy to his face and breathed in the smell. Then came the rose. A singular dried flower nearly knocked him off his feet. He couldn't believe that Parker had kept it. Again, proving that everything he thought the other didn't notice or care about had truly meant as much to him as it did to Peyton. "I lied about that," he admitted in a little murmur, "You're the only person - omega or not - that I wanted to take to prom," he shrugged, "And it was one of the best nights of my life," he whispered, gently handing the rose back for Parker to return to the box. He looked confusedly at the jersey, not recognizing it at first but then his eyebrows slightly raised as the other explained and his jaw, literally, dropped. Not in a cartoonish way or exaggeratedly but his jaw went slack and he couldn't find the words to say. He couldn't believe the other had done that and he'd never known, and moved to ask the other why he never told him but the omega beat him to it.

His heart dropped when Parker explained and he hung his head, shaking it. It made total sense but he hated it. "No- you don't know what I really think about omegas," he sighed softly, "You know what Dad told me to think about omegas," he tried to explain, shaking his head again and rubbing his eyes, "I don't know if he saw how close we were or what started it all but for as long as I can remember he never fucking let up on me about "being soft" and all this shit about "alphas need to be hard" and a bunch of crap about omegas and I just ... I said and did a lot of that stuff just to ... just to get him off my back," he murmured, his lips tightly pressed together, "He had ... some pretty ... intense ways of trying to 'get rid of my soft side'," he admitted quietly, "So I just started saying a bunch of shit to make it stop- a lot of the times trying to convince myself of that stuff and sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't and I'd still get a fistful." He didn't need to repeat his reasons for sleeping around, how Parker had always been in his mind the whole time, how he'd absolutely noticed the other, Parker already knew and so he nodded quietly as he let his brother speak. "I always like the idea of omegas being more ... like, treated equally," he shrugged, "Sounded kinda nice where everyone gets to be happy ..." He trailed off, letting Parker continue his thoughts until couldn't help but let out a little huffed laugh when the other inadvertantly echoed his own thoughts 'I just wanted to be an option'. They were so much more similar than they realized that it was crazy and it was becoming more apparent that they had been running in circles right next to each other the whole time. "You always looked good ... I noticed- even when you weren't trying. You'd drive me crazy when you wore red, you had all these nice outfits that were so tight and ... God fuckin' dammit, I wanted you so fuckin' badly," he said in a way to commiserate with Parker, not correct him. They had both been blind in their own ways - both by choice and by external factors beyond their control.

Peyton actually let out a more noticeable laugh when Parker admitted his devious schemes to get rid of girls, clearly more impressed and amused than any other emotion. It made so much sense now, looking back at it; but he also had a resounding feeling that it didn't change anything. Whether Parker had lied about them or not- he'dve cut anybody off that the apple of his eye didn't like being around him- no matter where they'd been in their lives and relationships. The laugh was short lived as Parker started crying, really crying as he stood from the box then and Peyton wanted more than anything to immediately pull him close but- he more so needed to hear what Parker had to say and needed to let the other have a fair chance get everything out. They needed every last card on the table now more than ever, no matter how much it hurt. He used his feet to lightly scoot the box out of the way from between them, sliding it across the floor and letting the other step closer, not flinching or stopping him but instead, like always, welcoming him and when Parker finally finished he pulled his little brother into a tight hug.

"I'll only ever go where you need me," he murmured softly, letting out a deep, long sigh as he was being put through the emotional gamut at record speed today, "I thought you wanted me gone ... that you all did and were just keeping me around because of obligation or ... worse, I don't know," he let Parker go, reaching up and began to softly wipe Parker's tears away with both hands at either side of the other's face, "But if you want me to stay. Then I'm not fuckin' going anywhere," he said softly, now just holding Parker's face gently and letting their eyes meet for a long moment before he then pressed their foreheads together. "I fucking love you too," he whispered, slowly parting from the other and looking at him again, but this time with a renewed tenderness and before he could stop himself he leaned in and kissed Parker. Gentle and uncertain at first but soon growing in confidence as one hand slipped down and pulled the other's body close and let the kiss deepen; Parker's intoxicating smell and taste filling his senses unlike anything he'd ever experienced before. It made every other kiss he'd shared completely pale in comparison - kissing Parker felt like taking the first breath after coming up from an extremely deep dive. His brother's body fit perfectly against his own and it wasn't lost on the red-blooded wolf that the omega was still very much naked.

Finally, after the kiss had heated up quite a bit, they broke free and Peyton looked at the other, his eyes dilated and hungry, "Baby- I really wanna ... should we ... fuck you're so- and I'm ..." he tried and failed but the other could almost certainly feel the bulge between them growing enough to know what his brother- and prospective alpha- was trying to ask, "I - I know we still got shit to figure out and if you're willing to do that, then so am I. I want you more than I've ever wanted anything in my life. I want to be your alpha more than I want to be anything in life," he said, "I'll do anything for you," he promised, taking the other's hand, "Let me claim, you, Baby," he whispered, looking at the other for another long moment, "And let me fuck your brains out like I should've done that day on the yacht."

This had been a long time coming. Years of tension, silent stares, and biting back words sharp enough to cut—it was all about to explode. The pressure had been building for too long, and now it was hitting the breaking point. They'd always danced around each other, pretending it was fine, keeping things civil when they could. And yeah, sometimes they had their moments—brief flickers of something almost tender. But more often, they clashed. Hard. They were opposites in every way that mattered. Fire and ice. Peyton was the textbook alpha—rough around the edges, dangerously charming, the kind of guy who didn’t flinch when the world tried to break him. Parker was softer, slower to speak, with hands that healed instead of hurt. People were always surprised when they found out he was a Mitchell brother. He didn’t act like one—not the way people expected. Together him and Peyton, they looked like the goddamn poster couple for some cliché alpha-omega fantasy. But that was the problem. Parker wasn’t built for submission, not the way everyone expected him to be. He’d spent years fighting every instinct drilled into him, every urge to roll over and make himself small just to survive. Any other omega in his position might’ve given in by now—welcomed the dynamic, the control, the structure. Hell, they probably would’ve submitted with open arms. But Parker? He wasn’t built like that. He never had been.

That’s why he had the nerve to challenge, question, even lay hands on an alpha. It was rare—stupid, honestly. A death wish, especially for someone like him. But Parker wasn’t afraid. Not of Peyton. Deep down, he knew his brother would never go that far. Their fights had been brutal, sure—shouting matches, slammed doors, bruised egos—but never that. And if Peyton ever did cross that line, he’d have to deal with the other two. Parker had only ever seen one omega get away with that kind of defiance—his mother. She was the only one who seemed to have real power over their father. There was something in the way she moved, the way she spoke—like she carried secrets that could shatter him. Their father would back down from her, let her raise Parker the way she wanted. And maybe that’s why Parker ended up the way he did. If they were being honest, if not for the wild streak—the impulsiveness, the temper—Peyton could’ve been the perfect soldier, the perfect alpha to carry his legacy. That’s what their father wanted: order, control, a legacy of power.

It was a question he didn’t even know how to answer—hell, he didn’t even know where to start. The alpha had done a lot to him over the years. Some of it might’ve been intentional. Some of it... maybe not. Parker wasn’t sure. Either way, digging into it felt like cracking open a wound that had never really healed. That kind of honesty would mean facing things he’d buried deep. Things he wasn’t sure he could survive admitting. Yeah, maybe he’d said he hated him before. But those were just words—heat-of-the-moment bullshit he never truly meant. “It’s the way you treat me. The way you talk to me sometimes,” he snapped, voice low but sharp like glass. He kept it vague, maybe on purpose. Some hurts didn’t need to be spelled out to be felt.

Then Peyton had the audacity to say he wasn’t like the others. And Parker nearly laughed. If Parker was so different, then why didn’t he act like it? Why did Parker still feel like an afterthought? If he was so damn special, where was that so-called special treatment? He opened his mouth to say something—anything—but the words caught in his throat. It felt like someone had dumped ice water down his spine and slapped him across the face. He froze. Peyton had compared him to their father. Their father. For a second, all he could do was stare. Then, his voice came back—sharp, bitter, cracked down the middle. “That’s the pot calling the kettle black,” he shot back, low and venomous, wanting Peyton to feel every ounce of the pain twisting in his chest.

Although the way Peyton said it made his stomach twist with concern, Parker couldn’t ask—not right now. Not here. Did their dad abuse him? The thought hit hard, sharp and sudden. He filed it away to come back to later. There were too many layers to pull back in one sitting. “I can’t believe you actually said that to me,” Parker muttered with a bitter laugh. His voice cracked at the edges, raw with disbelief. “You think I enjoy this? You think I like fighting with you? Like it brings me some twisted thrill?” He looked away, jaw clenched. “I didn’t realize you thought so fucking little of me.” His eyes snapped back. “You know, you’re not much better.” Parker shook his head slowly, every movement weighed down by exhaustion. “I could argue. I could sit here and fight to change your mind, but it’s clear you’ve already decided who I am. Some monster in your head. And nothing I say is gonna fix that.” His voice softened, breaking a little. “So what’s the point?”

He ran a hand through his hair, fingers trembling with frustration. “How else was I supposed to feel? I always felt like a burden. Like the three of you resented me just for existing—just for being the one who got the favoritism I never even asked for.” Parker’s voice rose, sharp now. “Don’t think I don’t know what you all say when you think I’m not listening. I’ve heard every complaint. Every whisper about how easy I have it. About how I don't deserve it. So yeah, excuse me for not immediately buying into your sudden sincerity.” His chest heaved, anger and hurt bubbling to the surface. “The yacht… that was the first time in forever I felt close to you again. I thought maybe, maybe, it could be a fresh start. But what did you do?” He laughed bitterly, eyes glossed over. “You got drunk. Brought some random girl back. And then you went right back to treating me like I didn’t matter.” He took a step forward, words spitting like venom. “So don’t you dare put all this on me. You’re just as responsible.” Then he snapped. “Oh, fucking stop it! You talk like I ran to them. You were treated the same way for years! Only recently did anything change. So standing there, acting like I always relied on Phoenix or Presley? That’s complete bullshit.”

“If I was your gold standard,” he spat, “then tell me—why the hell did you go around sleeping with everyone?” His voice cracked, fury slipping through the edges. “If you really held me that high, if you were comparing them to me, then why didn’t you treat them like fucking princesses? Why didn’t you give them the bare minimum of respect?” He laughed, bitter and broken. “How the hell do I compare to a cheerleader who’s slept with half the football team and probably been in a fucking gangbang? Or the ones who knowingly cheated on their partners just to crawl into your bed? Or the ones who used me—manipulated me—just to get close to you? That’s not a compliment but an insult.”

"I already know how you see us, Omega. Why would I be any different?" His voice cracked, but he didn’t care. "I'm just treating you the way you treat me—how someone in my role should treat you. Might as well get used to it, right?" He laughed bitterly, but there was no humor in it. Only pain. "Do you even know what it feels like to be a male Omega? Always watching my back, knowing there’s a target on me just for existing? Like I’m the bottom of the barrel. Like I’ll probably never be fucking happy." Anger bubbled up in his throat, hot and choking. "Why do you think we end up like this every single time we’re alone? Arguing, yelling, tearing each other apart?" He looked away, jaw tight. "I don’t want this to keep spiraling. I need time—to breathe, to move on, to forgive you. But you don’t give me that, do you? You're stubborn as hell, and you keep pushing when I’m not ready." His eyes met theirs, raw and full of heat. "You barged into my room, demanding answers, demanding me, instead of taking one goddamn baby step."

"Do you want to know why I forgave them more quickly?" he snapped, voice trembling with restrained emotion. "It’s because they didn’t say I was no better than a worthless piece of ass they fucked. Your words exactly! They didn’t talk down to me or treat Omegas like garbage. They weren’t the ones tearing me apart when I already felt like shit." His chest rose and fell, heavy with the weight of everything he hadn’t said. "I was vulnerable. Embarrassed. Scared out of my mind. It was my first heat, my first real experience with my Omega side, and I didn’t know what the hell was happening to me. Can you even imagine that? The three people I love, care about, trust more than anything—standing there, seeing me at my absolute worst." His voice cracked, but he kept going.

"I forgave you for what happened that night. But I didn’t forgive you for what you said. That still hurts. And of course you don’t understand—how could you, with the way you see us? My mom warned me about Alphas like you." He looked away, jaw clenched. "And no, I didn’t forgive them just because they were gentler. They didn’t treat me like a hole. They didn’t barge into my room, shouting demands and pushing for answers I wasn’t ready to give." Suddenly, there was a loud thud—Peyton had hit the wall. He jumped instinctively, his heart racing. Parker’s instinct screamed to go to him, to check his hands, tend to the pain. God, it was killing him not to close the distance and pull him into a hug. Deep down, it was destroying him to see Peyton like this—so raw, so undone. The Alpha who always held himself together, always brushed things off like they didn’t matter... now unraveling. He’d always thought Peyton was the strongest one. Physically? Definitely. But maybe not emotionally. Maybe that strength was all surface. And yet Parker wasn’t afraid—not of Peyton, not of the way he might take out on. Deep down, he knew he’d always be safe with him. Always protected.

The omega had never felt anger like this before. It wasn't just rage—it was hurt, deep and festering. His blood boiled as he tried, desperately, to calm himself, but Peyton’s words—the lies—kept echoing in his head like poison on repeat. And then Peyton turned to leave. Just like that. Said he was going, maybe for good. Was that it? Was he really going to give up? Had he just lost Peyton forever? What the hell was he even planning to do—run off with nowhere to go? He couldn’t go back home. Not with their parents eventual questions on where everyone had gone. And their dad—God, their dad would probably beat him, torture him, maybe even kill him. No. He couldn’t let Peyton leave. Before he could think it through, before he could process anything, Parker stormed forward and grabbed him—using everything he had to turn him around. And suddenly, they were face to face. Staring at each other. But the words kept playing in his head, winding tighter and tighter until the fury snapped loose.

He didn’t even know how it happened. His hand moved before his brain did—and he slapped him. “DON’T. YOU. FUCKING. DARE. SAY. THAT.” The words came out low, rough, practically a growl. His chest heaved as he continued, the dam fully broken. “You can insult me, compare me to that monster, blame me for everything—but I’ll be damned if I let you stand there and accuse me of thinking you’re worthless. That I don’t love you. That I never saw you as my brother.” He hadn’t even noticed the tears sliding down his face. “I fucking love you. I care about you so much it’s unbearable sometimes. I can’t even begin to describe it.” He paused, voice cracking. “Did you know, when I was a kid—when they used to lock me in that room—I was terrified of the dark? No one knew. You know why? Because I couldn’t show weakness. God forbid anyone ever saw that. I couldn’t sleep. I’d bury myself in blankets, shaking. But you know what got me through those nights? The thought of you. Not Phoenix. Not Presley. You, Peyton. My big brother. My hero. You’d protect me. You’d never let anything happen to me. You’d kill any monster that came near. I had to be brave—because you were brave. Because I wanted to be just like you.”

Despite how composed and collected his words sounded, everything else about him betrayed the truth. His body was radiating distress—sadness, pain, and that lingering thread of anger thick in the air like smoke. He knew Phoenix and Presley could probably sense it. Wouldn’t surprise him if they were already making their way back. But he needed to get this out. All of it. And this time, he wasn’t running. He wasn’t letting anyone stop him—not even them. "God… I think I lost the ability to hate you the day you saved me from those bullies." His voice was softer now, but no less intense. "Do you remember that? Because I’ve never forgotten it. You were the only one who noticed. I’d never seen you that angry. I honestly thought you were going to kill them." He let out a shaky breath, eyes burning. "But you didn’t shame me for not being tough. You just checked me over, handed me my teddy bear, and used your own money to buy me ice cream. Then you sat there, watching over me while I played. You refused to leave my side, even when Phoenix and Presley got pissed that you wouldn’t go play with them. I started dragging you into my world after that. I made you play with me."

He turned away, walking over to a pile of boxes—some of the only things his brothers had brought back from the house. Not everything, but the important stuff. The hidden stuff. The things he asked them not to look through. And, miraculously, they hadn’t. He pulled out a small box and dropped it at Peyton’s feet with a soft thud. Then he rifled through it, yanking out a few folded pages and shoving them against Peyton’s chest. "These… these are letters and papers. Stuff I wrote about you. How I saw you. How I still see you. How much I love you." His voice cracked slightly as he knelt beside the box and started pulling items out one by one. "Look through it. Everything you’ve ever given me, every note, every gift—I saved it."

He held up a familiar blue plush with worn stitching. "You remember this? Stitch. The plush you won me at the fair. I wanted it so bad but didn’t have the guts to play the game. So you snuck off, won it, and gave it to me like it was no big deal. You said the game just looked fun and you didn’t want the prize anyway… so you figured you’d get it for me.” A sad smile tugged at his lips. "I didn’t believe you. Not for a second. But I played along." Followed by a dried but in tact rose. "The rose and corsage you gave me for prom? I still remember them. You only took me because you didn’t want to ask an Omega and give them the wrong idea. But still... we had such a good time. We danced, talked, laughed—hell, we even shared a drink, got drunk, and couldn’t remember half the night after that." He smiled faintly, eyes distant with the memory. "You ditched your friends just to hang out with your annoying little brother. And that... that meant the world to me." Then he pulled out a folded jersey, worn soft from use. "You never saw me wear this, but I did. Every time you played. I acted like I didn’t care, like I never went to your games—but I never missed one. I was always there. Hiding in the back, in the crowd. Cheering you on.” He looked up then, tears in his eyes, raw and open. “You were everything to me. Still are.”

He left it open—like a silent invitation, like he wanted the other to dig through it. “I know what you’re thinking. If this is how I felt, then why didn’t I show it? Why didn’t I say something? But how could I? There were so many times I almost told you—so many moments I wanted to confess. But then I found out what you really thought about omegas. And it crushed me. God, it destroyed me. It broke my fucking heart. But what was I supposed to do? So I pulled back. I distanced myself because it was easier than letting you in—easier than letting you close enough to break me worse if you ever found out the truth. And then you really leaned into your playboy persona. I watched you flirt, charm, fuck your way through omegas like it meant nothing—and toss them aside once you were done. And I thought... Is that all I’ll ever be to him? If I was lucky? But then something darker crept in. Jealousy. Rage. It burned every time I saw you with someone else—every time I had to hear about it. I told myself you were just disgusting, a selfish asshole. But deep down? I knew the truth. I wanted you to look at me the way you looked at them. That’s all I wanted. I didn’t care if it meant being just another one-night stand, just another name you forgot the next day. I just wanted to be an option. I wanted you, even if it meant nothing to you. But I wasn’t. I never was. No matter how nice I tried to be, how pretty I made myself look, you never even glanced at me. Not once. And I wanted to scream. I wanted to grab your face and force you to see me, not as your brother but as your potential omega and mate. I wanted your praise, your attention. I wanted you to charm me, tell me I looked good—make me feel like I existed in your world for more than a passing second. And you want to know something else? I snapped. I couldn’t take it anymore. So I started sabotaging you. I cockblocked you more times than you’ll ever know. God, the lengths I went to. I lied about how the girls treated me. Played the victim, because I knew you’d always take my side. And you did. Every single time. You threw them out or cut them off. I would sometimes exposed them to their partners so they’d be dragged away. Or I would simply scare them off or I humiliated them. And it was petty. So fucking petty. But it worked.”

He was sobbing now, the kind of cry that tore straight from the gut, unfiltered and ugly. "All I ever wanted was you," he choked out. "And maybe I didn’t say it enough, or show it the right way, but it’s the truth." His hands trembled at his sides. "If I didn’t care—if I hated you—I would’ve cut you off completely. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. I always fucking cared. I fucking love you, Peyton. I always have." His voice cracked, but he forced the words through anyway. "Yeah, I was pissed. Yeah, I was hurt. But that doesn’t erase what’s real. That doesn’t mean my feelings disappear overnight. No matter what happens between us, you’ll always be my big brother. That’s never going to change." He stepped forward, desperation bleeding from every word. "So go ahead—be mad at me. Be furious. But please... don’t leave. I’m begging you." His breath hitched, and his voice fell to a whisper, ragged and trembling. "I don’t know what’ll happen if you go. And if something happens to you... I won’t be able to live with it. I’ll never forgive myself."

[rencissancealpha]

Nathan rested his chin on his hand as he looked at the other, waiting for him to speak- though it was hard to concentrate on the other's words when all he could think about was just how beautiful Mike really was. That soft jawline, those piercing eyes and full lips; in his head Nathan could smell the other again, that beautiful mix of musk and sweetness- unlike anything he'd experienced before or since. He snapped himself back into reality though when Mike posed his next question. A question salacious enough to elicit a series of 'oohs' and whispers around the room as all eyes darted back to Nathan; but, again, the athlete seemed unfazed and for reasons only known to himself and to the other man on the mic, he couldn't stop smiling.

"I have nothing against the Playboy lifestyle but let me be clear that, despite the rumors, it's never been my lifestyle," he pointed out, "I'm afraid the real truth is that outside of the ring, I'm actually quite boring," he chuckled and the room seemed to almost immediately lighten with the sound, "So boring that when I'm photographed having dinner with family or business associates, the press loves to run with the idea that I'm having some saucy night out with a lover but that's never been the case- the last person I saw romantically was a girl I dated in high school," he chuckled again, "And it was a very serious relationship, oh yeah," he said, sarcasm evident in his voice, "So serious that when I didn't make it as the team's quarter back one season, she immediately decided to move on to the guy who did," he laughed again, waving off some of the crowd who offered sympathetic 'aww's' in response, "Yeah, no, unlike a lot of my colleagues - I'm the kind of guy that wants only one person to wake up to in the morning and go to bed with at night. One person to win bears for at county fairs. One person on the side of the ring with my name on them. One person to love."

The room burst out in a soft round of applause and Nathan gushed, smiling and thanking them for it and letting the room settle again before he continued, "And as for your next question- 'What if I can't have what I want?' ... well, that's never happened so I guess we might never know," he winked, another round of laughter echoing through the room as it was clear he had the crowd and the press in his hand and it became easy to understand how he'd gotten as famous as he had, "Colby can come back swinging as many times as he wants - I'm not afraid - I'll be there and I'll take every swing on the chin and then I'll knock him right back down to where he belongs and remind him who the king really is and always will be."

Mike knew he had to be careful, especially since Colby was already suspicious about Vegas. If Colby hadn’t experienced firsthand how hard he had tried to get him into bed, he might not have believed that nothing happened. He even went as far as hiding the pain he was in—Nathan had really done a number on him, leaving marks that wouldn’t be easy to explain if seen. As far as his boyfriend knew, they had gotten drunk, gambled, ordered room service, and watched random movies. Nothing more, nothing less. And while that was partially true, Mike barely remembered most of that night. It was a blur—except for the parts that mattered.

That was why he had to act like he was taunting Nathan. Though, from the look on Nathan’s face, he could tell it wasn’t really taunting. Colby, on the other hand, looked smug, as if Mike was defending his honor. It was hard not to give in to Nathan’s charm, but the people around them weren’t immune. Mike forced himself to keep a straight face as Nathan answered his question, though after a while, it became clear they weren’t talking about fighting anymore. The way Nathan spoke, the way he looked at him, sent heat creeping up Mike’s neck, his cheeks tinged pink. That was not the answer he’d expected.

On the plus side, Nathan hadn’t exposed or bragged about what happened in Vegas. He’d had the perfect opportunity, but he didn’t take it. Did he mean what he’d said that night? Did he mean it now? Or was this all just some long game—luring Mike away from Colby just to rub it in his face before discarding him when he became useless? Mike wasn’t sure how to feel. He needed answers, needed to figure out if this was just another ploy. But he had to be discreet—if Colby sensed something was off, the last thing Mike needed was more questions, more accusations.

So he played his part, pretending to be unimpressed. “Interesting. Does that include the record of people you’ve slept with? I know Colby is a loyal man, but there are plenty of rumors about your playboy status. Care to defend that?” His gaze flicked toward his boyfriend, who looked over the moon at the question. At least now he’ll stop pestering me, Mike thought. “Is that so? And what if you can’t have what you want? Then what?” Mike’s expression didn’t waver. “Colby doesn’t go down easily. He’s known to come back swinging.”

[rencissancealpha]

Salem was a shadow. While he had now truly found home with Liam and his family, the streets and the night time were his territory. While their love life certainly wasn't in need of any injection of excitement, the two were so insatiable for one another that one idea posed sporadically had lead to another and another and soon they planned out a sordid fantasy for the two of them. Salem spotted Liam walking before the other had even made it to anywhere of light and he bit down on the inside of his cheeks hard; the other looked incredible. Liam's body was decorated and displayed in a way that sang like a siren song just to him and by the time the other reached the light and Salem saw his lover in all his glory, he couldn't wait another moment and he struck.

Salem shoved Liam against the nearest wall, the feint glow of the singular streetlight outlining their forms. His movements were rough but not enough to hurt- just enough to exercise complete control and assert dominance over the other. Enough to sell the complete fantasy. Salem was already rock hard thanks to the other's outfit but he knew Liam had probably planned it that way, keeping one last surprise in his sleeve for his boyfriend, knowing exactly how to drive him wild. "Shut up," he spoke, "You don't get to ask questions," he growled, running the hand that wasn't helping pin the other's body along the other's sides; half like he was checking his pockets but also clearly using it as an excuse to feel the other up.

"Doesn't feel like you've got any cash on you," he huffed, the weight of his hefty muscles still weighing against the other, almost effortlessly bending him to his will, "God dammit- I should just fucking kill you for wasting my time," he said darkly, emphasizing the dramatic point with a little more pressure, "Be a waste of such a pretty face though," he grinned, leaning in and licking a stripe along Liam's cheek, both a threat and a tease and yet another display of control as the other could do nothing to stop him from doing what he wanted, "Maybe there's something else you could give me to make this worth my time," he hummed, rocking his hips now, his throbbing cock massaging against the other's plump rear, both held and separated by barely any clothing, "Why don't you get on your pretty little knees and show me?" he murmured, "And don't try any funny business, pretty boy, we both know I could end it all for you before you'd even get half way through with it," he added, now slowly lifting off the other before guiding him down to his knees and when the other was in position and looking up at him, the sound of Salem's zipped being pulled down filled the still ambient night air of the deserted street corner.

A flicker of nervous excitement ran through Liam as he stepped into the dimly lit alley. His heart pounded against his ribs, but not out of fear—at least, not the kind someone in his position should be feeling. It had all started as a conversation, one that quickly spiraled into something else, something more exciting. And now, here he was. What Liam hadn’t told Salem was what he was wearing. The outfit was deliberately revealing, meant to tease, to tempt—to bring out the beast in him. He wanted Salem to lose control, to give in. Liam had no idea where the other was. He just followed the path they had agreed upon. As he stepped under the only working streetlight, a shadow moved—too fast for him to react. Before he could even catch his breath, he was shoved against the wall.

Liam wasn’t really scared—but he had to pretend to be. He knew exactly who had him pinned, knew the game they were playing, and he had to stay in character. That wasn’t the hard part, though. The hard part was resisting the urge to kiss Salem like he usually did when they were this close. He had promised to use the safe word if, at any point, he felt uncomfortable, if he was in pain, if he changed his mind, or if Salem got too rough. But right now? He wasn’t planning on stopping anything.

Liam could feel something big, solid and raging pressing against him, and there was no doubt in his mind—Salem probably wanted to skip all the foreplay if he could. But they wanted this to be more fun. “W-Who are you? W-What do you want? Let me go!” Liam stammered, struggling against him. Not that he could actually break free. There was no faking that part—Salem was huge, pure muscle, easily ten times Liam’s size and strength. Even if Liam fought back with everything he had, it wouldn’t matter. He was completely overpowered, and he wanted it to feel real. // @rencissancealpha

[rencissancealpha]

Valentine's Day hadn't ever really meant much for Nathan- he was one of those only kids who's mom had been his "Valentine" for most of his life so he usually just set her a sweet text and had some flowers delivered. But this time was different - this time he actually had someone special in his life that he wanted to be his Valentine. Hell, he wanted Princess to be lot more than that but the time just wasn't right yet, it seemed and Nathan ... was okay with that. The heavyweight champion had his goal in sight and if that meant taking things slow for now then that's what he would do.

Laying in bed that morning, Nathan, like everyone else in the world, mindlessly doom scrolled through his social media and noticed Colby posting from some far off state. He'd followed them back when they were still acquaintances and had kept following him just in case the other posted photos of his Princess. Nate frowned a little, a pang of jealousy at the thought that he'd probably taken Mike away for Valentine's weekend. But then his brows furrowed in confusion when his freshly-woken brain connected the dots that Princess had sent his location when he'd gotten home last night to let Nate know that he was safe. That meant for some bizarre reason, the man who could actually publicly call Mike his Valentine was spending the day halfway across the country without him.

Rather than getting annoyed or angry at Colby like he usually did- Nate immediately saw an opportunity and leaped into action. It took just shy of an hour for him to be dressed in a deep maroon suit that he'd yet to wear out, and his wondrous assistant had an expensive box of venus et fleur roses and a box of assorted european chocolates - clichéd but also classic. He wanted their first Valentine's to be like that, a classic, by-the-book style affair, a strong and cheesily romantic place to start from and they could get more creative and personalized with it with each passing year as they pleased. While he drove over to Princess' apartment, his assistant was pulling strings to get them a table somewhere beautiful- no effort or expense was spared when it came to his lover; a complete and total opposite to the other's current partner.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Princess," Nathan greeted with a wide smile, the box of roses in one hand and the box of chocolates in the other. "I was just wondering if you were free today if you'd wanna ... be my Valentine?" He asked with a little glow in his cheeks and a sparkle in his eye. Before the other could answer his phone rang and Nathan quickly understood it was Kate calling- he knew well their special bond and gestured for the other to continue while he let himself in, closing the door with a light kick and moving to set the gifts down on a coffee table in the living room. His hands had just freed when he heard what the familiar voice of the little girl cried out and he looked over at Princess confusedly, thinking for a second that maybe she'd gotten confused and meant to wish the other Happy Valentine's Day instead.

But seeing the look on the other's face told him everything he needed to know and all the cliche'd warmth than had been practically glowing off of Nathan drained almost in an instant, "It's your birthday?" he asked, his voice soft and coloured in disbelief. "W-" he wanted to ask more but he was reminded that the other was on a call and closed his mouth, gulping softly and looking to the ground as he did. Why wouldn't Mike have told him that? What had he never been a thoughtful enough partner to have asked before? Why was Mike spending his birthday alone? Question after question now raced through his mind and while he'd felt like a really sweet gesture when he'd arrived at and walked through the door, he couldn't help but feel like a fool.

It was one of those days when Mike usually locked himself in his room, eating takeout and avoiding anything to do with his birthday or Valentine’s Day. When he was younger, it wasn’t that bad, but over the years, the day had lost its magic. It was hard to be excited about it when your boyfriend either stood you up or forgot all about it. Nathan would have been more than happy to spend the day with him, but that would have meant answers, and Mike wasn’t ready for those. Not that he didn't want to be with Nathan—it was just that Valentine’s Day always seemed to end in disaster. He didn’t want to risk ruining one of the few good things in his life.

Somehow, Nathan had already pieced together enough about Mike’s past to ask why he’d stayed with Colby for so long. Mike didn’t have a good answer. Guilt, maybe? Cheating was messy, and ending things cleanly felt impossible. The truth was, his relationship with Colby hadn’t always been a wreck. Colby used to be thoughtful, sweet even. But the wrong crowd and a taste of fame had changed him, leaving Mike clinging to scraps of what they once had.

Nathan, on the other hand, was ready for more—ready to be official, to have Mike all to himself, if only he would let him. Mike was in his apartment, lounging around, making snacks, when there was a knock on the door. Thinking it was the takeout he’d ordered, he got up to open it, only to be greeted by a familiar face. That’s when it hit him—Mike had shared his location with Nathan. And Colby had been posting all day from a different state. So, Nathan had probably figured out Mike was alone on Valentine’s Day. The only good part was that Nathan didn’t know it was Mike’s birthday.

Mike forced a smile, feigning innocence. “Oh, hey! What are you doing here?” he tried to sound casual, but before he could think much more about it, his phone rang. It was Kate. “Give me a second,” he muttered, stepping aside. Mike never missed a facetime from Kate, so he swiped to answer. Before he could even get a word in, a little girl’s voice screamed, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” so loudly he flinched. Mike froze. His cheeks burned as the words echoed in the silence. And just like that, the secret was out. // @rencissancealpha

[rencissancealpha]

@karmamcde