The dim light from the window, long since faded into the pale glow of city lights, lay in long strips on the floor. Do-yun sat on the edge of the bed, knees drawn to his chest, trying to create some physical containment for the chaos growing within. Sleep had not come for several hours. His body pulsed with a slow, but steadily intensifying heat, familiar and frightening. His breathing was erratic, and beneath his skin, especially around his neck and lower back, a soft but relentless current seemed to break through—unwanted, yet absolutely unstoppable.
He ran a trembling hand over the back of his neck, where the skin was damp and incredibly sensitive. His glands seemed to be swollen, demanding release from their suppressing burden.
The scent in the room—usually neutral, with a slight hint of laundry detergent—began to change. The light, transparent, spring-like aroma of an omega was now filled with a heavy, dense note of ripe fruit and damp earth. Pheromones. They erupted from him in waves, alluring, desperate, unconsciously calling out for someone who could quell this inner fire.
He clenched his fingers into a fist, digging his nails into his palm. Not now. This shouldn't have happened. He knew: the blockers had worn off. Everything he had suppressed for so long and so hard was returning with threefold force, like a destructive tide that could not be stopped by will or fear.
He stood up. His leg muscles trembled as if he had just run a marathon. For a second, his head spun, and the floor seemed to be tilting beneath him.
And in that moment, through his own hot haze, he felt a responding scent. Dense, spicy, pungent, sharp as a blade, yet incredibly stable. Alpha.
Yoon Seungho.
The Alpha stood in the doorway, in the gloom, his figure a complete shadow from which a silent tension emanated. His pheromones were restrained, but even that restraint pressed down like gravity. Do-yun felt his own body instinctively responding to this strength, to this control.
— You shouldn't have come, — Seungho's voice sounded muffled, low, like a warning growl. — You're in heat.
The heat of the rut made Do-yun brave. Or desperate. He stumbled closer.
— And you shouldn't leave, — he replied, the words coming with difficulty.
His voice trembled, but there was neither panic nor pleading in it. His eyes—shining, stubborn, full of fire—stared straight ahead, reading every change in the Alpha's expression.
Do-yun's pheromones grew thicker, intensifying the call. The air between them became heavy, viscous, like just before a storm. Seungho barely noticeably clenched his jaw and his fingers, as if trying to physically contain something tearing from within.
— You don't understand what you're doing. If you take me now... you won't be able to control the consequences, — said he quietly, with a tension uncharacteristic of his usual, authoritative tone.
— I do understand, — Do-yun interrupted, taking another step. — This time—I understand. I know I might lose control. But I no longer want to choose safety at the cost of lying to myself.
He came almost flush against him. Only the distance of a single breath remained between them. Warm, moist, desperate to escape.
— Seungho, — he whispered, raising his palm. — Stop hiding behind self-control. Let me see what you feel.
His palm rested on the Alpha's chest, right over his heart. Beneath Do-yun's fingers, a rhythm beat—fast, erratic, like someone who had long and painfully restrained himself.
— All this time you've protected me from yourself. From this. — He nodded towards his own pulsating heat. — And now, let me choose. Choose you.
Seungho closed his eyes, inhaling deeply—his lungs filled with the strongest concentration of heat pheromones. The Alpha's pheromones wavered, then flared in response, like a wild fire given freedom. He stepped closer, their hips touched, but he still didn't touch Do-yun with his hands, as if giving him one last chance to back away.
— If you don't want to, I... I will leave. Now, — he began, but his voice broke.
Do-yun raised his other hand and touched his face, the firm line of his jaw.
— I want to.
These two words sounded calm and firm. Without passion. Without despair. Simply as an undeniable truth that put everything into place.
He reached out first. Their lips met carelessly, but surely. Not by habit, not by instinct—but by a conscious, free decision.
The kiss deepened instantly. It wasn't just a kiss—it was a merging, a transfer of control and desire.
The scents exploded and merged into one. The Omega's pheromones—light, transparent, spring-like—now entwined around Yoon's dense, overwhelming aroma. The air became thick, heavy, as if the very boundary between their bodies had dissolved in the room, leaving only the two of them in this ethereal cocoon.
Yoon made an attempt to pull back, but Do-yun held him by the collar of his shirt, pulling the fabric toward himself.
— Don't run away, — he said, his voice was a barely audible rasp, yet insistent. — Neither from me, nor from yourself.
And then Seungho allowed it. Everything that had been restrained for weeks, for months, broke through. Not through force, but through scorching heat, wet breath, sharp, demanding movements. Do-yun led, his movements were soft yet confident, his hands demanding, his voice trembling but stubbornly insistent.
Clothes came off quickly, tearing, unable to withstand the impatience and mounting heat. It wasn't a storm. It was a fundamental connection—when the world stopped dividing into "body" and "mind," and all that remained was the feeling that you were finally not breathing alone.
The first thrust was cautious, almost reverent, dictated more by a profound inner need than aggression. Yoon entered slowly, giving Do-yun time to adjust to the pressure and size of his cock.
But every subsequent movement carried a weight and a deep desire that Yoon no longer tried to hide. Do-yun's body responded with the searing heat of his rut, the slickness (both his own and Seungho's pre-come) making their movements smooth and viscous. The room filled with the Alpha's low, guttural moans and the Omega's interrupted, near-screaming exhales.
Seungho pressed him close, gripping his waist, holding his hips. His palms stroked the Omega's sensitive skin, leaving red marks on the pale flesh. There was no haste in this act, only the necessity of asserting a claim. He penetrated deep, filling the Omega completely. Do-yun arched to meet him, eagerly swallowing his moans and digging his nails into the Alpha's strong trapezius muscles.
The climax came suddenly and simultaneously—when both reached an unbearable limit, Seungho broke another barrier, hitting the deepest point. The Omega's body clenched around him in an instinctive, painful spasm. Do-yun cried out, gasping for air, and at that moment, Yoon came inside him deeply, with strong, pulsing thrusts, spilling all his seed.
Yoon did not pull out immediately. He remained inside until the base swelled, forming a knot that sealed Do-yun, filling him to capacity. It was a biological compulsion to acceptance, but Do-yun welcomed it, going limp and clinging to the Alpha. He felt the hot, thick semen stream inside, settling heavily in his abdomen, while the knot held everything hermetically within. Yoon's pheromones enveloped him, calming and marking him, becoming the only scent that mattered.