The night rain had ceased, leaving the city in the sheen of wet asphalt. The air was damp, smelling of iron and gasoline.
— I'll bring the car around, — Seung-ho said, shrugging on his coat and glancing at Do-yun. His tone was clipped, authoritative, allowing no room for argument.
Do-yun wanted to protest but held back. He saw a particular tension in the Alpha's eyes that tolerated no words. Seung-ho's pheromones were cold, warning.
Seung-ho left first—his footsteps faded on the stairs, and the door slammed so hollowly that a vacuum was left in the hallway.
Do-yun lingered for a minute. Just adjusted his sleeve, or so it seemed, delayed while putting documents into his bag. But that delay proved fatal.
He went downstairs and exited through the side door. The parking lot was closer through the narrow alleyway. It was always empty there—and usually, that silence was even convenient. He inhaled the damp air and quickened his pace.
But by the second turn, he knew: he wasn't alone.
The echo of footsteps—foreign, heavy. Three silhouettes emerged from the shadows, as if they had been waiting specifically for him.
— Bad luck, pretty boy, — one said, his laugh hoarse. A knife blade gleamed in the light of a dim lamp.
Do-yun backed away, but too late. A sharp tug, a flash of pain—and the blade slashed across his arm. The same arm that had taken a blow once before. The pain exploded, as if an old wound had come alive.
Blood spilled over his fingers; he hissed, pressing his palm to the cut.
— Stubborn, huh? — the second one stepped closer; the smell of cheap tobacco and sweat hit Do-yun's nose. — You survived last time, but tonight…
They tightened the ring around him. Do-yun glanced around—no Seung-ho, no car. Only dampness and darkness. His heart hammered in his throat. A thought flashed: he shouldn't have let him go ahead. Shouldn't have stayed alone.
And the moment one of the attackers raised his hand for another strike—a sound erupted. A muffled thud, a short cry. A figure doubled over and crashed onto the asphalt.
Seung-ho.
He appeared from behind, as if the shadow itself had released him. His movements were fast, sharp, filled with the Alpha's fury. The first opponent dropped with a broken arm. The second took a hit to the gut, then the face, and blood mixed with the rain on the asphalt.
The third bolted, dissolving into the darkness, but Seung-ho didn't even chase him.
He turned immediately to Do-yun. His gaze—predatory, heavy, filled with horror not for himself.
— Your arm, — he growled, grabbing his shoulder and yanking him out of the alley's confines.
Do-yun tried to walk, but his legs trembled. Blood soaked his sleeve, pain searing. But Seung-ho's palm, hot and rigid, held him tight, keeping him from falling.
And in that second, Do-yun understood: I wouldn't have made it out of here without him. Wouldn't have survived. I can't be alone anymore.
The car door slammed so sharply that the echo traveled across the empty parking lot. Seung-ho practically hauled Do-yun inside, seated him, and snapped the door shut.
The cabin instantly filled with the scent of blood mixed with the street's dampness. The rain continued to drum steadily on the roof, but inside, a tense silence reigned, broken only by heavy breathing.
Seung-ho started the engine. His hands on the steering wheel were trembling, though normally his movements were perfect, measured. His gaze kept returning to Do-yun.
— Why did you go through the alley? — his voice was low and harsh, as if he was struggling to keep from losing control. — I… — Do-yun clenched his teeth against the pain. — Just wanted to take a shortcut. — A shortcut? — Seung-ho struck the steering wheel with his palm; the car jerked. — You were almost…
He stopped. The words caught, replaced by a heavy growl in his throat.
Do-yun turned his face away to hide his trembling. His chest was tight, and not just from pain. He was wounded a second time—in the very same arm, as if fate itself was reminding him: he was too vulnerable.
— You're losing too much blood, — Seung-ho said, a little quieter, but no less firm. — Hold on. We're almost home.
Do-yun was silent, feeling his body grow heavier. At some point, his fingers slipped, and blood gushed through the fabric again. He hissed.
Seung-ho sharply swerved aside, stopping at a red light even though the road was empty. He reached for him, grabbed his wrist, pressing the cloth harder.
— Look at me, — he commanded. — Don't close your eyes.
Do-yun opened them and met his gaze. In those dark eyes was not only anger but fear. Real, almost panicked fear.
— You yourself said you wanted to do this investigation, — Seung-ho exhaled, his voice cracking. — But if you ever again… I won't forgive you.
The words cut him, but a strange warmth spread inside Do-yun. He saw that this wasn't just a threat—it was an admission. An admission that losing him was the scariest thing for Seung-ho.
— Almost there, — Seung-ho said softer. — Hang in there. I'll bandage it.
The apartment greeted them with silence and the scent of wood. Seung-ho pushed the door open first. He noticed Do-yun clutched his injured arm, teeth gritted.
— Sit down, — Seung-ho's voice was sharp, but anxiety was audible in the harshness. — Now.
Do-yun sank onto the sofa. Seung-ho dashed to the kitchen and returned with a first-aid kit. His movements were fast, precise, controlled.
He crouched beside him, carefully cutting the sleeve. The fabric parted, revealing the wound—not deep, but ominously red. Do-yun flinched when the cold fingers touched his skin.
— Bear with it, — Seung-ho said softly, wetting a pad with antiseptic.
The smell of alcohol stung his nose. Pain shot through him, but Seung-ho placed his palm on his thigh, squeezing slightly. The gesture was strangely soft and dominant at the same time.
— You need to learn to rely, — he said thickly. — On me. — I'm not used to it, — Do-yun replied through gritted teeth. — I've always managed by myself.
Seung-ho bandaged the wound tightly and neatly. When finished, he didn't pull away—instead, he traced his fingers along his wrist, pausing at the pulse.
— You're shaking, — he observed. — But not from pain.
Do-yun wanted to push him away, but suddenly realized he couldn't. His body remembered that voice, that touch. Even the pain receded, giving way to another sensation—one that burned from within and was more dangerous than any wound.
Seung-ho slowly leaned closer, his breath brushing his cheek. The scent of his pheromones intensified, becoming demanding.
— Tell me, — he whispered, — that I'm the only one allowed to be near when you're like this. That you belong to me.
Do-yun abruptly turned to him, and their lips met. The kiss was bitter and insistent at first, like an argument, but almost immediately melted into depth, into a breath that became shared. Seung-ho's fingers slid under his shirt, gently tracing his back. Where his palm passed, his body responded with a shiver.
Their clothes fell away slowly—each button, each fastener was a concession. Seung-ho didn't rush, as if wanting Do-yun to feel the full inevitability. When the fabric finally dropped to the floor, Seung-ho's erection slid against his thigh—hard, hot, demanding.
Do-yun closed his eyes, exhaling. He didn't say "no." — I want you, — he barely whispered.
Seung-ho caressed his body gently but dominantly. His palm rested on Do-yun's chest, and his fingers began to fondle the skin, as if studying it. Do-yun trembled, oblivious to how his body was already responding to every touch.
When the palm slid lower, Do-yun sharply drew a breath. Lubrication was already meeting him there, and Seung-ho smiled with the corner of his lips, as if confirming that everything was going as it should.
— You're shaking, — he said softly. — Your body remembers who the master is here.
Seung-ho's fingers entered cautiously, testing how deep he could plunge. Do-yun arched, gasping, his fingers clutched the sheet, but he didn't push him away. Each movement brought waves of sensation. Seung-ho leaned down, kissing his lips, catching his moans.
— I feel it, — he whispered. — You're ready.
And then he entered deeper. His cock slid in slowly, but surely, as if tunneling into his very heart. Do-yun cried out, instinctively pressing his palm to his lips, but Seung-ho removed it and covered his mouth with a kiss.
— Don't be silent, — he breathed into his lips.
The rhythm was cautious at first, but soon became deep, insistent. His cock drove deeper, stretching him, and his body responded with convulsive tightening. Do-yun gasped for air, his body twisting in the embrace, but he could no longer retreat.
— You are mine, — he exhaled into his ear. — Hear me? Only mine.
Do-yun groaned, no longer understanding what was happening—resistance and surrender merged into one.
The orgasm surged in waves until it stole his breath. Do-yun screamed, his body arching. In that moment, everything narrowed down to one sensation—a scream, heat, and a wave.
Almost immediately, hot semen spilled inside, filling him to the brim. Seung-ho pressed him close so tightly that Do-yun felt his heart beating—heavy, erratic, but alive.
They collapsed together, intertwined.
Seung-ho ran his fingers through his hair, kissed his temple. His voice sounded quieter than a whisper, but with such force: — I will never let them take you. Never.
Do-yun wanted to object, but only pressed closer, not resisting.