The First Patriarch: Streaming My Cosmic Harem

Chapter 1: Chapter 1: If You’re Going to Die, Die Thinking of Curves

"The bar isn’t the best place to find a stripper, so the club is where I go..."

The lyrics hummed through Azriel’s mind as he stood before the mirror, completely naked.

He took a moment to admire his reflection.

He had a face handsome enough to share a stage with a world class supermodel, boasting a sharp, chiseled jawline and loose, flowing hair without a single strand out of place.

His body followed through on the promise, lean, athletic, and a six-pack that perfectly balanced raw power with definition.

And, of course, he was packing heat.

A dick big enough that girls would moan just at the thought of it entering their holes.

Obviously, he put that to use.

Azriel Ross was a playboy by nature and, conveniently, by opportunity.

His work as a social media manager dropped him into a revolving door of events, launches, and after-parties, a curated parade of beautiful women who mistook proximity for destiny.

And he wasn’t complaining.

If anyone asked him, ’Why did he go for so many girls and not just settle for one girl?’

Then his answer was simple: "Why eat the same bland, boiled meal every fucking day?"

Most people were content with monotony, but Azriel craved variety.

He wanted spicy, sweet, sour, bitter, and salty.

Life was a buffet, and he was there for the thrill of the taste test.

Tonight’s dish was Elena White.

They’d met at a social media event two weeks ago.

She was in her late thirties and wore it beautifully, exuding a refined, mature elegance and a sense of deliberate calm.

Full lips, warm eyes that held just a flicker of mischief. And a soft, heavy backside that had been living rent-free in his mind ever since.

He had plans for that. Plans to bounce that juicy ass on his dick and to suck those milk-filled boobs.

He turned to his wardrobe, his mind already calculating his strategy.

The first impression wasn’t just important to Azriel, it was everything.

He had long ago mastered the art of reading people, knowing exactly what a woman wanted to see before she even realized it herself.

He decided on the classic, all black suit.

He pulled out a freshly pressed black silk shirt.

He slid it on, feeling the cool fabric against his skin, before stepping into a pair of matching black trousers.

He cinched a sleek leather belt around his waist and stepped into polished leather shoes.

Finally, he threw on the black suit jacket.

He leaned into the mirror, adjusting a strand of hair.

"Perfect," he murmured.

He spritzed on his cologne, two clicks of Dior Sauvage, no more, no less, grabbed his apartment keys off the counter, and jammed his AirPods in.

The door clicked shut behind him.

The bar they had decided was only a few blocks away, close enough to walk, and he preferred it that way.

Walking meant time, time to let the music settle into his bones, time to arrive already warm, already switched on.

"Come on now, follow my speed, I may be crazy, do mind me..."

He bobbed his head to the beat, lost in the track.

He reached the intersection and came to a halt at a red light.

He waited a beat, and the moment the light flashed green, he stepped out into the crosswalk.

He never heard the roar of the engine.

Oblivious to the world behind his pods, Azriel didn’t notice the truck-kun barreling down the street at breakneck speed.

Passersby screamed, their voices lost to the bass in his ears.

People on the sidewalk gestured wildly, shouting for him to move, but Azriel was in his own world.

Of course, no one moved to push him out of the way or sacrifice themselves.

Even facing the ultimate, legendary god, Truck-kun, no one was brave enough to take the hit.

They would truly never know what a great fucking chance they had just lost.

Azriel sang along to the hook, a smirk on his face.

"I’m in love with the ass of you, we push and pull like animals do—"

CRACK.

The impact was instantaneous.

Truck-kun slammed into him, launching his body through the air like a ragdoll.

His AirPods were ripped from his ears, the Bluetooth connection snapping as they hit the pavement.

Azriel landed hard, staring up at the indifferent night sky.

From his pocket, his phone continued to blare the song through its speakers, tinny and mocking in the sudden silence of the street.

"Oh I, oh I, oh I, oh I... I’m in love with your ass..."

"Guck... thif..."

He tried to curse, but his mouth was filling with the metallic tang of blood.

He couldn’t feel his legs.

Every breath was a jagged struggle, his lungs refusing to cooperate.

The world began to blur at the edges, a strange, ethereal pull tugging at his consciousness, as if his soul was finally being evicted from its vessel.

He was dying.

He knew it.

As the light faded, a singular, bitter regret pierced through the shock.

’I should’ve called her sooner,’ he thought.

’I could’ve been mid-swing by now. I should’ve been spanking that ass, buried in those tits.’

’Shit.’

The last thing Azriel saw before the darkness took him wasn’t his life flashing before his eyes.

It was the vivid, mental image of Elena’s white dress, pulled tight across her ass at that networking event two weeks ago.

Then, there was nothing.

Not darkness, darkness is a thing, and there was no thing here.

No color, no sound, no weight.

Nobody.

Just Azriel, or whatever Azriel was without a body to put him in.

A point of awareness floating in absolute absence.

Then colors appeared.

It arrived the way dawn does, not all at once, but bleeding in at the edges.

First a suggestion, then a flood.

Every shade he’d ever known and several he couldn’t name, washing through him in waves he didn’t just see but felt, warm and cold, sharp and soft, loud and still.

He had no nerves, and yet he felt them all.

Two colors rose above the rest.

White and Black.

Pulling at him from opposite directions like twin poles of a magnet, quiet and absolute and patient.

He moved toward them, or they moved toward him, and then—

Pain.

It detonated through him like a second impact, raw and bright and gloriously, impossibly real.

He had a body again.

He could feel it, every inch of it, screaming.

’How am I feeling pain?’

’Am I alive?’

The thought arrived half a second before the next one, which was, characteristically, less philosophical.

Elena, or rather Elena’s ass.

He almost laughed.

Leave it to him to get hit by truck-kun, brush the void, and come back thinking about a woman’s ass.

Some things, apparently, survived death.

He opened his eyes.

The ceiling above him was a stranger, a vast expanse of ornate molding instead of the white plaster he expected.

He was lying in the center of a massive bed, the mattress yielding beneath him with a plushness that felt like a sin.

His eyes darted around, searching for the familiar.

There were no humming heart monitors, no white-clad nurses, and the sharp, sterile sting of antiseptic was nowhere to be found as he had anticipated.

Instead, the air was thick with the scent of aged parchment and lavender.

To his left stood a heavy desk of polished darkwood, its surface gleaming under the soft glow of a flickering hearth.

A matching high-backed chair sat tucked beneath it, and across the room, a tall, gilded mirror reflected the amber light.

A heavy arched door stood nearby, presumably leading to a washroom, but there wasn’t a single wire or glowing screen in sight.

This wasn’t a hospital, it was a sanctuary of old-world luxury.

He sat up slowly, half-expecting his body to disagree. It didn’t.

His legs.

He looked down at them, then flexed his feet, bent his knees.

Everything responded.

He let out a long, unsteady breath.

He swung himself off the bed and moved toward the window, but his path took him past the mirror.

He stopped.

Stared.

"What the—"

"Who the Fuck is that?"

-x-

A/N:

Yo! What’s up, everyone? Welcome to a new journey!

This is officially my second novel, and I’m aiming to make this one even better than the previous one, and I can’t do it without you guys.

Buckle up for the ride, smash that collection button, and dump your Power Stones here to fuel the updates.

Love you guys!