The silence in the apartment after last night was soft, almost languid. Do-yun lay on his side, watching Yoon Seung-ho dress, his movements precise, sharp, like a man preparing for battle. The Alpha wore another severe suit, but his pheromones still carried the scent of wet forest and quiet peace, mingling with the warm trace left by the Omega.
Seung-ho approached slowly and leaned down, brushing Do-yun's cheek, eyes heavy, assessing.
— Are you sure you're ready for today? — His voice was low but penetrating.
Do-yun nodded, trying to hide the wave of dizziness washing over him.
— I have to go. They might be checking on me.
Yoon kissed him—long, gentle, insistent, like an affirmation of right. His hand slid beneath Do-yun's shirt, caressing his waist, a light touch that sent the Omega's pulse soaring.
— I'll be waiting near the office tonight, — he whispered.
Do-yun smiled, masking the sudden weakness behind it, blaming it on lack of sleep and stress.
***
Rain began abruptly, turning the street into a black mirror. Do-yun walked down the waterlogged alley behind the club, where Seung-ho usually waited. Anxiety rose, not from the rain, but from the thick, metallic scent cutting through the damp air—a foreign, aggressive Alpha.
Do-yun quickened his pace. Weakness struck anew; a sharp pain stabbed his chest. The world blurred. He stopped to catch his breath.
— Where are you rushing off to? — A low, crude voice came from behind.
He turned. Two men blocked the alley: one Alpha, reeking of cigarettes and dominance, one Beta, nervous and wide-eyed.
— Seung-ho asked me to say hello, — the Alpha growled, stepping closer.
Do-yun stumbled back, pheromones flaring—a weak, desperate call.
— Get out!
The Alpha smirked, squeezing his shoulder painfully.
— You smell too good to let go. Too tempting.
Pain shot through him. He struck the hand—a mistake. The Alpha yanked him closer, pressing him against the wet wall. A foreign, oppressive scent enveloped him.
— Let him go.
Yoon's voice cut through, calm, icy. His pheromones erupted, heavy and dominant, sweeping away the stench.
The Alpha flinched but held on. Then Yoon moved: a sharp blow to the stomach, a crunch of bone, and the man collapsed. The Beta panicked and ran.
Yoon turned to Do-yun, trembling, pale, wide-eyed with horror. Seung-ho draped his coat around him.
— Let's go, — he said, leaving no room for discussion.
***
They nearly ran into the apartment; the door slammed, the lock forgotten. Dampness clung to them, rain still drumming against the glass.
Seung-ho ripped the wet coat from Do-yun, throwing it aside. His eyes gleamed—not with anger, but panic.
— You knew something was wrong, — he breathed, voice low and breaking. — Why did you go alone?
Do-yun met his gaze, still ragged.
— Because you wouldn't have let me.
— And I would have been right! — Seung-ho snapped. — Is your stubbornness worth risking yourself?
He leaned closer; heat radiated even through wet fabric. Pheromones flared—sharp, anxious, metallic.
Do-yun tried to step back, hitting the cold wall. Seung-ho leaned in, forehead nearly touching his.
— You don't understand what I felt when I saw them holding you…
His fingers trembled as they brushed Do-yun's shoulder. A red mark remained—the trace of foreign hands.
Yoon inhaled, tasting pain and fear mingled with Do-yun's thin, erratic pheromones.
— I hate when they touch you.
His pheromones flared—jealous, primal, protective. Heavy and hot, filling the air. Do-yun's breath hitched. Heat surged under his skin; his fingers trembled.
He wrapped his arms around Yoon's neck, pulling him close.
— Don't go, — he whispered, insistence unyielding. — Stay.
It wasn't a plea. It was a confession. The last boundary Do-yun had held collapsed.
Yoon gripped him tighter and kissed him. Sharp, uneven—not desire, but need to ensure life. Lips met: rain, blood, pheromones intertwining.
He pulled off his shirt, careful yet urgent. Goosebumps rose on Do-yun's pale skin. Yoon's palm traced chest, ribs, down to the mark of pain.
— Here? — he asked softly.
Do-yun nodded, breath hitching.
Yoon kissed the spot briefly, reverently, lifting his head.
— No one has the right to touch you.
— Then prove it, — Do-yun whispered, eyes locked.
He pulled Yoon by the collar. Their lips met again, deeper, hotter. Pheromones mingled, filling the room with invisible heat.
Do-yun pressed into him, feeling every drop of water on his skin evaporate under Yoon's touch. Pressure, scent, tremor—all consumed him.
Yoon lifted him, barely breaking the kiss, lowering him onto the sofa. No roughness—only slow, confident movements. He entered insistently, deeply; Do-yun gasped from overwhelming warmth.
Each motion was a wordless promise: you are alive, you are mine, you are safe.
Do-yun responded blindly, letting go, sounds unheld. Breaths synchronized. This was no mere passion—it was a homecoming, a reclaiming of warmth.
At the peak, Yoon whispered into his ear:
— I'm here. I won't let go anymore.
He filled him completely, leaving a quiet, burning fullness. They remained joined, hearts steady.
Yoon pressed lips to his neck, leaving a mark not of claim, but of presence.
— You will never be alone, — he breathed, low, tired, calm.
Do-yun placed a hand over his chest. For the first time in a long while, he felt simply himself, next to the one he had chosen.