#voicessoftlikethunder

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Slam Drunk || Micha & Alex

voicessoftlikethunder

Alex had definitely not planned on getting drunk. Ever. When he gets drunk he gets irrational and he loses control and that never ends well for anyone. Which is also why he doesn’t take note of the unfamiliar buzzing feeling in the back of his skull after he finishes his first glass of plain old Dr Pepper at this dumb party he was dragged to. By the time he’s finished his second, the world is starting to tilt a little and everyone seems a lot more attractive.

Especially this huge refreshing bundle of muscles and masculinity. “Hey there,” Alex says, grinning as he puts his elbows on the couch next to the guy’s head. “You’re hot and I want to lick you, what’s your name?” he asks, words slurring together a bit. He feels good tonight. Confident. Like he could really do with some dick.

So not too much different from normal, but.

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G’day, Mate || Micha & Alex

voicessoftlikethunder

The past couple of hours had been an uncomfortable whirlwind of hairdressers, tailor adjustments, papers to sign, flowers to gather, rings to sort out, and unending tips from every direction imaginable on how to be a good Omega. Chin down, don’t look him in the eye, straighten your back, hands behind you so he can see your body, speak only when spoken to, don’t raise your voice, be elegant, know your manners, don’t stutter, don’t say anything out of your place. The list was endless, but the message was clear, at least to Alex: you aren’t your own person anymore, and your only purpose is to be a good mate.

Not, of course, that Alex didn’t want to be a good mate. It’s just that he didn’t think he really knew how. And he knew precious little about the Alpha he was supposed to be marrying; only that he’d fought for the King and was considered to be unstable and dangerous. Alex had decided long ago not to pass judgement on what he knew from those around him, so the reputation that preceded Micha Burke didn’t really do anything to make his nerves worse or better, really.

As he’s shoved into the room, chaperone sitting quietly off to the side, Alex realizes he’s over his head. He struggles to control his breathing, to remember everything the people have told him, as he stares at the floor with his hands behind his back and his back straight and his unusually masculine outfit immaculate and his chest fluttering to find air.