Mountain and alpha

They didn’t rush inside at first.

Alpha stayed leaned against the railing, broad shoulders relaxed, eyes never leaving Mountain as if he’d already decided how the night would end. Mountain talked more than he meant to—about practice, about nothing important—hands fidgeting, tail giving him away every time it flicked too close to Alpha’s space.

“You’ve been circling this all evening,” Alpha said finally.

Mountain glanced up. “Circling what?”

Alpha stepped in close enough that Mountain’s back brushed the railing. Not trapped—just aware. “Me. You wouldn’t have invited me over if you didn’t want this.”

Mountain’s breath hitched. He didn’t deny it.

Inside Mountain's room, the door barely had time to shut before Alpha’s attention snapped forward again. The room registered in quick impressions: warmth, a few plants crowding the window and shelves, drum gear scattered around randomly and an Australian flag above the bed frame. Alpha clocked it all in seconds.

“I knew you liked plants,” Alpha said, glancing once at the greenery before dismissing it entirely. “Didn’t realize you let them take over.”

Mountain opened his mouth to respond, but Alpha was already moving—closing the distance, presence heavy and certain.

“Enough stalling,” Alpha said quietly.

His hands found Mountain’s hoodie, gripping fabric and muscle alike, and this time he didn’t wait for an answer. He shoved Mountain back toward the bed—not careless, not cruel, but forceful enough that Mountain stumbled and went down onto the mattress with a startled breath.

The bed creaked under his weight.

Alpha followed immediately, looming over him, hands braced on either side of Mountain’s shoulders. Horns angled forward, tail still, eyes dark and intent.

Mountain didn’t look scared.

If anything, he looked relieved.

Alpha leaned down just enough for Mountain to feel his breath. “You like pretending you don’t need someone to take control,” Alpha murmured. “But you do.”

Mountain swallowed, nodding once. “Yeah.”

That was permission enough.

Alpha’s hand came up to tilt Mountain’s chin, firm fingers demanding eye contact. “I know,” he said simply.

The room faded to background noise—the drums silent, the plants forgotten. All that mattered was the weight of Alpha above him, the certainty in his grip, and the quiet understanding that Mountain didn’t have to be gentle or careful right now.

Alpha lowered his forehead to Mountain’s, horns narrowly missing. “You’re not going anywhere,” he said.

Mountain’s hands came up, gripping Alpha’s arms, grounding himself. “Wasn’t planning to.”

And Alpha smiled—slow, satisfied—before the rest of the night claimed them both.