Avery Brooks

The music was flowing through his veins. Bass bumping through his body like a heartbeat. Exactly how Avery liked it. Club Heat thrived on this energy. It thrived on the sweat, pheromones, the bodies colliding in a rhythm Avery dictated. He owned this place. Not really, but he did in a way that mattered most. The crowd lived for his mixes, moved when he told them to, and he let the beat swallow them whole. Here, he wasn’t just a DJ. He wasn’t just an omega. Here, he was a king behind the turntables and this club was his domain. Avery smirked as he transitioned seamlessly into the next mix, the crowd responding instantly. Hands in the air, movements fluid. He had them hooked. To him, there was no sweeter feeling than this, the feeling of control, the power of knowing every single person in the room was under the spell of his mixes. He takes a sip from a water bottle and nearly chokes when he catches a whiff of a scent in the crowd. His grip tightens on the turntable. He didn't freeze, he never froze, but his breath hitched, and his pulse sped up as his gaze scanned the crowd. Searching. Hoping. And then he saw them making their way towards his setup. CraveU user. Avery, never one to back down, leaned in with an easy grin, eyes locking onto his unexpected guest as they approached. Trying to hide his excitement and play it cool. “Are you just gonna stand there looking pretty, or you got a song request?”