Do-yun pushed him away abruptly, breathing heavily. His back hit the cold wall of the storage room, his shoulders trembling with tension. Seungho froze opposite him, his eyes still burning with the same jealousy, but this time Do-yun wouldn't let it consume him. — I'm not against intimacy, — he exhaled, clenching his hands into fists. — But not like that. Not when you pressure me, when I can't breathe.
Silence cut through the air; even the music behind the wall seemed muted. Seungho's gaze softened slightly, but was no less intense. — So, you want it another way? — his voice was low, hoarse. — Without pressure? — If you don't understand, — Do-yun looked away, — then we shouldn't...
Seungho took a step closer, but this time he didn't touch him. He only smiled faintly. — Fine. Then let's go for a drink. — Here? At the bar? — Do-yun frowned. — No. — Seungho leaned toward his ear, and his voice sounded like a promise. — At my place.
***
The car sped through the rain, the lights of Seoul blurring on the windows. Do-yun was silent, stubbornly looking out the window, but his fingers nervously gripped the edge of the seat. Seungho didn't rush him, only glancing at him occasionally.
They stopped at a house. Tall panoramic windows reflected the wet asphalt. The apartment greeted them with silence and the scent of expensive wood. — I'm hungry, — Seungho said, taking off his coat and tossing it onto a chair. He held Do-yun's gaze and smirked. — Want to make a snack for the wine? — You know how? — Do-yun narrowed his eyes. — I find it hard to believe it won't be just ramen. — I know how, when there's someone to make it for, — Seungho simply replied.
The scent in the kitchen was different—the crunch of fresh bread toasting in the pan, and the smoke from cheese melting on the slices. Sliced vegetables, greens, and several burger patties were already laid out on the counter. — Will you help? — Seungho handed him a knife. — Slice the tomatoes.
Do-yun scoffed, but got to work. Soon they were standing side-by-side: one assembling the buns, the other thinly slicing vegetables. They could hear the crackle of toasting bread, the sizzle of oil, and the knives tapping the cutting board. The smell of meat, melted cheese, and fresh vegetables filled the kitchen. It all looked strangely ordinary—too simple for someone used to expensive restaurants. But this very simplicity felt unexpectedly domestic. Seungho looked at him from beneath dark lashes and smiled slightly: — See? Not just ramen.
— You need to quit the club, — Seungho suddenly said. Do-yun looked up. — Why do you say that? — I can smell your pheromones. — The Alpha's voice was even, but there was anxiety in it. — And that means others can smell them too. It's dangerous. Do-yun looked down at the bowl. — I don't have a choice. — You do. — Seungho put down his glass. — You don't understand what they might do when they catch your scent. — What about you? — Do-yun asked sharply. — You can smell it too. Should I be afraid of you?
Seungho didn't answer immediately. Then he said quietly: — No. I need you to be afraid of others, not me. Because I... — he stumbled, and for the first time, his voice held uncertainty. — I'm too jealous. And I want that scent to belong only to me.
Silence fell again. Rain drummed against the window. Do-yun leaned back in his chair, but Seungho had already risen. He came up behind him, his palms resting on his shoulders, his large thumbs slowly beginning to massage the tense muscles. His warm breath touched Do-yun's neck. — You smell like a spring morning, — he whispered. — Clean, fresh, enough to drive me crazy.
His lips brushed the skin behind Do-yun's ear, leaving soft kisses. Do-yun froze, his fingers gripping the edge of the table. — Every time someone gets close to you... — Seungho lightly bit his skin, leaving a mark. — I want to kill that person. Because you must belong to me.
His lips slid down his neck again, slowly, as if drawing a path. His palms slipped lower, embracing his waist, pulling him closer. — You have no idea what you do to me, — his voice dropped to a near whisper. Do-yun exhaled heavily, his head tilting back.
***
Seungho turned him around, but this time there was no roughness in his movements. He paused, looking into his eyes, as if asking permission without words. And only when Do-yun didn't pull away, their lips met. The kiss was soft, cautious, timid, as if they were tasting each other for the first time. Only after a few seconds did it deepen—not with greed, but with a restrained thirst that had been building up for too long.
Seungho's lips glided slowly, affectionately. His palms rested on Do-yun's face, his thumbs touching his cheeks, as if he needed to make sure he was real. Do-yun felt the tension inside him melt away, and for the first time, he saw not a predator in this man, but someone who was afraid too. His palms slid lower, to his shoulders, carefully, as if afraid to brush against anything unnecessarily. Seungho stroked his back, leaving gentle waves of warmth with every movement. The clothes came off slowly, without haste: button after button, fabric sliding to the floor, leaving his skin exposed. In every movement, there was no desire to break—but a desire to preserve.
Do-yun trembled, but he didn't push him away. His breathing became ragged, his lips responded to the kisses on their own. He could feel Seungho's cock pressed against his thigh, heavy, hot, and hard, but even that pressure didn't feel like a threat. The fire in the Alpha's eyes was different—quiet, restrained, full of dangerous tenderness. — Don't go, — he whispered, his voice catching. Do-yun closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against his. — I'm here.
Seungho knelt down, and the movement was not commanding—it was almost respectful. He traced his lips along Do-yun's inner thigh, leaving a light mark, and lingered there, as if acknowledging: this person is too precious to him. His fingers slid higher, cautiously touching his anus. Warmth and wetness met him. There was already lube, hot, betraying his body. He held his breath, looked up at Do-yun's face. — I'll be careful, — he said softly. — If anything is wrong—tell me.
His fingers entered slowly, one by one. Do-yun's anus clenched, he arched his back and moaned, biting his lip. Seungho continued cautiously, gently, taking his time. Each movement was like a promise: he wouldn't cause pain. — You're taking me... — his voice trembled. — This feels right.
The lube flowed faster, his fingers slid more easily. Do-yun held onto his shoulders, his nails digging into the skin, his breathing hitched. A mixture of shame and relief flickered in his eyes. Seungho touched his knee with his lips, then looked up. — I want you. But only if you want it too.
There was no need to wait for an answer. His body spoke for itself: his anus was responding, ready, hot, while the lube glistened on his fingers. — Good, — Seungho whispered. — Then trust me.
Seungho withdrew his fingers slowly, as if reluctant to deprive him of the warmth, and stood up, leaning over him. Their eyes met again, and in that moment, there wasn't a hint of a game or his usual mockery in the Alpha's eyes. There was only desire—and the fear of causing pain. The cock, heavy and engorged, touched his anus. Seungho held his breath, rubbed it against the entrance, collecting the oil on the tip. Do-yun gasped, grabbing his shoulders. — Quiet, — Seungho whispered. — It will be slow. I promise.
And he entered—cautiously, centimeter by centimeter, as if afraid of destroying something too fragile. Do-yun's anus tensed, constricted, and he cried out, squeezing his eyes shut. But Seungho leaned down and kissed him on the lips, holding that cry in. — Don't shut down, — he said softly. — I want to hear you.
He waited. He breathed heavily, but he waited until the tension subsided, until the muscles relaxed and the lube coated him even more. Only then did he move—slowly, smoothly, as if in rhythm with his breathing. Do-yun pressed his forehead against his shoulder, his breathing ragged. With every movement, the pain subsided, giving way to warmth, then heat, then something more. — Feel it? — Seungho whispered right into his ear.
The words struck harder than any thrust. Do-yun wanted to object, but only a moan escaped his chest. The rhythm was slow, gentle. The cock slid deep, filling the entire space. His anus responded more easily, the lube made the movements slippery, wet, each touch sending shivers through his entire body. Seungho held him tightly, but didn't press. His palms slid along his back, caressing his skin, leaving waves of warmth. He whispered words—not commanding, but almost prayerful: — You are mine. But not because I forced it. Because you chose to stay.
Do-yun opened his eyes, meeting his gaze. And in those eyes, for the first time, there was no fear—only confusion and something he was afraid to name. Seungho accelerated his movements just slightly, and Do-yun's body responded. Waves of pleasure washed over him, his breathing became broken, his lips sought out Seungho's. — I'm jealous, — Seungho exhaled hoarsely. — Every time someone looks at you. When they smell your scent. I want only me to know it. Only me to...
His voice broke, and he covered it with a new kiss, greedy, but not rough. The rhythm picked up, but still remained soft, as if he was afraid to cross a line. His anus took him deeper, waves of oil streamed down, their bodies sliding against each other. Do-yun moaned louder, his back arched, climax nearing. He trembled, his fingers gripping Seungho's shoulders, and every sound was an admission that resistance was no longer possible. — Sing, — Seungho whispered again. — Sing for me. And he sang—hoarsely, intermittently, but truthfully.
The rhythm changed—sometimes slowing down, as if teasing, then accelerating again. Every thrust resonated in his anus with a deafening echo, and Do-yun could no longer hold back his moans. Lube flowed profusely, sliding down his thighs, lubricating every movement, making it deeper, more palpable. Seungho held him by the waist, as if afraid he might slip out, that the storm might carry him away. The palm of his other hand caressed his chest, leaving waves of heat. He leaned into his ear: — I won't let you go...
The cock thrust faster, each entry sending a tremor through his body, forcing him to arch, to reach closer. Do-yun grabbed the sheets, Seungho's shoulders, unsure where to put his hands, because everything inside him clenched, demanding release. — Seungho... I... — his voice broke, turning into a hoarse groan. — Sing, — he breathed out, accelerating even more. — I want to hear your orgasm.
And then the storm hit. His anus clenched to the limit, waves of pleasure rushed through his body, tearing away the remnants of control. Do-yun cried out, arching his back, the cock inside him breaching every boundary. His orgasm flared brightly, spurting hot semen, splashing Seungho's palm and his own stomach. Almost immediately, Seungho himself shuddered, his movements becoming broken, powerful. He roared low, pressing his forehead against Do-yun's shoulder, and thrust deep one more time. Semen poured inside in a strong wave, filling his anus to the brim, mixing with the oil, trickling down his thighs. Their breathing ragged, heavy, tangled. They collapsed onto the sheets together, still trembling from the aftertaste of the storm. Seungho hugged him tightly, not allowing him to pull away. His lips touched his temple, his fingers slowly caressing his hair, leaving gentle waves of warmth on his skin. — I'm afraid to lose you, — he whispered, letting his voice tremble for the first time. Do-yun lay there, feeling the hot semen still flowing inside, his anus still pulsing. But he didn't argue. He had no strength and no desire. Seungho pressed him closer, as if he wanted to dissolve him into himself. The rain outside beat against the window in a steady rhythm, washing away the remnants of the night. And in this room, there was only the silence of their breathing and the feeling that, in this moment, they were one.