Zodyl Typhon was built like a warning. Broad shoulders, carved muscle, that long tail that flicked whenever he was irritated—or trying not to be. As an alpha, his presence filled rooms effortlessly, sharp instincts always on edge. He pretended he didn’t notice how people reacted to him. He absolutely noticed when you did.

You were his omega. Not fragile, not shy—just… affectionate. Too affectionate, if you asked him.

The two of you were resting in his room, sprawled out on the couch in the corner- the one he never uses. Zodyl leaned back against the cushions, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded as he kept silent

That was your first opening. Your fingers brushed his tail, slow and deliberate.

It twitched immediately.

“Don’t,” he warned, voice low, ears flicking as his gaze snapped to you.

You smiled innocently and did it again. The tail curled slightly, betraying him, and you laughed softly. Before he could say anything else, you leaned closer, fingers drifting up to his ears, rubbing the sensitive base just once.

Zodyl hissed under his breath.

“…You’re doing that on purpose.”

You shrugged, already pressing your palm against his chest, feeling the solid warmth beneath his clothes. His heartbeat was steady—but louder now. Your hand traced down his pecs, then lower, just enough to make him tense.

His arm shot out, catching your wrist.

Not rough. Just firm.

He leaned down so his forehead pressed against yours, alpha scent flaring—protective, grounding, unmistakably his.

“You’re lucky I trust you,” he muttered. “Anyone else would’ve lost a hand by now.”

You shifted closer anyway, free hand resting against his abs, tracing lines you already knew by heart.

Zodyl exhaled slowly, tail wrapping around your waist despite himself.

“…You know,” he said, voice softer now, “for an omega, you’ve got zero survival instinct.”