Chapter Text
It was supposed to be just another night out.
William didn’t even want to go at first. He’d been buried in sketch revisions all week, too annoyed with the senior group project and too distracted by everything he wasn’t saying aloud but Lego had practically dragged him out of the dorm, yelling something about needing “one last taste of freedom before next semester year eats us alive.”
So, here he was, shoulder-to-shoulder with his usual crew Lego, Nut, Tui, and Hong weaving through the soft violet haze of a rooftop bar overlooking the Bangkok skyline. From the 21st floor, the view was gold-dusted and dizzying. The bar had been dark and loud, music thrumming low and pulsing through bodies pressed too close.
They found a booth near the edge, drinks were ordered. Tui and Nut were already teasing each other about finals. Hong sat back, quiet as always. Lego, restless, leaned over the table and wrinkled his nose.
“I smell at least three unmated alphas and–” Lego said, “one very confused beta in pseudo-heat.”
William sipped something fruity. “You always say that.”
“That’s because I’m always right.”
William laughed, but his eyes drifted over the crowd anyway and then stopped. He didn’t know what made him move, maybe it was the man’s posture elegant, unbothered, maybe it was the stillness, maybe it was the eyes that glanced up just once, sharp and unreadable, then slid away like William wasn’t worth the effort of noticing which obviously made William want to be noticed more.
The man’s scent was faint, tightly restrained but William caught it anyway. A sharp sweetness layered over something darker, peach first, refreshing and playful, beneath it had a rich wine. Cool at first, then sticky on the back of his tongue, elusive, dangerous and pure omega.
William moved before he could think. He slid up to the bar, leaning casually against it, and said smoothly, “Did you pick that drink because it matches your shirt, or are you just naturally on-brand?”
The man looked at him, his smile was soft, restrained, he was definitely tried not to show it. He was sipping peach sangria, William had tasted it once, sweet, heady, almost indecent on the tongue. “I like peaches,” he said.
“Lucky me,” William grinned. “That’s my favorite one too.”
The man tilted his head, eyes glancing down at William’s collar before dragging back up slowly. His voice was smooth. “You’re not wearing a patch.”
William smirked. “Should I be?”
“That depends…” The stranger’s lips curved faintly as he lifted the glass again, holding William’s stare over the rim before sipping. His throat worked once, slow, deliberate, the faintest sheen of moisture clinging to his mouth when he set the glass down. “Are you the type that causes trouble?”
There was something about the way he said trouble, William wouldn’t mind being part of it. The word slid under his skin, pooled low in his stomach, heat rising with no place to go. His mind betrayed him almost instantly, the flushed face, faint pink color creeping on his cheeks slowly, the way his soft, pillowy and unfairly distracting lips parted just enough to make William wonder.
He pictured himself leaning down, mouth grazing the place where neck met shoulder, catching the sweetness beneath skin, ripe peach wine, heady and addictive. He imagined dragging his tongue up slowly, slow enough to unravel composure, until that calm, measured voice broke apart into something raw, unguarded. He imagined those lips parted against his skin, that throat tipping back as he caged the omega against a bar stool, kissing him senseless until restraint gave way to trembling need–
Stop. William blinked, pulse thudding unevenly as awareness crashed in. He was too close, leaning forward without realizing it, as if his body had moved ahead of his permission. Was he thinking of him the same way? Or would he run if he knew the kinds of things William wanted from him?
The stranger didn’t look away. He leaned just slightly, close enough for William to catch it again. That scent, peach sharpness melting into a darker sweetness, felt like wine spilled across his skin, clung to his senses, teasing, daring him closer.
William swallowed, grin curving sharper to cover the way his pulse jumped. “Only when they ask nicely,” he murmured.
God, he really wanted this man to ask.
︵‿૮₍ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა ︵ ૮₍ •ᴥ•₎ა‿︵