Michael was not only a sex-toy vendor but also a skilled tattoo artist. Inside his sex shop, tucked away behind a curtain, sat a separate private room where he created his ink artwork.
Today, he had a recurring customer, and it happened to be the exact Alpha he disliked the most.
Then Peacock Alpha..
Angel was getting a tattoo etched around her shoulder, just a simple little butterfly design she had spotted recently and decided she wanted permanently on her skin.
Michael was peacefully drawing the lines, keeping his focus locked on his work, when Angel suddenly started talking.
What was supposed to be a quiet, routine session, with only the buzzing sound of the tattoo machine filling the small room, quickly spiraled into something else entirely.
"Have you ever been in a tight place before, Michael?" Angel asked, her voice lazy as she lay relaxed on the padded tattoo couch.
Michael kept his head down, opting not to say a single word.
He would much rather act completely mute than engage in a personal conversation with someone like Angel, who consistently looked down on Betas as inferior.
"If you don’t answer my question, I am not going to pay a single cent for this tattoo," Angel warned smoothly, tilting her head back. "And I will make sure to tell Madam to increase your monthly land tax."
The threat forced the young artist to act friendly, as that land discount was one of the primary reasons he had always tolerated her awful attitude.
Living and running a business inside the District came with a massive price tag. Luckily, his sister Becky had that financial burden covered for him.
Which was being Angel’s person.
"What kind of tight place are we talking about here?" Michael finally asked, keeping the needle moving at a steady pace.
"Let’s use fruit as an example," Angel said, staring up at the ceiling.
"I like eating so many different fruits. Bananas, oranges, pineapples, strawberries, and so on. I never complain, nor do I ever get overfed, because I genuinely enjoy all of them. But there was one fruit I had never tried before in my life. The peach."
She paused, taking a slow, deep breath through her nose as if actively reliving the exact memory, then released it gently.
"The moment I tried that peach for the very first time, it was so juicy and soft," Angel purred. "I had never tasted anything like that before. I fell deeply for it right away. I wanted to devour and swallow the entire peach whole."
Michael said nothing back. He continued tracing the outline of the butterfly, doing his absolute best to pretend he wasn’t even in the room with her.
Whenever he needed to make it look like he was paying attention, he simply offered a brief nod.
"Hmm, hmm," he grunted softly.
But he was actually listening..
"Then I told her directly that I loved her juicy peach," Angel continued, completely unbothered by his short responses. "At first, everything was still going my way. I could still eat all the other fruits I wanted, and she didn’t seem to care at all. But recently, she suddenly wants me to eat only her fruit. How is that even possible? Every other fruit in my life doesn’t give a fuck about what I do or which other fruits I choose to eat. As a matter of fact, they are always ready to share me without complaining. So what could possibly be that specific fruit’s problem?"
Michael wiped away the excess ink with a paper towel.
"Maybe that fruit isn’t like all the others you’re used to. She wants to be treated differently."
"But I do treat her differently," Angel argued, turning her head toward him. "I even made her my number one."
"You can put all the other fruits into one big basket," Michael said, dipping his needle into the black ink cup. "But there is always that one special fruit that demands its own private basket. It doesn’t matter how small or big that basket is. They are completely happy just knowing they are the only one sitting inside it. Your juicy peach belongs to the latter group. If you can’t offer her that, just let it go and let someone else put her in their own empty basket."
Michael was genuinely trying to offer useful advice, hoping his words would actually sink into the stubborn Alpha’s ears for once.
"Never," Angel snapped instantly, her jaw tightening. "I want that peach. That peach is the only fruit that truly satisfies me. I’m not going to sit here and lie to myself. The night I spent with her was the very first time I have slept peacefully since that... day."
"The day you found your mommy inside the pool?" Michael asked quietly, pausing his work for a brief second.
He could easily understand what Angel was referring to. Five years ago, her mother had been discovered dead inside the family mansion’s swimming pool. Angel had been the unfortunate one to stumble across the body. The local authorities quickly ruled the incident as an accidental drug overdose, claiming the late Mrs. Morningstar had drowned completely alone inside the empty mansion.
"Yes," Angel muttered, her gaze darkening as her posture grew rigid.
"Then maybe the peach is the only fruit you should be eating from now on," Michael suggested, bringing the buzzing needle back down to her skin. "Throw away the big crowded basket and build a fresh new one just for her."
"It isn’t that easy to just drop everything and do that," Angel sighed.
"Then at least try," Michael said, keeping his hands steady. "If you know you can’t bring yourself to do it, then stay far away from that peach. Those kinds of fruits are extremely fragile. They need someone who is willing to pamper and take care of them properly without letting them get squashed. Go back to eating your other fruits alone."
Michael then went quiet, refocusing all his attention on finishing the fine details of the drawing.
Angel fell completely silent as well, her mind racing as she began rethinking what she truly wanted out of her life.
A single basket overflowing with many different temporary fruits...
Or a clean basket containing only one.
Eventually, after weighing the thoughts in her head, she came to a final conclusion.
When Michael was completely done with the tattoo, wiping off the area and taping a protective wrap over her shoulder, she demanded a pen and a sheet of paper.
While she sat at the counter writing down a clear list of things she wanted to change, her phone buzzed softly on the glass top.
It was a text message from Abigail.
The message read:
Look who I just found kissing a super cute fruit.
Angel’s brows furrowed together in annoyance.
She tapped the notification and scrolled up to view the attached image file.
Her eyes widened in absolute shock as the photo loaded across the screen.
There was a crisp, clear picture of her peach wrapped up in someone else’s arms, passionately kissing another person.
"Looks like the peach finally found its own basket..." Michael murmured from behind the counter, catching a quick glance at the screen.
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