Please Divorce Me, Alpha! {BL}

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I woke up feeling warm, that was the first thing that struck me. And not the usual cozy sort of warm, like when you’re too bundled up in blankets or when someone forgets to turn down the heat.

No, this was a very distinct warmth, one that came from another person pressed against me, comfortable and a bit irritating.

For several long seconds, I just lay there half-asleep, gazing at nothing.

There was something heavy wrapped around my waist, something warm against my back, and the unmistakable scent of Lorenzo wafting over me.

I took a slow breath, still too groggy to question anything, and shifted slightly under the sheets. Instantly, the arm around my waist tightened, almost as if it had a mind of its own, pulling me in closer.

I relaxed. My head was resting on a pillow that smelled faintly like his cologne, my back comfortably nestled against his chest, and the sheets were so soft I could have easily stayed there for another three hours.

We were both in nothing but our underwear. His chest was pressed against my shoulder blades. I could feel his steady breath against the back of my neck.

And somewhere beneath the lingering haze of sleep, everything from the previous night surged back... the pool, the water, his hand, the bench, the heat of his mouth, the sounds I had made that I never wanted to acknowledge, and, worst of all, the way he had calmly said those three words while I was still trembling.

‎

‎I love you.

‎

‎My eyes shot open, the ceiling of what was clearly not my room stared back at me in silence. The marks on my neck throbbed softly when I swallowed.

I didn’t even need to look to feel them, those tiny bruises and the ghost of his teeth that announced to anyone paying attention that last night was no fever dream.

‎

I turned my head slowly to look over my shoulder. Lorenzo was asleep behind me...or at least pretending to be.

His hair was a complete disaster, which oddly pleased me since he usually looked like he had every hair perfectly in line.

One arm still wrapped around my waist, he rested his face against the pillow, and the sheet was low enough that it was clear we weren’t wearing much at all.

I stared at the ceiling, feeling my life crumble. Not just metaphorically...I had really messed it up. There was no coming back from this.

I gingerly tried to shift Lorenzo’s arm. It tightened further. I froze and his eyes remained closed. I tried again. The arm only tightened more.

"Oi, Dracula."

Nothing.

"Dracula, wake the hell up."

His lips twitched. Oh, he was awake.

"You are not asleep," I whispered, feeling a mix of accusation and amusement.

"No."

His voice was deep and gravelly with sleep. I closed my eyes, of course he hadn’t been sleeping. "You’ve been pretending?"

"Not pretending."

"Then what were you doing?"

"Enjoying my morning."

I whipped around so fast the sheet almost went with me. "You—"

Lorenzo opened his eyes, and the smug look on his face should’ve been illegal. "Good morning, tesoro mio."

‎So, I did the only sensible thing. I reached for the nearest pillow and tried to smother him with it.

‎

‎"You absolute pervert," I hissed, pressing the soft fabric down over his face with all the strength my still-trembling arms could muster. "You menace. Who says that after doing that?! Who even thinks that’s an appropriate time for a love declaration?!"

‎

‎Lorenzo made a low, amused sound that vibrated through the pillow and into my hands.

He didn’t fight back at first. He just laid there, letting me flail for a few moments, as if my whole attack was merely an entertaining performance.

Then his hands moved with that same calm precision he used for everything else. One moment I was leaning over him with the pillow raised like a weapon, the next my wrists were caught, the pillow was gone, and I found myself rolled onto my back with him above me, his green eyes bright with barely contained laughter.

‎

I wanted the mattress to swallow me whole. Instead, I tried to attack him with the pillow again. Lorenzo caught my wrists, still chuckling, and pinned them over my head.

He shifted, gently pinning my wrists against the mattress while looking down at me with a mix of amusement and triumph.

"Good morning to you too," he said, his voice still rough from sleep. "I see the dramatic flair survived the night."

‎

‎"Don’t you dare smile at me like that," I snapped, trying unsuccessfully to twist free. "You can’t just...after everything— and then say that like it’s nothing!"

‎

‎He shifted more of his weight onto me, careful but undeniable, and that brought him into full contact with the front of my body.

The heat from the night before flared up beneath my skin in a rush of embarrassment. Lorenzo’s eyes flicked down to the marks on my throat, then back to my face, satisfaction written all over him.

‎

‎"You were loud," he said, almost casually. "Every time I took you deeper, you made these desperate little sounds like you weren’t sure whether to push me away or pull me closer. And the way you said my name when you came—"

‎

‎"Stop it, you pervert!" My face felt like it was on fire. "I will end you. I swear, I’ll find a way."

‎

‎"You gripped my hair hard enough that I can still feel it." He moved one hand to brush dark strands off my forehead with unexpected gentleness. "I liked it."

I glared at him. His blond hair was tousled across his forehead, and there was something disarmingly relaxed about his demeanor.

He looked happy, not smug, not victorious...just genuinely happy. That made me feel even more embarrassed.

"Ugh! At least pretend to have some shame!"

"But I’m your husband."

"That hasn’t stopped you from having shame before."

He grinned, then leaned in and kissed me.

The argument vanished instantly. It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t forceful; he simply kissed me with the same maddening confidence he seemed to have in everything else, one hand loosening its grip on my wrists while the other brushed my hair away from my forehead.

My heart betrayed me again. Apparently, it had decided to resign from protecting me. I made a small protesting sound against his lips, but to be honest, it lacked the outrage I had intended.

Lorenzo pulled back just enough to look at me.

His eyes sparkled with amusement. "Still angry at your husband, love?"

I wanted to bite his nose off.

"Very." I said.

"Oh, we can’t have that. How can I possibly make my Omega happy?"

I opened my mouth to argue, but my stomach growled.

Lorenzo looked at me and I stared back. A long, awkward silence followed. Then his mouth curved into a smirk as he finally let me free.

I sighed, "Don’t you even..."

"I didn’t say anything."

"You were about to."

He reached for the bedside table and grabbed the phone. "Send breakfast for my beloved Omega."

I sat up straight instantly. "The fuck?! I am not your beloved!"

Lorenzo didn’t even look my way. "Something light to start his day, and—"

"And stop calling me that!"

"And coffee strong enough to wake the dead." Lorenzo began.

‎

‎"I am not your beloved anything!" I shouted toward the intercom, twisting in a useless attempt to snatch the phone from him. "Don’t listen to him—!"

‎

‎Lorenzo cut off the call mid-sentence with a satisfied smile and put the handset aside. "They all already know you’re my beloved."

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