Work Text:
The strong smell of tobacco and leather had Baekjin flick his eyes up from his work.
Seongje was leaning on the doorframe, a hand in his pocket and another holding a cigarette.
“That was quick,” he said, walking closer now. “I wanted to see how long it’d take you to realize I was there.”
When Seongje got close enough, another wave of smoke hit his nose, and irritation washed over him.
“Don’t smoke in my workroom,” he said flatly. His eyes fell back to the papers in front of him.
He could smell the sharp edge of the other’s scent. Ash.
“I’ll do what I want, boss,” he scowled, mockery heavy on the last word.
And yet, he strolled to the other side of the room and put out his cigarette on an ashtray.
“I finished the mission you gave me,” he continued. “And I’m bored. So either keep me busy or I’ll keep coming.”
And he turned to leave. When Seongje reached the door, Baekjin suddenly looked up.
“Why are you still treating me like a threat?”
That stopped Seongje in his tracks. The Alpha turned back around.
“What?”
“Your smell,” Baekjin paused. “You’re not accepting me.”
Something crossed Seongje’s face. Something unfamiliar. Something dangerous.
But he turned around before Baekjin could decode it.
“Like you are.” And he left. Baekjin was left with his thoughts and the lingering smell of cigarette smoke.
Baekjin first saw Seongje when crossing an alleyway. He caught the scents of burnt wood, cedar smoke, and tobacco all clashing against each other, mixed with muffled grunts and sharp impacts.
Baekjin, being seventeen, curious, and unconsciously itching for a fight, turned into the alleyway and followed the scents. It was a Friday night, and he didn’t have any homework waiting for him at home, so what else was there to do?
He didn’t know what to expect, but it definitely was not two Alphas ganging up on one, smaller Alpha, who was holding them off surprisingly well. Baekjin peeked from a corner as the smaller Alpha was pressed against a wall, slipping past their punches by inches. All three of them could fight, Baekjin could tell.
But the smaller Alpha was losing. His face dripped blood onto the concrete ground and his movements got sloppy.
Finally, the smaller Alpha staggered after taking a hit to the jaw. He swayed before his legs gave out, and he fell to the ground.
One of the other Alphas laughed. The other joined in when the smaller Alpha slowly rose to his feet again, bloody fists raised once more.
Baekjin felt irritation crawl under his skin.
Not because it was an unfair fight.
Because the smaller Alpha just kept getting up.
The second he gained his ground, one of the bigger Alphas twisted his fist into his windbreaker and threw him into the concrete wall. Hard enough for his head to crack open.
Something ugly twisted in Baekjin’s gut.
Enough.
One moment, Baekjin stood behind the fight observing, the next he stepped in and had Seongje caged behind him, fists at the ready. One punch sent the first stumbling. The second folded after the next.
“A two–on–one and you can’t even get him down,” he scoffed, mostly to the two in front of him. He felt a weak push on his back.
“Fuck off,” the smaller Alpha hissed, a spike of cigarette smoke filling the air, “I could’ve taken them.”
“Your head was about to break open,” Baekjin said absentmindedly, pushing the other two Alphas back every time they stepped closer.
Another shove, stronger this time, had Baekjin unintentionally step forward and almost eat a swing from the man to his left. A jab. He fell to the ground. The other stepped up. Baekjin easily took him down with a combo to his face—left, right, uppercut.
He turned to the boy behind him. He looked the same age as him. Eyes flicking downward, he caught a nametag. Geum Seongje.
He looked back up. Disheveled hair, wavering eye contact from exhaustion, and an undecipherable look met his gaze. The faint smell of dry blood forced Baekjin’s eyes downward. Glancing back, the two Alphas were nowhere to be seen. Immediately, he took Seongje’s bloodied hands into his own.
The Alpha immediately resisted, his hands pulling out of his grip.
“Let go of me, you ass,” he tried, his scratchy voice betraying his words. Baekjin easily got a hold of his hands again. The Alpha tried to pull away again.
“Let go!”
“Stop.”
The tone made Seongje still. His scent spiked—sour, but rich with heat.
Even Baekjin couldn't recognize his voice. It sounded…territorial.
The pause was catastrophic. Baekjin felt the boy relax a fraction in his grip, allowing him to see his injuries. His scent softened. Baekjin’s eyes flicked to the other, whose eyes were locked on where their hands met.
Baekjin looked down again, where Seongje’s hands lay pliant against his own.
Cuts. Bruises. No broken bones, thankfully.
“You’ll be fine,” Baekjin said, dropping his hands carefully back to his sides, “just disinfect the cuts when you get home.”
When he stepped back, he turned to leave.
But he froze. The gravity of what he just did finally hit him when his eyes fell to a pool of blood in front of him.
He just stepped into a fight that was not his. All just for an Alpha boy.
Why?
His gut twisted. The question sat heavy in his stomach. Across from him, Seongje watched quietly.
It was silent for a moment.
Then…
“Why did you do that?”
Baekjin’s eyes found Seongje’s.
Confusion. Curiosity.
Want.
And for the first time in a long time, Baekjin’s thoughts came up short.
“…I don't know.”
Because he didn't. He really didn’t.
And that scared him the most.
“You’re doing that thing again,” Seongje said.
Baekjin looked up from the ground.
They sat outside of a convenience store, Seongje halfway through a can of beer and Baekjin who still hadn’t touched his.
Baekjin blinked.
“Doing what?”
“That thing where you’re thinking too loud.” He shifted in his seat, not sparing a glance at him. “Your scent is also killing me, dude. Control it.” He took another sip and leaned back, pulling his phone out of his pocket and unlocking it.
Baekjin clenched his jaw. Seongje’s scent was unbreathable.
“Like yours doesn't," he scoffed, mirroring his words.
Seongje stopped. Dropped his phone down on the table.
“Say that again.”
Frustration took over Baekjin.
“There is not one time,” Baekjin leaned forward, “that your scent isn't one of caution.”
Seongje narrowed his eyes, confused and a little bit angry.
“Isn’t caution, like, the fundamental theorem of being in a gang?”
Not with me, Baekjin’s head said unhelpfully. The words almost slipped out.
Instead Baekjin leaned backward again.
“Nevermind,” he muttered.
“No, no, what is it?” It was Seongje’s turn to lean, scraping his chair across the ground. “What is wrong with you? You’re always all about being calm and shit as if you’re the most laid back person on Earth.”
Baekjin’s gaze hardened.
“That’s different.”
“How?”
Baekjin opened his mouth to speak, only to come short. He closed it.
“Right,” Seongje said. “Exactly. So what’s so different about me then, hm?”
He was right. What was so different about Seongje?
The thought made Baekjin’s blood run cold.
“I don't know, Seongje. Just stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Stop treating me like I’d do what those Alphas did to you.”
Seongje paused. His eyes scrunched. His scent grew bitter in the air. Baekjin froze.
Too far.
Seongje scoffed.
“You’re just another Alpha.” He got up from his seat. “Can't be too cautious.”
And he left.
So, what the fuck?
Seongje isn’t an omega.
It’s not like Baekjin is trying to court him. Because first off, that's nothing like him and second, even if he was an omega, why him?
Seongje shouldn't have been surprised.
Baekjin is weird with everyone.
…Was he?
Because even when they first met, Baekjin’s instinct was to reach out. To touch. To hold his wrists and check for injuries.
He finished the fucking fight for him.
And this is the same person who barely tolerated people who breathe near him.
What was so different about himself?
He felt a sharp burn between his fingers. He hissed and flinched away, dropping the cigarette in his hand in the process. It burned too far. He stared at the mark on his fingers for a second too long.
Annoying.
Seongje walked back to the warehouse alone.
When he got there, he expected it to be empty. It was hours past midnight and everyone else probably left already.
So the confusion he felt when he slid the warehouse door open and immediately caught a whiff of Baekjin and someone else together was devastating. His whole body tensed up. His scent probably went haywire.
Immediately, he approached the room where the lights buzzed overhead. He slowed down before entering, just to make it seem casual.
Except, Baekjin’s eyes were already on the door before he entered.
Like he was expecting him.
And Seongje was right, there was someone here with him.
An Alpha he hadn’t seen before.
He hadn’t realized Seongje was standing there until Baekjin didn't answer a question. When the man looked up, Seongje was already walking to another side of the room. He felt both their eyes on him before the other Alpha continued.
“So, if we were to schedule the shipment sooner, we can bypass the entirety of security.” He pointed to another part of the map that was laid across the table. Baekjin leaned in, humming.
Seongje fell onto a couch in the corner. His eyes burned holes through the other Alpha.
“We know security goes on break at this time, so if we were to use this time frame…” He leaned into the map closer, enough for their shoulders to brush. “We wouldn’t need to go through security.”
Baekjin didn’t move away.
He didn't move away.
“You’re in his space,” Seongje heard himself say.
Silence.
The other Alpha looked back up.
“Sorry?”
“Ignore him,” Baekjin said, not looking up from the map, “you’re fine.”
Seongje blinked.
Huh.
His scent had gotten sharp enough to sting at that moment.
You’re not accepting me, my ass.
Absolute fucking hypocrite.
The Alpha looked between the two of them before hesitantly lowering his gaze back to the paper.
It took him another twenty minutes to finish his monologue. To leave Baekjin and Seongje alone in that workroom.
Seongje didn’t care to spare a glance at him. The game on his phone was more interesting anyway.
And when he didn’t approach Baekjin, Baekjin was the one to stand up. Only a couple of strides and he was looming over him.
He pulled one of Seongje’s wrists sharply, ignoring the phone as it fell out of his hands and into his lap.
“What the fuck? I was using—”
“Wait.”
And Seongje, despite himself, did. He grumbled something but didn’t move as Baekjin brought his wrist higher. He felt his cheeks heat up.
“Did you burn yourself?”
“Fuck off.”
“You should be more careful.”
He let go of his wrist, letting it fall back into his lap. He then took the space next to Seongje. Seongje’s eyes followed him.
How did he even notice the burn?
“…Don’t touch me,” he muttered under his breath. It was so quiet that he wasn’t even sure if Baekjin heard it. He didn’t care.
But Baekjin slowly turned to him. Seongje hadn’t yet picked up his phone, and he met his eyes instinctively.
The look on Baekjin’s face was careful. Like he was decoding something that was on Seongje’s face.
His eyes flicked down. Then up.
“Get rest,” he said. He was moving before Seongje could answer, and out the door before he could blink.
Seongje swallowed. Now he was alone with the background buzzing of the overhead lights.
A sudden wave of anger crashed onto him. It got hot. He threw himself upward.
“The fuck? What do you mean, ‘get rest?’” He directed the words to Baekjin, though they only echoed in the silence around him.
“I said, ‘don’t touch me,’ not, ‘leave!’”
He expected nothing in return, and that was what he was left with.
Nothing.
“Asshole,” he muttered, sinking deeper into the leather of the couch.
Seongje reddened when he touched him.
His scent was constantly fluctuating. He could tell he was coming even before he entered the warehouse.
His aggression.
He let Baekjin touch him.
Why?
Baekjin thought back to when they first met in that alleyway.
The symptoms were consistent. More unusual was that Seongje had let a stranger touch him at all. In all the years Baekjin had worked with him, Seongje had never favored touch.
And when Baekjin was working with an associate a couple of nights before, it was the moment the other Alpha got closer that Seongje involved himself.
The moment Baekjin sat beside him, sweetness bled into Seongje’s scent. When he looked, Seongje’s pupils were blown, his face slightly flushed, his eyebrows furrowed.
He left before anything changed.
Because that look—that look alone—answered everything.
Rut.
It took Baekjin too long to come to that consensus.
Walking away from the room, he caught a little bit of what Seongje said.
“‘…don’t touch me,’ not, ‘leave!’”
Of course. It made sense now.
And that should have been enough. Seongje was going to start his rut, and the bodily responses came from that. That’s it.
But Baekjin almost considered something else. Something stupid.
Something worse.
It shouldn’t have even crossed his mind.
Seongje reacting to proximity was biological. Instinctual.
Not him.
And yet, Baekjin remembered all of it too clearly.
Dilated pupils. Flushed face. The correction.
Pointless details.
Yet they clung to him.
It was the first time Baekjin saw Seongje like that. And, truthfully, he hoped for it to be the last.
Baekjin blinked. The words on the paperwork in front of him blurred together and he had to leave the room entirely to think better.
Only then did he realize he’d been sitting there, replaying the interaction over and over instead of reading a single word on the pages in front of him.
And to make things worse, he hadn’t properly talked to Seongje since that day.
Understandable. He had been deliberately avoiding him, giving him the space he needed. Leaving whenever he entered the room. Keeping others busy with tasks Seongje used to carry out.
Because eventually, he’d find an Omega.
A day later they were on a mission together.
It should have been straightforward. A brief exchange. No fighting. No attention.
But the atmosphere worked against their favor, especially since Seongje had already been fighting his pheromones to begin with.
The booming bass in the background, the smell, everything about the place seemed to enhance Seongje’s drunken state. By the time they had gotten to the actual exchange, Seongje was half slumped on a wall behind Baekjin, a handful of Baekjin’s sleeve in his grip so tight his knuckles must have gotten white. He barely let Baekjin move until Baekjin forcefully dragged him along.
And someone—some idiot, stupid, drunk Alpha—had to put his hands on Baekjin. The man shoved past him with a drink in hand and a broad smile on his face. His eyes were barely open and he could barely stay on his feet and Baekjin could smell cheap alcohol and synthetic vanilla before he could even react.
But Seongje was quicker.
He shoved the man back, harder. Enough for the drink to fall and the smile to be wiped off of their faces.
Chairs scraped. Curses thrown. Heads turned. Not all of them, but enough for the other party of the exchange to flee. Baekjin had to drag Seongje out of there before he escalated the situation further.
Dragging him across a secluded area, he didn’t let go until Seongje ripped out of his grip.
“Jesus Christ, your grip is strong,” Seongje cursed, panting.
Baekjin was also out of breath, breathing in sharp intakes through gritted teeth.
He faced him.
“What,” he stepped forward, “was that.”
“He shoved you. I was itching for a fight.”
“The only thing we needed to do was exchange with the other group.” Baekjin pinched his nose, closing his eyes for half a second.
Half a second too long.
Because when he opened them, Seongje almost closed the gap between them. Baekjin immediately braced an arm between them. Seongje still leaned forward.
Baekjin took a long look at him. Hair damp from sweat. Eyes blown wide. Something manic in the smile that grew on his lips.
Something beyond protection. Something closer to possession.
Seongje’s scent grew bitter.
Then he laughed. Sharp. Disbelieving.
“Don’t you get it?” Seongje’s smile twitched wider. “You’re mine.”
Baekjin looked at him like he was insane.
And watched as Seongje’s expression faltered a fraction.
Seongje slowly stepped back, then past him, leaving him with a faster heartbeat and clammy hands.
What bothered him more than that was how easily Seongje pulled away too.
He no longer approached him on his own. Baekjin assumed it was the rut. That he was occupied with resolving it. That his instability was caused by his inability to control his pheromones.
And yet, he always felt the need to look back when he walked out. Just to see if he was following behind. He never looked back.
Why was he always so difficult?
Mine.
Mine.
Mine.
The only word running through Seongje’s head when he looked at Baekjin.
The thought always hit before he could even stop it.
Baekjin standing across the room.
Mine.
Someone brushing past him casually.
Mine.
Another Alpha leaning too close during conversation and something hot twisting under Seongje’s skin so violently he had to look away before he did something stupid.
He’d never been this bad during his rut before.
And he was fine.
Was.
Until people started touching Baekjin.
Then the heat took over.
That asshole at the bar deserved what he got. If Baekjin hadn’t dragged Seongje out, he probably would’ve broken his jaw.
And the worst part?
The thought felt natural. Effortless. Like his body had already made its decision long before his mind could catch up to it.
And god, the sheer look on Baekjin’s face afterwards. Like he was someone Baekjin couldn’t recognize.
It felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over him. The heat vanished so quickly it made him sick.
And suddenly Seongje was left alone with the haunting image of what he’d done.
No.
Not what he’d done.
The look on Baekjin’s face afterward.
He smoked five cigarettes back to back that night. Then he went to sleep and the next morning he felt worse than he did in the morning.
His entire body ached. Maybe another cigarette would help.
He reached into his pocket. Dug out a couple of unlit stubs. He fished for a lighter, only for nothing to come up.
Right. He left it in Baekjin’s workroom the night before.
Groaning, he forced himself off the leather couch he slept on and dragged himself past the bowling alley and into Baekjin’s secluded room. He swung the door open and eyeballed the room.
Of course, Baekjin was there, sitting at his desk. And how convenient, Seongje’s lighter was at the far end of the same table.
He approached the desk. Baekjin only offered a glance before going back to writing.
His pencil always moved at an uncomfortably fast pace. Seongje wouldn’t be surprised if what Baekjin was doing was documenting every time he took a breath.
Seongje shamelessly propped himself on the corner of Baekjin’s desk, some papers lodged underneath him. If Baekjin made a sound of retort, Seongje didn’t hear, as he was too busy reaching over to the other side of the desk.
And then Baekjin moved. Barely. He didn’t get out of his chair. Didn’t even stop writing.
Just leaned back an inch.
An inch.
Back. Away from Seongje. Seongje didn't even touch him, and he moved out of his way.
Seongje scoffed and pulled back, leaving the lighter where it was. Then he turned to Baekjin. Baekjin stayed unfazed for exactly two seconds.
Then his pen stopped. His head moved before his eyes, a look of masked indifference meeting his gaze.
“What.”
Prick.
“Can I not sit here?” Seongje settled with instead.
Baekjin took a moment to scan him. He looked up at him, then down at the papers underneath him. If something changed in his face, Seongje couldn’t catch it.
“…you can,” Baekjin finally said before looking back down at the papers in front of him like Seongje wasn’t fuming in front of him. His scent probably choked Baekjin. He hoped it did.
“You’re full of shit.”
And Baekjin looked back at him, quicker than the time before. It was evident that he was annoyed.
“What do you want, Seongje?”
Fucking look at me.
“Oh, I don't know, maybe stop treating me like I’m a fucking problem?”
Seongje’s ears got hot. Then his face. And then suddenly every part of his body was on fire. Seongje’s finger lay restless on the desk, twitching every few seconds. Seongje had clenched his jaw so tight he wondered how his teeth were holding up.
Baekjin just stared. Unnoticing, Seongje didn't even know at that point. But he was looking at him.
“You’re in rut.”
Seongje laughed once. Humorless.
“Never stopped you before.”
“I never noticed.”
“Bullshit.”
Baekjin’s jaw ticked once. A smile grew on Seongje’s face.
“What, you suddenly think I’m made of glass or something?”
A metallic smell flooded Seongje’s senses.
There he was.
“I think you should leave.” Baekjin’s voice got low. Dangerously low. And when Seongje looked close enough, Baekjin’s ears had deepened a shade, too.
Seongje immediately noticed. He blinked. Then he looked again.
“…Are you blushing?”
Baekjin’s expression hardened instantly.
“Get out.”
Seongje laughed. Real this time.
“Holy shit.”
“Get. Out.”
“What? You said I could sit here—”
“Don’t make me repeat myself, Seongje.”
The lighter at the other end of the table didn't even matter anymore. For once, Baekjin looked cornered. Seongje got him. He finally had proof that Baekjin was full of shit. He walked out of there with the brightest smile he’s had in days.
Maybe Seongje should have taken suppressants when his rut first started becoming a problem.
Not that he ever thought it was one.
He never felt the need for them. Never felt anything strong enough to disrupt his day–to–day life.
It had never been like this.
Seongje woke up in a pool of sweat and every inhale felt too heavy. Too much.
And worse, of Baekjin’s scent.
Breathing had suddenly become work.
Cedar. Metal. That clean sharpness he’d gotten too used to noticing was now everywhere.
Too full.
Too close.
God.
Seongje’s head spun.
When he pushed himself upright, the room tilted hard enough that he nearly dropped back onto the couch. Three steps later, his footing gave out entirely.
His head pounded against the cold hard floor underneath him. Seongje stayed there. Maybe for a minute, two. Just until he realized the headache was not going away anytime soon.
When he picked his head up, he immediately caught the sight of a jacket. Not his. Baekjin’s. His leather jacket lay sprawled underneath Seongje.
How did that—
It was on him. Baekjin laid his jacket on Seongje when he slept.
Seongje jerked away from the jacket suddenly. Like it burnt him. The smell didn’t lessen.
Then he dragged it towards him. Put it on. He felt hot already and a leather jacket didn’t help at all.
He didn’t care.
With a newfound resolve, Seongje stood up. Too fast. The world tilted again. Seongje caught himself this time.
And he walked. He didn’t know where. Didn’t care. Just forward.
Baekjin caught the shift in the air the moment Seongje woke up.
Baekjin’s body stilled in his chair.
A sharp, involuntary jerk in his chest tunneled Baekjin’s sight for a moment.
And then…a spike of Seongje’s scent. Leather. He must have noticed the jacket.
A part of him wanted to check on Seongje. The stronger part told him to leave him alone.
Seongje had handled rut before. He’d handle this one too.
Because Baekjin knew he couldn’t watch Seongje like this. The difference terrified him.
He must be in pain. The total body ache of being deep in rut. Baekjin wondered if Seongje ever felt it this strongly.
Seongje has gone through his rut multiple times.
It never disrupted work. Not like this. Never dragged like this.
So what changed?
Seongje was right—him being in rut never stopped Baekjin.
But god, his smell—
Baekjin immediately knew the moment the rut symptoms started something was off.
Seongje’s smell clouded the air. He could have sworn he heard a distant thud outside his office.
At that, Baekjin’s entire body went rigid. But he didn’t dare move.
As the shuffling of feet outside his door got louder, Seongje’s scent got stronger.
Baekjin held his breath.
Then the door at the other end of the room swung open. Seongje walked in and—
He almost looked unrecognizable. Barely picking up his feet as he walked, Baekjin’s jacket draped over his shoulders. He was drenched in sweat, and his hair hung low, soaked.
Baekjin watched him carefully, something uncomfortable beneath his ribs tightening.
Seongje made a sound of protest and rubbed his nose. Then he fell onto the leather couch, curling into himself with a groan.
Baekjin sat frozen at his desk. The papers scattered across his desk suddenly felt irrelevant.
Baekjin opened his mouth to speak, only for nothing to come up. He clamped it shut.
Then he inhaled.
“Seongje.”
“Mmm.” His voice was rough with fatigue. Baekjin was stuck. Should he leave? Continue his work?
“You got tylenol or something?” Seongje then asked, stirring. Then laughed, like he made a joke.
Baekjin pressed his lips together.
“Is that a serious question?”
“What do you think, genius?”
No. Of course not.
Baekjin breathed out.
“Do you…need anything—?”
“God, stop being so soft. Give me a mission or something.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Why not? Look, I’m fine—” Seongje tried to sit up, only for all the color to leave his face. He fell back down again.
Baekjin narrowed his eyes. “You can barely sit up. What makes you think I’ll let you work?”
“I need the money.”
“You’ll still get paid.”
“Why?”
Baekjin paused. No one got paid if they didn’t complete a mission, let alone not show up at work. They both knew that.
“…Then you won’t.”
“You asked if I needed anything.” Seongje sat up slower this time. “I need money.”
“For?”
“Cigarettes.”
“You’re not smoking until your rut passes.”
“Fuck you. I’ll do what I want.”
Seongje slowly got up. That was when Baekjin abandoned his work entirely, standing up and catching Seongje before he got a chance to take another step.
“What you should want,” Baekjin said, standing in Seongje’s way, “is to get better. Sit down.”
Baekjin took the moment to scan him. Flushed face, eyes blown—Seongje was at the peak of his rut. The most painful part.
Something unpleasant twisted in Baekjin’s chest.
Familiar. Too familiar.
Too close to the feeling he’d had the first day he found Seongje in that alley.
And though Seongje’s jaw ticked, he sank back onto the couch, muttering something under his breath.
Baekjin took the sofa across from him.
“When was the last time you’ve eaten?”
Seongje shrugged, wincing a little. He fell back on the couch. The jacket draped over him slid off his shoulder.
“Seongje.”
“I don't know! Maybe, like, Monday?”
Baekjin glared at him. It was Wednesday.
“And water?”
“Hah, couldn’t tell ya.”
Baekjin regretted asking. He pinched the base of his nose, closing his eyes.
When he opened them again, Seongje had closed his eyes. His smile looked pained, like he was trying to bear the aching.
Looking at Seongje like this, Baekjin realized he couldn't.
So he got up.
He walked back to his desk, leaning down to open a drawer and pulling out a small water bottle. He walked back and placed it on the table in front of him.
“I’ll figure out something for you to eat,” Baekjin sighed, taking the sofa across from him once more.
There are a lot of ways Baekjin can figure this out.
Suppressants, except Seongje never used them.
Painkillers.
Food, maybe.
Baekjin snuck a look at Seongje. He was already staring at him. No sarcasm, no teasing. Which was the scariest part. He was just looking.
And Baekjin had to turn away.
Rut usually didn’t drag like this. There were ways to manage it.
Dealing with them, like…
A thought surfaced. Unpleasant.
Omegas.
No. There had to be something else.
But the options were coming up short.
“Do you…normally have a way of dealing with it?”
Seongje paused. Then, he tilted his head, his eyebrows scrunching and a smile forming on his face.
“You asking if I need an omega?” Seongje asked, sounding almost amused.
Baekjin’s grip on the sofa tightened a fraction. He didn’t answer immediately.
“I didn’t say that.”
Seongje noticed his hands. He only gave a glance at them before looking back at Baekjin.
“Relax. I’m not like that.” A pause. When Baekjin didn’t reply, Seongje went on. “It never got this bad, so I never really needed—” A wince. “—that. Ah, fuck.” He shifted in the seat, curling into himself. “I’m fine, seriously.”
Baekjin’s eyes narrowed.
“Bullshit.” An echo of Seongje’s previous words.
Baekjin let the silence sit. Just until Seongje looked like he was going to retort.
“You’re done for today.”
“What? No, come on. I can still—” Seongje tried to get up, but Baekjin was quicker. When Seongje was about to lose balance, Baekjin was there, holding his wrist and guiding him back down.
“You need to take this more seriously.”
He turned away before Seongje could answer.
Baekjin heard Seongje shuffling as he clicked the door shut behind him.
“Great. Holding me captive now, I see.”
As Seongje slowly worked through his soup on one side of the bowling alley, Baekjin got ready for a mission on the other.
“You won’t be alone here,” Baekjin clicked his phone off and slipped it into his pocket, “so don’t try to do anything you think is smart.”
“Can’t promise anything.” Sip. “Jesus, what did you put in here?” Sip. “I should get sick more often.” Sip.
Seongje continued to eat idly in the corner, and Baekjin straightened his own shirt.
“Eat medicine if you need.”
“Yeah, yeah. Go.”
Baekjin looked back at Seongje. One of the sleeves of his leather jacket had started to slip down his shoulder again.
Annoying.
Baekjin walked over. Without a word, he adjusted the jacket, fixing the collar along with it.
Seongje had frozen underneath his touch. His soup was still half full.
Baekjin stepped back. Looked at Seongje.
Seongje was looking at him too directly.
His gaze burned.
Something uncomfortable shifted beneath Baekjin’s ribs, and he had to turn away.
“Finish the soup.”
His pulse felt strangely uneven by the time he reached the door.
Someone droned on about future plans for the Union, probably something Baekjin should have actively been taking notes on, but he wasn't listening to any of it.
Because his mind was stuck in a loop. Repeating the look he’d seen in Seongje’s eyes for weeks now. The hunger. The darkness. Something so unfamiliar to Baekjin that he refused to believe he saw it. That wicked smile across Seongje’s face like he won something every time he looked at Baekjin.
Like he won him.
And Baekjin couldn’t reason his way out of it anymore.
The pull in his chest when Seongje struggles. Something hot under his ribs when he looks at him.
Don’t you get it? You’re mine.
“Okay!” A clap. Baekjin was wrenched away from his thoughts. “Intermission. I’ve got coffee outside.” And suddenly everyone was up and walking out the door. Baekjin watched them all leave, an empty notepad in front of him, his mind buzzing constantly.
And then he was alone. Muffled conversations picked up outside the office walls, and Baekjin deliberately took another second before also walking outside, taking his notepad with him.
He found a corner and stood, exhausted as if he’d been sitting for hours on end.
He checked his phone. No new notifications. This was the first time his phone hadn’t buzzed once during a meeting with a notification from Seongje.
It would be something stupid. Useless. Like a couple of weeks ago when Seongje texted about his newfound birdwatching hobby and sent a picture of one.
This time, nothing.
Radio silence.
Despite himself, Baekjin opened their messages. The last time Seongje texted him was before his heat started.
Baekjin swallowed.
He can't do this.
So he slipped away. As the Alphas and Betas around him conversed, he quietly found the exit and walked out.
He regretted leaving the moment he stepped out. But as he approached the bowling alley, there was no turning back.
The area was almost barren; only a select few Alphas crossed paths with Baekjin. Hopefully they were enough to keep Seongje here.
Seongje.
That imbecile.
If Baekjin had thought with logic back then, he would have never fallen into this mess. He wouldn't abandon his work, all just for an Alpha boy.
He wouldn't be walking through the bowling alley, tracing Seongje’s scent all the way back to Baekjin’s work room, and—
Baekjin approaches the door. There was no sound behind it, but Seongje’s scent polluted the air.
It wasn’t ashy this time, it was more…tangy. Something Baekjin hadn’t smelled since Seongje attempted to quit smoking years ago.
He slowly opened the door, being met with utter darkness. He could hear faint breathing in a corner, and as Baekjin’s vision started to adjust, he saw Seongje.
He sat on the leather couch with his hands locked together, his head fallen back and his gaze to the ceiling. He still had Baekjin’s jacket over his sleeves, though sweat had built up on his forehead.
Baekjin stood at the doorway.
Why did I come here? he asked himself. Because what else was he expecting to see? What was he planning to do?
He had no plan. No expectations. Just Seongje.
And here Seongje was.
Now what?
Baekjin left the door slightly ajar when he walked in. Seongje picked his head up, stared at Baekjin for a solid second, then let his head fall back again silently.
The movement was stiff. He was in pain, most definitely.
Baekjin opened his mouth to speak. The attempt failed, and he came up short with his words. He tried again.
“Seongje.”
Nothing. Not even a stir. Baekjin grit his teeth.
Coming here was a mistake.
Baekjin started to retreat to the door.
Then…
“Sit here.” Seongje’s voice, firm, rang through the room. One of Seongje’s hands now rested on the seat next to him.
Baekjin stilled.
This felt wrong.
And yet, he stepped forward.
Huge mistake.
Because the closer he got, the harder it became to ignore the uncomfortable pull beneath his ribs, sharp and insistent enough to make him pause.
He didn’t.
He took another step.
Then another.
Seongje’s hand twitched, almost as if he itched to reach for him.
And suddenly, Baekjin stood right next to Seongje. When he moved his hand, Baekjin sank into the couch.
Seongje’s breath came in measured intervals. He relaxed a fraction more next to Baekjin, the leather couch pulling him in further. Baekjin couldn’t look; he fixated his eyes on the seat opposite to him, unintentionally stopping his breathing when he felt Seongje stir.
Then Seongje moved.
Just a quick nudge of his fingers against the cloth of Baekjin’s shirt, which should have meant nothing, but Baekjin felt a static travel up his spine. Goosebumps. He almost flinched away.
But Seongje didn’t give him the chance.
Because in the next moment, his hand had caught hold of Baekjin’s wrist, and Seongje edged closer. Then closer still, until their legs pressed fully together.
Baekjin couldn’t move.
Every part of his body told him to stop this. To get up and walk out the door. But Seongje’s fingers were insistent, and Baekjin stayed right where he was.
The moment Seongje let go of Baekjin’s hand, he turned, bracing an arm between them.
Too close. Way too close. But Baekjin forced himself to take in the sight.
Eyes blown wide. Sweat beading at his temples.
Citrus.
Baekjin exhaled shakily.
Seongje just stared back.
Then his eyes shifted. Downward. Zeroed on what seemed to be Baekjin’s pulse.
He moved slowly, dipping his head low, giving Baekjin enough time to pull away.
He didn’t.
Seongje licked a small stripe against his scent gland.
Baekjin’s breathing accelerated. He let go of his shoulder and dropped his hand to the couch, blindly grabbing at the leather.
Seongje did it again, longer this time. The drag was obscene. Baekjin’s face flushed.
He tried to move away. “Seongje—”
“Mmm.” He started to press kisses along the crook of his neck, chasing it like he was being oriented towards Baekjin’s neck every time he tried to put distance between them. His hands found his neck, keeping it place as he continued the slow torture with his tongue.
Seongje’s scent clogged Baekjin’s senses. The ash was there, but faint compared to the rest of the smell. His touch was soft, but firm. He mouthed at Baekjin’s neck like it was his lifeline, like his neck was the key to his survival.
And the worst part: Baekjin didn’t want it to stop.
But, like always, his logic got in the way.
Baekjin’s hand found Seongje’s leg, pushing weakly.
“Seongje, we can’t…” his voice cracked, trailing off. His breath fragmented, coming out in short bursts.
And he didn’t really know what he meant to say—we can’t we’re both Alphas, we can’t this isn’t right, we can’t I don't want to want this.
But Baekjin didn’t need to finish.
Because Seongje cut him off.
He grabbed the hand on his thigh and gently pushed it off.
“We can.”
It sounded so simple.
So immediate.
So certain.
Like the answer had always been obvious.
As if Baekjin was the only one still fighting it.
He tried to fight his labored breathing, staring up at the ceiling, his grip tightening on the couch under him. Seongje took no notice, just pushed Baekjin until he hit the backrest, one hand curled around his nape and the other against his chest. Baekjin wondered if he could feel his heartbeat.
Baekjin was losing it. He was sure of it.
“Seongje, stop.”
“Stop fighting it.”
He should end this. He really should. He couldn’t let this happen. But his hands wouldn’t move, Seongje is crawling into his lap, and everything is feeling way too good for him to resist.
His control frayed at the edges.
So the fight in him drains. He still weakly pushes at Seongje’s shoulder a couple of times, but the moment Seongje’s legs come around and brace around his own, he freezes.
One wrong move and Baekjin is done for.
Seongje is now mapping the planes of his chest with his hands, drawing lazy circles close to his hip, when Baekjin squirms embarrassingly.
A breath is punched out of him. What is he doing?
His grip on Seongje’s shoulder tightens. He feels his pants tighten and what is Baekjin doing?
If Seongje notices, he doesn't show it. He just continues, working his hands across his body at an agonizing pace, pulling goosebumps and curses out of him.
Why isn’t he pulling away? Why was his face heating up? Why was he getting harder under Seongje’s touch?
He couldn’t handle this. The vulnerability. But he’s so far gone he can’t think straight.
So he leans in.
Because fuck it. It’s become impossible to not admit Baekjin’s wanted this too, so he does the one thing he’d been trying so hard to avoid.
He kisses Seongje.
And any thought of the rest of the world vanishes.
He bites down at his lower lip, one hand gripping at his neck and the other at his thigh. All his pent up frustration, desperation, whatever he can't put into words—he poured into the kiss. And he hoped to make it hurt.
Seongje lets out a breath of surprise, his scent spiking, but follows through easily. Baekjin feels his smile against his mouth. The metallic taste of blood exploded in Baekjin’s mouth, and Seongje was the one to lap it up, sucking Baekjin’s lips eagerly.
Disgusting. And yet, the gesture sent fire straight to Baekjin’s lower half, heat scattering across his abdomen. He gripped Seongje’s thigh tighter.
Seongje pulled back, and the look in his eyes destroyed him. Something dangerous crossed them.
The Seongje he knew was gone, all that replaced him was heat. A wicked smile covered his face. He won.
“You just kissed me.” Seongje’s eyes were wide, glassed over. “Oh my god. You—”
Baekjin pulled him back in harshly. Crushed his mouth against his. Licked the inside of his mouth. Seongje gasped.
“Stop talking,” Baekjin managed to say between breaths. When he caught Seongje about to say something else, his lips parting, he tightened his grip on his neck.
He really, really needed him to shut up, or he’s going to crash back down to reality and he’ll never be able to have this again.
He expected a bitter scent, angry pheromones, only to be met with a spice. Seongje’s hips grinded into him, slamming an uncalled for rush of heat into him. A spark of pleasure stunned him into place and Seongje let out a soft, broken sound into Baekjin’s mouth.
This bastard was enjoying this.
“You’re unbelievable.” Baekjin opened his eyes, not realizing they had started to droop, and Seongje grinded down again, this time being met with Baekjin bucking his hips upward. Another wave of pleasure crashed against him, and he groaned unexpectedly, tipping his head backward.
Seongje chuckled darkly at that.
“You love it.”
He dipped his head low and sank his teeth into Baekjin’s neck, just next to his scent gland.
“You—!” The rest of his words dissolved into two of Seongje’s fingers, which he shoved into Baekjin’s mouth. His eyes shot open, and he tried to fight it, but Seongje only pressed his fingers further in, just enough before Baekjin could gag.
“Shh…” Seongje slowly soothed the mark on his neck with his tongue, and slowly, his fingers loosened, allowing Baekjin to take them in properly.
He was running on some version of overdrive, because he couldn't recognize himself when he started to suck on Seongje’s fingers. Like fucking candy. Like they were the best thing he’s ever tasted.
Seongje peeled himself from Baekjin’s neck just to take in the sight. He looked amused, almost admiring him.
Some twisted version of rut, Baekjin thought.
“Fuck…” Seongje muttered, mostly to himself. Baekjin sucked again, and when Seongje curled his fingers deeper, he didn't fight it. Only accustomed his throat to fit them, his own fingers going slack against his jaw.
“That’s so hot, fuck,” Seongje breathed.
He grinded down. And their hips started to move again in earnest.
They fell into a slow, dirty grind, all dry and nasty friction against their pants, and when Seongje removed his fingers from Baekjin's mouth, he almost cried at the loss. Seongje ghosted his lips against Baekjin’s skin, mumbling nonsense against the crook of his neck, and Baekjin tried to hold onto control that was no longer his.
“You smell so good—shit…been wanting to do this—so long. So fucking long, Jinnie.”
It was the rut talking, Baekjin was certain. If it wasn’t, the intention behind those rambled words was something beyond what Baekjin wanted to consider.
When he kissed Baekjin again, he teased—tongue flicking at his entrance, pulling away right when Baekjin goes to deepen it.
Fucker.
In one quick movement, he grabbed Seongje’s jaw tight with one hand, shoving him down onto the couch as he switched their positions. Seongje could only gasp and attempt to prop himself up with his elbows. Baekjin didn't let him. He shoved him down further and mirrored Seongje’s previous movements—brace his legs around his, hands pinned to his chest—except Baekjin had no finesse. He was done.
“Baekjin, you—”
“You wanted control.” Baekjin’s voice grew low, dangerous, laced with something unrecognizable. “You got it. You want control?” He bunched up a fistful of Seongje’s—or his—jacket and reeled him upward. “Do it properly.”
Then Seongje’s face did something weird. His eyes widened and his smile disappeared. He made a small sound. A broken, captive sigh as he almost melted against Baekjin’s touch.
Of course this idiot would enjoy being reprimanded.
Baekjin couldn't help but smirk. Something twisted in his gut.
Pride.
Baekjin pushed him back down.
“Yeah? You like that?” He leaned in, just enough for their noses to barely touch.
“Yeah.” Seongje’s mouth barely moved. He tried to lean up, but Baekjin quickly secured his hands over his head. Seongje didn't fight it. In fact, a smile broke out on his face. A slight curve of his lips.
Baekjin took his jaw in his hand once more, tilting his face to the side. Seongje’s eyes stayed locked on him.
“Be good.”
Seongje’s eyes dropped. Darkness engulfed his pupils, and Baekjin almost faltered his movements.
“Yes. Yes. I will be so, so good for you.” His arms went slack against the sofa.
“Good.”
Baekjin captured Seongje’s mouth again. He moved at a languid pace, savoring how Seongje jerks under him, fighting the urge to speed up. Baekjin deepened the kiss, allowing Seongje to suck on his tongue as he reached to touch every corner of his mouth.
Everything felt so good, Baekjin was lightheaded. He couldn’t help but grind down again—
“Mmph!” Seongje rumbled against his mouth. His arms tightened over his head, but he didn’t move.
Another wave of heat exploded against Baekjin. Only then did he realize he was so hard it started to become uncomfortable.
But his hips wouldn't stop. He grinded down again, then once more. And when their hips met in the middle, Baekjin lost himself. He kissed Seongje again and again as an attempt to muffle the desperate and embarrassing sounds that threatened to come out.
Seongje was no better. He gave no care to how loud he was, but his hips refused to stop, too. Every drag of their jeans sent sparks down Baekjin’s spine, and he would kiss Seongje harder to silence his own sounds.
“How long, Seongje–ah?” he whispered against his skin, snaking his hand down to his own pants zipper. The sound of it was filthy, sending a wave of goosebumps across his body.
“How long?” Seongje panted.
“How long have you wanted this?”
He wanted to know. Yes, he was selfish, but he didn’t care. This was the only time he could have this, so might as well make the most of it.
“God, so long—”
“How long?”
“Weeks. Months. I don't even know, fuck.”
“And you held yourself back?” Baekjin was actually surprised.
“Yes. I’ve been so good, I’ve—” Once Baekjin got his own pants off, he let his hand sneak to the bulge in Seongje’s pants, grazing his finger feather–light against his erection. Any words in his throat died away, his breath hitching in response.
“Mm, you have been good.” Baekjin glanced at Seongje's arms, which were still above his head. Baekjin had let go of them long ago.
“So obedient,” he whispered. Seongje groaned in response.
“Don’t do that…”
Baekjin grazed his fingers against Seongje’s confined dick, earning a couple more curses from the Alpha.
“You’re shaking.”
Seongje’s eyes shut tightly. “I’m not.” A breath. “Shit, Baekjin–ah, do something—”
“Ask.”
He opened his eyes again, craning his heat to meet Baekjin’s eyes. They brimmed with tears. Baekjin refused to look away this time.
“Ask? For wh—ah!” Baekjin pressed his thumb against Seongje’s cock, which grew impossibly harder.
“Ask,” Baekjin repeated.
Seongje threw his head back with a whimper. “Let me touch you. Fucking hell, let me touch you. God…please? Please I’ve waited so long for this…”
“Good boy.”
A thread seemed to snap in Seongje. Within the blink of an eye, the arms that were once above Seongje’s head were on Baekjin’s waist, pulling him flesh on top of him as he fumbled with Baekjin’s shirt. With shaking hands, he yanked the cloth off of Baekjin, tossing it somewhere on the floor.
It all happened so fast that Baekjin could barely acknowledge his shirt was gone, not before Seongje pulled them both up and latched his teeth onto one of his nipples. Baekjin hissed as Seongje circled his tongue around it, his other hand rubbing against his other nipple.
Baekjin tensed up with every swirl of Seongje’s tongue.
“Wait,” he gritted, “Ah—Seongje, wait.”
But Seongje wasn't waiting. Didn’t even speed up. Just continued as if Baekjin hadn’t spoken. He seemed to marvel at the taste, a hum rumbling through Baekjin’s chest from time to time. He didn’t want to pull Seongje off, so all he could do was throw his head back and pull Seongje closer.
This is far past rut. Baekjin has to consider it, now that both of his nipples are occupied and Seongje is licking and moaning into his skin. Ruts don't make someone confess anything but their sexual desires. Ruts don't let Alphas take their time mapping every section of another’s body.
Why is Baekjin doing this? Why is he letting this happen?
Maybe he’s selfish.
Maybe he just wants this one thing for himself. He’ll reap the consequences later.
“Call me that again,” Seongje breathed into his nipple, flicking his tongue on it, catching Baekjin in his thoughts. Baekjin’s dick jumps in his clothing. “Call me a good boy.”
“Fuck. You.”
“Oh…that might actually be better.” Once one of his nipples was swollen and abused, Seongje released it with a pop, moved his head to the other one, treating it as cruelly as he did with the other one.
Baekjin let out a breath of surprise.
“You dog…”
Seongje smiled into his skin. If he was a dog, his tail would be wagging right now.
“Couldn’t control yourself to save your life, could you?” Baekjin didn’t care how wrecked he sounded. “I didn't say you could move.”
“You didn't stop me.”
Because it feels so good.
“Fuck…” was all he could muster. Seongje seemed proud of himself, and Baekjin let himself fall to his back as Seongje crawled back onto him. Seongje leaned back to unbutton his pants, and Baekjin wanted to help, but he could feel himself shaking. And he refused to let himself sit there and think, so he looked up.
Seongje’s glasses were all fogged up. His lips were red and swollen, and his cheeks were a deep pink.
He wondered who else had the privilege to see Seongje like this. To experience his kisses on their skin, his tongue against their neck…
Maybe thinking was the better way to go.
“Take your glasses off,” he heard himself say once Seongje got his pants off and his hands went to his jacket.
Seongje obliged immediately. He pulled them off and tossed them somewhere.
“What else can I do for you, boss?” he said smugly, his stupid grin on his face again.
“Take those jackets off, too.” Seongje did. Too quickly, too eager, but neither cared.
“Yeah?” he ushered.
Baekjin swallowed.
A beat.
“Kiss me.”
And he did. Slowly, so slowly, like he savored every crevice of Baekjin’s mouth. Like he was mapping out a place he wanted to visit over and over again. No more hesitation, no more teasing, just a slow cycle of lips, tongue, grind, sigh, and Seongje’s hands were making their way to Baekjin’s aching dick.
He hooked his fingers into Baekjin’s underwear. Unceremoniously slid the fabric off. Baekjin let it happen. Let himself be seen. But he turned away so he couldn't see it.
Seongje didn't let him. He grabbed his neck and twisted it so that their eyes were locked.
“So pretty…” he whispered, words dripping like honey. “So fucking pretty. All mine.”
Baekjin felt his face redden. But he couldn’t look away, not with Seongje’s death grip on his neck. His hands found Seongje’s underwear, which was discarded quickly.
“Let me fuck you, Baekjin–ah. Can I fuck you?”
Seongje never asks for anything. Never asks to come in when he swings the door of any room open. Never asks to go anywhere, do anything, nothing.
And yet…
Can I fuck you?
It's a stupid question. They're already doing this. Both of them are naked and Seongje’s hand is hovering over Baekjin’s unclothed dick.
He still asked.
And Baekjin had no verbal answer to that. He could only nod—barely a flick of his neck—and that was all it took for Seongje to move.
He let go of Baekjin’s neck, shakily taking a breath as he pulled himself off Baekjin and turned away.
Baekjin felt absurd, laying completely naked on the leather couch (which he will have to shamefully clean later) with his dick hung over his hip, but as Seongje came back with a bottle of lube and focused eyes, Baekjin couldn’t think beyond what was going to happen now.
“I put this in your desk,” Seongje said, with no remorse in his voice whatsoever. “Thought maybe I’d become lucky one day. Who knew…”
Baekjin should have been disgusted. Seongje had wanted this for months, doing god knows what with the thoughts he’d been having. Instead, Baekjin actually felt flattered.
“Is this proper control to you?” Seongje asked, rhetorically, as he pops open the bottle and begins to pour a generous amount on his fingers.
“Check the expiration—”
“Four months and three days. We’re fine.”
Yes, this was proper control.
“Open up, princess.”
Baekjin wasn’t particularly proud of how fast he complied. But slowly, he opened his legs up, and Seongje came under and hooked them over his shoulders.
Baekjin felt a finger breach his asshole.
“Fuck—” the breath is punched out of Baekjin, and Seongje marvels at the sight. Baekjin wants to swat his face away, but Seongje slowly circles his finger around the rim before pushing in slowly, and Baekjin groans low in his throat.
“Ah, shit…yeah—”
“You like that?”
“Shut up and keep going.”
Seongje added another. Baekjin found Seongje’s neck and dug his fingernails into the skin. Seongje was pulled closer, and Baekjin stole another slow, long kiss from his lips. Seongje’s fingers never stopped moving, pumping in and out slowly, going a little deeper with every thrust.
And when he curled them deep, at a specific angle, they brushed a spot.
Baekjin gasped, twisting his fingers into the couch. A captive, embarrassing sound clawed out of his chest, and Seongje had the audacity to slow his pace down.
“Right there?” He brushed it again, slowly, deliberately.
Cruelly.
An explosion of heat engulfed Baekjin whole. He couldn't answer, not when he was writhing helplessly under Seongje with his head buried in his neck, sucking and licking and doing anything but letting any more sounds come out of him as Seongje torturously rubbed that spot inside him again and again.
Baekjin could feel his high coming. He reached down to help his untouched cock, only for Seongje to take his hand and place it back on his own neck.
“Let me.”
Seongje removed his fingers slowly. Baekjin didn’t have time to complain, because he watched as Seongje pumped his length with a generous amount of lube, before lining himself and pushing in.
They both gasped when the head went in. A broken, shaky sigh from Seongje followed the sound.
He didn't stop once when he glided himself inside. The sounds were lewd—the drag of skin against skin, nails raking into skin, and the harsh intakes of breath as Seongje pulled all the way out and slammed back in.
Baekjin grabbed Seongje for purchase, and a gasp pulled out of him once more. He bit into Seongje’s shoulder, attempting to muffle all the sounds coming out of him, though to no avail.
Seongje grabbed a hold of Baekjin’s dick.
“Fuck! Seongje—”
“Yeah. Feels good, doesn't it?” Seongje started pumping his dick at the same pace he slammed back in. “Wonder if I can knock you up.”
Baekjin was teetering on the edge of bliss before Seongje abruptly stopped his movements. Still buried deep inside him, he pulled him to his lap, before Seongje fell to his back and braced Baekjin’s legs across his hips, his hand still around his dick.
Evil bastard.
Baekjin could feel the soreness in his legs. His head was swimming, and it took everything in him to not fall on top of Seongje.
“Why’d—” He took a breath. “Why’d you stop?”
“I want you to ride me.”
Baekjin’s eyes flew open. He stared down at Seongje, who had no ounce of sarcasm in his voice.
“Go on,” he urged, “be a good boy and ride me.”
And Baekjin…
Baekjin should have been seething. Because he is no good boy.
But fuck.
Maybe he wants to be good. Just this once.
So slowly, he gathers all his energy to rock his hips. Immediately, Seongje tenses underneath him, one of his hands flying to his hip.
“Give it to me Jinnie, come on.”
So Baekjin continued. Slowly, but picking up his pace, Seongje rolled his eyes back and a smile broke out on his face as he started pumping Baekjin again.
“Such a good boy—so good, c’mon.”
Baekjin was determined. He could barely hear the blabbering coming from Seongje, the incoherent sentences he tried to put together, as he focused on nothing but to chase his high. He could feel Seongje’s knot grow tighter inside him, and as Seongje started to dictate their movements, he felt it.
Seongje hit the oversensitive spot inside him.
And Baekjin detonated.
He spasmed over Seongje, coming so hard that his vision spun, and he had to grab onto whatever part of Seongje he could reach. It came out in thick ropes, painting Seongje’s chest and some of the couch with white. He could barely breathe through it until Seongje let go inside of him, filling him with his knot and locking them together.
The next moments were just them catching their breath together, waiting as their heartbeats slowed, Baekjin falling on top of him as Seongje whispered sweet nothings into his ear, telling him he did so good and was so pretty.
Baekjin thought he passed out when Seongje licked another stripe across his neck, and Baekjin squirmed away.
“You’re gross.”
“Your come is all over me, mind you.”
Touché.
Baekjin slowly sat up, running a hand through his hair as Seongje just looked at him.
Now, he understood the look.
Baekjin exhaled slowly.
“…we need to clean up.”