Call Me PG.

masterlist

fics are sorted by series alphabetically, then one-shots.

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S E R I E S.

the acquisition (of sugar) series:

the accidental acquisition (of sugar) ; changbin/reader the anonymous acquisition (of sugar) ; chan/reader the absolute acquisition (of sugar) ; han/reader

the bodyguard (felix/reader):

chapter i chapter ii chapter iii chapter iv chapter v chapter vi chapter vii chapter viii chapter ix chapter x (finale) ao3 link.

the bodyguard sequel (chan/reader):

chapter i chapter ii chapter iii chapter iv chapter v chapter vi chapter vii chapter viii (finale) ao3 link.

the faerie prince series:

the same but different ; han/reader/felix -> ao3 link -> pinterest the fifteenth heir ; jeongin/reader -> ao3 link -> pinterest the tyrant prince ; hyunjin/reader -> a03 link -> pinterest the autumn wars ; changbin/reader, seungmin/reader, chan/reader -> a03 link -> pinterest the changeling affair ; lee know/reader -> ao3 link -> pinterest

the kingsguard (jisung/reader):

chapter i chapter ii chapter iii chapter iv chapter v tba ao3 link.

princes (skz ensemble/reader):

(chapter count tba)

sharing a bed series:

bang chan ; friends2lovers ; alt ending lee know ; friends2lovers ; deleted scene seo changbin ; friends2lovers hwang hyunjin ; friends2lovers han jisung ; enemies2lovers lee felix ; enemies2lovers kim seungmin ; enemies2lovers ; sequel yang jeongin ; enemies2lovers

the threesome series:

saturday mornings ; chan/reader/seungmin the heist team ; lee know/reader/changbin the same but different ; han/reader/felix chill ; hyunjin/reader/jeongin

vexatious vixen (felix/reader)

chapter i chapter ii (finale)

O NE - S H O T S.

stand alones

verisimilitude ; friends2lovers ; hyunjin/reader harmony ; poly foursome ; 3racha/reader everything ; werewolf au ; felix x reader

prompt fills

Losing a fight was the only way to win.  The enemy is well-fortified, his defences impenetrable, but offensive strikes are not a strength.  The best of his men are no match for Felix, not their force or their taunting or threatening.   They can torture him.  They can hurt him.  It is literal child’s play, every move a textbook manoeuvre from his childhood training. 

After some prodding, coercion, and violence, someone decides to send word up the chain of command.  It reaches the ear of the enemy, and now Felix is cuffed to a chair in some kind of warehouse, waiting to meet a monster. 

The man finally strides into the room.  He is average height, average build, with cold eyes but a dull demeanour.

Felix was hoping for a nightmare.  Maybe that would have helped justify some of it.  But the immense nothingness of the man is infuriating.  This?  Everything they did, everything Felix did, was because of this?  Just another pathetic man hurting the weak with someone else’s hands.     

The enemy stands above Felix and his shadow feels no different than Miroh. 

That is how Felix rationalizes it, even with a roiling stomach as he sits beneath that man.  A shadow will fall, one way or the other.  His choice is no choice at all: two dark paths, neither with a light at the end. 

Felix is not here to save himself.  His mission is to save Chris.  That is all that matters now. 

“You work for Miroh,” the enemy says.  “Or is that worked, if my men are to be believed?”

“That’s right,” Felix says.  He sees the flicker of surprise in the enemy’s eyes.  Felix’s voice has already dropped and its darker, deeper tone always surprises people.  It counters his youth, his soft face, makes the enemy look twice and consider him more carefully.

Felix is everything Miroh wanted his soldiers to be.  He is easy to misjudge, overlook, underestimate, but competent, deadly, and loyal to a single, unmoving cause. 

Thinking of Chris, Felix says, “I know how to end this.”

His throat is dry, his voice rough.  He drags it up, propelled by the pounding of his desperate heart.  

“I know Miroh’s next move,” Felix says.  “I know where he’ll be.  I know what he’s planning.  I know how to interfere.  But we both know you’re the only one who can really do it.”

Flattery takes the enemy from wary to invested.  He is so easy to read, more childish than Felix ever was.  It is infuriating.  It takes all his strength for Felix to grit his teeth and restrain himself, to not rip out of his bonds and destroy this shadow of a man. 

But this is not about Felix. 

“What is it you think you know?” the enemy asks. 

Felix smiles, a soft, disarming smile, practiced from a lifetime of subterfuge.  A lie on his face, but coupled with the truth. He thinks about everything he has done and everything he will do. 

Felix says, “Everything.” 

-

P R E S E N T   D A Y

Two days ago, you were running missions for your father.  You kept your head down and strove for the best, blindly believing your compliance would lead somewhere worthwhile.  The ends would justify the means.  You would prove yourself and everything would come together.

Now, your only plan is to tear it all apart.

Your father is dead.  You are miles from the world he created, off the edge of every map he ever drew.  You stare down a long, dark path with no seeming end.  

You think of your friend and find the strength to place one foot in front of the other. 

It is something you should have done a long time ago, but there is no time to linger in past feelings.  Not the guilt of years ago, not the pain of a few days, and not the embarrassment of last night. 

You lift your head as Chan approaches the park bench.  Your first order of business was acquiring basic necessities, so you left the motel and ventured out.  It required more than a little theft and cunning, but now you are both dressed in civilian clothes, better blending in with your surroundings. 

Chan went to grab some food while you sat and mapped out a basic strategy.  He has followed your lead in every regard, including conversation.  You have not spoken a word about last night so neither has he, but it sits between you like a tangible block.  Your eyes meet and speak without the help of words.  Who are you? you seem to ask each other, and neither has an answer.    

Miroh’s first guard.  You think of him in the ring.  You imagine him in even darker shadows.  It is impossible to reconcile that soldier with the man who comforted you, who tucked you into bed, who sat with you until you fell asleep. 

Miroh’s daughter.  It is just as impossible to reconcile the soldier you were with the woman who not only broken down crying, but let someone comfort her with so much tenderness. 

You look at each other, a flash of something between you, then you clear your throat and look away and hope it disappears.  

Chan sits beside you on the bench.  He hands you a sandwich. 

“What next?” he asks, then takes a bite of his own.

You are both in blue jeans and flannels, baseball caps tugged over your eyes.  You keep to a quiet space in the park, but there are still civilians nearby.  You watch some kids throw a ball around.  You don’t have much of an appetite, but your body needs sustenance if you want to heal properly.   Much as you would prefer to dive into the mission, ignoring your own wellbeing, an unbalanced fight will not save Changbin. 

You take a bite of your sandwich and pass the notebook to Chan.  

“I’ve made a list of the main research facilities,” you say.  “My father implied Changbin would be used for study so I don’t think he’s being held at any training base.  I’ve ranked the research facilities in order of likelihood based on their location and general field of focus.”

Chan nods, looking over the list.  You stare at him while he reads.   

You need to say something.  Each bite of food is excruciating because it is fighting the pit in your stomach.   You are a tangle of embarrassment, confusion, and unfamiliar emotions you cannot name.  Finding the right words is physically painful.  

You rub the bridge of your nose and steady your breathing.  Chan looks at you with an inquisitive tilt of his head, but he looks away when your eyes meet. 

“I’m sorry,” you say.  Despite your preparation, it is more of a blurt.  “For last night, I mean.” 

You cringe thinking about it, but addressing it finally alleviates the weight in your gut.  You fiddle with the wrapping to your sandwich, staring at the ground and pointedly not at him. 

“It’s not like me,” you say.  “The past couple days, it’s just…” 

“It’s fine,” Chan says.  When you scoff, he bumps his shoulder against yours.  “Seriously, you don’t have to apologize.  Can’t really blame you, ya know, considering everything.”

“I’ve dealt with some crazy fucking circumstances,” you say.  “And I’ve never…”  Mortification settles as you recall last night, which drudges up all those feelings again.  It twists together inside you.  You put the sandwich down and rub your eyes.  “I just don’t feel like myself at all.”  It is a resigned admittance, sitting at the crux of everything.  You are lost without your father’s map, even though you know it is better off burned.  “I just don’t know how everything used to feel so easy.  It’s like I’m a stranger and the whole world is just as foreign.  My father drew a perfect map of his world and now I’m way off the grid.” 

“Maybe it’s time to draw a new one,” Chan says. 

You look at each other.  You are both hunched over, elbows on your knees, bodies inclined just barely towards each other where your knees almost touch.   His face is bare and yours is scarred, his tone sincere and voice as raw as yours. 

The dark path ahead seems a little less daunting. 

There is one more thing you have to say, and this one is even harder, mixed up with embarrassment. 

Sheepishly, you say, “Also, uh… thank you.  For what you did last night.” 

Chan laughs, just a breath of a sound, and there is some colour in his cheeks.  He deflects the gratitude with more awkwardness than the apology, stammering on some vague denial.

“Nah, nah, it’s fine, you know,” he says, then says it a dozen more times. 

If crying was a break from your usual character, the little grin on your face is even more alien.  But it’s there, admittedly amused as you watch the most lethal weapon in Miroh’s arsenal stumble over his words.  His hair is over his ears, his hat over that, but you can see where they start to darken with a blush.  You had no idea the First Guard could go so red.  Maybe that’s why he has to wear a mask, you think to yourself, tickled.

But now is not the time for teasing.  You bump his knee with your own then pick up your sandwich.  Your appetite has returned, little by little, the worst of that pit closing. 

“Yeah, just… think nothing of it,” he says. 

“I’ll try,” you say, cringing. 

He pats your knee consolingly, then he smiles, light-hearted, looking at you with a goofy wink.  “Next time it’ll be me and you can help me out,” he says.  “Then we’ll be even.” 

He goes back to eating his sandwich, his attention straying to the kids and their ball game.  You look at him a moment longer.

If it had been him who broke down last night, you are not sure what you would have done.  But he voices such an honest belief that you would return the favour, so you cannot help but believe he might be right.

-

The day is spent driving.  You steal a different vehicle, losing the last traceable item from the fallen facility.  You replace it with something a little faster and more efficient on the road. 

Once you are in the car, the conversation stays professional.  Today you plan to scout the perimeter of the targeted facility on foot.  It should have a secondary security outpost that will be easier to breach, at least with your skills and inside knowledge.  

Chan will cover most of the physicality as he insists you need another day of recuperation before launching a proper attack.   You begrudgingly admit he is right, even though you want to charge the facility to second it is in sight. 

Changbin could be in there right now, separated from you by cement walls and nothing more.  You look at the building as you circle it.  Your heart pounds, leaping as if magnetized to your friend’s potential proximity.  It makes you want to leap the wall and fight everything in your path. 

Like he knows what you’re thinking, Chan nudges you.  He tips his head, gesturing to the direction you need to go.  You huff but follow.   This is your plan and you made it for a reason. 

You reach the security outpost.  After Chan incapacitates the guards, you will have sparse minutes for action and acquisition.

Chan lays down the unconscious guards while you gather your intel.  You know where to look, unlike an enemy or third party, so you can use the short allotted time to your advantage. 

You see there were deliveries made over the past couple days, but it is unclear what they entailed.  It could be anything from equipment to a body.  You save the information and run through the security logs so you can strategize a full-proof infiltration plan for tomorrow night. 

While you work, Chan embarks on his own search, finding a few weapons and packing them in a duffel bag. 

He claps you on the shoulder with less than a minute to spare.  You take your hard drive and notes, he takes his bag and guns, and you are out the door.

Back in the car, he sits in the passenger seat, assembling a gun while you drive.  Your eyes are on the road but your mind is in the mission, running schematics and floor plans and security details. 

Your mind jumps frantically from one thought to the next.  Thinking of security logs reminds you of the information you obtained about the enemy.   You told Changbin about it a couple nights ago, but it lost importance in the midst of all your personal drama.  Now your mind returns there. 

Miroh’s team acquired the security information from the house that night, but they overlooked the most glaringly obvious discrepancy.  They were so preoccupied with the system itself that they did not notice how much of it had been scrubbed by someone who knew what they were doing, someone who had a reason to hide what transpired.   

Maybe it means nothing.  Maybe it means everything.  

“What’s up?” Chan says, noticing you are deep in thought. 

You glance at him, shaking your head as you return to the present.  You have your hands full with dismantling Miroh’s regime that the dead enemy should not really matter anymore, but it will not leave your head.  The weirdness of that whole situation sits in the nucleus of everything else.  The enemy’s collapse sent your father spiralling, his fears driving him straight into a self-fulfilling prophecy of destruction.  In a way, you are only here because of what happened that night. 

“Just thinking,” you say, struggling to summarize the tumult of thought.

“About?” he prompts when you stall.  He lifts an eyebrow.  “Something I can help with?  Or like… something personal…?”

“Neither really,” you say.  “It’s about my father’s enemy.  You know my father had a lot of enemies, but… he had one that rivalled them all.”

“I know who you mean,” he says.  “I didn’t really run any missions involving him, because, you know, Miroh thought it was useless to waste my skills there.  The enemy was pretty well-defended.  Nothing got in or out.”  

“Makes sense,” you reply.  “The enemy was watched more than pursued.  I actually ran a lot of those missions.” 

You were with the enemy while Chan was everywhere else.  It is why you never really crossed paths.  You knew the outcomes of his missions because it often impacted lines of business, but you did not see him.   He was a weapon at your father’s disposal, less than a human and more than a soldier.  

“Yeah,” Chan says, echoing that thought.  “Miroh thought I would be more useful… other places.”

You look at him again.  He is looking out the window, his own gaze pensive.  You do not push for more detail, knowing well enough how gory and intense some of his missions were.  It makes you aware of who is in this car, the weapons at his feet, the gun in his lap. 

You find you are not that frightened, which is frightening in its own way.

You look at him in his flannel and baseball cap.  You think about him earlier, laughing as he watched some kids playing games in the park.  You picture that face in the shadows, a gloved hand around a neck, a gun in his hand, the trigger practically a part of him.  It makes your heart pang. 

“Anyway, what about it?” Chan asks, looking at you. 

“Never mind,” you say, discombobulated as you are inundated with images of Chan’s missions.  You shake your head.  “It’s probably nothing,” you add.  “It doesn’t matter.  They’re all dead anyway.” 

There is a moment of silence, then he asks, “Did we ever find out what happened that night?”  His voice is a little smaller, like the question weighs heavy on his tongue.  Like he also knows this new world is spinning on the axis of everything destroyed that night. 

“No,” you say.  You grip the steering wheel a little tighter.  “And the last person who had any contact with them is being held somewhere.” 

“Changbin,” Chan says. 

“Changbin,” you say. 

Your mind runs away again, thinking about the way Changbin talked about that mission.  Or rather, the things he did not talk about.   He never officially reported the details of his altercation with Felix.  He never reported the fact Felix asked about Chris.    

As if he can hear your thoughts, Chan asks, “Felix is dead too, isn’t he?” 

Lee Felix was raised in the young soldier program with the rest of you, but you don’t remember much of him from childhood, just one face among many.  Then he betrayed the operation.  Miroh was securing some contracts that the enemy was also eying, and Felix was assigned to a major mission that would procure the venture.  You were not on that mission, but you later learned how it was infiltrated by the enemy, how Miroh was blindsided and attacked in a rare moment of weakness instigated by the same traitor who sold out their location in the first place. 

Felix got away. 

Several agents died in the confrontation.   By that point, other child soldiers had died on other missions.  Only a few of you remained.  Chan, Changbin, you.   Felix was recruited by the enemy.  He became a grating sore in the operation’s side.  Somehow, the enemy utilizing one of Miroh’s best soldiers as a glorified babysitter was more offensive than using him for military tactics.  Even by doing nothing, your father’s enemy boasted over him.  Look what I have and I don’t even need it, while you fight for everything. 

That was how your father put it.  He always looked at the offense, the wrong-doing, the betrayal. 

He never saw anything else.  Just like he never saw your friendship with Changbin. 

You think Felix and Chan were also friends once, maybe, or something like it. Felix would have no way of knowing what became of Chan after he left.  Maybe he cared.  Maybe his motivations were more complicated than an opportunistic betrayal for the sake of itself. 

You look at Chan.  His body is holding a lot of tension, his fingers curling and uncurling over his knee.  A muscle feathers in his jaw when he clenches it. 

“Yes,” you say.  “Felix died that night with the rest of them.” 

Chan exhales.  His whole face is shadowed with the furrow of his brow.  

“I’m sure it wasn’t easy for him.  We all made difficult decisions, I guess,” you say, thinking of how to approach this conversation because there is a darkness to Chan that feels more like the First Guard.   “He, uh, he asked about you apparently.”

“About me,” Chris says flatly.  “What about me?” 

“About what happened to you,” you say.  “I guess he wouldn’t have known what happened after he left.  Changbin, uh, Changbin told him you died.” 

Chan is quiet for a moment, just staring across the dashboard at the stretch of highway.   The sun is starting to set behind the trees, casting an orange glow in the vehicle.  It brightens his eyes even while his whole countenance seems to darken.

Then he laughs.  It is abrupt and harsh with no genuine humour whatsoever.  He rubs his jaw and shakes his head. 

“I guess that’s one way of putting it, yeah?” he says dryly. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. 

“What for?”

“I don’t know, I guess it just—”  You glance at him.  He is still staring ahead, his shoulders locked with tension.  “None of this is easy.  I get it.  You have every right to be upset.”   

“Upset,” Chan says as if the word is totally foreign.  It lingers in his mouth.  He chews the thought over.  The fierceness of his gaze reminds you of the guard that sits behind a mask – intense and dangerous.

 “I guess I am upset,” he says slowly.  “It means I don’t get to kill him myself.”

The response startles you.  You anticipated this conversation taking a totally different trajectory.   

Your glance flicks between the road and Chan.  He goes back to fidgeting with the gun.  His hand movements are firmer, more deliberate, the click-shuffle-click more pronounced. 

It is a very unfortunate and wildly inappropriate time to find him attractive.  The realization hits you all at once, leaving more whiplash than a hit to the head.  You watch his quick and competent hands do what they do best.  Coupled with his sudden intensity, it feels like a punch to your core. 

You want to offer a remark, some acknowledgement of his thoughts, but it gets garbled in the mess of feelings.  It is not like you to get so flustered.  You are not used to it.   

You clear your throat and look ahead.  Out of the corner of your eye, you see him tilt his head. 

“What?” he asks.  “The guy’s a traitor, isn’t he?”

“It’s not that.”

“Huh?  Then what is it?”

“Nothing,” you reply. 

“Nothing? You have a weird look on your face.” 

“No, I don’t.”

The First Guard, Miroh’s weapon, assassin and spy and deadly agent, reaches across the console and pokes your cheek. 

“Stop that,” you say.  “I’m fine.”

He laughs and this laugh is sincere.  You try to school your expression but the damage is evidently done because he is clearly aware he has you flustered. 

You bat his hand away.  Even worse than finding him physically attractive, you are a little enamoured with the sound of his laugh.  It feels much better than the tension from before.  You feel your own chest lifting with a clear breath. 

“Just thinking about yesterday,” you lie, but now you are thinking about yesterday and how you abruptly kissed him, which makes you more flustered and makes his dimples more pronounced.   Refusing to look at him, you tightly grip the wheel and say, “Sorry, by the way.”

“For?”  He sounds amused.

“Kissing you.”

“Ah.”  He pokes your cheek again, dodging your hand.  “I thought I told you to stop apologizing to me.” 

“That’s different,” you say.  “Especially after everything else you told me.” 

Chan has spent most of his life in the forced employ of someone else, using his body to one end or another.  He told you as much last night.  In light of that, spontaneously kissing him without warning feels wrong, even if you were panicked and not thinking. 

He goes quiet.  After a beat, he says, “I didn’t tell you that so you would pity me.”

“Well, why did you then?” you ask.  You can admit you were forward last night because that is just how you are.  Sexual desire is just another bodily function that needs satisfying.  He was the one who continued the conversation after it ended.

“Well,” he says.  “I trust you.” 

“Right.”   The honest simplicity just flusters you more.  “Good to know.”

The car is very silent after that.  Or maybe the rest of the world gets louder – the cars whizzing down the highway, the wind against the glass.  Even the sun seems to fizzle in the darkening sky. 

You swear you can hear his heart beating, fast, or maybe that is your own. 

“It’s fine,” he breaks the long silence. 

“Huh?”

You glance at him which is a mistake, because he turns his head to you, his dimples deep with the cheekiness of his smile. 

“it’s fine that you kissed me,” he says. 

People have outright propositioned you for explicit sexual acts and none of those come-ons ever garnered half as much heat as that simple, stupid line. 

You bat it down instinctively, swallowing hard.  His earlier intensity sparked your adrenaline and your body confused it for something else.  That must be it.  You don’t get flustered and heated like this, not so fast and not so deeply. 

“Well,” you say firmly.  “Don’t worry because it won’t happen again.”

“Oh?” he asks, still too amused. 

Desperate to even the playing field and knock those dimples down, you grin and employ your own simple frankness.

“Tell you what,” you say.  “You can fuck me all you want, but no kissing.  How’s that sound?”

It works.  He chokes on a nervous laugh and turns completely red.  He looks away while rubbing his neck and it’s your turn to laugh. 

The sound of your own laughter surprises you, the adrenaline in your chest suffusing to something gentler.  For a moment, in the middle of all the anxiety and worry and terror, you feel a flicker of delight. 

When you look at him, your eyes meet in a shared moment of mirth, that setting golden light flooding the car.  It feels strange to smile so sincerely, but it does not feel wrong.  It feels like a moment you did not realize you had been waiting for. 

-

None of the safe houses are safe.  Miroh is dead but his operation is running in fragmented pieces, so there are eyes on those houses.  You stick with cheap motels for now, the little crevices and unassuming places forgotten by the passing world. 

Chan lifted some money from a register at a closed service station, so you use that cash to pay for a room.  It makes you think about crime, petty and big, about Miroh and his enemies, soldiers and civilians.   About the ends justifying the means, and what taking down Miroh’s operation will entail. 

“Ready for another fight?” you ask.  You and Chan are sitting at the small table in the little kitchenette, drafting plans for tomorrow’s night infiltration. 

“Always,” he says with a sigh, but smiles at you. 

You take the first shower tonight.  You feel better and your reinvigorated energy makes you even more restless.  It feels like a waste of time, sitting here while Changbin is out there, but you know you will be in better shape tomorrow when all your plans can come together. 

For now, you prepare your own weapons and combat clothes, laying everything out while Chan showers. 

Your eyes lift when he emerges from the washroom, strolling into the room with nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips.  

You stare at him because of course you do, and he looks at you with a raised eyebrow because of course he does.  That cheeky smile returns and he says, “What?”

“Nothing,” you reply, frowning, looking back at your things.  “Just restless.” 

“You should do some push-ups,” he says. 

Ugh, this guy, you think, looking up at him again.  His back is to you as he stands over his bag, shifting around for some clean clothes.  A snarky reply is on your tongue but then he drops his towel, silencing you as swiftly.  You blink in surprise at his bare backside then look away, hot in the face. 

“You know what,” you say.  “Maybe I will do some push-ups.” 

He chuckles and continues dressing himself while you go through a small exercise routine to expel your excess energy.  It honestly works and it feels good to get some muscles moving again. 

You are not totally invulnerable, but the hormone supplements administered in your childhood ensure that your healing is a little quicker than average.  The worst of the pain will pass so you can fight without distraction tomorrow night.  The only thing that will remain will be the scars.

You sit at the foot of your bed and touch the scar on your palm.  You wonder if Changbin is sitting somewhere, touching his own scar, and you wonder if he thinks it was worth it – all of it, his whole life, offering it up to save you. 

“All good?” Chan asks, a little more seriously.   He is closer than you realized, standing near the bed. 

You nod, closing your hand into a fist.  “Yeah,” you say.  “We just…  We have to find him.” 

You can feel yourself drifting, thoughts taking over.  You stare down at the ground. 

Chan touches your shoulder, just enough to draw you out of that reverie before you sink too far.  You look up slowly.  The back of his fingers brush your cheek before he drops his hand to his side.  It feels like he touched you with a firework, a trail of heat sparkling along your cheek.  You dig your nails into your palm because you do not feel like you should indulge that sort of feeling while Changbin is hurting for you. 

“I know,” Chan says.  “We will.  But he wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself or give yourself up, would he?” 

You stop clenching.  You release a breath you did not realize you were holding. 

“Yeah,” you say softly.  “Sorry.  You’re right.”

You blink quickly, surprised when knocks his knuckles under your chin, a teasing little touch.

“Told you to stop apologizing,” he says, then winks and steps away. 

Your dreams that night are tumultuous but not as torturous.  You don’t sleep as heavily so it is easier to snap out of them. 

Chan is a light sleeper and the sound of you jolting awake stirs him as well.  You apologize after a few times, his groggy voice sleepily assuring you that it’s fine.  That rough sound scratches your brain, tingling down your spine as you close your eyes to sleep again. 

You dream of a different touch, no violence or pain, just fingers trailing softly across your cheek.  Your eyes are closed but you can feel it, a lightning spark ignited under the stroke of those fingers.  You tilt your face up and take in a deep breath.  It fills your whole body with warmth, makes your heart race and skin heat.  The touch curls under your chin and you follow where that hand guides you, eyes closed and mouth open.

Your breath is stolen by a kiss.  You know this is a dream because real kisses never feel this way.  They are just a touch, no different than any other. 

This touch is different.  It overwhelms with its gentleness, a caress more thorough and claiming than every rough kiss exchanged in a heated moment that inevitably cooled.  This one does not cool, does not even simmer, but burns hotly, endlessly.  Even when your lips part for air, heat lingers between you.  Your fingers twitch, coming to life with the desire to touch. 

You wake before that. 

It is still night.  You glance at the clock then across the room.  Chan’s bed is empty and it startles you, snapping you from half-conscious to fully awake.  You sit up in bed.  The panicked race of your heart putters to a slower cadence when you see him.  He is sitting at the table in the kitchenette, near the open window.  The neon light from the motel’s NO VACANCY sign bathes him in a cascade of red.

“All good?” Chan asks.

“Yeah,” you say.  “I just—”  You look at the empty bed then at him. 

“Sorry,” he says, sheepish.  “Couldn’t sleep.  When that happens, feels better to just look at the plans, you know?”

You nod.  You understand completely. 

“More bad dreams?” he asks. 

“Sometimes it feels like a memory,” you say, thinking of every nightmare, then thinking of your dream.  There was no reality in that fantasy, but you swear your cheek still tingles.  Embarrassed, you lay back down and turn away.  You stare at the wall. 

To your horror, you find yourself blinking back tears.  The night is clearly not your friend, overwhelming you with every thought and fear and memory, every emotion you do not know you were capable of feeling.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Chan says.  “I promise.  You can sleep.” 

“Okay,” you say softly. 

I trust you, he said with so much earnest simplicity.  It is hard, but you return the sentiment and close your eyes. 

-

The next night is a very different scenario.  There is no opportunity for good or bad dreams, for quiet phrases and glances that you would not dare exchange in the light. 

You and Chan spent the day in preparation, practiced some moves, pored over your plans.  Your adrenaline builds and builds.  By nightfall, you are bursting with a desire for action. 

The night does not feel quiet or still, the very air around you vibrating with the shuddering power of your determination. 

“Careful in there,” Chan says.  

You look at him.  He is not wearing the mask, not yet, but he is the soldier you first encountered.  Earlier, you watched as he slicked back his hair and darkened his eyes as part of his preparation, turning himself into a strange, intimidating figure.  His transformation is so all-encompassing, your heart palpitates with nerves whenever you meet his eye. 

“This is gonna be a shitshow when we start taking it apart,” he continues.  “After we find him, when we start hitting marks and tripping lines, it’s gonna be fast.” 

First you will look for Changbin, then you will go after everything else in that facility.  Wiping data, disabling networks, making the entire operation unusable.  You know some agents will move onto the next one, but you’ll follow.  You will follow all of your father’s work and you won’t stop until you have destroyed it all.  If it means tearing out one brick at a time, that is what you will do. 

You tug at a clasp to ensure your armaments are locked in place.  Chan secures his mask.  You nod at each other, then you advance. 

It becomes abundantly obvious very quickly that this facility does not have active test subjects, just data and back-logged research storage. The deliveries were mostly data transfers and hard copies of research for ongoing trials.

That means Changbin is definitely not in this building, but you try to keep your energy up.  While Changbin is not here, there should be information about his actual whereabouts.  The fight is not over.  Far from it.

“I’ll be across the hall,” Chan says.  “Radio if something trips.  We won’t have long.”

The literal fight is only half the work and not more the prevalent half.  You and Chan take a system each and spend most of the night looking through files.  You would rather punch something, your adrenaline still so keyed, but you put it in reserve for now. 

You move and erase certain files, sifting for relevant information and finding none. 

You snap upright when a related subject finally appears.  You lean closer to the screen.  This entire folder seems dedicated to human test subjects.  The fact the folder is so big already has you nauseated.  Then again, you are not surprised.  You were one of those subjects, living proof of a military experiment.    

You cannot find anything about the special-ops program in this folder.  That means no data on Changbin, past or present.  Instead, it looks like years and years of logs tracking a single experiment.

TEST SUBJECT I : SOLDIERING RECONFIGURATION

You see the word soldier and click. 

No.  This is definitely not Changbin or the special-ops program.  You read and realize this particular experiment was something else entirely.

You look at the date.  This began a long time ago.  There are long memos and notes about ‘reconfiguring’ mental processes, utilizing the brain’s trauma to suppress memory through torture. 

You have seen a lot of dark things, but nothing like this.  Your stomach turns over itself, balking at the horror, the detailed descriptions of severe electro-shock and drowning, of starvation and long isolation. 

Subject is presented with an unchanging control from which comparison can be made. 

Subject recognizes control after one round of treatment. 

This is worse than a fight.  A fight you can control through retaliation.  This, you just have to endure, your heart pounding as evocative images of dehumanization unfold before you. 

They tortured someone into forgetting everything.  Turned them into the perfect soldier. 

Eleventh round of treatment – some effect is beginning to take.  Not a recommended course of action on regular humans. Hormonal-supplement medicine improved durability. 

Subject will need to be brought in on a semi-regular basis to maintain stasis.  

There is a long list of all the dates and times the so-called subject was brought in.  It spans years, all the way up until recently.  A session was schedule two weeks ago but it was not completed. 

You sit back, the white screen blaring in your face, your stomach a sickly iron weight. 

Chan. 

The subject is completely, irrevocably Bang Chan.   You wish it wasn’t true but you know, deep down, it undoubtedly is.   

The incomplete session must account for his recent behaviour.  If he was not brought in for a reconfiguration within the allotted time, that might explain his deviation from expectation, his raw humanity and his spontaneous decision to join you. 

It is unbearable, imagining all that torture. 

He was just a boy. 

Your throat cloys, feeling tight with suffocation as you imagine the darkness of a narrow well and cold water closing in around you.  You close the file then look away from the screen, the shadowed room even darker after ripping your gaze away from the light.  You feel that darkness tighten around you.  You close your eyes, shake your head. 

Though you never imagined the details, you knew Miroh did something awful to make a boy a thing.  Especially that boy.  For as long as you can remember, gossip about the First Guard has been whispered in every corner of the operation.  Those who knew a young Bang Christopher Chan talked about the overnight change.  One day he was a rebellious child, throwing tantrums in front of Miroh himself, and the next day he was complying with the worst of orders in his name.

Some people joked it was all about the bloodlust, that Chan was inherently built to be violent, steeped and raised in it.  They said it came naturally to him, that he was just waiting for an opportunity to be that vicious. 

You know better.  You have seen glimpses of the man who spent years in Miroh’s mask, and that man has nothing in common with the First Guard.  That soldier, the agent with the highest clearest level missions, with the most destruction in his wake, is not Chan.  Whoever Bang Chan really is, it is not the monster that Miroh made him. 

“You’ll wanna see this.” 

Chan’s voice breaks the silence.  You jump out of your skin with a horrible hiss, startling him in return. 

“Whoa,” he says.  “What is it?” 

You do not hide your expression fast enough.  He quickly ducks down to look in your face, those dark eyes intensely focussed.  He asks something through the mask – what’s wrong, you think – but it sounds foggy and faraway.  Your eyes are locked on his.  The rest of the world falls away.    

You reach for him without conscious thought.  It is the instinctive search for a hand in the dark, a desperate grasp shooting across cold water for a lifeline. 

He blinks quickly, surprised when you touch his face with both hands.  He stiffens but does not stop you from removing his mask.  Only when his face is clear do you come back to yourself. 

Sorry forms on your lips, but you remember he said to stop apologizing.  Besides, your voice is shot even though you have been sitting in silence. 

You place the mask on the desk and shake your head.   

Chan looks at you, then his gaze flicks to the empty screen and back.

“What is it?” he asks again, softer this time.  “What did you find?” 

The document mentioned the subject had a resistance to abrupt reminders.  Too much sudden information could trigger the trauma response.   It is better to ease the subject into slow recollection. 

“Nothing,” you say.  Your voice comes out rough so you clear your throat.  “It’s nothing important.  Just – Miroh.  Some dark stuff.  You know.” 

He scrutinizes you for another second.  His hand hovers like he might touch you, but he eventually curls his fingers and drops it. 

“Okay,” he says, wary. 

“What did you find?” you ask, because he burst in here with an exclamation. 

He smiles.  It is not a huge smile, but it looks like Chan peeking through the soldier’s mask – the one he wears even when the literal mask has fallen.  It puts you at ease. 

“I found him,” Chan says. 

Your heart skips a beat as you are reminded of your real mission.  You eagerly take the papers that Chan offers. 

“Not literally, of course,” Chan says.  “But look—”

The document explicitly names Seo Changbin, with the correct description of his medical history and occupation in the Miroh’s order.  It doesn’t say where he is behind held, just that he has been relocated from the main base.  It says he must be kept under more intense security than the main research facility can provide.

It also provides a detailed schedule for the work and tests that have been administered so far – blood samples, urine samples, even skin samples – and it states that he will be kept for more tests and evaluations.   He is to be held for two weeks before more intensive studies can be conducted.  It is imperative that he does not weaken or die, as he is the only viable study subject. 

A massive weight lifts off your shoulders.  Changbin is not here but he is alive and unharmed.  It seems they are keeping him in a state of mellowed sedation and do not want to move him around. 

Though you do not know where he is precisely, you know he is stationary.   He is probably not too far from this one if they were concerned about security in relocation.

“We got him,” you say.  Your brain is already racing ahead, narrowing down the most likely bases and what infiltration will entail.   You look at Chan and your smile returns, brightening with the light in your chest.  “We can actually do this,” you say.  Until now, you believed it because you had to believe it, because you stubbornly refused any alternative. 

But Changbin is alive.  You can rescue him.

You can also eliminate a lot of other bad things while you do it. 

“We still have work here,” you say.

“You’re not wrong,” Chan says, grinning.  “Found some files with some political figures who probably… definitely… don’t want their affiliation getting out.” 

That blatant rebellious streak fills you with even more hope. 

You get to work.  In the end, some alarms are tripped and you are not out before security arrives.

“You ready for that fight?”  Chan asks, already drawing a weapon. 

“Always,” you reply. 

You fight together.  You think of all that detailed violence and you funnel it into something good.  You were made to fight and it does not scare you, not when it’s like this.  You are far more scared of not fighting back.  You will never sit back again. 

You and Chan have a complimentary fight style.  You were both raised in the same program, so that makes sense, but there are instinctive openings you fill, a swift understanding that does not need words.  Like your eyes meeting across a park bench, you connect on another level.  It is like you have fought together a million times before. 

When you are done, Chan takes a turn at the wheel.  The windows are rolled down and you have a few shiny new scars, but you feel good, hopeful, free.   You see a light at the end of the darkness.  You are not scared of the fight to get there.    

Your adrenaline is still pumping when you get back to the motel.   The dawn is entering twilight, streaks of light slashing across the dark sky.  It is swallowed up by rainclouds but the promise of daylight persists despite the gloom.   You feel like you could wrestle the sun itself, no power too great.

You also know you are running on fumes of a long, adrenaline-fueled night.  You are definitely going to crash, especially when several nights of bad sleep catch up to you.  But first you need to come down from that high, blood still pumping a mile a minute. 

Chan exhales, clearly just as keyed.  He shakes out his shoulders and stretches his neck this way and that.   He sits on a chair to unlace his boots.  He looks down as he says, “You can have the first shower.” 

You look at him.  Against all odds, you are both here, rebelling against everything that was engrained in you. You can appreciate that more now that you have some relief regarding the mission.  

Despite the effort to control and change you, you made it to this place together.    You are free.  Your lives are yours for the first time.   

You open the top few clasps of your combat shirt. 

“We’re both pretty messy,” you say.

He drops one of his boots with a clunk then starts on the next one.

“Yeah,” he says, laughing.  “That’s fine, though.  Just be quick.” 

He discards the other boot and lifts his head.  His gaze looks even more intense with the dark lines traced around his brown eyes.  A single curl escapes his smoothed back hair, curling in an endearing tuft over his forehead.  He is still breathing a little hard, his combat shirt also unclasped, the skin of his neck sweaty. 

When those dark eyes collide with yours, your thundering heart pounds faster.  His gaze briefly, thoughtlessly, flicks down your body then back up.  Heat thunders through you and it has nothing to do with a fight. 

He sits straighter, holding your gaze in his. 

“Hey,” he says softly.  “What’s up?”

“I know I asked before, and I know I said it jokingly,” you say.  “But I think we understand each other better now.  I’m not asking or demanding anything.  I’m just letting you know.  I think sex is a good way to expend energy.  I think the fast pleasure is good for the brain as much as the body.  It’s like exercise.  I know we both have complicated pasts but I’m okay with that.  With me.  With you.  I don’t care about the past and I’m not looking for a future.  If you’re interested in right now, so am I.” 

You push open the bathroom door.  His eyes are rivetted to you but his expression is unreadable. 

You undo another clasp and shrug. 

“You know where to find me,” you say, then step into the bathroom. 

You are not sure what to expect from him.  You cannot even anticipate your own reactions.  You are startled by the erratic pounding of your heart and the nervous twist in your gut.  You chalk it up to the crazy evening, to the even crazier week.  It is another reason to seek release, to ground yourself in your body and forget about everything else. 

You strip down, leaving the sweaty and bloody clothes in a heap.  The hot water is a balm.  You close your eyes, letting the simple pleasure wash over you. 

You rub a sore shoulder.  The muscle loosens under the heat of the water.  Your hand wanders, fingertips skimming your arm. 

You seldom picture a particular person when you touch yourself, hardly caring about the identity of your partner even when they are in front of you, but you cannot escape the vision of a dark pair of eyes.   

Your breath catches.  Your head tips back.  Your hand wanders across the curve of your chest, palm across each sensitive peak, sending pleasant sparks shooting downward.  Your hand follows that path, stopping just short of its destination when the door opens. 

You look over your shoulder.  The glass door has not fogged much so you see Chan in the doorway.  He looks as dishevelled as you left him.  Those dark eyes are slow in their wandering perusal down your body.  It feels like fireworks again, sparking everywhere he looks. 

You turn a little more.  He looks up.  His brow furrows like he is scrutinizing you, like maybe he doesn’t believe you.   You suppose you cannot blame him.  It is a forward offer to any man, never mind one who is probably unaccustomed to them. A  proposition he can accept or decline of his own free will, pleasure without contracts or compromises.  No wonder he looks wary, like you are going to disappear if he steps wrong. 

“Well?” you say, because you are not going anywhere.  “Are you just going to stand there?” 

He answers with a step.  He closes the door behind him.  Your eyes never leave each other, locked as he swiftly undoes his shirt and peels it off.  The undershirt follows, tugged over his head, messing some of his hair.  Then your gaze finally drops, an intimate heat rushing inside you as you look down his body.  A sheen of sweat covers most of his torso, several prominent scars cutting through an otherwise perfect body.   His muscles are even more prominent, strained from fighting. 

You are already thinking of all the places you want to put your mouth when he strips off his bottom layers.  For a man who was so lost in contemplation, he has no uncertainty now, striding up to where you wait. 

You face him fully as he steps into the shower.  The glass door closes.  It finally fogs with your combined heat.     

His presence overwhelms this small space, much like it did that first little civilian car.  It feels like he is everywhere.  Your eyes move all over his body, your breath coming faster.  He pushes a hand through his hair and you look up, breath catching when you meet his eyes. 

“No past,” you say, practically gasping.  “No future.  Just now.” 

“Just now,” he says.

You are so close together and so far apart, a breath away but not touching.  You are uncharacteristically hesitant. 

He is the one who closes the space, holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger.  You feel that small touch everywhere, shuddering despite the hot water slipping down your body. 

He leans towards you. 

Your heart leaps right out of your chest.  You turn your face at the last second and try to sound playful when you say, “No kissing remember?” 

It was supposed to be a joke but you cling to it.  It must be the danger or adrenaline, maybe the heat or his eyes, but kissing feels far too intimate.   The rest is just exercise.  You tell yourself that. 

“You don’t like kissing?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.  “What do you like?”

“Bet you can’t guess,” you tease.  Banter is better than intimate gazing.  You want release, not more tension. 

“Hm,” Chan says.

He cups the back of your neck before weaving his hand through your hair, swift, smooth, smiling.  He tugs and your head follows, the line of your throat exposed and a mewl of a sound escaping. 

“Lucky guess,” you say, clearing your throat after that embarrassing sound. 

But then you make another one.  Those competent fingers find the curve of your breast and he wastes no time utterly tormenting the sensitive peak.   You have always been extra sensitive there, though you seldom take the time to linger, usually rushing to the next best thing.  You almost forgot how intense it feels, your whole body puppeted by the bolt of pleasure in his control. 

“Lucky guess,” he says, tugging your head back when you start to curl up.  “You like that?” he asks.  He takes your whimper for a reply, pinching a nipple meanly before sliding his hand down your body.   You rear up, eager as his fingers dip between your legs.  “And that?”

This time, your body answers for itself when he finds how wet you are.  You make an undignified squeak when your back touches the cold wall, the hot water cascading down his back.  He lets go of your hair and plants a hand above your head, his whole body crowding yours in a way that feels more protective than suffocating.  You would usually be tempted to push him away, but your whole body opens up to him.  You touch his chest and rock your hips, riding the deft strokes of his fingers.

“God, you’re so wet,” he murmurs, his face in your neck, his body against yours. 

“Yes,” you say.  You slide both hands down his chest, savour in his gasp when you find how hard he is.  You take him in hand, both of you working the other into a frenzy.  “Fuck me,” you say, your voice already a low mess.  “Chan, please.” 

The effect of his name is immediate.  He grabs you by the hips and lifts you like it is easy.  He pins you to the wall so there is no space between you anymore.  

You string your arms around his neck, stroking your fingers across his back as he angles you.

He is strong and his movements are effortless, but his groaning betrays a deeper desperation.

“Fuck,” he says, his voice breaking in your ear.  It makes you clench, getting tight around him as he pushes in.  It makes you both gasp, open-mouthed and needy as your bodies come together.  “Fuck.  Oh, fuck, you feel so good.  I’m not—”

He is barely coherent but you are in no position to judge, clinging to him with your eyes closed and mouth hanging open.  He bottoms out and immediately starts fucking you with no reprieve. 

“I’m not—” he says again.  “It’s—it’s been so long—I—”

“It’s fine,” you say, voice straining.  You hold the back of his head, your cheek against his, making all sorts of embarrassingly desperate sounds right into his ear.   “It’s fine,” you say.  “Just come.  I have an implant.  Want you to come like this.” 

A couple days ago, he was chasing you through a building, lifting you off your feet and pinning you down in a very different way.  His dark eyes felt inhuman, but now he is groaning and whimpering as he fucks you deep and steady, every snap of his hips as frantic as your racing heart.  Your wet bodies are pressed together and he is all hot skin and sturdy muscle, human, real, living and breathing as much as you.   They tried to make him into something that did not know how to want anything, but he wants you. 

That repeats in your head until you start murmuring it, “Want you, want you, want you.”

He comes with a groan and a deep stroke.  He holds you against the wall while the water continues to run down his back. 

With a sigh, you descend from the high of pleasure.  You breathe hard while he keeps you in place for a minute longer. 

“Sorry,” he suddenly says, panting as he surfaces. 

You wince with the separation, your knees shaking when he lowers you.  You hold his arms, fingers clasped tightly around his veiny forearms as you stare at him.  It takes a second for his word to register.

“Sorry?” you say on a breathless laugh.  “For what?” 

“That was, uh, fast,” he says, giggling that musical laugh, a very embarrassed sound.

You stroke your fingers up his bicep and across his shoulder, watch a shiver wrack his body even though he could not possibly be cold.  You meet his eyes.  They have not lost any hunger, devouring the sight of you.  He wets his lips, drag his teeth across the bottom one, and you start to feel delirious from the heat and sensations. 

“Trust me,” you say.  “That was hot.” 

His smile looks relieved.  He bumps his forehead to yours, his hands loose around your hips.  You rock towards him, encouraging the slow wander of his touch. 

“I get it,” you say, breathy, your knees shaking as he cups a handful of your ass and squeezes, then drags his palm to up the centre of your back.  “It, uh,” you stammer, eyes closing.  “It’s been a long time for me too.   A few months at least.”  Your last liaison was well before the debacle with the enemy.  It was a forgettable exchange. 

You do not think you will forget tonight. 

His hands curve around you like he is memorizing the shape of your body, the way your bare skin feels against his.  You are close, so it is obvious when he bristles at your words. 

“What?” you ask. 

“Nothing,” he says, far too casually, avoiding your eye as he reaches around you for some body soap from the dispenser.  He lathers his hands and touches you again, stroking his palm down your backside and around your waist. 

It almost distracts you.  Almost.  You look at him at with squinting eyes, smiling a small smile. 

“What?” you say again.  “You sound a bit jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” he says, too defensively. 

“Oh, really?” you say. 

He cups some water in his hand and runs it over you.  His eyes lift from his task to meet yours.

Maybe teasing was a mistake.  A flash of something dangerous sparkles behind his smile. 

“Really,” he says.  He turns off the water with a flick of his wrist.  “I have nothing to be jealous about.” 

It should stop surprising you, but you yelp when he sweeps you into his arms.  You hook your legs around his waist, your arms his neck, holding tight while he carries you to the bedroom. 

You are wet and the air is cold, but then a mattress dips beneath you and a bundle of bedsheets surround you.  He lays you out, deliberate and measured, very different from his slow tenderness the other night. 

“Quick question,” he says.  He runs both hands through his wet hair, pushing it back.  You look up at where he stands, your eyes wandering every plane of his body. 

“Yes?” you ask. 

He grabs your ankles and drags you down the bed, all while dropping to his knees.  When your legs are over his shoulders and his breath is soft between your legs, he asks, “Does this count as kissing?” 

He doesn’t wait for an answer, his mouth interrupting any coherent thought of yours. 

A part of you thinks you should conserve your energy, but then his tongue is swirling over you and nothing else matters.  Your hands cover your breasts, touching yourself in time with him.  You let yourself enjoy your own body and help him find his way back to his.

By the time you get to sleep, you are both thoroughly worn out.  Chan falls asleep first for once, all but passing out beside you.  You are sharing a bed because the other sheets are wet and used. 

You look at him through sleepy eyes.  You touch his cheek, amazed when you think of how much things changed in just a few days.  If you were told a week ago that the First Guard would be in your bed like this, you would have laughed.  

If someone tried to tell you he had dimples and warm eyes, that he would sigh your name like it was the breath that kept him living, you are not sure what you have said. 

You drift into sleep.  You see his face in your dreams, still peaceful and slumbering beside you until that dream becomes a nightmare.  His eyes snap open.  In this sleeping world, it is not the warm gaze you have come to know so well.  An emotionless weapon stares back at you.

There is no time to fight before his hand is around your throat and all the air leaves your body. 

You feel cold, unbelievably cold.  

You hear a voice.  It says, “Stop.  Stop!”  You swear it sounds like Chan.

Your vision blurs.    

You blink, blink, blink.  Your eyes open underwater.  When you scream, it is suffused in the rushing cold, air bubbling past your lips and fading into darkness.   You thrash to no avail, throwing your head back and closing your eyes. 

They open again.  There are wooden beams high, high above your head.  You still can’t breathe, your chest heaving with desperation, and you can’t feel your body.  Why can’t you feel anything?

“Hey, it’s me! I’m coming!”  Your blurry gaze darts around for the voice.  Grey smoke slithers around the wooden beams.  It takes a long time for a face to emerge in the fog. 

Changbin leans over you, younger, thinner, a cut on his head bleeding profusely.   

“Go,” you say, because he’s hurt and he needs to go now or he will never escape.   You want to tell him what’s coming, tell him he needs to run, but he shakes his head before you can. 

“I’m not leaving here without you.” 

The weight leaves your chest all at once.  Air rushes into your lungs and fills you like a cloud.  You feel as though you are flying.  When you open your eyes, you are sitting on a park bench.  You have never seen this park before, blossoming in green and gold with summertime sunshine.  The edge of your periphery blurs, obscuring shapes and bodies into glowing phantoms.  Only one face is clear.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” Changbin shouts.  He runs across the field towards you.  He is young, barely more than a child, but he curses like an old man when he reaches you.

“Fine, fine!”  He throws his hands in the air.  “You’re right, you’re faster.  But I’m still stronger.  Watch this, princess—”  

He tackles you.  You hear his laughter and your own, a youthful sound, twinkling with childish delight.  You roll across the grass in a giggling frenzy.  

The greenery darkens as you roll away.  The park changes.  When you look up, the trees are a mosaic of red and orange.  Leaves drift on the autumn breeze. 

“Do you ever think about what else you could do with your life?” Changbin asks.   

You look at him.  He is older, not a teenager but not fully grown.  His face is still gawky with youth, his muscles growing in.  He is staring up at the sky. 

“No,” you hear yourself say. 

He laughs but without much humour.  His eyes close and he sighs, nodding. 

“Ah, yeah,” he says.  “I thought you might say that today.” 

You turn your face to the trees as a leaf flutters towards you.  It touches your forehead and sends a painful jolt rampaging through your body.  You blink, blink, blink, up at the doctor and their syringe.  They say you did well but you don’t feel well, your insides churning like every organ is folding itself inside out. 

The doctor steps aside and you meet eyes with another child across the room.  Changbin is holding his arm and rocking back and forth.  He is the only one not crying. 

You cross the room.  It was brimming with screaming children but now it’s empty. 

“It’s okay,” you hear your voice.  You see your small hand reach out, touching Changbin on the forehead where he contorts with pain in his small cot.  “You can cry,” you say.  “I won’t tell anyone.” 

In another blink, he is older, a teenager again, crying and curled up in his bunk. 

“Changbin,” you hear yourself say.

“I’m fine,” he snaps. 

“You’re not,” your voice says.  “None of us are.”  You see your hand on his shoulder.  “It’s okay. You’re not alone.  You’ve never been alone.”

“You’re going to get hurt.  And then what?”

“Then I’ll get hurt,” you hear yourself reply, speaking with more certainty than you ever remember feeling.  “You’re my friend, Changbin.  I don’t mind if something happens to me.  I don’t care if it hurts, because I won’t be doing it for Miroh.  I’m doing it for you.” 

You look down at his hand when he reaches for yours. When you look back up, he is grown, sitting on a windowsill in the moonlight with a small scar on his cheek. 

“I didn’t bleed for Miroh,” he says.  

You blink.  The wooden beams are high above you, his bloodied face full of concern. 

“I’m your soldier, not his.” 

The weight slams back into your chest.  All the air goes out of you.  You are falling, endlessly falling, all the way down to where there is nothing but cold.  The walls close around you.  You feel the stone under your palm.  You suck in a breath of cold air only to choke on water.  There is a light above your head and voices, screaming.  You twist and kick like a wild thing.

You get closer to the surface.  You hear Chan say, “Stop, stop—”

Then you wake in your shared bed.  His voice echoes in the waking world.

You realize that is because Chan is talking in his sleep.  He keeps repeating, “Stop, stop.” 

You shake off the last dredges of sleep. It is not easy, your heart still skipping beats from the rapid-fire scenes.

Chan is on his back, his chest rising and falling, fast asleep but clearly in the throes of a nightmare.  You are not sure how to help.  You chance a tentative touch, saying his name as you brush his shoulder.

He wakes with a start, his eyes flying open.  You see the flicker of panic as he forgets where he is, still half-lost in his nightmare. 

Chan is much faster than you.  It takes only seconds for his instincts to commandeer control, then you are the one on your back and he is leaning over you.  Fortunately, he does not swing his arms around like you.  His manoeuvre gives him the advantage but he doesn’t hurt you, other than leaving you a little startled and winded. 

“Chan,” you say.  “It’s me.  It’s fine.  It was just a dream.” 

He blinks away the vestiges of sleep.  You see the moment he recognizes you, the tension that immediately leaves his shoulders.

You are surprised yet again when he abruptly drops his weight, practically smothering you as he cages you in his arms.  You put your arms around him, patting his back until his breathing slows to a normal cadence.  

He eventually rolls back over, but he hooks his arms around your middle and drags you close.  A part of you wants to balk, scared this is too intimate, but your own heart settles in the quiet comfort of his embrace.  You let yourself rest, falling asleep to the gentle rhythm of his breathing. 

-

There are two nearby research facilities.  It is a toss-up between the smaller, closer one or the bigger, farther one.  You opt for the closer base, figuring a smaller facility would be easy to incapacitate quickly.   You and Chan have knowledge about Miroh’s operation that no one in the world can match.  You are the only ones who can do what you are doing, so they never see you coming.   

You dismantle the base but Changbin is not there.  The only place you see your friend is in your dreams, emerging from smoke and disappearing as fast, leaving you with his promises and your guilt. 

It is so strange why your mind keeps summoning that same vision.   It smashed through something in your mind, cracked it somehow, and now it can’t relinquish it. 

It is strange what a stressed mind can conjure and invent.  Even stranger is its inability to let go.   These days, all your thoughts and feelings slip through your mind like water in a sieve, everything flowing too fast to catch despite the desperate cup of your hands.  But that image and his voice returns again and again and again. 

The only satisfaction you get is watching pieces of Miroh’s operation crumble.  You watch the news, keep up with the business reports, and watch as a domino effect transpires thanks to your actions. 

It does mean security is going to tighten at the remain bases, but you are ready. 

You move on to the next facility, even more determined.  For a moment, this seems like the place.  You find other enemies and subject imprisoned in the lower level cells, but Changbin is not one of them. 

Chan escorts the innocent captives out while you search the remainder of the facility.  It is empty, an echoing steel chamber and little more.  You want to shout his name but you already know the only answer will be the reverberation of your own voice. 

You search every crevice, just in case. 

Your attention is rapt until you run past a certain door.  At first, you merely glance inside.  When you see it is empty, you turn to continue. 

It’s like a tether wraps around your mind.  You slam to a halt, the squeak of your boots echoing in the corridor.

You turn back around.  You step into the chamber. 

Every hair on the back of your neck stands up.  You swear, the temperature drops by a few degrees as you step further inside.  If you didn’t know any better, you would almost believe it was haunted, not like in stories of decrepit mansions, but filled with empty figments still crying out in pain.  The room is rife with an unsettling chill, dank as a tomb.

You walk slowly.  You feel like the echo is louder here despite your careful steps.  You look around.  There is lots of wiring, lots of sockets.  There are dusty shapes on the floor where things used to stand, types of furniture maybe, or machines. 

There is a dip in the corner, what looks like a well.   You approach it cautiously, craning your neck to peer down without getting too close.  It is dry as bone but deep.  You can’t see the bottom.  Heights don’t usually bother you, but you feel suffocated with a cloying fear.   Your feet tingle as you imagine falling.  You know it must have a bottom but somehow you feel like it would never end.

You realize footsteps are approaching, fast down the corridor then slow as they enter the room.  You put a hand on the gun at your hip, turning quickly. 

It’s just Chan.  You are about to speak, or at least try looking for works, but you are stricken by the look on his face.  Even though he was fiery when you last saw him, he looks very gaunt, flushed pale as he looks around the room.  He is not merely unsettled like you.  He looks sick. 

You immediately know where you are.  This was the room they used to torture him. 

“You know this place,” you say, not a question.  You remember all those torture descriptions.  They have haunted your nightmares, all those images so vivid that you imagined them happening to yourself.  If it was horrifying just reading it, you can only imagine how he feels right now. 

He nods.  It takes a few tries to clear his throat.  “Yes,” he says weakly.  He looks between you and the well as if he half-expects it to grow teeth and attack you. 

He shakes his head.  He crosses the room in a sharp stride, so swift that it takes you back.  He grabs your arm and yanks you towards him.

“Get away from there,” he says, his voice hard.  “There’s nothing in here.  We need to go.  Now.” 

You have no argument but he waits for no reply, practically dragging you out of the room.  He leads you back into the corridor, taking huge strides.  His grip tightens.   

“Another second and that will hurt,” you say, more calm than you feel.  His energy is so panicked that it bleeds into you. 

He drops your arm quickly, snapping to realization.  He flexes his gloved hand. 

“Sorry,” he says.  He turns on his heel with a swivel so fast that you collide.  He catches your shoulders and holds them, looking at you without really seeing you, his stare so intense it bores right through you.  “Sorry,” he says again.  His voice is shaking when he says, “Fuck.  I’m sorry.  I just—”

“It’s fine,” you say, understanding how overwhelming that must have been.  There are tears in his eyes but he rips away before you can look too closely.

“It’s fine,” he says, his voice hard again. “There’s no one else here.  It’s time to go.  This place…”  He spares one last glance over your shoulder.  “This place is over.  It’s time to go.” 

You leave together.

-

You take a day for recuperation while you plan you next move.  Neither of you slept very well last night, but at least there were no nightmares.  You take turns driving, occasionally sleeping in the passenger seat. 

You reach the next motel at sunset.  The room only has one bed which draws Chan to a halt.  He blinks at it like he doesn’t understand, then his ears get red, then he looks at you. 

A laugh bursts out of you.  You try to contain it but it’s hopeless.  Chan smiles then laughs too, shaking his head and rubbing his neck. 

“Sorry,” you say.  “Just – you don’t think it’s a little late to be blushing like that? Mister Does This Count As Kissing?” 

“Wow,” Chan says, playfully throwing his hands up in surrender.  “Sorry for being a gentleman.” 

“You’re forgiven,” you say, making him smile. 

You eat dinner on the bed then place all the containers to the side.  Chan watches the news while you scribble memos in your notebook.  You are trying to connect dots and figure out which facility is most likely.  You go back to your original notes, obtained from the first research facility, to see if you missed anything.  

You fall asleep while working.  The week’s travails evidently catch up to you. 

You stir when Chan tries to move you.  You are awkwardly slumped over your notes.  You watch as he carefully places them aside and tries to lay you down properly. 

The sun has long since set by now.  The room is lit by the glow of the television and the warm neon light from the motel sign, such a vibrant yellow it pours through the curtains.   

You look up at Chan, squinting because of the slash of light in your eyes.  He tilts his head to shield you. 

“Better?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” you say.  “Thanks.”

“Yeah, no problem.” 

He doesn’t move.  Neither do you.   You are on your back and he is on his side, propped up on his arm and looking down at you.  You offer a little smile which draws his eyes to your mouth. 

Your breath catches and, just like that, something ignites inside you.  You see it reflected back at you, all his thoughts in the depth of his gaze. 

You are not sure who moves first.  It might happen simultaneously.  It only takes a second before your fingers are in his hair and his hands are on your waist.  He climbs over you, his mouth brushing your jaw and your throat without ever landing a kiss.  You shiver as his breath caresses your skin. 

You had no idea so many small places were so sensitive.  Even the back of your calf tingles when his leg brushes yours.

You move in tandem, with the same synchronisation as when you fought together.  Your bodies are a good fit, shaped by similar lives, bearing similar scars.  You tug the flannel down his shoulders and sit to remove your own shirt.   When you are completely bare up top, he lays you down.  Your hips lift towards him, needing him, legs parting as he presses his weight just so.  He guides your leg over his hip and fits himself against the softest parts of you.  

He presses a hand into the mattress, right by your head.  You tip your head back and grind up against him.

“Chan,” you say. 

His mouth hovers above your breasts and you grab his head and pull him close.  He takes the offer and parts his lips around the hardening sensitive peak, twisting his tongue around it until you are writhing under him. 

“Oh god,” you say, tugging desperately at his t-shirt.   You normally don’t care about fully undressing, but you need to feel him.  You want his heart beating against yours, his skin hot against your own.  “Please,” you say, not even embarrassed when it turns to a whimper. 

He makes a small noise, acknowledging you, but continues to lave kisses and bites across your breasts, teasing until they are almost sore with pleasure.   Only when you are a mindless puddle of desire does he sit up and whip his shirt off.  It flies across the room, forgotten.  You both unbutton your jeans and shuffle them down.   The few seconds you are apart are agony.

When he lays back on top of you, it is with no barriers.  He holds your hand and laces your fingers with his, pressing it into the mattress as he spreads your legs with his own. 

“You feel so—” he says, sentiment ending in a sigh.  No other word suffices.  

Your whole body feels alight.  His thumb find the centre of your pleasure, rubbing at you while he sinks inside you.  He is somehow both gentle and powerful, holding you at the best angle as he takes you.  You are used to fast and dirty and this slow tenderness aches with a burn so good, you never want it to end. 

“Chan,” you say his name on a breath.  He releases your hand so you can put your arms around his shoulders, holding him as he rocks into you with rolling, deep strokes. 

His face is so close.  Your mouth is aching with the rest of you.  His lips felt so good everywhere else.  The delirium of desire takes over and you decide, fuck it.  You have done this much, changed this much; you can be brave and accept more intimacy.   It’s just a kiss.  There’s nothing life-changing about a kiss. 

You lean up to kiss him but you are too fast, too frantic with nerves.  It lands awkwardly on the corner of his mouth.  Then you feel embarrassed.  You shake your head. 

“Sorry,” you say.  “Sorry, I was just—”

Chan is frozen on top of you.  He stares while you stammer an apology. 

Then his nose brushes yours.  You feel his breath against your lips.  You stop talking.  Your heart thunders. 

“I told you,” he whispers, “stop apologizing.” 

Then his lips are on yours.  Your eyes close as you follow the give-and-take of his kiss.  Your lips part and his tongue touches your top lip, then he sucks your bottom lip and moans against your open mouth.   You clench around him, moaning back.  His hips move again and you cling to him.  The kisses start small and grow to desperate, open-mouthed passion.  Coupled with his deep strokes, getting faster and faster, you feel like you are flying. 

Oh, is all you think, this is what this is supposed to feel like. 

You come first, the orgasm taking you by surprise.  It was steadily building at a small pace before all at once striking.  You cry out, burying your fingers in his hair as you rock against him.  He finishes only seconds later, groaning your name in the curve of your neck then sucking a bruising kiss right there. 

You hold him after, your fingers stroking down the nape of his neck, your legs wrapped around him.  It feels like years before your heart comes back to a normal pace.  Your breathing still comes shaky, but so does his.  His strong arms seem suddenly weak as he pushes himself up with a quiver. 

You separate.  You try to find the words but you mind still feels like water.

You are so floaty, it takes a second to realize something is wrong.  Chan is crying, or about to, sniffling hard and scrunching his face to stop it. 

“Chan—”

Alarmed, you reach for him, but he moves before your hand makes contact.  He gets up and wordlessly puts on his jeans and a flannel, buttoning it askew.   You grab your shirt as well, tugging it on frantically to keep up. 

“Chan,” you say again.  “What’s wrong?  Did I—”

“It wasn’t you,” he says, but he won’t look at you.  He sits on a chair and starts putting on his boots.  That’s when you really panic, jumping out of bed and looking for your own pants.  “Stay,” he says.  “It’s fine.  It’s not you.  It’s me.”

“It’s not you, it’s me?” you ask.  “Seriously?”

“It’s my fault,” he says.  “You said right now and that you were fine without the past or the future and I thought – I thought I could – but –”

He grabs his baseball cap and tugs it on.  You say his name again, reaching for his sleeve as he walks past, but he does not break stride for a second.   

You can’t exactly chase after him half-naked.  You know he will be long gone by the time you get dressed.  You can only stand there in shock and confusion as the door closes and he disappears. 

You sniffle.  You shake your head, refusing to cry, not after everything. 

Your body does not listen to your head, unsurprisingly, and you end up sputtering through messy tears while putting on some clothes.  You wipe your eyes, fighting an upward battle against your hormones as all those happy, pleasurable feelings melt into something ugly. 

Chan returns almost an hour later.  By that point, you have passed through several different emotions.  You were worried, of course, then you were sad.  Now you are irate.  You were left to stew in anxiety, sitting on edge.  For a while you wondered if he was coming back at all, which set off more tears. 

You are certain your face is puffy and your eyes are red.  Chan looks at you with a guilty expression but says nothing.

“Well?” you say, but he just stares at you.  You are sitting on the edge of the bed while he stands a few feet away.  “Great,” you say, smacking the bedcovers.   “Fucking fantastic.  We’re back to the silence, I guess?” 

“I know,” he says.  “Sorry.” 

You wait for more but that non-committal reply is all you get. 

 “You told me that you trusted me,” you say, mortified when your voice breaks.  “You said that one day it would be my turn to help you, but every time you start to feel something you hide it or turn away or say you’re fine or run out the fucking door with no explanation!”  You stand up to put more space between you, marching to other side of the room.   You wipe your eyes.   “You know, I feel like I don’t even know who I’m talking to half the time.”  

“I’m always me,” he says.

“And who is that?” you ask.  “From the start, you’ve basically asked me to blindly trust you.  One second you’re this terrifying agent who does everything my father asks, and the next you’re just standing there letting me kill him.  I haven’t demanded explanations.  You said it was just your mission and I accepted that, even though I knew it was bullshit.  I know this is about more than jobs or missions and I – I – I’m sorry everything’s all fucked up.  But we’re all we have right now.”  Your voice breaks again and you choke back a sob.  “You can’t ask me to trust you then push me away.  You can’t say you trust me but never let me in.  I’m terrified out here.  We’re doing something insane and I can’t have the person I’m relying on the most shove me away.  I want to be on your side.  Chan, I want – I want so badly –”

He takes a breath but stays silent.  His gaze is heavy. 

“Please, don’t look at me like that,” you say.  “I know you’re not what Miroh tried to make you.  I know what they did to you.  I know it was terrible.   But I’m not afraid of you and I’m not judging you.  I want to know you.  I need to know you.  I know you can remember some things.  I know it’s causing you pain.  If I could understand—”

“I remember everything,” he says. 

You are not expecting an interjection.  It takes a second to comprehend. 

“What?” you say. 

“I said I remember everything,” he says.  He looks at you as he slowly approaches.  “There isn’t a single moment of my life that I’ve forgotten for even a second.”

He stops a foot from you.  This close, you can see he has been crying too.  Even through your frustration, you want to touch him.  You are so bad at comfort, receiving and giving, but your fingers itch to smooth his brow and cup his jaw. 

You curl your fingers at your side. 

“Everyday,” he says.  “Every single day I think of my mistakes and what it cost.  I haven’t forgotten anything.” 

“What do you mean?”  Your adrenaline is starting to spike.  “There was a reconfiguration program.  I know about it.  That’s how it happened.”  You know about the torture.  You can see the light at the top of the well and feel the cold in the bottom of the Cell.  You know about it.  You can picture it.  You saw that place yesterday. 

You know.  You know.  You know.    

Your chest starts to tighten with panic. 

“You did all of Miroh’s work willingly,” you continue.  

“Yes, I did,” he says.  “But it wasn’t willingly.” 

“Because they tortured you.” 

“In a way.”  He sucks back a breath.  “I thought I was smart.  I thought I could beat Miroh.  I almost did, but then everything—”

A memory from a dream: a flash of grey smoke. 

“It went wrong,” he says with a resigned sigh.  “I was punished.  That’s true.  But I didn’t care what they did to me and Miroh knew that.  So he took someone else.  Someone I cared about.  And when it was all done, I was given a choice.”  His voice breaks on the word choice, the whole phrase utterly dryly.  “And it wasn’t really a choice,” he says.  “I could walk away.  He wasn’t even going to try and stop me.  But Miroh wanted a soldier.   He said all the blood on his hands was going somewhere one way or another – and he said it could be on mine or hers.” 

You are not sure if you are breathing anymore. 

“The things they did to her – the things they made me watch.”  He presses a hand to his forehead as he takes another breath.  “She was a good fighter, but she wasn’t a killer.  It never mattered what they did to her, she always knew who she was.  She knew whose side she was on. She wanted to help people, not hurt them. I couldn’t let her become that thing.  If she ever – if she ever came back to me—”  He swallows.  “I couldn’t let it be her.  I couldn’t let her have all that blood on her conscious.  I’d already failed her.  Again and again, I let her down. I couldn’t do it again.  I told Miroh I’d take her place willingly.  I’d do anything he asked so she wouldn’t have to get her hands dirty.  She could come back one day and… and…”

“What are you talking about,” you say.  You fumble towards the bed and drop down heavily. 

Chan looks at you.  That silent conversation. 

You already know what he is going to say. 

You don’t recall how you got to bed last night. Everything after the… intimacy is a big blur. You vaguely remember being put into the huge bathtub, clearly needing a wash down after the copious amount of slick that came from you and covered your thighs. There's a faint memory of both Chan and Felix joining you in the oversized tub, showering you with love and praises. 

As you came too that morning, you noticed you were wrapped in not one pair of arms, but two. That's right. During your bath last night you had laid a claiming bite to Felix. You were so delirious as you floated through deep space, that on instinct you had just leaned over and bit into him. Thankfully Felix didn’t mind, though both he and Chan had been shocked at the sudden display. Felix instead just held you tighter to him as you dug your teeth into his skin, tears of happiness and love bursting from his eyes. 

You could surmise that after that encounter you had been apprehensive to leave the beta, thus how all three of you ended up in Chan's bed together. Chan had his arm draped over you on one side, snoring soundly and mouth agape. Felix was on your opposite side curled up into you, seemingly as close as he possibly could. You felt at peace there in the comfort and warmth of the two boys. So much so that after reflecting on the previous night your eyes started to droop again. Just before sleep could reclaim you there was a booming thudding that shook the whole house. 

All at once, all three of you shot up in panic. Chan immediately went into protective mode, scanning both you and Felix quickly before he clamored out of bed. You and Felix looked at each other in fear and the beta grabbed onto you, pulling you into him. Just as Chan had reached the doorknob to leave his room to go investigate, there was another crash. This time it sounded like something shattered. Then came the deafening cry- 

“CHAN HELP!” 

His skin felt like it was melting off, the blistering heat in his blood making him sweat bullets. Jeongin hadn’t slept all night. Not a single second. His brain and body would not let him rest for even a moment after what he had witnessed in the living room last night. After seeing you like that, in that blissful and fucked out state. It was enough to drive a man mad. 

Or in this case, enough to drive a recently presented alpha into a rut. The last two (and only two) other times he went into a rut he had been able to sense it for days. Had been able to prepare for it and remove himself from the house. This time was different though. There hadn’t been any warning, there hadn't been any signs, nothing. 

At first he tried to shake it off. He had skulked back to his room seamlessly last night. He figured he was just having a normal horny reaction, something he’s been dealing with ever since he met you. Sleeping it off would help, right? 

Wrong 

Jeongin tried, he really did. He drank some water to cool himself down and laid in his bed. Soon enough he threw his blankets off of him, feeling way too hot under them. Then he opened his window, trying to get some air flow to cool him down. When that didn’t work he tore his shirt off and used it to wipe the sweat that was building on his forehead and chest. 

Then the pacing began. For some reason he couldn’t sit still, his skin was crawling and he began to feel antsy. Time ran away from him as he paced his room. Back and forth, over and over again. The pain didn’t begin until he started to run his fingers through his hair, when his mind wandered off and he imagined it was you who was touching his hair. 

He couldn’t stop the mental images of you he had seen. How deep you took Felix's dick down your throat. Your glassy eyes when you choked on it. The ripple of your ass after each thrust into you from behind. The whimpers and cries of pleasure you let go of as you came. Fuck, don’t even get him started on the smell that permeated out of you. The thick arousal had spread through every orifice of the house, so thick he figured he could have stuck out his tongue and tasted you in the air. 

He craved it more than breathing. His cock craved it. His boner had been steadily growing in his pj shorts. A continuous dripping of his precum spouting through the tip and making a wet spot on his shorts. 

Jeongin felt a dangerous amount of sheer aggression within him begging to be released. It was at this point he knew exactly what was happening, and by now it was too late to leave or do anything about it. It was nearing dawn by now, he could see the first sign of the sun beginning to crest over the thick forest outside the window. 

While he was still somewhat in his right mind he decided the best course of action would be to lock himself up in his room, and pray it ended swiftly. Not only did he lock his door but he also pushed his dresser in front of his door so no one could enter his space. Maybe not his smartest move but in his rattled brain it seemed like the best course of action. 

After another hour he couldn’t stop humping into his pillows, begging for some kind of release. He would take literally anything. But nothing came, or more like he couldn’t cum. He was growling and crying as he tried desperately to get off. Deep inside himself he knew why he couldn’t. It’s because he didn’t have you. 

“Fuck!” He cursed louding, gripping into his now moistened pillow with both hands and literally tearing it into two pieces. His sense of reality was slipping quickly. 

There was a tentative knock on his door that startled the alpha. 

“Innie? Are you ok?” The sleepy voice of Jisung rang in his ears through the door. The beta tried the door but was met with it being locked. The handle rattled. “Why is your door locked? You never lock it.” 

Jeongin growled at the attempted intrusion. “Go away Jisung.” 

Jisung could hear the menace in the younger boy's tone, and it shook him more awake. Then came the overwhelming amount of pheromones that leaked through the cracks in the alphas door. ‘Holy fucking shit. Innie is in a rut.’ 

“Innie… If you're going into a rut right now, then we gotta get you outta here. You gotta go to the safehouse.” Jisungs words were almost a whisper, the scent was making his throat close up and his eyes water. 

“There was no time, it’s too late for that. Leave me alone.” The alpha grumbled, eyes trained on the door with malicious intent. He had never in his life felt so feral. It was kind of scary. He was still sweating profusely. 

In hindsight, the next thing the beta said may not have been his brightest, “ Well you can’t stay here. What if you hurt someone? What if you hurt baby?” 

At the mention of you, the alpha lost control of himself. There was a deep rumbling coming from within him as his instincts took over and he knew he just needed you. He had to get to his omega immediately. 

Jeongin shot off his bed hastily and to the barricade he had created for himself. With all his might he ripped the opposing furniture away from the door, creating a loud boom that shook the house as it clattered away from the door. He then went to unlock the door and rip it open, but was met with the terrified hands of Jisung who gave him a harsh push back into his room. The force caused the alpha to fall back into another desk, knocking down a lamp that resided there. There was a shattering clang as it hit the floor. 

Jisung panicked and yanked the door closed, holding it there as tight as he could, but he knew he would be no match for a raging alpha. So he did the only thing he could do… Get help. 

“CHAN HELP!” 

The second Chan left his room he could tell exactly what was happening. The smell alone was enough to fill him in on the predicament. He sprinted through the halls until he reached the source of the commotion. 

Jisung was still holding the door while he fought back cries. “Channie, thank fucking god.” 

“What the fuck happened?” The alpha demanded, eyes hard. 

“Innie, he -” Ji was cut off by a strong pull against the door, the beta unable to keep position and almost flying forward with it as it was yanked. 

Chan pulled Jisung back and flung himself into Jeongin before he could leave the room. “Go get Changbin, now Ji.” He called to the beta, who took off towards Bins room. Chan could see the broken mess on the floor, a sense of understanding coming over him. Then he focused back on Jeongin. He had his arms wrapped around the alpha boy as he thrashed in his hold. “Jeongin, you have to stop. You're in a rut, this isn’t you.” Chan was using his head alpha voice to try and corral the younger, but it did little to quell him. 

Back in Chan's room, you and Felix could hear a commotion down on the second floor of the house. Without a thought other than to help, you slipped out of Felix's hold and off the bed, ignoring the intense ache that was settled between your legs. 

“Baby stop!” Felix tried to reach for you but you were quicker, shooting out of the room with him hot on your tail. You managed to stay one step ahead of him until right when you made it to the threshold where there was now a gathering of the pack.  Felix wrapped you in his hold tightly before you could enter, his bright eyes scanning the situation. You could both tell by the scent that there was an alpha in a rut nearby. “We’re going back to Chan's room. This is no place for you.” 

Peering in as you squirmed you could see Jeongin being held tightly against Changbin as Chan had a grip on his face, attempting to calm down the youngest alpha. Jisung was to the side, hands on his face as he observed. Jeongin’s eyes were wild as he attempted to push the other boys off of him, until suddenly the flailing stopped and his nose flared. He could sense you nearby with his currently heightened senses. 

His gaze zeroed in on you just beyond his door, held by Felix, as you wore nothing but a t- shirt. “Omega.” 

Chan swiftly turned his head to see you there, “Fuck. Felix get her out of here.” He sounded pissed now. 

“M’ tryin!” The beta pulled at you, but you dead weighted yourself to make it harder. “Baby come on! Please!” 

“No!” You protested, digging your heels in. “He needs me!” Your omega brain only has one mission at this very moment. Help the alpha. Make it better.

By now the other few members had come out of their rooms frantically, now crowding around the scene that was unfolding. It was quite the sight indeed. All alphas were in their underwear; having no time to change into clothes given the circumstances. 

“Jesus fucking christ, can we not have one normal day?! For once?!” Minho shouted in exasperation. The eldest beta noticed Felix struggling with you and went to help. “Y/n, go to your room.” 

“No!” you yelled again, tears coming to your lashes as you fought. “I can’t! He needs me!” 

“For fuck sake, just listen for once!” Minho yelled at you, but it was kind of your thing to not listen to what he said. Instead you shook your head in defiance. The beta wanted to rip his hair out in frustration. “Fine. I won’t be responsible for this fucking mess.” He snarled as he threw his hands up and stomped past Hyunjin who quickly got out of the elder betas way. It was too early for this shit…

You looked to Chan, your eyes pleading and filled with crystalline tears. “Channie, please. Let me help him. I don’t know how or why, but I need to help him. Please, alpha.” 

Chan cursed when he heard your begs, but then he noticed something. Once Jeongin had eyes on you he had calmed down. Minimally, but it was a noticeable improvement. The boy wasn’t fighting against them as hard and his breathing wasn’t as labored. He never would have grabbed Jeongin like this in the first place if he wasn’t fighting so bad and knocking shit over.

 “Bin, hold him tight, ok?” Changbin nodded, latching onto the youngest alpha. He too had noticed the change. Chan went swiftly to you, grabbing your face in both hands and tilting your face up. “Do you even understand what you’re asking me right now, omega?” 

You tried to nod but you couldn’t with his hold on your face. “Yes Chan, I think I do.” 

“You think you do? Let me explain something to you, love. Innie has only ever gone through his rut twice before, and never with another person. Fuck, he’s never been with another person period.” 

Jeongin was…a virgin?! 

“He especially never went through it with an omega. This is a recipe for a man who is almost wild with need. Do you think that’s something you could handle?” His tone was skeptical as he searched for any sign of trepidation in your face. Chan remembers how he used to be when he started getting ruts. He was an insatiable asshole. To be fair, not much has changed.

Your eyes flitted over to Jeongin. He was still standing in the middle of his room being held and whispered to by Changbin. His predatory stare was locked on you; his pupils blown way out of proportion. It didn’t help that you had on nothing but Felix's shirt and nothing else.

“Honestly, Channie.” You looked back at him. “I believe I can handle it. I want to try.” 

He stared at you for a moment longer, searching your eyes for anything that would negate what you said. When he found nothing he let out a sigh and dropped his hands from you. “If it becomes too much for you, call for me. Promise me you will.” 

“I promise.” you stated with no hesitancy whatsoever. 

He looked around at all the worried faces of the pack, then back to you to give you a hard stare. “Ok.. You win, omega.” You went to cheer but he cut you off, “First go take your pill. And you have to be sure to take it every single day, rut or no rut.” 

“You got it!” You pulled him in for a swift kiss that surprised him, then you hightailed it back to Chan's room for your pill. You gulped it down with the glass of water that was left on the nightstand.

 Honestly you had no clue why you were so excited. You knew how rough and demanding an alpha could be, one during a rut would be a whole other ball game. But something about it excited you. Maybe it was the prospect of a challenge, maybe it was anticipation of helping one of your alphas. 

You skipped back down to the second floor, finding none of the betas present anymore. Chan had sent them back to their own devices-  there was no need for anymore of a spectacle. The door to Jeongins room was closed now. Chan leaned back up against the door waiting for you. 

He cupped your face again as you approached. “You really are the best omega, you know that?” You preened at his praise, leaning into his touch. “Take breaks when you need to. I’ll be out here with food for you both in a few hours.” After you nodded he gave you a passionate kiss, nipping at your bottom lip as he pulled away. “ I love you.” 

“I love you too, Channie.” he gave you another kiss then he let you go and stepped away from the door.  You took a deep breath and reached for the door handle but before you could turn the handle it opened, revealing Changbin coming out of the room. He closed the door behind him.

“Hey baby. Be careful in there, Innie is chomping at the bit.” He chuckled, giving you a deep kiss as he passed. “I know you’ll be fine though. He loves you too much to hurt you, rut or not.” 

Your face heated up, “He loves me?” 

“Are you kidding?” Bin asked in surprise. “That kid loves you more than almost anything. We all do. You’re our special girl. Our precious baby.” He giggled when he saw your eyes fill with tears. “Don’t cry, baby. Save it for Innie.” 

“I love you all too, Binnie. So much.” You yanked him down to plant another kiss on his lips. “Ok ok, I’m on a mission here.” 

He threw his hands up and stepped back to stand next to Chan who had been watching your interaction. Any other time you would have taken a moment to ogle the two Alphas who were still in their underwear. 

You debated knocking on but figured it would be pointless, so with a slight shake to your hands you turned the handle and opened the door. You cracked it open and stepped through the threshold, “Innie?” You heard a pained moan when you said his name. 

Nothing could prepare you for the scene you walked into. There was your sweet Jeongin, laying on his bed, his clothes scattered across the room, and his fist jerking his red cock. His motions were jerky and rough, and his body was covered in sweat. His face was flushed and he was panting. His eyes were locked on your form the second you stepped into his room. The pupils in his eyes took over entirely, reminding you he was a predator and you were his prey. 

“Omega,” It came out as a deep rumble from the back of his throat. “Come here.” There was no nicety in his voice, only gravelly desire. 

With a gulp you took careful steps over to where he laid. The closer you got to him the quicker the pace of his hand went, his nostrils were flaring as he took in your scent. The state of him caused a pool of slick to gather in your core, and by the way he grit his teeth you knew he could smell it. “Hi, Innie..” You reached a tentative hand out to pat down his sweaty hair in an attempt to comfort him. Though comfort was not what he was after. 

He took advantage of your outstretched hand, grabbing the appendage with lightning quick reflexes and hauling you onto his bed. In less than a second he had you trapped underneath him. His big hands had a grip on your hips underneath the shirt you wore and his face was shoved into your neck as he breathed in your scent. 

Jeongins eyes turned into slits when he smelt the other members of the pack on you. “Take this shit off of you, now.” It came out as an intimidating growl, and with a burst of aggression he gripped the shirt and tore it right down the middle. You gasped when the now torn fabric fell off of you and when he literally tossed the opposing garment to the floor. “Mm that’s better.” 

The alpha couldn’t help but gawk at your bare form underneath him. He was salivating at the sight of your breasts; your erect nipples just begging to be sucked on and bitten. You were starting to feel insecure at his excruciating stare. “Innie… You’re making me self conscious…” Your hands went to cover yourself but he grabbed your hands and held them down on each side of you.

A groan of objection left him “None of that, Omega. Don’t you ever hide from me.”  He buried his face into your chest, licking over the perked skin. He hummed when you gave him a quiet yelp when he bit particularly hard at your nipple. “Need to hear you make that sound for me, again and again.” 

He suckled once again before he let your hands go free, and he laid wet, sloppy kisses and nips down your body. He traveled south as he marked your skin with his mouth. His teeth repeatedly grazed over your skin, gathering the flesh between his teeth with each movement; all the while he still held your hands down by your sides.  

Even though you were so sore from yesterday's activities, your body was slowly creating slickness to prepare for the alpha. When he laid a particularly rough nip you couldn’t stop the little whine, “Innie…” 

Jeongin let out a growl at your whine, mouthing even further down until he finally reached his destination. He shuffled down until he was face to face with your core. His eyes closed as he breathed in the pure scent of you, finding it immediately mouth watering. Without a second thought he dove face first into your pussy. He rubbed his nose back and forth as he breathed you in, it made your face heat with how lewd it was. 

You gasped when his hot mouth made contact. “Ah Jeongin!” You attempted to put your hands on his head but his firm hold kept your hands down still. 

Jeongin wasted no time in lapping up your slick. The alpha moaned loudly when he got a taste of your juices. He buried his face as far into you as possible, almost as if he was trying to be absorbed by you completely. The way he licked and sucked at you was desperate and chaotic. He had found no rhythm and was going purely based on instinct. Hell, he wasn’t even breathing, just taking in as much as he could of you. 

You moaned and rocked your hips against his face. Even though he was sloppy and untrained you still found yourself swimming in pleasure. When you moved your hips he lost focus on holding you for only a split second, but that was all you needed to remove your hands from his hold. You threw your now freed hands into his hair, tangling in his grown out locks.You pulled on the strands and he groaned raspily, sending vibrations into your clit that he was sucking on. 

“Nhggh Innie, Alpha, oh my god.” At your words he increased his speed, thrusting his tongue deep into you, desperate to drink every drop he could. “Fuck, Innie, your gonna make me cum. Keep doing that and I’ll cum.” You wanted to be encouraging but were finding it hard with how intensely he ate at you. He did as you said, continuing his motions until he pushed you right over the precipice. 

You felt the cord within you snap as you released all over his face and into his awaiting mouth. You gasped a cry when you came, your toes curling and legs shaking with rapture. The alpha didn’t stop once you had cum, though his slurping did get louder as he drank away your orgasm. You gave a weak push to his forehead in an attempt to make him stop and give you a breather. He didn’t stop. Instead he groaned sharply at you in response, and pulled you even closer. You weren’t sure that was even possible but he did it. Jeongin was so lost in you, he couldn’t get enough. His own hips were rutting themselves against his bed, acting on their own volition. You tried to push at him once again when the sucking became too much, but with lightning quick reflexes he slapped his hand against your thigh as he growled in warning. His blown out eyes pupils found yours as he looked up at you. 

“Behave yourself, Omega. I will do as I please with you.” He smacked your thigh again, the sting making you hiss. “I had to wait long enough for you, I won’t wait any more. I’m taking what I want from you.”  He didn’t wait for a response as he reburied his face within you. 

 This time he had begun to find a pattern. He was keeping track of every little moan and breath you released, learning exactly how to get you to make more of that delicious slick he craved. As he suckled and prodded it was only a matter of time before he had you on the cusp once again. Your grip tightened on his hair as you came with a breathless cry, the overstimulation becoming too much for you to handle and tears were streaming down your cheeks. Was he really a virgin? How could a boy who made you feel this good still be a virgin? 

This time Jeongin let you push his face away, giving you a much needed moment to collect yourself. Your eyes were screwed shut and your body was trembling. As Jeongin pulled back he gazed at you with a predatory stare. He could see the quiver on your lips and the wetness of your tears. It was making him feral. 

“Fuck, you are the most beautiful woman in the entire world.” The words have slipped from him involuntarily, but he meant everyone of them. “M so lucky you're my omega.” He kissed your inner thigh. You opened your eyes to see him staring right at you. “Say it.” 

“Huh?” You were still coming down from your orgasm, your brain couldn’t keep up. 

“Say it. Say you’re mine.” He wasn’t asking, he was demanding. Alpha commanding it. This is the first time he had ever used his Alpha status in a command before. It made him feel powerful. 

“M yours, Alpha.” You whimpered, giving into him. “Your omega.” 

The second you finished speaking Jeongin turned his head and bared his sharp teeth, before digging them into the skin of your inner thigh. You screamed from the pinching “Jeongin!” He didn’t relent, instead he bit harder onto your skin. He was getting drunk on the way your blood filled his mouth.  He wanted to make sure it would never fade.

After a few seconds he let go, lathing at the mark to soothe the marred skin. His tongue cleaned the area before he locked eyes with you once again. There was a hint of red that escaped the corner of his lips, and with a shaky hand you used your thumb to wipe away your blood from him. It was kind of surreal seeing him like this. Like a beast. You didn’t know he had it in him, even though he had shown you previously that he most certainly had it in him. You guessed that you should have taken him more seriously the last time he almost took you. 

After wiping away the blood you cupped the side of his cheek affectionately, offering him a kind smile that made him purr. He slowly crawled up your body once again until he was face to face with you. His cock was red and leaking a steady stream of precum and you felt drip onto your stomach. 

 Jeongin only gave you a second before he pressed a hot kiss to your mouth, shoving his tongue into your mouth. You could taste yourself on him, both your slick and your blood. Quickly you wrapped your arms around him as he leaned his weight onto you. His hands came up to fondle your breasts, long fingers pulling at your nipples roughly. You squealed when he tugged just a little too hard, the pain making you jump. He huffed into your mouth at your movement. 

“Fuck, Omega. I don’t think I can hold back from you any longer.” He shut his eyes tight when he pulled back to speak, as if trying to reign himself in. “I need to have you. Need to feel your pussy, baby.” He gave you no chance to respond, as he leaned back and with a bout of strength he flipped you onto your stomach. Once you were flipped he laid another harsh smack to you- this time on your ass, as he watched it jiggle for him. “Mm fucking hell. Present yourself to me, omega.” Another Alpha command you couldn’t resist even if you wanted too. 

Even though you were already exhausted you used your strength to push yourself onto your knees and forearms, giving the alpha a clear view of your pussy from underneath you. And a view of the fresh bite on the inside of your thigh. The alpha groaned lustily when he gazed at the sight. 

Jeongin settled himself behind you, running his fingers along your spine as if to soothe you. He leaned over you to coo in your ear “So pretty like this, omega. Never seen a prettier sight in my entire life.” You hummed in response, feeling your cheeks heat up. “ M gonna try not to be too rough with you, baby. Promise I’ll try.”

You nodded, “ Ok Innie.” 

Suddenly his gentle touch was gone and replaced with a tight hold on your hips as he lined up with your opening.  It took him a moment to line up correctly, having never shoved his dick into anything let alone a woman, it was quite daunting. Though he felt no nerves, only pure need and lust. Finally, without warning, he pushed his full length inside. You screeched at the sudden breach. Jeongin threw his head back in ecstasy, moaning loudly at the feeling of you wrapped around him. “Oh my fuckkkinnngg goooooood, omega. Fuck this feels so good.” 

As soon as he said it he leaned over and bit you again, this time on the back of your right shoulder. You screamed again when he clamped on, “Jeongin, fuck!” You couldn’t deny how good it felt, the endorphins running through your whole body.

He dug his teeth further in as he started to thrust violently in and out of your abused hole. His pupils had turned into cat-like slits, and he was growling with each and every movement he made. The wet sound reverberated off the walls, echoes of the proof of your arousal filling the space. He knew deep down he needed to let go of your shoulder and calm down but he just couldn’t. He had never in his entire life felt this ravenous. He could see you white knuckling the sheets beneath you, and hear your labored breaths, but even so, he just could not stop. 

His thrusts were sloppy as he rutted against you. He had found no rhythm in his hips, but despite that his angle was still hitting you just right. His cock was long and thick, just as an alphas should be. Little whimpers of his name and designation were leaving your mouth. When he heard his name come from you, Jeongin doubled down subconsciously, putting more of his weight into his thrusts and his grip hardened on your skin. The added pressure caused your arms to give out, and you fell face first into his sheets. 

When you fell forward it made the alpha let go of your shoulder. The blood was dripping off the wound, rolling down onto his bed. He wanted to see this sight over and over again. “Precious little girl, look so good with my bite on you. Need to do it again.” His voice was thick and wet, as if he had a mouth full of your blood. 

“S-slow d-down pl-eaassse” Your words were slurred as you practically begged him.

“Isn’t this what you wanted? What you signed up for when you begged the pack to let you help me? I thought you wanted to be my good little omega, don’t you baby?” His voice had a slight condensation to it, even through his raspy huffs.  

The alpha then took his hands to spread your ass cheeks, getting even closer to you in the process. Now you had entered subspace for the second time in less than 24 hours, your mind was swimming and you couldn’t hold a coherent thought as Jeongin fucked into you. Jeongin was too caught up in his own pleasure to catch onto you slipping away. He scanned your back looking for another suitable spot, and once he had found one he leaned back onto you and bit into you for a third time. This time on the meat of your side by your ribs. 

You didn’t hold back the deafening moan that escaped as you came, feeling a flood of emotions from both you and the alpha above you. You clenched around him tightly as you came, squeezing his dick and making him let out a howl as he let go of your skin. By now your back was littered with your smeared blood and his own saliva. 

Before you even had a chance to finish shaking he pulled out of you suddenly, making you whine. Though almost instantly after your noise he used his strength to flip your body around so you could now lay on your back. He cared not for how your blood was sure to stain his sheets. You sighed in relief when you were laid down- no longer having to support yourself on exhausted limbs- but your solace was cut short when he pressed against you once again and thrust back into you. You wailed when he entered you again, your wet walls throbbing at the brutality of it. 

Jeongin took your thighs and hauled them up as high as your body would allow, getting you into a mating press and holding onto your skin to keep you in that position while he pounds into your pussy. 

For Jeongin this new angle was everything. He was so close to you, his cock hit even deeper than before and it felt so fucking good. The noises that escaped him were inhuman, he sounded more like a rabid dog than a person. He was licking fat stripes all over your neck, coating you even further with his saliva and his scent. He wanted you to drown in it. 

“Fuck m’ gonna cum. Wanna cum inside you, omega. Wanna fill you up, fuck, wanna breed you.” He was blabbering as he neared his high, saying things he had never said aloud before. “Wanna give you sweet little babies, nngggg, keep you full of me forever. You wan it? Wan’ me to breed your pussy, omega?” 

Fuck, his words were so filthy. Those added with the place you mentally free floated you found yourself subconsciously agreeing with everything he said. “Uh huh, br-breed me, alpha.”

The feeling was too much for the boy and with no warning he came inside of you. You shivered as you felt the heat from his cum coat your walls. It was thick and sticky as it shot deep within you. Thank god you had taken your birth control or you were sure he would have knocked you up. Especially with the way his knot inflated, keeping it all trapped within you. 

Finally, he had stopped moving, choosing instead to fall on top of you and nuzzle into the side of your neck. He was panting deeply in your ear, the warmth of his breath being comforting somehow. 

You had only a split second to enjoy the feeling, before you slipped in and out of unconsciousness.You were so worn out, your body just needed a moment to collect itself. The last thing you remember was the feeling of Jeongins fingers running up and down your sides while he caressed you gently as he felt his right mind return after his orgasm. 

You could faintly hear his whispered apologies at the way he treated you and how good you are to him and how he loved you. It was enough to lull you into a peaceful nap. At least until his rut symptoms returned. 

Chan was in his office down the hall, he had his door open fully so he was able to clearly hear you if you needed anything. He wasn’t nervous per say- more anxious to see how you handle Innie. If you could come out of it with the younger boy and remain in pleasant spirits, then he would know how well you could handle him when he eventually went into his rut. Chan honestly should have known that soon one of the alphas would go into an early rut. The fact that it was Jeongin really didn’t surprise him much, given how he had reacted when you went into heat. He felt a little guilty for not being better prepared. Chan knew eventually you would need a break, so he had asked Felix to make some goodies for you to enjoy later on. 

Speaking of the beta, Felix was attempting to cheer himself up by baking. It was his favorite pastime so usually it brought him great joy. Though this time he couldn’t stop the pout that had settled into his features. To him, he felt like he had just gotten you back and now he’s being forced away again. He didn’t want to be selfish but fuck come on! He just misses his baby. But he’ll be damned if he won’t make you and Innie the best damn cookies you've ever had! 

Minho was walking the property, attempting to calm his building irritation. ‘Why can’t she just fucking listen to me for once?’ He thought bitterly. It really stewed within him, making him more pissed off by the second. ‘Little girl just hasn’t learned her place yet, I’ll show her how to behave.’ His thoughts cut off when he was passing by the old greenhouse, hearing laughter and shuffling coming from within. 

Minho peered inside to find Changbin, Jisung and Hyunjin inside. The two betas were kneeled on the ground as they pulled out weeds and dead plants from the old soil. Changbin was wiping the windows and getting rid of the cobwebs.  Hyunjin was the first to notice the new arrival. 

“Hey Min!” Hyunjin smiled but it quickly faded when he noticed the scowl etched into the elders face. “What's wrong?” This caught the attention of the other two, who looked over with worry. 

“Nothing. What are you guys doing?”  He wanted to take the attention away from him. 

“Felix mentioned that Baby wanted to start gardening, so we thought it would be a nice way to surprise her by getting this place cleaned up and ready for her.” Jisung beamed when he mentioned you, clearly excited about their plan. 

“Hmm” Minho hummed, walking further into the tiny structure. “That’s very nice of you, Ji.” He patted the top of Jisungs head as if he was rewarding a dog, but Jisung was happy with it either way. 

“I’m actually about to head out to the gardening center in town, if you want to join me Min. Then I was gonna meet up with a friend at the Gym. I think it would do you some good to get out of the house for a while, huh?” Chanbin offered, able to tell that Minho needed to get out and let off some steam. 

Minho pondered for a second, weighing his options. That sounded better than sitting home and listening to you get railed by Jeongin all day. “Sure, that sounds nice. Let me go get my Gym bag.” 

“Awesome. I’ll do the same and meet you by my car in a few minutes.” 

Minho just saluted in response and went on his way to grab his stuff. Going up the stairs he could hear your cries and Jeongins moans, making him clench his teeth. Yeah, getting out of the house for the day would definitely do him some good. 

All too soon you were awoken by Jeongin. It was the feeling of him scraping his teeth over the curve of your breast that lured you from your nap, the sharpness of his canine catching on your nipple making you jolt awake. You were still laid on your back, with Jeongin once again between your legs and he was leaning on his elbows over you. 

“Innie, wha’ are you doin?” You asked groggily, your voice horse from all the previous moaning. 

“Shh, omega.” He shushed, attempting to soothe you. “ Started feelin’ needy again, need my sexy omega to make me feel better, yeah?” His lips kissed on your skin, the spit from them leaving a glistening trail. “I’ll be gentle with you this time, promise.” 

He didn’t give you a chance to respond before he was rutting against you with what was his attempt at delicacy. To be fair, it was much less relentless than the first round. He propped himself up further to rub his dick through your leftover wetness. You whimpered when his tip ran along your folds and caught on your clit. 

“Mm, love those little sounds, baby. Think you can make more for me, please baby?”  He licked on your flesh behind your ear, suckling there and leaving a deeply flushed mark. You nodded hesitantly, still feeling the tenderness between your thighs.  “You’re so good to me, make me feel so good- so special and cared for.” 

“It’s cuz I do care about you, Innie, more than I can express.” You lifted your tired arms to wrap over his shoulders, wanting him close. He rolled his hips against you again, this time with a touch more force, listening to the sloshing sound that came from where your bodies met. It was taking everything in him not to slam into you and take you again, but he knew you needed to be cared for right now. The alpha in him still needed to tend to you, even through his grueling rut. 

“I know you do, can feel your love radiating off of you. I’ve never felt anything like it from anyone in my entire life, the pure passion that burns in you. Makes me weak, makes me crave you more and more; in a way I’ve never craved anything.” He never stopped his movements, finally finding a pattern that rubbed on you just right. You moaned wantonly and screwed your eyes shut, feeling another dam about to break within you. You just needed a touch more intimacy form him, and you knew you could get there. 

“Alpha, please k-kiss me.” You had a tear welling up in your eye, but as soon as it fell down your cheek it was licked up by Jeongins warm tongue. Then he crashed his mouth onto yours, kissing you like it was his job. You tasted the salt from your tears on his lips. The kiss was exactly what you needed, and with a whine into his mouth you came again. You clenched around nothing as you shook. 

Your shaking gave the alpha the nudge he needed, following right behind you and cumming on your folds and clit. He shuddered and panted against you as he groaned into your mouth. You stroked his hair as he came down, letting him ride it out for as long as he needed. By this point you were both just panting into each others mouths- not really kissing anymore. 

After a few seconds he was able to pull back from you, finally climbing off of you and onto the bed next to you. He looked over at your sweaty form, taking in how fucked out you looked, how debauched he had made you over the last few hours. It made him coo at you and pull you into his embrace from the side. “Come here, sweetheart. Let your alpha hold you.” 

You snuggled into him, ignoring the stickiness that settled on your skin and between your thighs. “How are you feeling, Innie?” You asked, kissing his chest. 

“Much better for now, baby. All thanks to you.” He purred, making you keen in response. Silence settled over you both for a moment as you just breathed together. He was the one to break it though, “Ya know… I saw you last night.” 

“Huh?” You were confused for a second, then it hit you. Last night. When you were getting railed by Chan and Felix in the living room. “You saw that?” You were slightly mortified. 

He chuckled nervously, hoping you weren’t upset about it. “I didn’t mean to, but when I walked down the hall I couldn’t help it… I had to see.” He bit his lip, “It kinda set off my rut. I couldn’t get the images of you out of my head. Are you mad?” 

You nuzzled into him, sniffling. “M’ sorry, Innie.” 

“What are you sorry for? You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one who peeped!” He was bewildered by you. “Don’t cry, baby please.” 

“You started an early rut because of me. All I do is cause you turmoil. I’m so sorry.” 

“That's enough of that.  No more crying.” He was exercising his new ability to alpha command you. One might say abusing his power over you, but who's really to say? “ None of it is on you. I’m just so happy to have you here for me, there's no one else I’d rather have lost my v-card too than you, omega.” 

You were shocked as you dried your tears, “You mean you were a- a-” 

“A virgin, yeah.” He looked sheepish at his admittance. “I guess I hadn’t really been interested in anyone else, maybe it was the romantic in me that was holding out for an omega to love. And looks like I found one, so I can’t be upset.” He winked clumsily. 

“I'm just a little surprised. You made me feel.. So good.” Now it was your turn to be shy. You pushed your face into his chest even further as he chuckled. 

“I was just following my instincts baby. I'm sorry that I got a little carried away with that first round. We should probably clean those bites before the rut starts to kick my ass again.” He kissed your head and squeezed you. You nodded in agreement and kissed his chest in response. 

Changbin and Minho had stopped at the gardening center first. Changbin had a list given to him by Felix full of supplies and seeds that he knew you would need to get started. The two boys had even picked a few things they wanted you to plant, including a baby raspberry bush so Minho could make fresh jams. Then their next stop was Changbins gym that he visited regularly. 

When they walked in they were immediately greeted by Changbins new friend. “Hey Bin! Took you long enough!” 

“Eh, I would call it fashionably late.”  He bro-hugged the beta man, then turned to introduce him to Minho. “Min, this is Wooyoung. He’s in town for the summer, we met at the diner right before we went camping.” 

Wooyoung gave Minho a bright smile, showing off his pearly teeth. He stuck out his hand to shake. “What's up, nice to meet you.” 

Minho subtly took in Wooyoung. He was slender and had a friendly face. There was a claiming mark etched onto his neck, clearly from an alpha given how deep it is. If Minho didn’t know any better he would say the other beta was generically average. But, Minho could see something hidden in his eyes, something almost sinister. 

Still, Changbin had befriended him so he wouldn’t make any assumptions just yet. So he grabbed the outstretched hand and gave a firm shake. “Nice to meet you too.” He didn’t miss the subtle way the other man's nose flared when Minho got closer to him. He made a mental note of it. 

Changbin clapped his hands together, “Alright, let's get started. We gotta get you boys into shape. You’re both too scrawny. Weights, chop chop.” 

Minho groaned in protest, but it didn’t last long before he was being shoved by Bin, who was laughing at his pack mates displeasure. This time, Min did miss the borderline evil smirk that graced Wooyoung's face as he trailed behind. 

A/N: Don't come for me about all the blood in mouths thing... In this universe it's not a harmful thing since they all bite each other :)

Comments and reblogs are very much appreciated!

Also if any one wants to chat about the story or share predictions please send me an ask!!

Beta read by my loves @ayejaii and @jehhskz <3

©doitforbangchan

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It’s not the club that’s bothering you. You’re here tonight at Felix’s request. He’d told you all it had been too long since you’d gone out as a group, so all nine of you and your friends crammed yourselves into a couple of rides and headed for downtown. 

Nor is it the incredibly tight, short, and backless dress you’ve poured yourself into that’s annoying you, though it’s certainly not helping. Your fingers anxiously grasp at the hem, tugging it down your thighs as you take a seat at the table where Felix and Seungmin are currently talking.

No, it’s something personal that has you wound tighter than a corset tonight. Work has been kicking your ass lately, and it’s put a huge damper on your sex life. You haven’t been out with anyone new in the last few months. Haven’t had any time to reach out to any of your small group of casual hookups who would typically lend a hand. Most nights you’ve even been too tired to masturbate. 

Put simply, you’re ready to fucking pop. 

Which is why you’re wearing this bodybinding dress and staring at the dance floor like a wildcat stalking its prey, searching to find someone to help you with your problem. Unfortunately, you’ve been here for hours, and no one’s caught your eye so far. 

Your clutch rattles on the table, drawing your attention. Everyone who would usually text you is here, so out of curiosity, you take out your phone. The notification tells you that Hyunjin sent you a photo. 

You glance across the room at where Hyunjin is sitting in a booth with Changbin, deep in conversation. Why would he send you a photo right now?

Your confusion only grows when you look at the photo. It’s a selfie, Hyunjin raising his champagne glass in a toast to the camera, perfectly tousled dark hair spilling over his brow as he fixes you with his signature smirk. It’s a gorgeous shot, of course, because he’s a gorgeous man, but again, why is he sending you selfies in the middle of tonight’s celebration? Or at all? Hyunjin’s never been the type to send you photos before, of himself or the group or anything. 

He’s never really been the type to text you, period, outside of the group chat. Probably because the two of you aren’t really friends. Frenemies would be more accurate. You share the same group of friends, but have nothing else in common. Which is fine, you don’t have to be close to hang out, but he’s… well… he’s an acquired taste, and you’ve never developed an appreciation. Hyunjin’s snooty and cocky - overly so, in your opinion, even if he is the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. Most of your conversations consist of nothing but arguing. He’s very stubborn and loves to get the last word in on everything. Which drives you crazy because you prefer to have the final say. 

So to say this sudden selfie has you perplexed is an understatement.

Ignoring whatever Felix and Seungmin are talking about, you fire off a question. 

You: What is this? Hyunjin: Are you that drunk? It’s me

Reflexively, you scowl at your screen.

You: I know it’s you You: But WHY are you sending me a photo of yourself? Hyunjin: You’ve been staring at me all night Hyunjin: I thought maybe you’d like something to take home, to keep

Again, you look over, only to find him looking at you, lips curled to match his photo. Heat flames through you. Could he be more conceited? 

Maybe the vanity isn’t totally unearned, considering that he’s an actual model, making a living using his ethereal beauty to sell products. His own lifestyle is just as luxurious as the images he appears in. Like right now, he’s wearing the finest black suit, obviously couture, with a few silver necklaces draped over his tie that you’ve no doubt cost more than your entire outfit alone. 

And sure, he has a jawline carved by the gods, thick eyebrows that frame expressive, cat-like eyes, and ridiculously pouty lips that you’ve found yourself staring at once… an hour on average. Maybe in your weakest moments you’ve even dreamt about what it would be like to kiss those lips. 

But does that mean he has to be a dick all the time?

You: You’re such an ass Hyunjin: Deny it all you want, but we both know you can’t keep your eyes off me Hyunjin: Not that I blame you You: It’s amazing your head still fits through doors Hyunjin: You’d be the first to notice if it didn’t

Your nostrils flare. No matter what you say, he always flips it back on you. Admittedly, you are a little tipsy, so you’re not fully on your game, but it’s still annoying as fuck. And right now, you really don’t need another reason to be frustrated.

You: Whatever, Hyunjinnie

You cast another glance at Hyunjin, delighting in the way he frowns at your response. He hates it when you call him that.

You take a moment to locate the rest of your friends. Changbin’s still sitting with Hyunjin. Jeongin and Chan are doing shots at the bar. Minho and Jisung are in their own little world on the dance floor, arms draped around one another. Neither Felix nor Seungmin seemed to have noticed that you have dropped out of their discussion. Part of you feels guilty for ignoring them, but, well, you’re a little fired up now, and the only thing that would make you feel better would be getting the last word in with Hyunjin for once.

You take a sip of your cocktail, floating the cold liquid on your tongue as you devise your next line of attack, when your phone buzzes again. 

Hyunjin: I have another photo for you You: Why? Hyunjin: Because I think you’d like it You: Oh really? Like you know what I like Hyunjin: Always so argumentative Hyunjin: You’re pretty easy to figure out Hyunjin: The staring makes it incredibly obvious

Such an ass.

You: Fuck off Hyunjin: I will not You: What’s your game, man? Hyunjin: No game Hyunjin: Can’t I just do something nice for you?

The man is a riddle. An enigma draped in Versace. 

You type out “I guess there’s a first time for everything” and press send, putting your phone down long enough to watch him get the text. Hyunjin laughs to himself, smiling down at his screen, and there’s this weird feeling of satisfaction in your stomach at the sight. Whatever, you like making people laugh, even assholes like him. So what.

You tell yourself that you’re not going to wait at his beck and call, jumping to read his texts as they come in, if in fact he keeps sending them, but then your phone vibrates again and you snap it up immediately, because you’re a liar.

Hyunjin: Just trust me Hyunjin: You want this Hyunjin: But I want something first You: Oh here we go You: There’s the catch A hand waves over your phone. “Hi, hello, are we boring you?” 

Quickly, you turn it over before Seungmin can see your text thread. “No, sorry, I was just, uh - “

“Hey, leave her be,” your savior Felix says, pushing Seungmin lightly. “She’s had a rough couple of weeks. She shouldn’t have to suffer through your boring work stories, too.”

“Hey!” 

Seungmin and Felix dissolve into arguing as you covertly flip your phone back over. 

Hyunjin: I’m not asking much Hyunjin: Just a photo of you. A photo for a photo

He can’t be serious.

You: I’m not sending you a nude Hyunjin: Did I say nude? No, I did not Hyunjin: A normal selfie, that’s all

Again your suspicion rises. What is he playing at? Where is this going? 

You: But WHY? Hyunjin: Maybe I can’t stop staring, either

Your breath catches in your throat. When you look up, he’s gazing at you again, but his expression is less smug than usual and more… ravenous. 

You turn away so fast, your neck cracks. 

Hyunjin: So? Send me a pic.

There’s no reason for you to agree to this. Absolutely no reason at all. Beyond, of course, your burning curiosity. 

It’s really going to get you in trouble one day.

Grabbing your clutch, you slip off your chair. “Ladies room,” you announce, glancing at Felix and Seungmin, who aren’t listening anyway, still squabbling. You wander just far enough out of sight of your friends, find a spot with good lighting back near the bar (because even if it’s just for Hyunjin, your vanity will not let you take an unflattering photo), and snap a quick picture, firing it off right away. 

As you’re sliding back into your seat, your phone vibrates. Hyunjin sent another photo. 

You swallow reflexively. Holy shit. It’s a shot of his crotch, dress pants straining to contain what is clearly a massive cock, gripped through the fabric by long fingers.

Hwang Hyunjin sent you a dick pic. 

So it’s not big dick energy, it’s just big dick, is the first coherent thought you have once the screeching inside your head stops. It occurs to you that you’ve been gawking unblinkingly at your phone for at least several minutes, so you raise your head to make sure your friends aren’t watching you, and thankfully they’re not. Really, you should know better than to underestimate just how much Felix and Seungmin love to bicker.

But what are you supposed to say to Hyunjin now? Your thumbs hover, waiting for inspiration, but you’re stuck. 

Hyunjin: Wow, are you speechless? Hyunjin: Guess there really is a first time for everything

Even without looking, you know he’s smirking at you from across the room. Suddenly, you need another drink, so you mumble “bar” in Felix’s direction and stumble away. As the bartender mixes you another cocktail, you grip your phone tightly, waging an inner war with yourself. 

You should look at the photo again. You shouldn’t look at the photo again. You should delete it, and Hyunjin’s number, and maybe throw the phone in the nearest trash bin too, just for extra comfort. But holy fuck, do you want to look at the photo again!

What you really don’t want is to think about the effect that photo has had on your pussy, because it’s humiliating how much she’s throbbing right now. 

“I’ll take one of those as well, thanks.” A hand waves towards the bartender, and your treacherous brain immediately recognizes those fingers as the fingers from Hyunjin’s photo, and starts picturing what those lithe digits would look like wrapped around your throat. Great. Now your brain has joined your pussy. Traitors. 

You say nothing as Hyunjin takes the seat next to you. Partly because you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s gotten under your skin again, albeit in a very different way, but also partly because you’re still not sure what to say. 

“You know,” Hyunjin bends towards you, close enough for his warm breath to tickle your ear, “if I’d known that all it would take to get you to stop arguing with me was showing you my cock, I would’ve introduced you much sooner.” 

“God, you are just - just the worst,” you snarl, teeth clenched hard enough to give you a headache. 

“Now really, is that any way to speak to someone who just gave you a gift?” Hyunjin sips his drink calmly. 

Well, there’s the Hyunjin you recognize. What you don’t understand is how he’s still making your cunt drip with need. All you can think about right now is what he’s hiding under those suit pants. Are you really this dumbstruck by cock? 

(Yes. Yes, you are.)

“Me and every other woman in this club, I bet. You probably air dropped it to the whole room.” You wouldn’t put it past him. Maybe that was his plan the whole time - work you up then leave you begging while he hooked up with someone else. As if you’d beg. 

“Oh no, that was just for you.” 

“Uh-huh, sure.” 

With a roll of his eyes, Hyunjin clicks his tongue. “Come on. You know how selective I am when it comes to my clothes or my liquor. Why would I be any less selective about who I fuck?” 

“Who you fuck?” Whoa, who said anything about fucking? Besides your duplicitous brain and pussy. “Who - who said - that’s not - I mean -” You’ve suddenly become the Big Bad Wolf, huffing and puffing, unable to form a complete sentence. 

Hyunjin rises, leaning over you as you gaze up at him from your barstool. He places his hands on the bar, one arm on either side of you, bracketing you in, wild eyes trailing down your figure slowly before he smiles, hungry and sharp, and you realize, no, here’s the wolf. 

“Listen, there’s no reason we can’t fuck. Friends fuck all the time.” His hand glides over your shoulder, light as a feather, and you watch dazedly as goosebumps ripple along your skin. His touch is electric. 

“Is that what we are? Friends?” 

Hyunjin shrugs, lips twisted in a droll smile. “Close enough. This doesn’t have to be complicated. You said it yourself - you’re in need.”

“What? When did - I never said that!” Again you struggle to speak coherently, sputtering in your confusion.

Hyunjin frowns. “Ah, you’re right, I misspoke. That was Felix who said that, wasn’t it? On the ride here?” 

You curse inwardly, remembering the private discussion you and Felix had had on the way to the club, when you were discussing your dry spell. Or at least, it was supposed to be private, but obviously someone had been listening in. Felix had offered to play wingman for you, saying he wouldn’t let anything keep him from helping you “in your time of need” - a bit dramatic, but that was Felix for you. 

You’d waved him off, insisting that you could snag someone without any help. But here you are, drowning your sorrows at the bar with no possibilities in sight. Maybe you should’ve accepted Felix’s help after all. 

“That’s not…” Sighing, you shrug. There was no point in trying to deny what he’d heard. “Fine, yeah, I came here tonight hoping to leave with someone, but I didn’t mean you!” 

“That’s because you didn’t know I was an option.” Again his gaze travels down your body, lingering like a slow caress. “But after seeing the way you look tonight, I had to offer myself up.” 

Always. So. Cocky. You want to deny that his words have an effect on you. Want to. But can’t.

And like that, your resolve starts to slip. 

“You really want to help me out?” you ask. He nods, irises blown as his eyes flicker to yours, and it puts fire in your belly, has you biting your lip in contemplation. “What makes you think you have what I need?”  

Hyunjin doesn’t bother to check if any of your friends are watching as he steps closer, like he doesn’t care if anyone sees the way he cups your cheek. Or how he slides his thumb over your lips, dragging the bottom one down before lowering his mouth towards yours. He hangs there, just for a second - just long enough for you to tip your face up in a wordless answer.

His touch has nothing on his kiss. Your whole body thrums from head to toe, fizzing like the champagne on your tongue earlier, sweet and effervescent. His hand falls to your hip, squeezes there suddenly, and you feel a rush of heat between your thighs. 

Hyunjin’s plush lips part, letting the tip of his tongue briefly nudge against yours before he pulls away, leaving you blinking dumbly. He lets out a low chuckle, gently wiping a drop of spit from your chin. 

“I just know.”

You’re too busy licking the inside of your lips, hunting for any lingering trace of him, to respond.  

“Let me lay it out for you, so there’s no misunderstanding. If you can stop pretending for five seconds that you don’t want me the way I want you, you can have me tonight.” His eyes dip to your mouth and back, and you find yourself holding your breath, waiting for him to make a move again. Needing him to. “Just think about it.” 

And then he walks away, leaving you nearly toppling off your seat, floundering in his wake. 

The ice cubes in your cocktail have all but melted by the time you remember you ordered another drink. Sipping it slowly, you replay the last several minutes in your head. Did all of that just happen? Did Hyunjin really just offer himself to you? And then kiss you like that?

You feel like you’re going out of your mind. 

“Just think about it.” 

Hyunjin’s last words echo in your head as you wander on wobbly legs back towards the table where Felix and Seungmin are still standing. 

And oh, god, do you think about it. 

For the rest of the night, no matter how many conversations you have with your other friends, no matter how hard you dance, no matter what you do - the sole thought occupying your brain is what it would be like to fuck Hyunjin. Again and again, you picture him above you, beneath you, behind you, big cock stretching you out, making you scream his name. 

But it’s not worth it to give in to him. It can’t be. Good dick - if it’s good - can’t be enough to undo all the annoying shit he does, can it?

You cut yourself off early in the night, explaining that someone needs to stay sober enough to call for rides, but really you’re afraid that if you get completely blitzed, you’ll end up admitting something you don’t want to admit and going home with Hyunjin. Your friends honor your noble sacrifice by achieving impressive levels of drunk, ranging from delightful (Felix repeatedly booping you on the nose, calling you his “widdle buddy”) to disastrous (Chan, who gets upset when the guy he hits on in the bathroom doesn’t respond - turns out he was hitting on his own reflection - before falling asleep in a stall). 

Since the club is in the middle of downtown, you arrange for two cars to pick you and your friends up - one heading east, one heading west. Changbin, Chan, Hyunjin, and you pile into the ride heading west. Changbin hops into the passenger’s seat before you can slip in, leaving you smushed in the back between Hyunjin and Chan’s gigantic thighs. 

Said thighs are splayed a bit as Chan’s head lolls back, a loud snore erupting out of him as the car makes its first stop outside Changbin’s apartment. 

“Can’t take him anywhere,” Changbin grunts, snapping a rather unflattering photo of Chan sleeping with his mouth wide open, obviously saving it to drop in the group chat at the most opportune time. “Can you two make sure he gets home okay? I know it’s a bit out of the way, but, well, look at him.” 

Chan continues to rumble like a fighter jet, unaware of everything going on around him. 

“Yeah, don’t worry, we got him,” Hyunjin replies, and you just nod. “Night, ‘Bin.” 

Changbin gives the driver Chan’s address and then he ducks out of the cab. Your place is technically the next closest, but getting Chan back to his place safe and sound is the priority. 

With Chan sleeping next to you, it’s basically just you and Hyunjin alone now. A fact that has also occurred to Hyunjin, whose hand has been drifting further and further around your waist the entire ride. Now it slides around openly, tucking you against his side. You could fight it if you so desired - he’s not holding you tightly. He’s giving you the chance to escape. 

You’re not sure you want to.

“Have you thought about it?” he murmurs, nose against your ear. 

Your body reacts to the tone of his voice, thighs rubbing together, as you nod. 

“And what did you decide?” 

“I - I don’t know.” 

A puff of air tickles your skin as he laughs derisively. “Do you really need some convincing?” 

Chan snuffles loudly, reminding you that there’s another person right next to you, since your entire focus is on Hyunjin, and the way his hand is now creeping beneath the open back of your dress, and slowly moving up your rib cage. 

When he cups your left breast, you stifle a gasp. But you can’t stop the tiny “ah!” that escapes when he gently pinches your nipple. You attempt to cover it with a cough, hoping the driver’s lack of visible response means he didn’t hear you. Meanwhile, next to you, Chan doesn’t stir. 

“Feel good?” Hyunjin coos quietly. “Must’ve felt good, given the way you’re squirming right now.” 

Your hips have started to rock of their own volition. Brain, hips, pussy, all on your shit list. 

“But just think how much better it’ll feel when it’s my mouth.” His tongue flicks the shell of your ear before he sucks your earlobe into his warm mouth. A preview of what’s to come. It makes you squirm even harder, dying for any sort of relief for the aching between your legs. 

Remarkably, you manage to speak, hissing, “You’re a demon.” 

Hyunjin laughs. “You’ve no idea.” 

His hand stays where it is until the car pulls up at the curb outside Chan’s house. It takes a minute for the two of you to wake Chan, then another minute for him to realize where he is, then yet another minute for him to slide out of the car. Hyunjin sighs and also climbs out of the cab to make sure Chan gets into his house safely. 

When Hyunjin returns, the driver glances in the rearview mirror. “So, one more stop, or two?” 

You blink at the question. The air in the cab feels heavy with implication. Hyunjin says nothing, but looks at you expectantly, and you understand - the choice is yours.

You glance at your hands, as if they’ll help you choose. Your watch informs you that it’s 2:12 in the morning. Don’t they always say not to trust any decisions you make after two am?

When the driver clears his throat a little too loudly, Hyunjin’s fingers grip your chin. 

“Well? You heard him - one stop or two?” 

You meet his gaze, surprised to find a fire burning in his eyes. 

Maybe you’d be a fool to run towards it, seeking warmth where there might only be danger. 

Fine, then. You’re a fool. 

“One.” 

With a satisfied grin, Hyunjin gives the driver his address.

You’re a little tense during the elevator ride up to Hyunjin’s apartment. Hyunjin, on the other hand, looks completely relaxed, quietly leaning against the wall with his normal blasé expression on his face. Like you’re not about to cross a boundary here that you never expected to cross. Like this was inevitable. 

As soon as you’re both inside and his door is locked, he turns to face you, and you suck in a deep breath, waiting impatiently for him to touch you again. 

Instead, he asks, “Do you want some water?” 

“Um, yeah, sure.” 

He must read confusion on your face - at least, you hope it looks like confusion and not disappointment - because the corner of his mouth lifts in a small smile. 

“A few questions first,” he says, walking into his kitchen, sliding his suit jacket off as he goes. “Are you in good health?”

“Am I - am I in good health?”

Hyunjin tuts. “I’d ask if you need me to repeat myself but clearly you heard the question.” 

You stare at his back, brows furrowing as you decipher his meaning. “Are you asking if I’ve been tested recently? Yes, I have been. Nothing to report.” 

“Good, me too,” he replies, yanking his tie off and tossing it onto the counter before opening the fridge and grabbing you both a bottle of water. He eyes you as he opens his. “Are you on birth control?”

“Is this what you’re like on a date? Does your foreplay always involve interrogating your partner with clinical questions?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He tilts his head back as he drinks, so he doesn’t catch the glare you shoot his way. “Answer the question.” 

“Yes, dick, I’m on birth control.” You take a swig of your water. The memory of his touch in the taxi is fading more and more with every second that passes. With a clearer head, you’re starting to question if you’ve made the right choice. 

“Good,” he repeats, wiping his mouth. “I prefer to fuck raw.” 

You clench around nothing at the thought, but scowl anyway. “What about what I prefer?” 

Hyunjin just hums, fingers brushing your cheek before they tap under your chin. “Do you want me to use a condom?” There’s no drollness or sarcasm to his tone. He’s genuinely asking. 

“No.” Your pride takes a tiny hit at the way you answer him immediately, without hesitation.

Just as quickly as his gentle tone came, it disappears again, vanishing as Hyunjin flashes a smug smile. “That’s what I thought.”

“That’s what - oh fuck off.” There he is again, that cocky asshole. Reflexively, you curse at him, ready to fight. “Fuck you, you don’t know anything about me.”

“How many times do I need to tell you that I do? You’re so easy to read.” 

“Really?” Okay then. You’ll call his bluff. “Go ahead, Hyunjinnie. Tell me what I like.” 

He rolls his eyes. His fingers make quick work of his cufflinks, setting them on the granite top beside him, and he slides his sleeves up, revealing toned forearms beneath. 

“Well, for starters, you love getting under my skin with that infantile nickname.” 

“No shit. Everyone knows that.” 

“You live for arguing, especially with me. Can’t let a single sentence go by without snapping back.” 

“Maybe that’s because you’re always wrong.”

Hyunjin doesn’t take the bait, merely leans back against the counter, examining you so openly that you feel exposed, so you cross your arms, as if that will help you block his penetrating gaze. He takes a few seconds before speaking again. 

“No, it’s not that. Though I’m sure that’s what you tell yourself. If it were, you wouldn’t be here right now.” 

He speaks so calmly, so self-assuredly. It’s maddening, even though you’re burning with curiosity. Makes you want to know more, so you press him again. “Okay, then - what is it? Why am I here?” 

“Because you wanted someone to take control.” He spreads his arms wide. “And here I am.” 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

“You know. You want someone else to be in charge. Make the decisions. Do the work for you. Then fuck you so hard that all those thoughts just fly right out of that pretty little head of yours.” He says it all so matter-of-factly, like it’s completely evident, your deepest desires laid bare for all to witness.

You want to dismiss his words, act like he’s so far off the mark that he’s on another planet, but you’re too surprised by his answer to respond with anything other than stunned silence. His arrogant smile returns. Clearly he was expecting you to fight, so your lack of a snappy comeback only confirms to him that he’s right. 

“Just look at what you’re wearing,” he continues. “That tight dress screams ‘please fuck me stupid!’ Lucky for you, that’s exactly what I intend to do.”

You find your voice. “Oh, now you’re judging my clothing? And - and slut shaming me?” 

“Please. I’m always judging your clothing. But it’s a taste thing, not some sort of moral judgment.” He smirks. “And I’m very supportive of sluts, thank you.” 

As he sips his water, you replay the entire evening in your mind. Sending you the photos. Kissing you. Making the offer. Fuck. He really did do the work for you tonight. Was there ever a chance you were going to say no? Judging by Hyunjin’s attitude, this moment was never in doubt. He knew you’d end up here with him.  

The other realization that dawns on you is - you’re not mad about any of that. The only thing you’re mad about is that, once again, he’s right about something. And he knows it. 

Okay. Fine. You want to be fucked stupid. But does he have to be so fucking rude about it??

“Maybe this was a bad idea.”

He suddenly steps towards you. His expression is so intense that you move without thinking, backing all the way into the fridge. Your heart feels like it might burst through your ribcage at the slightest provocation, breath leaving your lungs in tiny exhalations as his thumb ghosts your cheek. 

Not because you’re scared. Because you’re excited.

“Tell me you don’t want to kiss me.”

Hyunjin says the words softly, but there’s a firmness to his gaze that makes you swallow hard.

Your lips don’t move. 

He kisses you. Wraps his hands around your waist, pulls you to his demanding mouth, head turning this way and that as his lips crash onto yours.

You kiss him back. Just as greedily, just as deeply. 

His hand strokes your thigh. “Tell me you don’t want me to touch you.”

You make no noise.

His fingers crawl beneath your skirt, dancing over the silk of your underwear. Your gasp warms his tongue. A throaty growl chokes him.

“So wet for me.” He brings his hand up to show you the evidence, skin glistening. As if you didn’t already know.

He surges forward, pinning you to the fridge, mouth blazing a trail from your ear to your neck as his fingers press into your soaking slit.

“Ah, Hyunjin!” you whimper, clutching wildly at his bicep. The swell of his arm bulges as his fingers slowly search your inner walls, like they’re mapping every inch of you. When they trace over your g-spot, they linger, brushing again and again. “Oh my god!”

“Tell me,” he implores, husky voice breaking, like he’s barely in control, “tell me to stop and I will. Tell me you don’t want this - don’t want me - and I’ll call you a ride and we’ll never talk about this again.” 

His forehead bumps yours, eyes smoldering with bright intensity, hand still plunging.

This time, you speak, chest heaving as you gasp for air.

“Don’t - don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

A smile spreads across Hyunjin’s face. He pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around your waist, the other hand still working between your thighs. You moan, feeling his erection digging into your hip as he presses himself against you, holding you firmly in place while he adds a third finger to the two already fucking you open. 

“Say it,” he commands, mouth wet and hot on your cheek. “Tell me what you want.” 

“I want, oh, fuck, I, I want you to fuck me, Hyunjin.”

In an instant, he’s disentangled himself from you, and you can’t help but whine very loudly at the sudden loss of his fingers. Hyunjin just smirks at your naked desperation, spinning you around so you’re in front of him. 

“Come on,” he says, lightly pinching your ass to make you move. You yelp, smacking him on the arm, but he just laughs. “I’m not fucking you in here. Let’s go.” 

“Asshole,” you curse, but you go anyway, because all you want is for him to touch you again, and if he’s refusing to do it in here, then why would you want to stay? You’re going wherever his hands go. 

Maybe you should feel ashamed, for giving in so easily. But you don’t. All you feel is desire. This is what you want. What you need. 

Hyunjin’s fingers press lightly on the small of your back as he guides you down the hallway to his bedroom. It’s just as ostentatious as the rest of his place - expensive-looking light fixtures hanging from the ceiling, dark leather headboard and frame for his gigantic bed, which is covered in piles of plush-looking blankets and pillows. There’s a gorgeous painting taking up most of the wall above his bed. 

He doesn’t give you much time to admire the room, because as soon as you’re in front of the bed, he spins you again, hands reaching for the zipper of your dress, sliding it to the ground, leaving you standing there in nothing but your panties. Before you can tell him to stop pushing you around, he’s kissing you fervently, like he’s been dying the entire time his mouth has been away from yours these last few minutes, and suddenly you forget that you’re irritated. 

Hyunjin backs you onto the bed, breaking away from your lips long enough to urge you to move towards the headboard, unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it to the side as he follows. When his fingers grab for his belt, they find yours already there, making short work of the buckle. He groans in delight, deciding to use his hands to grope your bare breasts while you unzip his pants. 

“Can’t wait to see it in real life, huh?” he asks, dragging his thumbs over your nipples. He chuckles when you just whimper, back arching slightly to encourage him to keep touching you.

The truth is, yes, you can’t wait to see Hyunjin’s massive dick, but more importantly, you can’t wait to feel it inside you, so you continue with your task, pushing his pants and boxers down together. And god, what a cock it is, long and thick and positively darkened with need. Smeared drops of excitement coat the head, and the sight makes your mouth water. 

He rises up to kneel between your legs, grabbing his cock with one hand and giving it a few lazy pumps. “Well? Don’t tell me you’re speechless again.” 

“Goddamn it,” you huff in exasperation, “you’re the fucking worst.” But you can’t stop staring as he gently squeezes the head, making a pleased noise, relieving himself a little while he watches you writhe in impatience. 

“You’ll be singing a different tune in a moment, sweetheart.” 

Your nose wrinkles at how easily ‘sweetheart’ drips off his tongue. “Just put it in me already,” you demand, leaning back on your elbows, licking your lips as you peer up at him, trying to send a blatant “fuck me!” signal with every inch of your body. 

Hyunjin tuts, lifting one of his gorgeously thick eyebrows. “Right to it? Is that what you really want?” In one swift motion, he hooks a finger under your panties and drags them down and off. It’d be a more impressive move if anyone but him were doing it. 

“I just… I thought we were gonna fuck?” Isn’t that what you’re here for?

“Of course we are. But is that how you typically do it? No foreplay, no build up?” His fingers rake down your stomach, trail over your thighs, causing your body to twitch with shivers. “That doesn’t sound like any fun at all.”

It’s not how you’d prefer to do this, no. You’re just surprised that he agrees. So you say nothing in reply, visibly closing your mouth while he maneuvers you into position, pushing your legs up so your knees bend, your thighs meeting your stomach, completely exposing your cunt to him. 

“That’s better. Just let me play with you a little first, sweetheart. I promise you’ll like it.” 

Your instinct is to argue with him, tell him he has no idea what you’d like, but you’ve already done that tonight. And you were wrong. So again, you bite your tongue. 

Until he extends his own, letting a string of spit fall onto your pussy.

“Ew, Hyunjin!” You’re disgusted, but not with him. Why do you find that so hot?

“Too much?” he inquires, letting go of your legs as he glances at you. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen a real expression of concern on his face before. It rattles you slightly. 

Biting your lip, you shake your head. “No - keep going.” 

He nods, hands reaching for your thighs again. “If I hit any hard no’s for you, say something, and I promise I’ll stop, okay?” 

“I will.” 

He bows over you again, licking a straight line up your slit. With a moan, you let your head drop back against the pillows. His mouth feels absolutely divine.

Where others in the past just dove in, Hyunjin takes his time. He drags his tongue around slowly, licking through your soaking folds, tasting you. It reminds you of the way you’d seen him drink a really fine whisky, holding it in his mouth, quietly identifying every note, every flavor. Relishing, instead of rushing. 

When his lips brush over your clit, leaving teasing kisses, you moan. Hyunjin hums, a self-satisfied little rumble, and lifts his head. “See? Told you you’d like this.” 

“Please, shut up and suck my clit.” It’s meant to be an order but definitely sounds like a pathetic whine. Whatever, as long as he listens. 

He listens. Those plush lips that you can’t stop yourself from staring at roll over your already throbbing little nub and warm pleasure runs down your spine before pooling in your belly. His dark hair keeps falling in his face, obscuring him from your view, and for some reason you can’t have that. Tentatively, you reach out, hand shaking a little. 

Hyunjin hums when your fingers slide through his soft locks, pushing the strands back, holding them in place so you can see his eyes, the way they squeeze shut when he sucks noisily on your clit. The sounds he makes are so loud, completely uninhibited, moaning and grunting as his lips smack and his tongue laps. 

He uses said tongue to fuck you expertly, his movements so confident, so sure. He reads every quiver, listens to every moan, figures out how to work you up with quick, teasing shallow plunges, before slowing it down, going deeper, tongue brushing your walls like he’s speaking a language only your body understands. 

“Hyunjin,” you sigh, unable to tear your eyes away from him. 

His mouth parts from you long enough for him to speak. “There it is. There’s the tone I was looking for. Enjoy this, sweetheart. I know I am.” 

You’re enjoying it so much that you unexpectedly whimper when he stops again a moment later, feeling a little embarrassed as he exhales a quiet laugh into your warmth. “Just hold on,” he murmurs, dragging his tongue up your slit to pass over your clit again and again, before sliding a finger into your clenching hole.

“Ohhhh.” 

The combination is so good, his finger filling you while his mouth suctions to you, that your eyes flutter shut. He pulls out and glides back in, all the way to his knuckles in one smooth motion, your wet folds parting so easily for him. He’s done an amazing job of spreading your slickness around, coating your inner thighs, messing his bed beneath you. 

“Gonna make you come,” Hyunjin says, spreading you open with two fingers now. “Need you to come before I can fuck you just like you want. Can you do that for me?”

The tension in your gut tells you that that shouldn’t be a problem. Both fingers have curled inside you, stroking over your soft spot, making you pant, clutching Hyunjin’s satin sheets for dear life. 

“Hy-Hyun-”

Before you can even finish saying his name, the tension snaps, nerves firing from your cunt to your toes, causing your legs to lock up. Hyunjin groans, moving his hands to grasp at your thighs, trying to loosen their squeeze. 

“Easy, sweetheart, don’t take me out just yet.” When your body finally starts to relax, he grins. “There we go. Good girl.”

If this were any other time, you’d snap at him for dropping that pet phrase on you. But you’re too blissed out at the moment, practically purring as he starts to kiss his way up your torso. 

When he reaches your breasts, he joins you, a low rumble sounding from the back of his throat. His nose nuzzles between them, as he leaves loud kisses on their swelling curves. 

Another thing Hyunjin isn’t wrong about - his mouth feels much better than his fingers do on your nipples, tongue gliding like warm velvet against the pert nubs. You continuously moan, until you’re nearly panting, fingers once again finding his dark locks and threading themselves between. 

“How am I doing, sweetheart?” he murmurs.

“Good.” It doesn’t even occur to you to tell him anything but the truth. “So good, Hyunjinnie. Ah!” You flinch as he suddenly nips the other nipple, teeth clamping gently. “Why?!” 

“You and that damn nickname. I must not be doing enough if you’re still calling me that.” He rises onto his knees, shaking his head. “Guess I just gotta fuck it out of you.” 

And just like that, you feel that spark again. 

“Sure you will, Hyunjinnie,” you simper, voice dripping with honey, so sickeningly-sweet as you coo his name. It has the desired effect, making Hyunjin’s eyes flash. 

He reaches for you, pulling you up into his lap, before you can so much as breathe. “You doubting me, sweetheart?” His hands press into your hips, urging you down on him. Both of you groan as his cock slides along your cunt, and the sparks inside you ignite. 

“I’m not your sweetheart,” you spit back, feeling that familiar sense of agitation, but it’s not annoyance now, it’s anticipation. 

“And I’m not really yours, but let’s play pretend for the night,” he drawls, and you look at him with wide eyes, but he kisses away the wonder on your face, working you up with teeth and tongue, until you’re frenzied with need. Your fingers clutch at his biceps, nails sinking in to tether him closer. 

His hands on your waist guide you down again. As his cockhead breaches your lips, you keen, head falling forward onto his shoulder. 

“Holy fuck,” you gasp. The stretch is delicious, cunt already throbbing around his thickness.  

Both of you freeze when you’re fully seated on him, no sounds in the room but the rhythmic cadence of your panting intertwining with his. 

“You know,” Hyunjin speaks through grit teeth, focused on the spot where your bodies join, “we could’ve been doing this a long, long time ago.”

You don’t know what to say to that. How long has he wanted this? You’re not sure the exact answer for yourself, except that it’s longer than you’d ever truly want to confess.

“Maybe - maybe if you weren’t such a - oh, oh, oh!” Your lame attempt at a retort is lost to the rapid snapping of Hyunjin’s hips when he starts to thrust up into you. There’s nothing you can do but bounce in his lap, clinging to his shoulders as he finally fucks you just as hard as he’d promised. “Hyunjin, please!” 

Hyunjin grunts, perspiration trickling down his forehead as he concentrates on giving you what you wanted. His jaw flexes, brows drawn together in a frown, and even with this fierce expression on his face, he’s so beautiful that you can’t help yourself, diving forward to kiss that gorgeous mouth of his like you’ve always imagined, as if you weren’t just kissing him a few minutes ago, but like it’s the first time, tracing his lips with yours, imprinting the feeling of them against your own to store away in your memory for later.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” His words are the oxygen you inhale, tongues pressed together like the pages of a book. “I think I prefer you this way. So needy for my cock.” He smirks. “Kinda want to keep you like this.” 

He digs his fingers into the plump roundness of your ass as he grinds into you, sliding you back and forth. Your hips undulate, rolling you down on his big cock, feeling every inch of him rubbing against your walls. 

“Hyu-hyu-hyun!” 

It’s impossible to get an entire word out, given the pace at which Hyunjin’s strokes are jostling you. Your staccato cries get louder when he switches it up, laying you on your back and shoving a pillow under your hips. His thighs smack into your ass with every plunge of his thick length, and again you can do nothing but try to breathe, drowning in euphoria as you are.

“Yeah, you’re best just like this. Stuffed full of cock, no room for thoughts. Or arguments.” 

“F-fuck!” You were trying to say ‘fuck off’ but Hyunjin chose that moment to thumb at your clit, giving the aching nub the friction it so badly needed. Your hips buck up, making Hyunjin groan.

“Just like that, so good for me.” 

You whine involuntarily at his praise, hips lifting again, trying to take him deeper. Every stroke of his cock lights you up, your body tingling from head to toe. The strong thrumming in your gut is going to overtake you soon and you’re finally going to get what you’ve been needing for weeks now. And it’s Hyunjin of all people who is going to give it to you. 

You’re pulled out of your reverie as Hyunjin suddenly pulls out, falling onto his side next to you. 

“What are y- oh!” You gasp as he turns you on your side, facing away from him. One hand lifts  your leg, sliding it back until your calf loops over his. Then he enters you again, and again, thrusting in deep, powerful movements. “Oh, fuck, goddamn.” 

“That’s right,” he growls, arm beneath you bending, hand coming to a rest around your throat. Not squeezing, but holding you in place, back pressed to his front. You’re both covered in sweat, bodies gliding over one another, making it hard for him to keep his pace. So his fingers spread on your chest, locking you in place, giving him leverage to pound into you. “Take it, sweetheart. Take what I give you like a good girl.” 

“Ahhh,” you moan, “don’t - don’t call me that.” 

“No? You don’t like being praised?” Hyunjin releases his hold on your thigh, running his others fingers around where his cock keeps sliding between your lips. “Your pussy tells me another story. You’re soaking my sheets.”

“Nah - ah - not that, ’s not that.” With this slightly slower rhythm, you’re able to speak, but full sentences still seem hard. “Like praise. Hate - hate good girl.” 

“Ohhh, I see.” Hyunjin laughs breathily. “I should’ve known. You’re too proud. Think it makes you look weak if I call you that? Hmm?” 

Even in your desperate state, you know he’s not far off from the truth. You don’t want him calling you that, because it feels like giving in to him. Letting him take control completely. Possessing you. His good girl. 

The real, honest to god truth is - you can’t let him call you that, because you do want it. And you hate how much you want it. 

So you deny it. Or at least, you try to. But all you can stutter is a weak “You’re s-such a d-dick,” as he continues snapping his hips into your ass, making your entire body jiggle in his strong grip. 

Hyunjin drops an open-mouthed kiss to your shoulder, wet and sloppy. You curl your fingers into his arm as you sense that you’re approaching the precipice of your orgasm. You can tell that it’s going to be an intense one, one of those climaxes that clears your mind of all thought and leaves you literally shaking in ecstasy. Just as he’d promised.

You do appreciate a man who follows through on his promises. 

Hyunjin must feel the way you’re starting to clench around him, groaning into your shoulder. “Ahh, I think this little cunt’s trying to tell me something again, sweetheart. You gonna come for me? Hmmm?” His fingers rub over your clit, the sudden touch making you jolt. “Come on, be a good girl and c-”

Twisting your head, you smash your nose into his cheek, clumsily seeking his mouth. Cutting him off with heated kisses, hoping he’ll interpret it as annoyance fueling your actions and not see it for what it truly is - untamed desire. 

A strangled cry passes from Hyunjin’s lips into yours, and with one more tweak to your clit, you come undone. Your body locks up, thighs going rigid, cunt clamping around his cock so fiercely that Hyunjin hisses loudly, forehead resting on the nape of your neck.

“Fuck, you’re so goddamn tight,” he whispers in your ear. Sweat drips from his skin onto yours. “You’re gonna make me come. Is that what you want?”

You can’t answer. You’re gone, completely gone, beyond words, capable of making only the most broken, pathetic sounds, wantonly mewling as slowly grinds into you, cock rubbing against your clenching walls. When your legs start to go slack, he resumes his thrusting, but at a languorous pace, and you’re not sure if he’s trying to go easy on you now that you’re approaching overstimulation, or if he’s trying to slow himself down.

“I think it is what you want. I think you want me to fill this little pussy up with my cum, don’t you? Hmm?” His nose prods at your cheek. “A sweet creampie for my good girl?”

The whine that you let you out is pitifully loud. White hot shame spikes through you, but only for a second, the emotion quickly burnt away by your fervent need. 

“Come on, tell me. Tell me you want it.” 

“Ahhh!” You gasp as his cock sinks in deeper, hitting your g-spot. It’s almost too much, the delicious drag, and your fingers dig into his arm, nails sinking into his skin. “Fuck!”

“Tell me,” he says again, but this time there’s a plea laced into the command, a desperate edge in his tone that strikes a chord somewhere deep inside you, and suddenly you want to give him anything he needs. 

“Hyunjin, I want it, p-please!” 

Those are the magic words. Hyunjin groans, his hips falling out of their slow rhythm, jerking erratically as he does exactly what he said, shooting his load deep inside you, moaning your name the entire time. You grip the sheets so hard, you’re afraid you’ll tear them, shoving your hips back against his, riding out his climax with him. 

“Pussy’s sucking me dry, sweetheart. So greedy,” he pants, trailing kisses along your neck. “Think it wants more.” 

“Hyunjin!” You sob his name again, voice breaking. All it takes is his fingers pinching at your clit and you’re coming again, stomach twitching, breath leaving your body in one big rush. 

When your body stops trembling, Hyunjin finally slips out of you, his hand falling away from your cunt. He lets out a tired laugh.

“You can take your nails out of my arm. I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Oh.” Your neck burns a little in embarrassment. You hadn’t realized you were still holding on to him so tightly, unconsciously keeping him in place. Keeping him close to you. You relax your grip, and he slides his arms around you further, locking you into his embrace. 

It’s… nice, being in Hyunjin’s arms. Really nice. Lying there, in your messy, tired state, you feel rather content. 

But the longer you lie there, just breathing together, not speaking, your head starts to fill with thoughts again. Questions. The most pressing being, at what point is he going to kick you out? Because despite everything that just happened, he’s still Hyunjin, and you’re still you, and - 

“It’s already started.” Hyunjin hums, lightly shaking you. “I can hear you thinking again.” 

Your reflexes kick back in. “It’s just what I do. You should try it some time.” 

To your surprise, Hyunjin starts to laugh. You roll over, nose bumping his as you give him a curious look. 

“What?” 

“You really can’t help yourself, can you?” He brushes a finger over your cheek. “You’ve got a fighter’s instinct. It’s one of the things I admire about you. But maybe, just maybe, you don’t have to fight me all the time?” 

You stare at him as you try to make sense of the rather casual confession of admiration he just dropped. Nope. Can’t. Not right now.

“I…” You pause. “Sorry. It’s just a habit.” 

He smiles, something genuine that slowly shifts into his familiar smirk, and even as spent as you are, you feel a stirring inside you. “Guess we need to work on that.”

In the morning, you might regret what you say next. But the night’s not over yet. “Maybe you just didn’t fuck me stupid enough yet.” 

Hyunjin accepts your challenge with a kiss. 

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© 2024 by minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost. I do not allow translations of my works.

You thought it was the smell of bacon that pulled you from sleep, but upon opening your eyes, you saw Soonie’s big curious eyes two, perhaps three centimeters away from your face. The cat let out a faint vocalization before climbing on your chest and curling up there. He was heavier than he looked, but you didn’t push him away. Instead, you scratched his head and Soonie responded by nestling his face into your palm and falling asleep there. 

You stared at the cat quietly, your head throbbing with a mild headache. When you felt Soonie’s deep, adorable purring though, you closed your eyes, resting your head again on the pillow underneath it. 

One tear rolled from the corner of your eye. Then another. And another. 

Hyunjin. His eyes into yours, his smile, his arms around you, his lips on yours. Hyunjin, his laughter, his voice, his face disappearing between your legs… 

You held your breath in a lame attempt at controlling your cries, but it seemed as though your heartache was too big and there was not enough space inside you to hold it all. So you cried, swallowing quiet sobs as the painful memories of the night before replayed in your mind like unskippable ads. 

You hadn’t been careful enough. Now that you were thinking about it, you hadn’t been careful at all. The very second you deduced that Hyunjin was here on his own, you immediately assumed that he would want to be with you. 

But the truth was that he had never wanted to be with you, not before he left and not after he came back. He had been here for almost a month, apparently, and while you understood that he must have been busy with moving and work, he hadn’t even texted you. Not once. Even in Paris—he had stopped texting you a long time ago. 

The truth was that Hyunjin liked you. Your energy matched his, you had a lot in common, he was funny and interesting and he genuinely liked being in your company. You didn’t question that, not one bit—you may be hurting this morning, but you could still recognize that Hyunjin was a good person. A fairy tale of a man. He wouldn’t lie about wanting to have you in his life, and you didn’t even doubt that he had missed you while he was away. 

You didn’t even think he lied when he said he hadn’t really loved Camille, but in no way did that mean that he loved you. You must have been drunker than you had believed to be because you were certain there had been something between you and Hyunjin last night. The same flame that had been there before he left. 

Hyunjin liked you, and he liked fucking you, and he liked when you fucked him. He had genuine affection for you and you had a place in his heart. 

But he had a bigger place in yours. 

» Read the full chapter + Camille's interlude on ao3.

(tumblr literally didn't let me post this chapter due to its size, sorry. you don't need an ao3 account to read it, just click the link!)

a/n: again, so sorry about posting this on ao3, I really intended on posting it on tumblr also but I couldn’t because of the size! I just wanted to take a moment to thank everyone, from the bottom of my heart, for the love and support you’ve showed me & this fic. For your patience, too. Thank you for your kind words, for being so invested in this story. I want you guys to know I will never forget this, and I am excessively grateful.

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