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If you asked Lars Ulrich if he were a jealous man, he'd more than likely admit to it. Who wouldn't have a jealous streak in their body? Of course he would be jealous of anyone in his vicinity that so much looked like their shit didn't stink.
One thing he wouldn't admit to, was being a jealous Alpha. See, jealous Alphas are the end all be all of being seen as insecure, stupid, and quite frankly (and he agreed with this sentiment) should probably be banished to some island in the middle of the ocean, left to rot and be forgotten. He would rather be seen as a petty Alpha, than a fucking knothead.
Tonight, however, he was feeling like the epitome of a knothead as he stewed at the open bar waiting on a mojito to be made for him while he glared at the Tall, Dark, and Handsome Alpha that was talking with Kirk. He was leaned very close to the Omega, with a mouth that seemed to have a permanent smirk to it, lifting up slightly at the corner and paired with half-lidded eyes that was suggestive of something deeper behind his complimentary words. Not that Lars would know what the guy was talking about, considering that he was across the room and didn't have super hearing, but it's more of the he could rather than the he is that was currently pissing him off.
Tall, Dark and Handsome (Dickhead for short), was very much encapsulating of the moniker the Dane assigned to him. He was very tall, his shoulders broad and dark curls slicked back neatly yet resting at the nape of his neck. He had these crazy hazel eyes that almost seemed to be the color of honey, and it was crazy because Lars could even see that from where he was standing. It was fucking creepy, if he had to say anything about it.
And Kirk...well Kirk was very much giving him the attention he wanted, with his big dark eyes looking straight at him and a small, polite smile plastered on his plush lips. The low light that surrounded the bar (club? Lars wasn't sure, it was just a place) glimmered against the pointed piercing below the guitarist's lower lip, and thanks to the light, it made him look so much more vampiric and enticing, especially with the dark khol that surrounded those very eyes.
Lars couldn't blame Dickhead for being interested, but he also made sure to scent every inch of skin and cloth that made Kirk, well, Kirk, so the Alpha would have *had* to have smelled him. Then again, he's never met an Alpha that actually respected that shit. If there wasn't a ring or a bite, then it's free game.
"Here's your mojito," the tired bartender said as he slid the tall glass over. The drummer took it gratefully and brought it to his lips and took a deep gulp.
He regretted it instantly as he tasted a rancid, almost fermented grass taste and looked at his drink. It seemed fine, with its clear bubbly fluid mixed with the mint at the bottom. He took another sip and winced once more, knowing now that it was the mint that probably went bad and wasn't replaced. Sighing heavily and rolling his eyes, he looked back at Kirk and Dickhead, his jaw clenching when he saw his mate pull back his head and open his mouth with a loud racoucious laughter that he could even hear above the music.
Dickhead seemed to like this as a content smile grew on his face as he stared at the Omega, opting to rest his head on his hands with his elbows propped up on the tall table they were standing next to. The Alpha looked more like a lovestruck pup than someone with more "professional" interest.
Though the mojito was vile and lingered on the back of his tongue as if he had been burned by cigarette ash, it didn't compare to the revolting, growing taste of jealousy that grew like a serpent at the pit of his belly, coiled and prepared to strike at the drop of a hat. Dickhead was so much...more than him. He was the model Alpha that could take care of Kirk in more ways than one. His shoulders and tallness alone wouldn intimidate inferior Alphas such as Lars.
The jealousy didn't quite settle completely until Dickhead said something, and then, he saw it. The glimmer of wide, white, sharp fangs that were perfect to sink down into skin and leave a well meaning mating mark.
The sheer mental imagery of this motherfucker biting and sinking those very fangs into Kirk's neck, knotting him and filling him full...it nearly broke Lars and filled him with rage.
Leaving the sorry excuse of a drink on the bartop, he began to make his way towards them, making sure to keep himself calm enough to just coax Kirk away from this guy, then take him to their shared hotel room and fuck him hard enough to forget about that guy, or ever meeting another Alpha ever. The Dane was close enough to Kirk that he was thinking about just grabbing his arm right then and there, drag him out of the place and go.
Until Kirk turned to see him, then gave him the sweetest expression that was reserved for him and him alone, one that spoke so much in so little words. The Alpha couldn't help but become complacent as his stomping slowed into soft steps, then stopped right in front of him.
"Hey, where's your drink?" Kirk asked, pointing at Lars' empty hands. "They didn't have the mojito you've been crying around about?"
Lars stared for a moment, then laughed nervously. "Uh, nah, it wasn't worth it. Still left a tip for the fucker behind the counter though, even if he looked like he wanted to kill everyone in the room." He turned to Dickhead, noting that he was waiting quietly, just watching them with some interest. "Who's your friend?"
"Oh, this is George, he's a designer and was just talking about my outfit!" Kirk chirped excitedly as he leaned close to the Alpha. "He admires vintage inspired wear."
"Yes, and I was admiring the look of his suit!" George said. "It's such a beautiful red and definitely inspired by the romanticized movies of the past, the detective noir, the Italian mafioso! It's such a great look on Kirk and I had to just compliment him!"
"Oh..." Lars muttered, feeling his jealousy deflate into embarrassment. "Yeah, it, uh...it looks great on him."
"And the eyeliner is absolutely dashing!" George gushed. "The smokiness really brings out the darkness of your eyes, gives you and almost supernatural look!"
The Dane nodded, humming along while the Alpha continued to gush over Kirk's outfit. He felt his cheeks grow hot, warm, and he wished he had his sunglasses to hide the downtrodden feeling that made itself known in his eyes.
He was surprised to feel Kirk's lips brush against his ear, giving a feather soft kiss there. "After he's done...how about you take me back to the hotel and we get out of these dashing clothes?"
A smirk grew on Lars' face as George continued talking about clothes and accessories, but it was a dull drone compared to the ghost of his mate's breath in his ear. "Sure. Anything you want..."