âYouâre going to need stitches.â
The man chuckles weakly, hand pressing against the wound as he tries to take a deep breath, fighting off his panic. It wouldnât do to get himself demoted over forgetting years of practice. âIâm sure itâs nothing. Iâve had worse. YouâŚyou donât have to worry about me.â He says, eyes flickering to the now shattered window where the projectile had come through.
Easy diplomatic mission, my ass. He thinks to himself, trying to force his hands to stop shaking.
Dopheld looks up at him, eyes a little glassy as he opens and closes his mouth a few times. âI- IâŚIâm not sureâŚIâm..warmâŚyouâŚyou feel safe..this is soft. Would bury my face in it ifââ he cuts himself off, shivering a little as he flushes.
âI-I can stop if you want me to⌠want..want you to be p-pleased with me, sir.â He whispers as he hides his face. He felt shaky and the thought of pulling away made him anxious. The alphas didnât want him.
But they arenât his alphas. Or alphas, right?



















