Chapter Text
Being on top is lonely, Baekjin realizes, but there are too many hungry dogs at the bottom waiting to feast on his flesh if he were to tumble. He has made one too many wrong choices in his life, and it’s too late to backtrack or regret. He remembers, vaguely, the scent of roasted sweet potatoes and warm hands that used to hold him. Someone—a woman, perhaps—sang to him before bed each night. Life was slower then, and his bruises didn’t hurt as much.
He used to have a friend. A sweet alpha who spoke too loudly and fought too hard. They grew apart somewhere down the line. Two fighters with opposite moral compasses don’t make for a good duo. In middle school, he made a name for himself. In high school, he made a throne for himself. After that, he made a kingdom.
He always thought that power would soothe the turbulence in his mind, but money and violence could only do so much. His kingdom has become an empire, and that empire has now become his prison.
Sleep eludes him most nights. The pills don’t help anymore. He stays up making new equations and sorting through paperwork, unable to figure out why his life feels so incomplete. He’s achieved everything he wanted, but there’s no one to celebrate his triumphs. He has people to fight with but no one to fight for. His stomach is always full now, but his heart is empty.
Maybe he should’ve never let his fists do the talking. Maybe he should’ve never chased an all-consuming dream. Maybe he should’ve never walked away from the one thing he truly desired.
- - -
The stars are brightest in this part of town. They shine beautifully, unapologetically, unfazed by the thousands of eyes that must admire them. Baekjin lowers the window of his car, feeling the brisk wind against his skin. The stars remind him of someone.
“Sir, why do we always use this route? Isn’t the freeway quicker?” his secretary, Kihyun, asks, hands ever so tight on the well and eyes focused on the dim road.
He doesn’t answer, too afraid that the rational part of him may also find out the truth. There’s no justification for this detour, and yet he never fails to take it. The winding streets and smoky air grants him a sense of nostalgia—memories of innocence.
“I apologize if I offended you, sir,” Kihyun says, likely unnerved by the silence.
“Just drive,” Baekjin utters. There’s an unspoken wish for the car to slow down. If a tire were to pop and he were forced to spend the night around this hilly neighborhood, he wouldn’t be too mad. The thought makes him want to lower his window some more and drop a handful of nails on the ground.
Unfortunately, Kihyun is a cautious person, and their detour ends sooner than expected.
“Sir,” the boy says suddenly, sounding like he’s on high alert.
Baekjin hums in reply.
“I think someone’s following us.”
He glances up at the rearview window and counts a total of 6 motorcycles and a van behind them. The numbers are definitely not on their side, but he’s dealt with worse odds.
“What should we do?” Kihyun’s nervous scent fills the vehicle.
Sometimes Baekjin forgets that the boy is still young and inexperienced, having only joined his organization a year ago. “It’s better if we don’t stop.”
“Sir, they’re gaining on us!”
“Stop panicking and step on the gas.”
They speed up, far past the lawful limit, but as the road widens, their pursuers take the opportunity to race in front. The men chase them with vigor, which indicates that there’s someone holding a personal grudge. Their efforts to escape without confrontation fails miserably as the motorcycles encircle them.
Baekjin sighs. He’s grown tired of the fighting, even if it’s one of the few things he’s good at. Slowly, he reaches for a pair of gloves. His hands are already soaked in sins; he doesn’t need them to be dripping red too.
Kihyun steps on the break as the van overtakes them. Now their chances of running away are truly zero. The men on the motorcycles all stop, hopping off their rides, as 5 more emerge from the van.
“S-sir.” The boy looks to him for guidance, voice and hands trembling.
2 against 11 is already bad enough, but now it seems like it may be 1 against 11. “Stay,” he orders. “You’ll only get in my way.”
Cautiously, he exits the vehicle, paying no mind to the stench of eager alphas. They watch him like a pack of wolves watching their prey, but they don’t attack. Baekjin smirks. These idiots—they’re no more than a bunch of street thugs. Someone has to be behind them. Someone who knows his schedule. Someone like—
“Baekjin-ah, missed me?”
He turns to face the familiar voice. Seongje. That fucker.
“Been a while, huh?” The bastard flashes a maniacal smile as he closes in. “How have you been since you kicked me out of the Union?”
Baekjin scoffs. “I always knew you were a petty bitch.”
“Man, I’ve been waiting for this day for a while now.”
“If you wanted to get your ass beat sooner, you could’ve just asked.”
“Hah. You sure talk a big game, Baekjin-ah. Are you trying to compensate for something?” The alpha steps closer with every word.
The air is heavy with the scent of whiskey and nicotine. It invades his lungs and suffocates him, but he ignores the discomfort. Baekjin raises his fists in front of him, shifting into a fighting stance. He can’t quite understand why Seongje of all people is trying to challenge him, but he supposes he’s been too lenient on the bastard. Lessons aren’t taught through words; they’re taught through action.
“Why so angry? Did I hit a nerve?” The man laughs as boisterously as ever.
“I don’t recall you ever landing a hit on me,” he sneers. “If you want to fight, let’s fight. I hate wasting my time.”
The alpha growls at his remark. “You won’t be so cocky after I’m done with you.”
Baekjin rolls his eyes. He’s heard that same threat about a hundred times, and nothing’s ever come of it. Victory has become dull, but he would rather not taste the bitterness of defeat.
Without warning, Seongje lunges at him, fists eager to strike. Baekjin quickly dodges the jab, but he knows that the raging alpha isn’t one to rely on precision alone. The strikes become ceaseless, each one carrying more force than the last, but that doesn’t matter because none of them land.
He doesn’t counter; he just avoids, waiting for the perfect opportunity. Even a machine gun can run out of ammunition. Humans are the same. As fierce as they can be, they’ll eventually tire.
Baekjin watches as the bastard’s initial momentum diminishes.
An opening.
He quickly closes their distance, catching the alpha off guard. It only takes an uppercut and cross before the man is on the concrete, where he stays.
“How disappointing,” Baekjin mutters.
The idiots watching him quickly leap into action. Unfortunately for them, they're as uncoordinated as they are belligerent. Baekjin sighs at the predictable attacks, dodging each with ease before returning the favor.
Their moves lack variety. There's no experience behind their angry eyes. It's pitiful, but he's not in the mood to entertain a bunch of nobodies.
Baekjin races for the biggest alpha in the group, ready to set a clear example. The man, surprised, throws a desperate cross and misses, falling into his trap. Baekjin grabs the large body in front of him before jumping and bringing them both to the ground. He hears a grunt as he locks the man’s arm between his legs.
“Stop! Please!”
But it’s late.
There’s a snap, followed by a blood-curdling scream.
Baekjin pushes the limp arm off of him as he stands up. The men are frozen, some in amazement, most in fear. They don’t charge at him—they just stare. There are hierarchies even amongst animals, or perhaps especially amongst animals. They can’t dispute his power now, not when they’ve witnessed it with their own eyes.
He moves towards his car and the crowd lets him. Cowards .
“Mr. Na, you’re back!” Kihyun looks at him with doe eyes.
“Time?”
“7 minutes and 36 seconds.”
Baekjin smiles. A new record . His eyes settle on the terrified men behind the tinted windows. “Alright, let’s get going.”
The boy nods. “Yes, sir.”
As he hears the revving of the engine, his mind returns to the memories of long ago. His eyes grow heavy as he rests against the reclined seat.
“Sir?”
He hums.
“Keum Seongje is pretty foolish, isn’t he? Thinking he could take you down.”
Baekjin furrows his brows. It’s strange. The boy isn’t usually this talkative.
However, before he can formulate a reply, he feels a stabbing pain in his neck. His eyes open immediately. “Kihyun,” he grunts, baring his canines. “You fucking traitor.”
The bastard pulls away, syringe in hand.
“What the fuck did you inject into me?”
“Nothing bad,” the bastard says, smiling. “Just a heat inducer.”
“A what ?” Baekjin grabs his neck at the area that the needle pierced. A burning sensation rips through his system almost instantly.
“It's kind of impressive,” Kihyun adds, “how you've managed to hide your real status up until now.”
“I’m an alpha,” he retorts, but his body betrays him. Pain pools in his abdomen, scorching his insides like a furnace. He tries to act calm—tries to keep his hands from clutching his stomach—but instincts are hard to fight.
“Seongje is at least useful for one thing,” the alpha continues, completely ignoring him, “and it's finding out your little secret.”
Baekjin reaches for the car door to escape, but someone’s one step ahead of him.
“You motherfucker.” Seongje quickly grabs him by the neckline of his sweater before tossing him on the ground.
The scared fuckers from earlier surround him, likely drawn by the potent aroma of bergamot and jasmine. Baekjin curses his luck. Not even his cologne can cover up his inherent scent. He tries to stand up as Seongje and Kihyun approach—those backstabbing cunts—but his legs stop supporting his weight. He falls with a thud, ending up on his knees.
Seongje squats to his level, looking annoyingly giddy. “I never thought I’d see you on your knees, Baekjin-ah.”
He grits his teeth.
“For the past year, I’ve been wondering what you’d smell like. And I’ve gotta say I’m not disappointed.” The glasses bastard chuckles some more before signaling for his minions to come closer.
Kihyun towers over him, watching but not saying a word. He doesn’t have to. The smug look on his face says it all.
Baekjin contemplates biting the flesh off of the duo, but he knows he doesn’t have enough energy to act. He’s teetering on the verge of collapsing and curling into himself. He’s only ever had one heat before, and that was when he first presented. Ever since then, he’s been on medication—some prescribed and some dubiously sourced. He has never concerned himself with omegan biology; he’s never needed to. He should've known ignorance wouldn't serve him well.
“Does it hurt, Baekjin-ah?” Seongje asks, licking his lips. “We can help with that.”
“Go fuck yourself,” he manages to say. It’s hard to even conjure up words. There are fluids dripping down his expensive trousers, and it’s not his tears.
The glasses bastard snickers. “No, I think I’d rather fuck you.”
He pales at the threat. Baekjin can’t say he’s familiar with fear. He knows what it looks like from the faces of his opponents, but he’s never felt it himself. It’s odd. He doesn’t fear injury or death, but the thought of an alpha forcing into him is enough to make him nauseous.
There’s no difference , he tries to tell himself, between being beaten up and this. But there is. There is a difference. If he succumbs to this, his position will be compromised. His empire will fall. Everything he’s built up will topple like a house of cards.
Worst of all—and perhaps the only reason that truly matters—he won’t have anything left of himself to give to the source of his yearning.
“Hold him down.” A commanding voice fishes him from his thoughts.
“Who gave you the right to savor him first?” he hears Kihyun ask, frustration evident in his tone.
Seongje chuckles in response. “What? You want to fuck him at the same time?”
“Why not? He can take it. He looks sturdy enough.”
“You’re a crazier motherfucker than me, man.”
Their conversation nearly makes him regurgitate his dinner. He tries to tune them out—tries to forget about the hands pinning him down by the wrists and ankles. He wonders how long the drug will circulate in his system. He wonders how many of these weaklings will try to dominate him. He wonders how many bodies he’ll have to tear apart when this is all over.
Kihyun ends up between his legs first after winning some sort of debate. “You look the prettiest from this angle,” the boy says.
Baekjin growls. “Touch me and you’re dead.”
“What a feral omega you are. I guess I’ll have to teach you a lesson.” A hand slithers beneath his sweater.
“Don’t you dare, Seo Kihyun!” As loud as he screams, his words fall on deaf ears. He hates that the bastard’s touch seems to nullify the searing sensation in his flesh.
“You're leaking like crazy, Baekjin-ah.” The hands become more exploratory, more invasive.
He shivers as the cold air reaches beneath the waistband of his briefs.
No! Fight back, you idiot!
He tries to even out his breathing, to maintain a calm facade, but he falters. A moan escapes his lips, and, without missing a beat, Kihyun shreds the fabric protecting him.
Pheromones diffuse into the air. The men must feel like mighty wolves, all ready to sink their fangs into fresh meat.
Baekjin gazes at the star-filled sky. He won't cry. He won't.
Don't just lie there! Fight!
This isn't how he imagined his first time would go.
These men aren't supposed to touch him.
Not these filthy, unwashed alphas.
This can't be how it goes.
Suddenly, he feels the grip around his limbs loosen. Kihyun is between his legs, preparing to have the first taste. Everyone else observes in quiet arousal. Baekjin makes an instant decision.
It’s now or never.
He ignores the forest fire that spreads through his veins as he locks his legs around the alpha’s waist, pulling the body closer to him.
“Eager, aren’t we?”
He disregards the comment as he grabs the man’s arm.
“Fuck, Kihyun, he’s trying to submit you!” Seongje yells.
The warning comes too late. Baekjin smirks as he maneuvers his legs over the man’s shoulders. Got you .
“Help me, you idiots!” Kihyun screams, unable to wiggle out of the armbar.
Baekjin doesn’t hesitate. He acts immediately, relishing the satisfying crunch of bones breaking. Animalistic sounds leave the bastard’s mouth. How fitting.
Seongje leaps into action, charging at him with a punch. Baekjin is barely back on his feet when the fist knocks him back down. He supposes that glasses bastard isn’t just talk after all.
The man mounts him, delivering blows after blows without any opening. He tries to absorb the attack with his arms, but he swears they’re starting to fracture.
“Hold him down!” Seongje orders. “Tightly this time!”
His minions move in to re-establish their control.
Baekjin gasps for air. His limbs are stretched again. He’s pinned down. At least Kihyun is out of the equation. That scum won’t be doing much with his right arm for a while.
“Stop struggling, you bitch!” Seongje is almost red in the face with anger. He huffs, clearly tired from the altercation, before reaching in the pocket of his windbreaker. “Do you know what this is, Baekjin-ah?” he asks, holding up a filled syringe.
Baekjin’s eyes go wide.
“This shit is expensive, y’know, but I got an extra vial just in case. I guess my caution paid off.”
“Don’t you fucking dare!”
“What? Are you scared, Baekjin-ah? It’s okay. This much won’t kill you. I think.”
“Keum Seongje, I’ll fucking kill you!”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it all before. Just relax, so we can both enjoy this.”
No. This can’t be happening. He almost survived. He almost escaped. Like a nightmare, the needle pierces his skin again. The drug disperses through his body, lighting every cell it touches on fire. Baekjin feels his vision blurring as the resistance in his mind melts away like icicles in spring.
All rationality disappears.
It hurts. Everything hurts. And he just wants someone—anyone—to make it go away.
“Don’t worry, Baekjin-ah. I won’t hurt you…well, at least not too much.”
Shame overwhelms him. He’s gotten weak. That’s why he’s in this position.
The faces fade into black as drug-induced symptoms take over.
But in this darkness, he feels less dread. Seongje’s voice goes quiet. The body heat of the alphas around him dissipates. He can’t sense anything except a singular distinct fragrance: pinewood and oakmoss.
“Na Baekjin?” A familiar voice. “Fuck, man.”
Has someone come to save him?
But who would save him ?
Who besides…?
It can’t be.
That’s impossible.
He must be dreaming.
“Na Baekjin, open your eyes, dammit!” An order? No, a desperate plea.
He does so.
“Oh thank god you’re alive.” A familiar face. Too familiar. It’s the same face that haunts his dreams, reminding him of what he’ll never attain.
“Humin-ah.” He reaches for the man. The only man he’s ever wanted to touch. “Are you real?”
“I’m not dead, you idiot. Of course, I’m real.”
“Wh-why are you here?”
“Well, I was driving home from work, and then I saw some dumbasses blocking the road with their cars, so I thought I oughta teach them some manners.”
Baekjin chuckles despite his hoarse throat.
“Are you alright?” Humin asks.
They're so close. They've never been this close before, besides the few times they fought during high school. And high school was a decade ago.
“Earth to Baekjin.”
“I hear you.”
“Well? Are you hurt anywhere?”
“I'm hurt everywhere.”
“Shit. Okay, I'll drive you to a nearby hospital.”
Baekjin shakes his head. “That won’t help.”
“Why? What's going on?”
“Can't you smell it?”
“Smell what? Your cologne? Yeah, I could smell it from a mile away. Jesus Christ, did you bathe in it or something?” Humin—that idiot—hasn't changed since high school.
“That's not my cologne, dumbass.”
“Not your cologne?” The alpha visibly ponders the statement before something finally lights up in his empty head. “W-wait, Baekjin, y-you’re—”
“I'm in heat. Are you going to help me or what?”