Help! Five Beast Alphas Want To Breed Me!!(BL)

Elián;

The drawing is terrible. Absolutely terrible.

I stare at it for several seconds before sighing and lowering the charcoal.

"What is that supposed to be?" Elien’s voice demands, and I blink at the drawing before rolling my eyes.

"Good evening to you, too," I mutter, and inside my mind, Elien huffs.

"I’m serious. Is that a horse?"

"It’s a wolf," I reply inwardly, and I’m met with silence. He says nothing, and I wait. Because I am beyond certain that something is coming.

"...That wolf should file a complaint about you." He finally says, and my mouth falls open.

I glare at the paper, and the paper glares back.

Unfortunately, he’s right.

The wolf looks less like a wolf and more like a traumatised goat... Maybe a sick goat.

A sick goat that has lost several important battles.

I groan and drop the charcoal on the desk in frustration. When did I get so bad at drawing?? I used to be an animator...in my own right.

"You’re annoying." I pout, and Elien scoff.

"And you’re terrible at drawing."

"You’re supposed to support me," I complain, and he gives a small laugh.

"I supported you by telling you the truth."

I hate how painfully honest he is. It’s one feature about him I’ve always admired. That unfiltered honesty.

I remain silent, and for a few moments, I simply stare at the paper.

At the rough lines... the smudges, the mistakes. The mess.

Funny...

Maybe that’s why I decided to draw today. Because my head feels exactly like this.

A mess.

The last time I drew anything was back on Earth.

Back when my biggest concern was assignments, deadlines, and figuring out what I wanted to do with my life.

...Back before I died. Back before I woke up in someone else’s body. Before I fell in love... Before I became pregnant.

The thought of how much has changed in less than a year since I got to this world steals the little peace I’d managed to find.

My heart skips, and Elien notices. He always notices.

"You’ve been thinking about her again." He notes, and I stay quiet.

For a while, he also doesn’t say anything. Then he sighs. Not an annoyed sigh. But a tired one. A worried one.

"You’ve changed." He whispers, but I just stare at the unfinished drawing.

"I’d be concerned if I hadn’t," I reply, trying to make light of the situation, but he doesn’t buy it.

"No." He says with his voice quieter than usual. The way one’s voice sounds when they’re about to address something heavy.

"That’s not what I mean." He adds, and my fingers tighten around the charcoal.

I already know where this conversation is heading, and sadly... Elien does too.

"You barely talk anymore." He notes, and I look away from the paper. Toward the open window. Toward the mountains in the distance.

...Toward anywhere except the truth.

"You used to talk constantly. About everything." He notes, and then he pauses.

"You used to tell me about your crazy cravings." He adds, and I smile despite the heaviness in my heart.

"You hated those." I point out, and he laughs.

"I did." He replies, and I smile.

The silence that follows is heavy. Heavier than the weight in my stomach these past few days, or the pressure in my spine.

This is different.

Because in truth, this conversation isn’t about me not telling him about my cravings. This conversation isn’t about random questions or making small talk.

He’s talking about something else. Something much harder.

Something neither of us really wants to touch... but have to.

"You’ve been pulling away." He says, and the words sting.

Because he’s right.

I have been pulling away.

Not because I want to. Not because I love him less... Not because we’re drifting apart.

But because every time I think about what comes next... I don’t know how to face him.

I don’t know how to explain what I’m feeling... What I’m planning... What I’ve decided.

And I definitely don’t know how to tell him without him immediately trying to stop me. So, I’ve just tried to avoid the conversation altogether.

"You’ve been avoiding me." He accuses, and this time, my heart skips.

"I have not—" I try to defend myself, but he cuts me short.

"Don’t do that."

"Do what?"

"Act like I don’t know what I’m saying." He replies, and I sigh.

"What do you want me to say?"

"The truth." He demands calmly, and a humourless laugh escapes me.

The truth.

What a dangerous thing to ask me for right now.

"But I am telling the truth."

"No. You aren’t." He says sharply, and silence follows.

The kind of silence that only exists between two people who know each other too well.

Two people who share the same thoughts. The same fears. The same body. The same daughter... And somehow still manage to keep secrets.

When Elien speaks again, his voice is softer.

"You scared Koda." He says, and that catches me off guard.

"I did not."

"You absolutely did." He retorts, and I scoff dismissively.

"He’ll survive," I reply, and I hear Elien sigh like I’m exasperating.

I lean back in the chair. Then rub my face... Not minding the charcoal.

I’m so tired.

"He looked like someone had told him the world was ending," Elien whispers, and this time, I wince.

Because that’s not entirely wrong.

The world isn’t ending. It’s just...changing.

"Why did you say that?" He then probes, and I shut my eyes.

I already know which part he means. Still, I pretend not to. It buys me a bit more time to pick out my words.

"Say what?"

"’I want to protect everyone.’" Elien repeats my words to me, and I swallow.

"And what did you mean when you told him he wouldn’t need to risk his life for you again?" He pushes, but I remain silent.

"Elián." He calls impatiently, and I sigh. Still, I give no response.

"Elián." He calls more impatiently now, and I groan.

"What, Elien?"

"What does that mean?" He repeats his question, and I stare at the unfinished wolf.

The ugly little creature looks increasingly offended by its own existence, and I almost find that ironic.

Maybe I should draw something else. Maybe I should draw the baby?

No.

That would somehow end up looking like a potato. I just know it!

And our daughter deserves better than that.

"Elián. Answer me, will you?" He demands, and I pinch the bridge of my nose.

Then, finally, I whisper:

"I’m thinking."

This time, he’s the one who goes silent.

"I’m tired of being helpless," I confess inwardly.

His silence deepens, and I feel it. Because he understands. Of course, he understands.

He’s me. And I’m him.

He remembers every moment I have lived since I got here... well... most of them.

For the past months, we’ve shared every fear, every humiliation, every time someone stood in front of us and got hurt, every sacrifice, every loss... Every goodbye.

"I know."

His answer comes softly. Too softly. Because he really does know.

For a while, neither of us speaks.

Then I lower my gaze. Toward our daughter.

She’s there. Alive... Growing.

Trusting us completely.

Trusting us to keep her safe and to protect her.

The thought causes something dangerous and dark to twist inside me. And the words slip out before I can stop them.

"Balinar wants you."

The silence that follows is absolute.

Inside my mind, Elien freezes completely. I feel his alarm bells go off, and for a split second, I feel guilty about it.

"What?" He questions, and my gaze remains fixed on my stomach.

"Balinar wants you," I repeat, but the words sound different this time. Harder.

Because they’re true. Painfully true.

All of this eventually comes back to him. To Elien. The original owner of this body.

He is the obsession Balinar refuses to let go of. The thing he believes belongs to him.

I close my eyes and sink deeper into the chair as I let the next atrocious words leave my mouth.

"Let’s give him what he wants."

The silence afterwards is crazy.

Not because of what I said, but because of what Elien doesn’t say.

For several long seconds, there is nothing. Then—

"No."

The response is horrified. Absolutely terrified.

My chest aches at the fear in his voice, because I expected that.

But still...

"What do you mean, no?"

"You know exactly what I mean." He replies with his voice rising. Something it rarely does.

"What are you planning?" He then demands, but I don’t answer.

"Elián, fucking answer me!" He yells this time, but I don’t answer him.

I have already told him enough.

"What are you fucking planning, Elian!? What do you mean, give him what he wants!??" He begins to rage, but I ignore him.

I pick up the charcoal again.

Pretending to focus on the drawing. Pretending my heart isn’t racing—Pretending I don’t hear the fear swimming in his voice.

He finally falls silent, and then... in a whisper—a trembling, terrified whisper—

"You’ve already decided something." He points out, and I freeze.

"You have!" He gasps, and once again, my pale fingers stop moving over the paper.

"You have, and you aren’t telling me." He breathes, and I stare at the paper.

At the ugly wolf, keeping my mouth sealed.

Because if I say it aloud... If I explain it... Then it becomes real.

And maybe I’m not ready for that.

Not yet.

Not until I’m absolutely certain that I can handle what I’m about to venture into.

Inside my mind, Elien slowly exhales.

Because now he understands that I am moving toward something. Something dangerous. Something reckless.

....Something that could destroy us both.

That truth settles between us in a heavy, uncomfortable, and terrifying way.

Elien stops arguing because I think he finally understands.

Not what I’m planning. But that I’ve already started planning it.

And as much as I hate it... I can tell that it frightens him more than anything I’ve said so far.

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