Chapter Text
At first, he thought he was on a boat, traversing choppy waters as he had with his parents as a child. It was dark out, but he couldn’t see the stars for the clouds, and they were also too far from shore to see the lights on land. All he could feel was the jostling of the room around him as he tried to sleep. Slowly, he remembered the accident. The screams, the splashes and the silence. He wondered distantly how long it would take for people to find him this time.
Something that differed from before was the temperature. It had been icy cold, and not enough blankets below deck. This time it was too hot, like he was lying in a shaft of summer sunshine. Jisung could feel the cool air moving around him, but his skin felt like it was minutes away from sunburn. It was only when he tried to move that he noticed the pressure at his wrists behind his back and the material over his eyes. His heart jolted with panic to find himself prone and helpless. He wasn’t on a boat at all.
Slowly becoming aware of his surroundings, he felt sluggish and heavy, and he wondered just how much of the drug was in his system. He wished he knew how much time was left before it ran its course, but he didn’t know how long he’d been unconscious.
He could feel the cold metal under him, digging into his shoulder and ribs uncomfortably as the van jostled him. The mulberry coloured jumpsuit he'd worn to the party offered little to no padding. Jisung could tell they were still in the city; however, given how fast they were going, they were nowhere near the central districts. He could hear the sound of heavy traffic beyond the buzzing in his head.
The scent of grime, engine grease and metal filled his nostrils as he fought the drug. His clothes were too tight, and his mouth was sticky with dribble drying on his cheek. Taking a shuddering breath as he tried to focus on everything but the tightness of his trousers, he noticed the scent of at least three people around him. He struggled to pick out their alignment but knew for certain none of them were alphas. His heart calmed at the realisation. It was going exactly as he and Seungmin had planned.
He needed to be removed from the current situation, sequestered away from anyone within the great houses’ control and, most importantly, any unmated alphas. Their carefully cultivated plan hinged on him being safely tucked away, out of danger and out of the reach of any alpha who would try to claim him in his vulnerable, receptive state. It was imperative if he was to have any hope of escaping the political marriage his grandmother had arranged for him.
Since the death of his parents, everything had changed. He was no longer the beloved son and heir; he was now a rare asset, a unique and highly desirable bargaining chip for the Han family, his wants and objections silenced by a look from the family's Matriarch, his grandmother.
His cousin, Chan, had taken over as the company leader as soon as he came of age. Still, being only a few years his senior, Chan’s authority hadn’t yet been cemented and was still actively attempting to win over those more loyal to their grandmother.
Chan was good and fair. Never thought of him as anything other than family, but his voice was that of a mascot and not as a leader, not yet. Jisung hoped that if his and Seungmin’s plan went successfully, they could help stabilise and legitimise his standing as the family’s patriarch. As a chess piece within the family, he was nothing more than a pawn, but even a pawn could change the outcome of a chess match, given the correct circumstances. And he was willing to sacrifice himself if it meant that he could stop his grandmother. He had nothing left to lose.
Jisung knew the drug in his system, the one Seungmin provided, was supposed to knock him out, unlike the one he should have taken that was designed to keep him in a constant state of arousal for his wedding night. Had he got them confused? Seungmin didn’t make mistakes.
It was a pretty standard clause in any political mating, but Jisung had been unwilling to sign. Not that his opinion had meant anything. Forced to sign, he was overwhelmed and overpowered by his grandmother’s pheromones, leaving no room for disobedience, beaten into submission with biology.
The drug was a simple phosphodiesterase inhibitor with added stimulants. Put simply, it increased arousal and decreased mental capacity, causing the omega to become so aroused that the thought of sex and mating became all-consuming, which meant that they were more readily willing to accept the alpha presented as a mate. It created a pseudoheat that eased the mating process and removed the omega’s autonomy. Once both the alpha and omega were bitten and mated, it was for life. When the omega returned to their senses, they would be bound and controlled by the alpha until death parted them. The thought turned his stomach.
Despite his disgust and distress, his hips rolled of their own accord, seeking friction. His cheeks flamed, knowing there were probably people watching him. Whimpering, he groaned in frustration at the useless movement. Why was he feeling like this? If Seungmin hadn’t made a mistake with the drug, had his natural heat hit early?
Early on, Jisung learned that being an omega meant living without dignity. That his role in life was to pretend, whilst his dignity and autonomy belonged to others to do with as they saw fit. To be presented, prepped and fucked, wrapped up like a present, ready for the pre-approved alpha to mate, fuck, and breed him. He was nothing more than a trophy to consolidate their new business transaction. Shame trickled from his eyes only to be absorbed immediately by the material of the blindfold. He wished, not for the first time, that he had been born an alpha or a beta. Just a slight shift in his physiology so that he could have a say over his life.
Neon lights flashed on the blindfold in vivid fuchsia and cyan as he lay trying to gather his thoughts. He thrust again, only to whimper pathetically when nothing happened. If he could only get some release, the brain fog would clear, and he would be able to focus. He wished he could work out how long he’d been unconscious. The pill Seungmin provided had a four-hour duration of action. Had it been that long already? If not, why was he awake?
The van turned a corner, jostling him against something warm and firm. He almost passed it off as the edge of a chain or something, as there was no immediate scent. No scent profile to read and assess. Slowly, the faint scent of honey and chamomile filtered into the air so faintly it was barely there. Jisung wondered whether the person had a scent-inhibitor modification. It would make sense for someone dealing with criminal activity to rely on that sort of enhancement. He sniffed against the trouser leg before it jerked away from him. The foot belonged to a beta, but the scent revealed nothing more.
“The princess is awake,” The man with the vague chamomile scent announced from above him. He sounded young but cold and disinterested.
“Perfect timing. We’re here, and I didn’t much feel like carrying him,” a male voice muttered from somewhere further away as the van ground to a halt. The sound of doors opening and closing around him confirmed at least two other people were in the vehicle. Silence fell for a moment before the sound of a sliding door filled the air near his feet.
Another scent hit him as the door opened. This one was strong and rich, smelling of warm citrus and cinnamon. His scent was thick and steady, telltale signs of a strong omega without screaming “omega”, as if the person were trying to disguise their alignment. If there were an omega present, Jisung hoped that he would be treated with more care, with a budding camaraderie of sorts through shared experiences, especially if he were going through a premature heat.
Leaning close enough that Jisung could feel his breath on his face, Citrus spoke into his ear as he gripped his arm. His scent from this close was polished and refined, heavily augmented to produce calm, soothing pheromones, its scent overly intentional.
“Listen, we have no intention of hurting you, but we will if you don’t cooperate,” His voice rumbled unexpectedly low against his face, the sound almost vibrating in his chest. “We’re going to need you to walk. Do you think you can do that?”
Jisung nodded as someone guided him into a sitting position, the warm, citrus scent rushing over him, soothing his worries. Jisung felt his shoulders loosen slightly.
The air outside was damp and cool, but it smelled strange. It sounded wrong, too. The familiar sounds of traffic and people were absent, and the air smelled like dirt. Jisung frowned. He couldn’t think of anywhere in the city where the night air was this silent and natural. Now that he could no longer smell the metallic, sterile scent he had been raised surrounded by, it was obvious in its absence, and he wasn’t sure how he had never noticed its presence before.
“Wow, he really is unmodified,” One of the men whispered. “I thought they must have got that wrong in the file.” It was the unidentified man who spoke.
“How is it possible?” another replied.
“How is what possible?”
“How do people survive in the real world without them?”
“Dunno, but shows it is possible. Although I wouldn’t say that he lives in the real world, exactly”
“Well, no. I guess not. But even so, we’ve just managed to kidnap him,” The man chuckled. “Killer survival instincts, this one! If he had any modifications, it might’ve made up for his complete lack of survival skills,” Chamomile snorted.
“Aren’t you worried that I’ll scream?” Jisung asked softly, realising distantly that someone hadn’t gagged him. However, based on the scent and sound clues he was picking up on, they felt very much alone and isolated where they were.
“Go ahead,” came the third’s voice. “If you’re feeling kinky, we can gag you, but even if you did scream, no one would care, not out here.” The voice came from farther away, sounding slightly echoey, as if it were bouncing off objects. The same voice as the man who hadn't wanted to carry him. Jisung guessed it was the driver. “Now be a good little gongju, and we’ll take good care of you,”
The sound of a large metal door creaking open made Jisung jump. “M‘not a princess,” He argued, but his tongue felt thick and clumsy as someone helped him stand. His legs wobbled, feeling weaker than he initially realised. He cried out as he felt the world tilt, apologising as his knees gave way beneath him. Someone called out in warning before hands grabbed him, stopping him from hitting the floor. “I’m sorry,” He muttered again as someone picked him up, throwing him over his shoulder. The wind left his stomach as the world started to bounce around him. Floral and amber undertones filled his nostrils as they started to move. It was the unidentified beta.
“What the fuck is that thing on his neck?” Jisung felt a wave of panic wash over him. What thing on his neck? His brain jumped to his fear of insects, and he jolted, desperate to touch his neck and brush whatever it was off. He cried out when he remembered his hands were bound. The fear chased away the haze in his brain for a second as he twisted and thrashed his head to flick it off.
“What’s going on back there? Stay still!” Amber whinged as he held onto his hips and calves.
“Hey, Stop!” Chamomile said, gripping Jisung’s head to stop him from thrashing around.
“Get it off! Get it off. I hate bugs. Please!” Jisung whined, fighting the hands that held him.
“It’s not a bug. Calm down!” Citrus confirmed, and Jisung let out a breath before letting his muscles relax.
“Not a princess, huh?” Amber snorted to himself as he prodded Jisung in the thigh.
“That's not a mod I’m familiar with,” Chamomile mused. “Knew he couldn’t be completely unmodified!”
“Looks like an E.R.I.” Deep-voiced Citrus said as his fingers brushed Jisung’s skin.
Jisung couldn’t help the whine that escaped his mouth at the touch. There was a hiss and a pinch of pain which seemed to start a pulse beneath his skin. Heat flowed through his veins as they spoke around him, their voices turning to sand through an hourglass, impossible to hold onto. His skin was suddenly a ravenous, gaping hunger, desperate for touch. Even the sensation of the man holding his legs made him want to squirm.
“Shit, can you smell that?” Chamomile asked. No one replied as Amber spoke again.
“E.R.I?” Amber asked, turning Jisung on the spot as he turned around to face the others. The vibrations of Amber’s voice made Jisung sigh.
“An Endocrine Regulation Implant. This is expensive tech. It can release drugs, chemicals or hormones into the bloodstream at regular intervals to help stabilise heats and ruts. I’ve never seen one as sophisticated as this, though.”
He felt fingers on his neck again and shivered, trying to move into the touch with a moan.
“He doesn’t smell stabilised to me,” Chamomile said with a snort.
“It’s hot to the touch. I’m not sure it should be. I think it’s been modified.”
“Modified?” Amber asked.
“Or it’s malfunctioning. Did the file say anything about the target being in active heat?” Citrus asked, sniffing the air.
“No,” Said Chamomile, “Just stated it was a simple grab and go.”
“Wedding Honeymoon,” Jisung muttered, not sure if anyone heard him or understood.
“Shit! I don’t like this! Let’s get him into the cell quickly before anything else happens.” Amber muttered as they started walking again. Jisung could feel the air through his hair as they moved with purpose. His perception seemed to waver, becoming dizzy and disjointed, like a dreamscape. Reality seemed to warp around him as the air became thick and warm.
“Shit, shit, shit!” Said Amber again, “You guys smell that? It’s so sweet! Like caramelised sugar”
“I told you!” exclaimed Chamomile,
“The scent’s all wrong. Artificial almost. I think that thing is keeping him in an active heat phase,” Citrus warned, “Are you totally sure the file didn’t say anything?”
“It definitely didn’t. But he did start stinking up the van when he woke up, but it wasn’t this strong.”
“Something’s off,” Amber grumbled. “It was far too easy to grab him, especially for what he is! Passed out and alone! Have you ever known one to be left unguarded?”
Citrus must have glared at him because a moment later, Amber argued: “You knew what I meant!”
“I thought he’d just drunk too much,” Chamomile observed.
“Doesn’t smell drunk,” Citrus said to his left. Jisung whimpered again, wanting to ask for touch, anything to fill the gaping void in his soul. He bit down on his bottom lip, desperate to keep silent. That was until Amber bounced him slightly, arranging him more comfortably on his shoulder. The change in position ground his shoulder into his lap, and he cried out, unable to do more. The heat pooling in his lower stomach seemed to feed the fire beneath his skin, as if it were molten lava rather than blood pumping through his veins. More! He needed more.
“Is he… begging?” Chamomile asked. Jisung’s face heated; he didn’t remember talking out loud.
“Fuck this shit, this is not what I signed up for! I think he’s about to grind one off on my shoulder!” Amber grimaced. “Quick, open that cell!”
“Gently!” Citrus ordered before Jisung was removed unceremoniously from Amber’s shoulder and dumped onto a firm bed. A heavy sigh from somewhere in the room followed.
There was movement around him, and suddenly, there was a breath against his face.
“I want to be able to take your bindings off, so that you’re more comfortable. Are you going to cause trouble?” Asked Citrus. Jisung shook his head, and suddenly his hands were free. He tried to reach for Citrus, but in the space where he had been, there was only air.
There was another whoosh and a hum. Jisung rushed to lift the blindfold from his face only to see three men standing on the other side of a forcefield peering at him.
All three men were wearing hologram masks to disguise their faces. They looked like neon animals as they watched him through the forcefield. The tallest one, wearing what looked like a ferret mask, was wiping at his shoulder before he turned away. Jisung could feel the disgust roll off him in waves. That had to be Amber, Jisung thought distractedly as he curled up on the bed watching them.
“We’ll bring you some food in a little while. Try and sleep,” This from a man in a yellow bird mask, but that voice could have only been Citrus, leaving the third man in a sharp red fox mask to be Chamomile.
“Once we’re paid, we’ll be able to let you go.” Said Chamomile, the fox’s jaw moving the way a human’s would, making his dream-like perception even more distracting. Jisung wondered if he was hallucinating as he rolled over and away from them.
The room was sterile with a simple bed pushed against a wall. There were no windows and no telling where they were. They could be one of the megablocks or deep in one of the network of bunkers that honeycombed beneath the city streets. Even the air was devoid of scents, except for his own. There was nothing to offer comfort; even the bed was hard and cold, like someone had put a thin blanket over a slab of stone.
He frowned at the stench he was producing, smelling like overripe fruits in the autumn as his pheromones filled the air. He couldn’t remember a time he had been so aware of his own scent. But the lack of an alpha was both a blessing and a curse. It meant that he could remain safe and unmated, but the thought of dealing with yet another heat alone made him want to cry. The ache filling his body as the need filled his veins was dull but incessant, never far from his thoughts as his body pulsed with arousal.
He felt overwhelmed, feeling his breathing rushing in and out of him as he started to cry. When he had approached Seungmin about this plan, they had gone through all the risks, and they had been reasonable, and he had been willing to take the risk. But there had been no talk of him going into this, pumped full of hormones and starved of touch. That was a new kind of horror. He knew that should an alpha come near him, he would submit without a second thought or hesitation. That lack of control terrified him. There was also no way to find comfort or relief as he tried to turn around in bed. At home, he would have had his nest, dark and secure and filled with plush blankets and pillows. Changbin sometimes lent him clothes to add to it, filling the space with comforting scents.
Here, he had nothing. No comforting scents, no warmth or softness, and his chest felt ready to burst. Another hiss and pinch stung at his neck, and he groaned as his previous concerns sank beneath an all-consuming wave of hunger. He needed an alpha and his knot. Needed to rut and come so that the pain and desperation would subside. Was it happening more quickly?
The thought didn’t linger, sliding from his fingers like wet glass as another wave of need hit him, washing his brain of thought. He wished for some privacy, knowing it was only a matter of time before he reached into his jumpsuit to try and relieve himself, but he held off, holding on to his remaining restraint and sense until they left him alone.
His hand moved up to his neck, probing the skin to feel the E.R.I. It felt like a thick metal patch against his skin. That hadn’t been part of the plan, nor had it been in any of the paperwork. It should have just been the single dose he was supposed to take, the one that Seungmin had swapped for the sedative, had something gone wrong?
Somewhere between him passing out and ending up in the van, the patch had been fitted. Had it been something the kidnappers had done? He assumed not with how they had reacted upon its discovery. He wondered if he could peel it off, but as he attempted to work his nails under the uneven edges of the gel holding it in place. He tugged once and winced.
“Don’t try to remove it. They usually need an expert to remove them. You could damage it or yourself.” Citrus’s voice said from behind him, making Jisung pull his hand away. Now that he knew it was there, he could feel it against his skin as he moved. Another hiss and a pinch, and his skin heated again. This time, he couldn’t help the moan that left him as the pulse filled his body; he could feel it pulsing between his legs. An incessant throb that was impossible to ignore. Was it getting worse? He hoped not.
“We’ll give you some privacy,” Said Citrus kindly, and Jisung could just about hear his footsteps move away. Twisting around, he saw that the others were gone too. He let out a cry of relief as he pushed his hand through his flies to relieve the pressure. Any shame or panic he felt, he buried deep as he concentrated on himself, anything to stop the need beneath his skin.