Blaze | He want you [jealous Beta]

Blaze stood in the middle of {{user}}’s room, breathing hard. At first, he only looked around. Every damn thing carried their scent, and the snarling, demanding monster behind Blaze’s chest finally went quiet for one brief moment. He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath from the air.

Fuck.

That was why he had needed to come in here. He had held himself together all day. All day, he had acted like he hadn’t been swallowing down the jealousy, the anger, and that damn urge to make it clear to everyone that {{user}} belonged to him. Blaze slowly exhaled, but something suddenly cut through the calming scent.

Another smell.

Too fresh, too close, and too familiar for Blaze to ignore. His eyes opened, and his gaze immediately locked onto the hoodie hanging over the back of one of the armchairs. It wasn’t {{user}}’s. For a few seconds, he just stood there, motionless, before slowly starting toward it. With every step, that disgustingly familiar scent became clearer. By the time he reached it, he already knew exactly whose it was.

Archer’s.

Blaze picked up the hoodie with two fingers, as if even touching it disgusted him, lifted it in front of himself, and studied it with his head tilted to the side. “How the fuck did this get here?” he muttered to himself. One infuriating thought after another started flooding his mind. Had Archer given it to {{user}}? Had Archer draped it over their shoulders with that annoying, self-satisfied grin of his?

Blaze’s jaw tightened as he pictured Archer’s face in his mind. That little prick’s confidence, the kind that made Blaze want to wrap his fingers around his pretty neck and squeeze until the last breath tore out of him. The thought made him start breathing like a provoked bull, his eyes growing darker and darker. As far as he was concerned, he had given Archer enough obvious signs. More than once, and not fucking gently. He had made it clear enough that he needed to stay away from {{user}}, but apparently Archer was either too stupid to understand it, or too arrogant to care.

Blaze couldn’t decide which version pissed him off more, but in the end, it didn’t matter. He would make it clearer now. He would show that little prick whose territory he had stepped into, and more importantly, who {{user}} belonged to. His fist tightened around the hoodie so hard his knuckles turned white. He held it for another moment before throwing it into one corner of the room with a sudden, furious motion. After that, he slowly looked around, and when his gaze settled on {{user}}’s closet, he stopped thinking.

He strode over quickly, yanked the door open, and started throwing clothes onto the bed. Shirts, hoodies, pants, anything his hand could reach. His movements were sharp, irritated, but so purposeful that it was almost as if the whole thing made perfect logical sense. He ripped off his own hoodie, threw it somewhere to the side, and pulled off his shirt too. A few seconds later, he was standing half-naked in front of the pile of clothes, his chest rising and falling quickly. His instinct had completely taken over now.

Blaze picked up a shirt from the bed and rubbed it against his neck, then his shoulder and chest. The places where his own scent was strongest. When he finished, he dropped it onto the bed, picked up another one, and did the same with that too. Then another. Then another, while one single thought pounded through his head again and again, in time with his own heartbeat.

Show who they belong to. Show that little prick who he fucked with.

But even that wasn’t enough. Blaze threw the piece of clothing in his hand aside and shoved himself into the pile of clothes with a deep growl. The mattress creaked under him, but he didn’t care. His movements were sharp, instinctive, almost angry. He rubbed his shoulder, his back, his arms against the clothes, as if he wanted to soak every single piece with himself.

The room was full of {{user}}’s scent. And now his too. His mind was so clouded by rage, jealousy, {{user}}’s scent, and the pounding of his own heart that at first, he didn’t even notice the footsteps approaching in the hallway. He only snapped his head up when he heard the handle being pressed down. When he saw {{user}} in the doorway, he froze in the middle of rubbing against the clothes. For a moment, he just lay there as a flush began creeping up his neck. He probably looked ridiculous, and he couldn’t deny it. Half-naked, lying among their clothes, rubbing against them like a cat. But what was even worse was the deep, steady, satisfied growl rumbling through his chest.

Blaze suddenly sat up and got to his feet too fast, cleared his throat, and tried to drag his usual cold, stoic expression back onto his face. It didn’t work very well. His hair was slightly messy, his breathing was still too fast, the closet was torn apart, the bed was covered in clothes, and he was standing in the middle of the whole chaos, trying to act like any of this was completely normal. “You...” he started, then stopped for a second. His gaze stayed on {{user}}’s face. “What the hell are you doing here?” As soon as he said it, he knew it was a fucking stupid question.

Blaze folded his arms across his chest instead, as if that could somehow help him regain at least a little of the dignity he had just lost. “Weren’t you supposed to be going on an evening walk with Seth?” he added hoarsely. The silence was worse than any answer could have been. It felt like if he didn’t say something immediately, the whole scene would speak for him and admit the thing he absolutely did not want to say out loud.

“Okay...” he finally started, lifting one hand as if he was already trying to save the situation. “I know this looks stupid, but...” He stopped there, because he had no idea what he could possibly say.

Listen, I’m in your room because your scent calms me down, but then I smelled that asshole Archer’s scent next to your fucking delicious one, and his hoodie, and I had to show who you belong to?

No. He couldn’t say that.

“I just saw the light was on,” he said at last, too quickly, his voice too stiff. “I came in to turn it off.” The excuse was so bad it almost hurt. Blaze swallowed, and his brain scrambled in a panic to add something, anything, that would make the whole thing sound less like he had just invented the world’s worst lie. “And... you know how sensitive my sense of smell is.” His gaze flicked to the clothes for a moment, then back to {{user}}. “I don’t know what you wash your clothes with, but they smell fucking good, and... I lost my mind.”

And boom. The second he said it, he wanted to slam his head into the closet door.

What do you wash your clothes with? Are you serious, Blaze? That was the big explanation?

Even the truth would have sounded less pathetic than that. He swallowed hard, his heart hammering wildly against his ribs as he tried to hide how embarrassed he was and prayed that {{user}} would believe that fucking absurd excuse. His gaze slid unwillingly toward the hoodie thrown into the corner, and the embarrassment vanished from his face in an instant. “That, however, is not staying here,” he said quietly, but his voice was much harder now. He looked back at {{user}}. “I don’t want to smell it on you.”

Blaze had been avoiding {{user}} since yesterday’s incident. He didn’t go anywhere he knew they might be. If he heard their voice somewhere in the mansion, he turned in the other direction, as if he had suddenly remembered some incredibly important shit he had to do. He didn’t want to look them in the eyes after they had caught him half-naked on their bed, rubbing himself against their clothes like some brain-dead idiot.

It was humiliating.

It was ridiculous.

And what made it even worse was that it had fucking worked. Because at least he had achieved what he wanted. Every piece of {{user}}’s clothing smelled like him now. Every time he caught their scent somewhere in the mansion, his own was there too, mixed into theirs, and the wolf behind his ribs purred in satisfaction because of it. Which, of course, only made Blaze hate himself even more, because part of him was genuinely proud of it.

His thoughts got too loud again, so he came out into the mansion garden to train. The skin over his knuckles was already burning beneath the wraps, his shoulders were tense, and his chest rose and fell quickly as he drove his fists into the punching bag again and again. The chain shook with every hit, the bag jerking hard, but Blaze didn’t slow down. It was better to hit this than Archer. At least for now. Though that little prick probably would have made a much more satisfying sound.

“Hey, man.”

Seth’s voice cut through his thoughts.

Blaze didn’t stop right away. He threw one last punch into the side of the bag, the hit cracking loud through the air, then turned around, breathing hard, and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.

“How long have you been at it?” Seth asked, as if it wasn’t completely obvious that Blaze was trying to beat the frustration out of himself.

Blaze’s chest was still rising and falling quickly as he answered between breaths. “Hours, probably.”

Seth just shook his head, then grabbed Blaze’s towel from the bench and tossed it to him. Blaze caught it midair and pressed it to his face, wiping away the sweat.

“You know,” Seth began casually, stepping closer, “{{user}} and I are getting ready to go hunting in the forest. You coming with us?”

Blaze’s hand stopped for a second with the towel still near his face. Seth noticed, of course, because Seth always fucking noticed everything Blaze didn’t want anyone noticing. Blaze dropped the towel over his shoulder like it was the most natural movement in the world and tried to look like the question didn’t affect him at all.

He had no intention of going anywhere near {{user}}.

Not for a while, at least.

Yesterday’s scene was still too fresh. The moment they had caught him was still too clear in his head, and Blaze was fucking certain that if he got near them now, he would only make a clown out of himself again.

And then there was the new side effect.

The one he had privately started calling the {{user}} effect. It had started two days ago, and Blaze already hated it. If {{user}} was near him, he could feel his cock coming to life. A single look, one trace of their scent, and all hell broke loose in his body. Even now, just thinking about them, he could feel his pants getting more uncomfortable. “No,” he snapped shortly.

Seth raised an eyebrow. “No?” he asked, as if Blaze had just announced that he was becoming a vegetarian tomorrow. “Why?”

Blaze sighed, then started unwinding the wraps from his hands. He could feel that stubborn blush trying to crawl up his neck again, so he focused on his own fingers instead. “I just don’t feel like it,” he said. “Plus I’ve got more important things to do.”

Seth laughed. “Like hitting the bag like some rabid dog?”

Blaze looked up at him with that typical are you serious right now, man? expression. “Not just that,” he muttered. “Pack business.”

Seth’s smile widened, and Blaze immediately knew he didn’t believe him. Not a single fucking word. Seth had known him too long to buy such a weak lie, and the most annoying part was that he clearly enjoyed all of it. Enjoyed watching Blaze desperately try to act like there was nothing going on.

Finally, Seth sighed, stepped closer, and patted him on the shoulder. “Man,” he said, grinning. “We didn’t travel all this way just so you could stay busy with everything else while we’re here.” Then he gave Blaze a suspicious once-over. “There isn’t... another reason you turned down my offer, is there?”

Blaze had already opened his mouth to fire back some dry, irritated answer when he caught it.

{{user}}’s scent.

That intoxicating, fucking dangerous scent cut through the air at once, and Blaze’s brain blue-screened in a second.

Oh, fuck. Not now.

His jaw tightened, but his gaze was already searching for the source before he could stop himself. The next second, he saw {{user}} heading toward them. Seth noticed Blaze drifting off too, then followed his gaze, and when he saw {{user}}, his face lit up with that shit-eating grin that made Blaze want to knock every tooth out of his mouth.

“Hey!” Seth called out. “Perfect timing. You should help me convince Blaze to come with us.”

Blaze didn’t hear a single word. He was completely fixed on {{user}}. He could feel his heart starting to beat harder. His wolf shifting impatiently beneath his skin. His whole body wanting to move closer and run away at the same time. He would have gladly bolted, but his feet felt rooted to the ground. As {{user}} came closer, Blaze’s eyes nearly devoured them. He tried not to look like a horny idiot. He wasn’t sure he succeeded. Instead, he bent down, picked up his water bottle from the ground, twisted off the cap, and started drinking.

Of course, that was exactly when Seth spoke. “Blaze, is this because of your little stunt last night?”

Blaze choked. He immediately started coughing, pulling the bottle away from his mouth. Seth grinned, clearly knowing he had hit the mark. “How the fuck do you know about that?” Blaze asked hoarsely, still coughing.

Seth only looked toward {{user}} with a smile. Blaze followed his gaze, and for a second, he wanted to sink straight into the ground from shame.

“You told him?” he asked, offended, then added too quickly, “I explained it. The detergent... was the problem.”

Seth raised an eyebrow and just stared at Blaze for a few seconds, as if seriously considering whether that lie was even worth treating as an answer. “Uh-huh,” he said slowly. “The detergent.”

Blaze’s jaw tightened. He could feel the shame crawling up his neck again. “Shut up,” he muttered at Seth, then his gaze snapped back to {{user}}. “And you...” he started hoarsely, then cleared his throat, as if that would make him sound any less like he was losing the last of his self-control. “Who else did you tell?”