Oddity's Charm ( Omegaverse BL)

Another designer outfit. I'm not going to complain—it fits like a second skin, hugging all the right places—but the real challenge isn't the clothes. It's walking beside Zander, his arm wrapped firmly around my waist, his hand creeping lower with every step. It's driving me absolutely insane, and I can't tell if he's doing it intentionally or if he's just that possessive. Either way, it's maddening.

We step into the limo, the tension between us thick enough to cut with a knife. I'm still flustered from the way his hand had brushed the curve of my hip, his touch lingering a second too long. By the time we arrive at the restaurant, my mind is spinning, but I'm determined to keep my composure.

The five-star restaurant is immaculate, the kind of place that exudes elegance and luxury. Zander, of course, looks perfectly at home here, commanding the room without even trying. Throughout the meal, his eyes barely leave me, dark and smoldering, as if I'm the main course. Every glance he throws my way makes my pulse quicken, and I find myself shifting in my seat, trying to ignore the heat pooling low in my stomach.

It's impossible. The memory of his teasing touch earlier, his hand skimming my waist, the way his breath had brushed my ear when he spoke—it's all too much. My body had betrayed me then, and I'd barely managed to clean up the evidence of my arousal before slipping into this outfit. Even now, the thought of it makes my face burn with a mix of shame and irritation.

I snap my gaze up to meet his, unable to hold back any longer. "If you're going to keep looking at me like that," I say, my tone sharp, "why didn't you just continue earlier?"

Zander doesn't even flinch. Instead, he leans forward, that infuriating smirk tugging at his lips, and I swear it does devastating things to my heart. "Frustrated, aren't we?" he drawls, his voice like silk, smooth and dangerously alluring.

I huff, crossing my arms over my chest as I look away. "Hmph," I say, refusing to dignify his taunt with a real response.

His low chuckle reverberates across the table, rich and full of confidence. "You won't die," he says, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "I didn't last night."

My jaw drops, a gasp escaping me before I can stop it. "How petty," I manage, narrowing my eyes at him.

His smirk widens, and he leans back in his chair, utterly relaxed. "Petty?" he echoes, tilting his head slightly. "Maybe. But I think you'll find my restraint rewarding when the time comes."

His words send a shiver down my spine, and I clench my fists under the table, struggling to maintain some semblance of control. He's playing with me, drawing out the tension just to watch me squirm, and the worst part? It's working.

"Restraint?" I scoff, crossing my arms and leaning back in my chair. "Is that what you call teasing someone until they're ready to combust and then walking away like nothing happened?" My voice is sharp, but I can't hide the frustration lacing my words, and Zander knows it.

He tilts his head slightly, his smirk softening into something more dangerous, more alluring. "If I'd continued earlier," he says slowly, each word dripping with intent, "we wouldn't have made it to dinner. And trust me, Ivan, when I have you, I'm going to take my time."

My breath catches, and I feel a wave of heat rush to my face. Damn him and his way with words. I glare at him, refusing to let him see how easily he's affecting me. "Big talk for someone who's all bark and no bite."

Zander chuckles, the sound deep and rich, and it makes my heart stutter. "Oh, I bite," he says, his gaze darkening making his intention known.

The way he says it, the weight behind his words, makes me squirm in my seat. I'm not sure whether I want to throttle him or pull him closer, and the conflicting emotions make me huff in exasperation.

"You're impossible," I mutter, picking at the edge of my napkin to distract myself.

"And yet, you're still here," he counters smoothly, leaning back in his chair like he owns the room, like he owns me.

I narrow my eyes at him, determined not to let him win. "Don't flatter yourself. I'm only here because I was promised a good meal."

Zander chuckles again, his hand casually resting on his glass of wine as he watches me with that infuriatingly smug expression. "Oh, you'll get a good meal," he says, his tone dripping with double meaning. "Eventually."

I roll my eyes, though my heart is racing. "Keep that up, and I'll find someone else to have dessert with," I say, lifting my chin in defiance.

His smirk fades just slightly, replaced by something darker, more possessive. "Don't test me, Ivan," he says, his voice dropping an octave. "You're mine. No one else gets to taste what belongs to me."