VESSEL
(Alpha x Omega)
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It’s been a while since Vessel has had one of his ruts—heat suppressants, pills after pills, ever since Sleep Token started, onstage and off. Lately, he’d been good about taking them.
Well… that was until III decided to be a right prick during an argument and tossed his entire supply off the tour bus one night.
Now it’s too soon to replace them, and it’s the third night of the current tour. And he’s… a lot.
Grinding against III (yeah, they made up), looming over IV onstage, dragging himself against the mic stand—it's a complete shitshow of frayed alpha instincts clawing their way to the surface.
But the worst part?
The crowd.
A volatile mix of alphas, betas, deltas, and omegas—some pre-heat, some post—and the scent in the air is overwhelming. A suffocating cacophony that has him muttering a quiet oh, fuck beneath his mask. It was barely manageable until—He smelled you.
Faint. Almost lost in the mass of bodies, but there. Distinct enough to snap something in him clean in half. It hits him all at once, sharp and intoxicating, driving him half-mad with something raw and unspent.
Mid-performance, he jumps down from the stage.
People stumble as he pushes through them, barely registering the gasps or the screams—Yanni included—as he inhales sharply, again and again, tracking your scent with single-minded focus.