![]() But behind the privacy of a locked door and drawn curtains, the feared mafia head could only sigh contently as he let his pajama shirt slip down over his head to cover his toned torso, loose, comfortable pants having been pulled over silk boxers. A crackle of electricity, and the streetlamp that had stood faithfully next to your apartment block flickered on right on schedule, its strong yellow light filtering through your still curtains and casting a patterned shadow onto the floor. The last silver of sun that still peaked over the horizon threatened to disappear at any moment, the night and its cape of stars eager to begin its reign. Just outside, separated by a thin wooden door: a quiet, typical suburban neighborhood, a usual silent weekday night regular (betas, as Izana called them) families going about their usual evening routines, winding down for the day and preparing for the next. You were waiting for him, in heat and in pain, and he needed you. ![]() With each minute that passed, the impatience only bubbled and grew in his gut, and it was getting harder and harder for the man to not fuck it all with this bothersome undressing and seek you out immediately, his eyes narrowing at nothing in particular as he quickly kicked off his prized handcrafted Italian leather shoes - there was nothing he could care more in the moment but you. Pulling off his silk scarf and thick woolen coat, those were neatly folded and left atop your spotless sofa before he got to loosening and removing his tie, slender fingers quickly working to unbutton both his vest and the soft white tuxedo shirt. He rather not distract you with any other smell but his. Setting his black leather bag down lightly on the worn wooden floors, Izana made light work of stripping off his business suit he did come straight from work after all, and being a yakuza boss could leave the stench of filthy blood and other people on his clothes. After all, an alpha would always be more attuned to both omegas and other alphas than regular humans would ever be. Yet there was no doubt in Izana’s mind that you were here his sensitive nose could pick up the traces of pheromones that still lingered on the surfaces you had touched. To any regular soul that made up the majority of society, it would be reasonable to assume that you weren’t home, and you hadn’t been home. ![]() There were no signs of life anywhere else in the small living area you called home - a thin layer of undisturbed dust coated the kitchen counter, something you would never allow to happen, nor was there a drop of water collected in the dishes tray. ![]() From a single deep breath, it was clear that the air inside was stale neither your door nor windows had been opened in the past twenty-four hours. Cracking the door slightly wider, the tanned man let himself in, humming a soft tune as he eased his gym bag through as small an opening as possible before immediately closing and locking the door behind him. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t known where you were the entire time it was just that he had never been able to catch you at the best moment. “Coast is clear,” Izana whispered to himself, before letting out a small giggle at the silliness of it all. The front door to your apartment creaked open, and a head of white hair poked in cautiously, empty violet eyes scanning the darkened room. ![]()
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