Nice to meet you! The name is Ara! 🤍

The first thing Wooyoung noticed when he walked into your apartment wasn’t the toddler.

It was the silence.

Not empty silence—never that, not with a child in the house—but a softer kind. The kind that meant someone small was watching him very carefully from somewhere out of sight.

You met him at the door, keys still in your hand, looking slightly apologetic.

“He’s… shy,” you warned gently. “Like, really shy at first. He might not talk to you.”

Wooyoung grinned like that was a challenge rather than a caution.

“That’s fine,” he said brightly, already slipping off his shoes. “I specialize in breaking silence. I’ve survived Hongjoong’s judging stare. This is nothing.”

From somewhere down the hallway came the faintest shuffle.

Wooyoung leaned forward immediately. “Ah. I’ve been sensed.”

You sighed, half amused, half worried. “Just—don’t overwhelm him.”

“I would never,” he said, entirely unconvincing.

And then he stepped inside.

That was when he saw him.

A tiny figure half-hidden behind the living room doorway. Small hands gripping the frame. Wide eyes peeking out like Wooyoung was some unpredictable new species that had entered the ecosystem.

Wooyoung froze.

Not because he was intimidated.

Because the kid was staring at him like he was… interesting.

That was worse.

He crouched slowly, immediately softening his entire posture like a switch had flipped.

“Hey,” he said gently. “Hi there.”

No response.

The toddler just stared harder.

Wooyoung nodded as if this was an official introduction. “Okay. Cool. I respect the silence. Very mysterious. Very cool.”

From the kitchen, you called, “He usually warms up slowly!”

Wooyoung whispered back, “I can work with this.”

He turned back to the child, smiling again—but softer now. Less performer, more human.

“Do you want to see something cool?” he asked.

The toddler blinked.

No answer.

Wooyoung pointed dramatically at himself. “I can make my ears move.”

Silence.

Then, very slowly, the child stepped forward one tiny step.

Wooyoung’s eyes lit up.

“Oh? Interest detected.”

Another step.

Then another.

Within seconds, the toddler was close enough to touch him.

And still hadn’t spoken a word.

Wooyoung held perfectly still like he was being observed by a scientist.

“Okay,” he whispered. “This is serious now. I think I’ve been accepted into your territory.”

The toddler lifted a small hand.

Wooyoung, for reasons he could not later explain, offered his hoodie sleeve like a peace treaty.

Tiny fingers grabbed it immediately.

Hard.

Like a lifeline.

Wooyoung blinked. “Oh. We’re doing this.”

From the kitchen, you called again, “Is everything okay?”

Wooyoung didn’t look away from the child. “Yeah,” he said carefully. “I think I’ve been adopted.”

By the time you came back with snacks, the situation had… escalated.

Your toddler was now fully attached to Wooyoung’s side.

Not metaphorically.

Literally clinging to his hoodie with both hands, face pressed into the fabric like it was the safest place in the world.

Wooyoung was sitting on the floor, very still, looking mildly stunned.

“He hasn’t let go,” he said when you stared.

“I see that,” you replied slowly.

“I moved my arm once,” Wooyoung added, almost offended, “and he made a noise. Like—like a warning sound.”

Your toddler tightened his grip on cue.

Wooyoung nodded immediately. “Right. Sorry. No moving.”

You sat down across from them, trying not to smile too obviously. “He doesn’t usually attach to people like this.”

Wooyoung glanced down at the tiny child practically glued to him. “Yeah, well. Apparently I’m his emotional support hoodie rack now.”

The toddler made a small satisfied sound.

Wooyoung softened instantly. “Okay. That was kind of adorable. I forgive everything.”

You placed snacks on the table. “He’ll probably loosen up after a while.”

Wooyoung looked unconvinced. “He looks like he’s planning to live here now.”

The toddler nodded.

Wooyoung gasped. “He AGREES.”

It started innocently enough.

Wooyoung tried telling a story.

“So,” he began carefully, “there was once a very handsome idol—”

The toddler made a happy noise and hugged him tighter.

Wooyoung paused. “Okay, first of all, I didn’t even say the name yet, but I appreciate the recognition.”

You snorted.

Wooyoung continued, gesturing slightly with his free hand while the other stayed frozen in place.

“And this idol had a very difficult job,” he said. “He had to dance all day, sing all night, and survive his members stealing his food.”

The toddler tilted his head slightly, listening intently.

Wooyoung leaned in, lowering his voice. “The scariest member was named… San.”

From the kitchen, you called, “Don’t traumatize him.”

“I’m educating him,” Wooyoung replied.

The toddler suddenly giggled.

Wooyoung stopped.

Completely stopped.

“That was laughter,” he said in disbelief.

You smiled. “Yeah. That’s new.”

Wooyoung turned slowly to the child. “You like that?”

The toddler nodded.

Then, without warning, he buried his face deeper into Wooyoung’s hoodie like he was trying to disappear into it permanently.

Wooyoung blinked again. “Okay, I think I’ve been emotionally claimed.”

An hour passed.

Then two.

Wooyoung did not stand up once.

Not because he couldn’t.

Because every time he so much as shifted his weight, the toddler reacted like the world was ending.

It started with a whimper.

Then a shaky grip.

Then full-on distress.

So Wooyoung learned stillness.

“I am furniture now,” he declared quietly.

You were watching from the couch, increasingly entertained.

“He usually warms up to people,” you said.

Wooyoung gave you a look. “He didn’t warm up. He fused.”

The toddler was now sitting half on Wooyoung’s lap, half on the floor, entirely attached to him like a magnet.

Every time Wooyoung spoke, the child reacted like it was the most important sound in the world.

Wooyoung lowered his voice. “I think I’m his favorite person.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’ve known him for two hours.”

“And yet,” Wooyoung said solemnly, “he has chosen me.”

The toddler patted his hoodie pocket.

Wooyoung looked down. “What? You checking for snacks? I respect that.”

The toddler nodded.

Wooyoung gasped again. “He’s intelligent.”

The trouble started when Wooyoung tried to stand.

“I’m just going to get water,” he said gently.

The moment he shifted—

Instant distress.

A small sound. A grab. A cling.

Then tears.

Real tears.

Wooyoung froze mid-rise like he had been struck by lightning.

“Oh no,” he whispered. “I broke him.”

You were immediately alert. “He’s okay—he just doesn’t like sudden changes.”

Wooyoung slowly sat back down like his life depended on it. “I am never moving again.”

The toddler sniffled, still clutching him.

Wooyoung softened immediately, leaning slightly toward him. “Hey, hey, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. See? Still here.”

The child buried his face again.

Wooyoung exhaled. “Okay. So I’ve accidentally become a permanent installation.”

You couldn’t hold it in anymore—you laughed.

Wooyoung shot you a betrayed look. “This is serious emotional bonding.”

“It is,” you agreed, still smiling. “It’s just also funny.”

Wooyoung sighed dramatically. “I came here to babysit, not become a life partner.”

The toddler made a content little sound at the word “here.”

Wooyoung glanced down. “Did you hear that? He likes my commitment.”

Dinner was chaos in the gentlest way possible.

Wooyoung had to eat with one hand because the toddler refused to release his hoodie.

He tried feeding himself with exaggerated caution.

The toddler watched every bite like it was a sacred ritual.

Wooyoung leaned down. “Are you judging my eating habits?”

The toddler blinked.

Then nodded.

Wooyoung gasped. “He is judging me.”

You were laughing openly now. “He likes observing people.”

Wooyoung pointed at the child. “He’s a critic.”

The toddler patted Wooyoung’s arm.

Wooyoung melted instantly. “Okay, but like… a supportive critic.”

After dinner, Wooyoung tried to introduce toys.

It went badly.

The toddler didn’t care about toys.

The toddler cared about Wooyoung.

Specifically: Wooyoung’s hoodie.

At some point, the child had slipped both hands inside the front pocket and refused to come out.

Wooyoung stared down at him. “You’re literally living in my hoodie now.”

The toddler made a satisfied noise.

Wooyoung looked at you. “He’s nesting.”

You nodded. “That tracks.”

Wooyoung whispered, “I think I’ve been emotionally upgraded to favorite object.”

Later, when things finally started to calm down, the apartment grew softer.

Dimmer lights. Quieter atmosphere.

Your toddler was now half-asleep against Wooyoung’s chest, still gripping the hoodie with stubborn determination.

Wooyoung had stopped joking.

He was just… sitting.

Slightly stunned.

“You know,” he said quietly, “I thought this was going to be easy.”

You smiled from across the room. “He usually is shy. Not attached.”

Wooyoung glanced down at the sleeping child. “Yeah. Well. He didn’t get the memo.”

The toddler shifted slightly in his sleep, tightening his grip again.

Wooyoung instinctively adjusted his posture to keep him comfortable.

“…I can’t believe he trusts me this much,” he said after a pause.

Your expression softened. “Kids notice things. They just don’t explain it.”

Wooyoung hummed quietly. “He picked me pretty fast.”

“Maybe you felt safe,” you said simply.

Wooyoung didn’t respond immediately.

He just looked at the child again, something quieter settling behind his usual brightness.

“Yeah,” he said eventually. “Maybe I’m just… hoodie-shaped comfort.”

You laughed softly.

Wooyoung smiled too—but it was gentler now.

Less performer. More person.

Eventually, the toddler stirred.

Just slightly.

Wooyoung spoke immediately, soft as air.

“Hey. I’m here.”

The child cracked one eye open.

Saw him.

And immediately relaxed again.

Wooyoung blinked. “That’s insane.”

The toddler made a sleepy sound and hugged him tighter.

Wooyoung looked up at you helplessly. “He’s going to be mad when I leave.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Good luck.”

Wooyoung groaned quietly. “I can’t leave. I think I’m legally his now.”

The toddler, half-asleep, made a small happy noise.

Wooyoung froze.

“…He agreed,” he whispered.

When it was finally time for bed, it took a long time to convince the toddler that Wooyoung was not, in fact, moving to the bedroom with him.

There were tears again. Small ones. Tired ones.

Wooyoung knelt beside him, brushing hair gently back from his forehead.

“Hey,” he said softly. “I’m not disappearing. I’m just right outside, okay?”

The toddler sniffled.

Still gripping the hoodie.

Wooyoung smiled faintly. “You can keep it tomorrow. I’ll come back, I promise.”

That seemed to settle something.

Slowly, reluctantly, the grip loosened.

Not fully.

But enough.

You carried your child toward the bedroom, still half-asleep.

At the doorway, the toddler turned slightly and reached out one last time toward Wooyoung.

Wooyoung instinctively reached back.

Their hands barely touched.

Then the door closed.

Silence fell again.

Wooyoung stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door like he’d just survived something emotionally intense.

Then he exhaled.

“…I’ve been adopted,” he said again.

You laughed quietly. “You did well.”

Wooyoung shook his head, smiling to himself. “He didn’t like me.”

You raised an eyebrow.

Wooyoung corrected immediately, softer, almost shy now.

“…He liked me too much.”

"At least tell me your name first," you said, laughing into your drink, the ice shifting as you tilted the glass toward him.

"Chan," he said, grinning as he tapped his glass against yours. "Don't forget it."

You didn’t. Not when his mouth was on yours in the elevator up to his apartment, not when he backed you against his door, fumbling with the lock while you littered marks on his neck. Not when he finally got it open and shoved you inside, his hands already sliding up your thighs, pushing your clothes out of the way.

Now you’re sprawled across his couch, Chan between your legs, his pants undone just enough to let him press into you. You gasp, arching up as he sets a brutal pace from the first thrust, your nails digging into his shoulders. "oh fuck Chan—"

He grins down at you, one hand tangling in your hair to tilt your head back. "Louder," he murmurs, and you oblige, moaning his name like a prayer.

Then your phone rings.

You ignore it, digging your fingers into Chan’s back as he fucks you harder, like he’s trying to drown out the sound with the slap of skin against skin. But the phone keeps ringing. Once, twice, three times. Until you groan in frustration and shove at Chan’s shoulder. "Fuck, hold on—"

You twist, reaching for your purse where it’s half crushed under your hip, the phone vibrates in your hand as you yank it free, and your stomach drops when you see your ex’s name flashing on the screen.

Chan doesn’t stop moving, but his hips are rolling against yours in slow circles now, one hand braced on the couch beside your head. "Answer it," he murmurs, his voice rough.

"What?" You blink up at him, your thumb hovering over the decline button.

"Answer it," he repeats, pressing deeper, and you gasp. "Let him hear you."

The idea coils hot in your stomach, your thumb hovers for half a second before you swipe to answer, hitting speaker just as your ex’s voice crackles through. "Hey, listen, I—"

You cut him off, voice steady even as Chan drags his hips back slowly, then snaps forward, making your breath stutter. "Save it," you say, sharper than you meant to. "You don’t get to call me after—"

Chan does it again, harder this time, and a moan slips out before you can bite it down. Your ex goes silent for a beat. Then, incredulous, "Are you— are you fucking someone right now?"

Chan chuckles against your neck, "Yeah," you gasp, tilting your head back, your fingers tightening in his hair. "Yeah, I am." The silence on the other end of the line is deafening.

he then stammers, his voice cracking. "shit, you— you couldn’t even wait a few hours?"

You laugh, breathless, as Chan drags his tongue up your throat. "You waited less than that," you say, your voice steadier than you feel.

Chan’s hands slide under your hips, lifting you just enough to angle himself deeper, and you choke on a moan. Your ex makes a strangled noise. "is this a sick joke you're playing? Are you— are you trying to humiliate me?"

"Not everything’s about you," you pant, but Chan chooses that moment to thrust hard, and the words dissolve into a whimper.

"Fuck," your ex mutters, and you can hear the frustration and disbelief in his voice, "Look, I fucked up, okay? she came on me, it didn’t mean anything—"

Chan slows, grinding into you with deliberate, filthy precision, and your thighs tremble. "Oh my God," you whine, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

Your ex exhales sharply on the other line, "You’re really doing this."

You don’t answer. You can’t answer. Chan’s mouth is on yours, swallowing your moans as his hips snap forward again, and the phone slips from your fingers, falling onto the couch. Your ex’s voice is distant now, muffled, still pleading.

Chan pulls back just enough to grab your phone off the cushions, pressing it to his ear without breaking eye contact. "Hey, man," he says, his voice dripping with amusement. He’s still buried inside you, his free hand gripping your thigh to keep you spread open. "Yeah, she’s busy." Your ex’s muffled shouting cut through the speakers, "Uh huh. No, I don’t think she cares." He thrusts shallowly, just to watch your breath hitch. "no, I won't tell her to take you back, the fuck."

Chan scoffs, hanging up before tossing your phone onto the cushions with a flick of his wrist, the screen still lit with your ex’s unanswered text thread.

His other hand stays planted on your thigh, fingers pressing into your skin as he rolls his hips again, "Seriously," he murmurs, dragging his thumb over your lower lip. "How the fuck were you even dating that guy?"

You laugh, "Low standards," you gasp, arching into him as he picks up the pace, his grip tightening. "And apparently a —oh fuck— terrible taste in men."

Chan snorts, leaning down to nip at your collarbone. "Nah, your taste is great," he says, You’re about to retort, but he shifts, pulling your leg over his shoulder, and the angle punches a moan out of you instead.

"Now," Chan murmurs, his breath hot against your ear as he drags his hips back slowly, before pushing to the hilt, "where were we?"

You had no idea when it started, but when it did, you just never knew how to stop. But you did remember how.

A small tug on the corner of your lips painted your face as you looked around conspicuously left and right to see if someone was watching. When you deemed the coast clear, you discreetly pocketed the small bag of chips.

How it didn't make a sound, you had no idea, but goddamn, it was more nerve-wracking than you thought it was.

At that time you didn't know what hit you and admittedly, you were a bit tipsy when it first happened. Company dinner. Go figure.

You always craved something extremely salty after you drink anything. Unfortunately for you - or maybe not - you were a lightweight; born to be one, unwillingly so.

The next time you did it again, you were stone-cold sober. This time, it was the makeup section of this department store. They were the high-end ones designed to lure in the arrogant elitists whose hobby was to throw money at the expense of overconsumption.

Ha! You're no different. That statement always rang in your head, and deep down your soul, you knew it was true. 

Your haul became bigger and bigger - literally and figuratively. You were able to get away with thousands of dollars of merchandise. You knew it was wrong, some poor employee was probably paying for it with their minimum wage salary.

So you tried to stop, but for the life of you, you just couldn't. When you were close to getting caught, all you had to do was bat your lashes and play the needy damsel in distress act, and then you were gone.

It became an addiction.

At first, you justified it by convincing yourself that you were 'saving' money, but slowly, it was the addicting feeling of getting away with something; the rush and the confidence that builds every single damn success.

And by God, that power was sweet.

Most of the things you swiped weren't even things you needed, heck, most of them never saw the light of day ever again afterwards.

The same department store was almost empty when you walked in through one of those automatic doors that opened when you got in front of it. You mentally rolled your eyes, because of course, it did.

"Hi," you greeted the first employee you saw with the brightest smile. "Would you happen to know where the women's clothes are?"

The way she smiled at you with a welcoming gesture almost made your stomach churn out of guilt from what you were about to do. Almost. 

"Right this way," she started to put her foot forward to lead you, but you quickly stopped her.

"No! No, please," you halted her, a little jumpier than you intended. You sheepishly offered her a small smile. "I would like to do it myself, if it's okay. Relaxation time, you know what I mean?"

Her mouth formed an O-shape and her face lit up in understanding. It took a lot in you not to sigh in relief in front of her. You opted to do it the moment you hit your next stop.

The moment you hit the aisles, the smirk on your lips didn't hold back. This was a gold mine for people like you - but hey, nobody was perfect. Everyone had their vices, yours just didn't involve illegal substances or the spirits in bottles, is all.

There were already pieces that caught your eye. You had a plan, something you've never tried before, but there's a first time for everything. However, all it took was that one bastard who was at the wrong place at the wrong time.

You've been doing this for some time now, there was absolutely no way you were getting caught now. Losing wasn't part of your vocabulary. The game would be over by then and the fun would die.

Your brows widened when your hand hit a piece of fabric you weren't expecting. It was smooth, a contrast to all the silks you've had contact with.

You whistled when you took it out. It was a ruffled mini skirt, the classic type, the type that will compliment every body type. It was sure to turn heads towards your legs. And you wanted it.

If there was one thing about you, if you want it, then it's already yours.

With your usual glance to the left and on your right, you discreetly turned around away from the cameras and unzipped your jacket, bundling the skirt into a small ball and trying to tuck it inside.

You did that multiple times with more things and as people started to flock everywhere, you knew that you had to go.

Just one more thing and you will leave. As you made your way to the lingerie station, you envisioned which one you'd want to wear tonight as you celebrated yet again another success.

"Hmm," you hummed in concentration as you picked underwear after underwear whether they were slutty enough or just enough. "These suck."

In the end, you settled for this beautiful red, velvet teddy that was sure to hug every curve on your body. You couldn't help but giggle as you imagined yourself laying in bed with a glass of wine in hand.

Having no more space anywhere else, you opted to put it inside your purse. It was big enough to fit it. There was a rush in your veins, the sound of your purse zipper thrumming along with your excitement.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

You froze, in fact, everything froze, but the most remarkable thing was the beating of your heart. The way it stuttered out of beat, that terrified you more than the voice who had interrupted you.

You had hoped that it was just a passing customer or employee as you turned around. You could just put on your best charm, but you cursed under your breath when it wasn’t.

"It's not what you think," you blurted out, feeling dumb. Sue me, you thought. You had never been in a situation like this before.

The security guard squinted his eyes and tilted his head. "Sure doesn't look like it." 

He pointed at a certain corner of the clothing racks, and you significantly paled at the small, distinct, beeping light that signified a hidden camera. "He's been watching," he murmured, uninterested.

"Who is?"

"Who else? The owner."

There was a first time for everything, indeed. This was the first time you got caught, and for the first time, there was no getting away with it.

Fuck, you internally cursed. Where did you go wrong? 

You had never been more frightened than you were at that moment, especially when a large hand started pulling on your arm and started leading you somewhere.

"W-Where are you taking me? I didn't consent to this," you frowned.

Cold sweat started seeping out of your pores when the security guard's darted towards you. "The owner will want an explanation as to why you're shoplifting," he clicked his tongue. "He's not a particularly easy man to deal with so I would behave, really."

For a split second, you thought about struggling. You can't afford to go to jail for this, it would ruin your record. Another thing was that this man was jacked. Easily a hundred kilos of pure muscle.

You were pulled away, anyway, from the lingerie aisle to God-knows-where and you had to admit to yourself, this wasn't the dopamine rush you were looking for - this was the fear of the aftermath of what you've done.

It was what you would consider the walk of shame. The shame and embarrassment you felt each step you took felt worse than what would happen to you?

Would you go to jail? That was your worst option, it would ruin the little reputation that you have. Perhaps, you can bribe the owner? Nah. A person who owns an establishment like this had no need for the spare change you were going to offer.

A feeling of nausea suddenly overcame you as the security guard pushed the double doors that led to what you could only assume were the security rooms open.

"I got a little thief here," the security guard holding my arms smirks as he shoves me forward, rattling you and all the merchandise you tried to fit into your purse.

The sight that greeted you wasn't something that should've bothered you. It looked like a regular room, minus all the equipment and the cameras and monitors.

Your heart sank. They saw you doing what you were doing, most likely waiting until you got far enough where it would be considered robbery rather than petty theft.

"I'll deal with her. Call Jongho for me real quick."

The pit in your stomach was getting bigger and bigger until it threatened to swallow you whole. By far the one that made you utterly terrified was the man sitting on a swivel chair.

You couldn't see him - at least, not yet. The chair was turned against you and so, the only thing visible was its back and the back of the man's hair.

"Of course," the man that pushed me said. "Should I stay or--"

"No. You may go, San."

You stood still, stiffly, at your spot even when the door had closed behind you and you were left with this man. None of you had said anything, especially him. He stayed unmoving on his chair, minus the drumming of his fingers on his lap.

"What do you think should happen to a little thief, such as yourself?" I'm curious," the man spoke out, startling you out of your stupor. "What were you thinking?"

Before you could second-guess your decision to speak out, you stood straight, feigning modesty. "It wasn't my intention---"

"Cut the crap," the man rudely interrupted. He grabbed a nearby pen and tapped it on the monitor beside him. "I'm pretty sure my eyes aren't giving out on me yet."

"I-I know, I wasn't eluding towards that," you stammered. You weren't expecting someone strong-willed. "I-It's not what you think."

"Oh? Taking a black, lacey thong and shoving it deep in your purse wasn't what I thought it was?"

Embarrassment flooded your whole body and the tips of your toes all the way through your nose tingles and shivers, the bad kind. This man was bad news, and you knew it.

All of this over some underwear?

The door behind me had opened once again and another man had entered. He was also a guard, that you could tell, but what set this one apart was his incredible physique. He wasn't as muscular as the guard that dragged you here, but you wouldn't want to go against this one either.

"You called for me? I had to hurry," he said before looking me up and down. "So you're the swiper."

"I did. I'm leaving, tell Seonghwa he's in charge."

Everything happened in slow motion. Your world went into a passing blur when the chair swiveled forward until it was facing towards you. The purse you were holding had long fallen towards the floor.

The bulky guard picked your purse up for you before he walked away. "Roger that." 

The man sitting on the chair had a gleam in his eyes as he stared at you, albeit  being cold and calculating. His elbows were propped against the table and his hands were under his chin. He was attractive, definitely your type.

You had a feeling this man would swallow you whole the moment you were left alone with him.

"Jongho? Wait," the man stopped the other from walking away. A small smirk paints his plump lips. "Lock the door." 

Those three words. They were the beginning of your demise. All of this for a pair of underwear you knew you were never going to wear anyway.

You cleared your throat nervously. "What are you going to do to me? And who are you?"

You had made a point to emphasize the last question. You knew who he was, of course, there was a name plaque that was placed towards the front of the big wooden table. 

'Kim Hongjoong, CEO and Executive Owner'

The man stood up from his chair and began stalking towards you without blinking his eyes and averting them. You could do nothing but stare back at him, it was as if his stare was a weight that prevented you from trying to move from your spot.

He grabbed your purse and took out the thong from it using his index finger. The smirk on his face was borderline demonic. "You must really like these panties for you to potentially go to jail for them," Hongjoong chuckled. "I'm sure you'd look marvelous on them."

Hongjoong suddenly threw the purse on the table, the banging sound startling you, before he dumped its contents all over. "Hey," you protested. "You can't---"

"I can and I will," he side-eyed you, one brow raised. For a second, he calculatingly stared at you, slightly disappointed, before he sighed deeply.

There was no point in defending your case, the evidence was right in front of both of you. You internally cursed. Add this to your other firsts, because this was the first time you didn't know what to do or what to say to get yourself out of a sticky situation.

"I'd ask you if you have receipts for this," he poked his tongue on his cheek obnoxiously. "But you'd probably give me excuses you've told the others before. Tell me, how many?"

You balled your fists, the gesture not escaping Hongjoong's attention. It certainly made his cock twitch inside his pants.  "I-I don't know what you're talking about," you mumbled, your tongue twisting against your will.

He hummed before hopping up a bit to sit on top of the table. He swiped the name plaque off until it clattered on the floor. "Sweetheart, listen to me," he began. "The last thing you want right now is to be left in the same room as me."

You shook your head fervently before he continued. "You will do everything I say and I won't do anything to you, providing that you'll be a good girl for me."

You bowed your head and nodded, tears springing to your eyes not because of the underlying threat in Hongjoong's voice, but because of the shame of how his words had affected you and caused you to clench around nothing. You subconsciously pressed your thighs together to stop the tingling sensation that buzzed around your pussy.

Hongjoong smiled at your discomfort, and he knew that you knew what he was thinking based on how your hands shook as you clutched your shirt around your fists.

"Am I clear enough for you, my sweet?" Hongjoong mocked. "Or would you like me to reiterate?"

"No, no, please," you hiccupped. "I-I get it."

"Splendid. Come here."

You wanted to disobey him, to tell him that he can shove a stick up his ass and leave you alone, but deep inside, you weren't that stupid. You knew this would be the end of you if you did do so.

None of this would have happened, but of course, you knew you were already in a losing battle the moment he had turned his chair towards you and looked you straight in the eye.

"Sweetheart," he chuckled darkly, clicking his tongue in impatience. "Already defiant? I should just call the police."

Somehow, that idea was less appealing to you rather than being stuck in a room with a potential psychopathic liar who wouldn't hesitate to take you down if he chose to.

"Please don't do that," you swallowed thickly. You put your hands up directly in front of your chest in a pleading motion. He sees this and his smirk widens. "Look, I-I'm sorry, okay? I'll just put them back, I don't want them."

Hongjoong tilts his head playfully, yet dangerously. "Oh, you'll be sorry, alright," he sighed mockingly. "I'll make you sorry."

He puts his arm forward swiftly and you yelped when he grabbed your arms and pulled you hastily towards him. A small groan escapes your lips when your forehead hits his hard chest. 

"Easy there, sweetheart, don't hurt yourself," he whispered towards your ear. You could tell he has a smile on his face even when you can't see it.

You hadn't realized that you were positioned in between his legs, your hands on his thighs to cushion yourself from when he had pulled on you. You stiffened, looking at him slowly, tilting your head upwards, only to be met with the nastiest leering of your life.

You jumped a bit when you felt his fingers touch your chin. The touch was light, it could almost be mistaken for something welcoming. "God, you're beautiful," he murmured. "So fucking beautiful."

Instantly, butterflies started fluttering in your stomach. You were undeniably aroused, the air between the two of you was so charged that you could almost taste how electrifying it was.

"How beautiful?"

You bit your lip as soon as the question came out. Hongjoong's thumb pressed on your bottom lip and pulled it out between your teeth. The gesture was so intimate, it made me dizzy.

"I could just eat you up right now," he smirked, his tongue running over his bottom lip. "The question is, would you let me have you, love?"

As arousing this was, you knew that you didn't want this. At least, not like this. "You can't do this," you shook your head, pulling away from his touch.

"No, no, little sweetheart, hold on a second," Hongjoong grabbed your arm back with a cheeky smile. You frowned in response to his hold. "You were this close to giving in, I thought we had a genuine connection here."

This time, you couldn't resist rolling your eyes, completely dropping the damsel act since it clearly wasn’t working on him. Hongjoong's brows rise in intrigue at the obvious change of look in your eyes.

You'd play with him for now. It was better for the situation. A little pretending on your end would ease your tensions. You would roleplay for now.

"I don't think it's part of your job description to hold me against my will like this, you pervert," you sneered, pulling on your arm.

He held tight, however, much to your chagrin. He was definitely intrigued now. Intrigued and rock hard in his pants.

"Does this excite you?" Hongjoong grinned lasciviously.

"Is it supposed to? Especially since," you trailed off a little, making a point to look at him up and down. "I don't see anything that excites me."

Hongjoong tried to stifle his laugh before he completely burst out laughing. You tried not to notice how breathtaking he looked like this - the way his eyes crinkled, his mouth spread out in a wide smile, his cheeks reddened. You were already in control of his perverse nature.

"Oh, sweetheart," he chuckled after his laughter. "This is going to be the best night of our life."

"I only stole thongs."

"Ah, yes," he drawled. You were in for a whiplash when his eyes suddenly darkened. There was no other way to describe it but evil.

"Wait, what are you---"

A squeal escapes your lips when Hongjoong roughly lifts your top. True fear ran through your blood, and he didn't even break eye contact as he was doing it. When the clothes you tried to steal tumbled out of your top, a gruntled sigh can be heard from him.

"Well, what do we have here?" Hongjoong cackled, clearly pleased with how everything was going. "You naughty, naughty girl."

"I-I can explain, please," you stammered pathetically, putting your hands up to fix your top. Hongjoong stared at you expectantly with that mocking expression still on his face and against your better judgment, hot tears started to fill the corners of your eyes.

"And what if I don't want to hear them?" Hongjoong smirked. You weren't expecting it, especially when he started to pout sardonically. "Cry it out, love. You've been a very bad girl, after all."

The tears fell then and there, not because you were ashamed that he had caught you, but because of his very presence, itself. Hongjoong had invoked feelings inside you that overwhelmed you so much, you didn't know what to do with them. But most of all, you were just frightened.

Maybe a quick kick to his balls would distract him enough so you could run away. You weighed your options as you wept, closing your eyes to envision how you'd potentially do it.

Screw it, you thought impulsively. You were never one to ever go down without a fight, and you wouldn't start now.

You stepped back a bit to brace yourself and raised your leg, aiming at his groin to hopefully immobilize him. You saw his eyes widen every so slightly as he watched you try to do what you thought was best at the moment given the situation.

But your shoe didn't touch anything.

"Let me go, you bastard! Ugh! You're going to pay for this," you screeched so loud, your own voice threatened to burst your own eardrums, when Hongjoong held your leg with one hand, squeezing it painfully.

You tried to balance yourself with only one foot and it was hard, but it was better than leaning on Hongjoong again. He smirked before he unceremoniously pushed your leg off, making you lose your balance and completely falling into a heap on the cold, tiled floor on the security room.

"I'd like to see you try," he grinned, baring his teeth like a predator would before it attacked its chosen prey.

And attack he did. You cursed internally as you glared at him from where you were. For someone with a smaller stature, he sure was agile and quicker on his feet than you initially thought possible.

You held back a whimper, clamping your mouth shut, when he leapt from the table down to your level, leaning in with an even wider grin. "Now, this is what I'd like to see," he laughed. "You beneath me like this."

You flushed when his hand cupped his obviously hardened cock and groaned sensually. "It's enough to make a man want to burst right then and there. You want it?"

"You're disgusting," you spat as venomously as you could, even though the sound he made shot straight down your wetness.

"So, you don't think you deserve to be punished?"

Visible shock crossed your features before you could stop yourself. Hongjoong seemed to get immense pleasure from your confused face. Suddenly, he began to lean in closer, and closer, until his face was only a couple of inches away from yours.

"W-Wait, I don't want to k-kiss you," you whined, turning your head away in an attempt to block him from his advances.

He put a finger on your lips and it sent warning signals in your brain. "Silence," he whispered, his eyes drooping and darkened with lust. "Not a sound unless it's you begging for me to have you..."

"P-Please, seriously, I really cannot," another whine sounded from you when he tried to lean again.

This time, annoyance flickered on his face and you gulped when you realized that you had lit the fire in his eyes. "You're testing my patience, sweetheart. I only have so much," he clicked his tongue. "Kiss me. I'll make it good for you."

When you still didn't relent, a growl of anger reverberated around the room. "You're pissing me off," Hongjoong hissed, his crazed eyes widening in ire. "Don't you know that playing hard to get will only land you in more trouble? Get on the table, now."

You didn't dare move, but this time, it was out of fear versus the defiant streak you've been giving him since you arrived in the room. Hongjoong opted to stand beside the wooden table, his eyes intently watching you will your trembling legs to stop.

He's sick, you thought. The way he smiled to himself like he was currently on top of the world made you realize that he was definitely holding back from unleashing all his demons on you. The worst part was that an even sicker part of you wished that he would soon.

In the end, Hongjoong forcefully dragged you to the table, himself, because his impatience and your insubordination was killing him on the inside. The way you struggled against him brought him a horrid sense of satisfaction. He'd have fun breaking you, he'd make sure of it.

"Fuck, my sweet girl," he bit his lip to stop himself from groaning out loud. The way you were sprawled on the table below him made him shiver in delight. "You look so good like this."

"P-Please," you sniffled, struggling once more against his hold, especially against his hand that held your wrists above your head. "I won't do it again, you're scaring me."

"That's because I am trying to scare you," Hongjoong said in an as-a-matter-of-fact tone. He smirked, tightening his hold. "But, you're turned on, aren't you?"

You marveled at the way he stared at your body up and down, gazing upon you as if he was trying to commit your current form into his memory. The things he said had made you angry, but you couldn't deny that he was right - he did turn you on.

But you weren't going to admit it. "I don't know what you're talking about..."

He hummed before he let your wrists go so he could pull you closer to him by pulling you by your waist, your core nestled comfortably at his midsection. "I think you do."

You didn't know what terrified you more - the dangerous position you were in right now, or the way your fright had made his eyes go wild, wide, and crazy with lust and arousal. He resembled something akin to sin, but damn, everybody sins once in a while, don't they?

Shivers erupted on your skin when his hands started to trail all over your body. It got more and more difficult to suppress the sounds that your body wants to make, especially when his hand slowly started creeping higher and higher until it went up your skirt. 

You panicked and jumped. "Stop it! What are you doing?!"

"What does it look like? You can see for yourself, if you'd like," he cockily replied with a small chuckle.

"We can talk about thi---"

"Sure," he rudely interrupted with a wicked gleam in his eyes. You whined when he squeezed your inner thighs. "I'm also sure you'd have a lovely conversation with the police as well."

You looked at him, horrified at his blatant intention with you. "Just let me go," you pleaded. "I-I promise I won't tell anyone about this, Hongjoong, please."

He pushed you back down and you couldn't help but wince in surprise. "No," he grunted out. "My name sounds too good on your lips, baby. Why would I do that?"

You felt his hand reach the band of your underwear and he bit his lips. You unconsciously clench around nothing at the sight of his sinful mouth, your mind suddenly reeling at the thought of what that mouth can do to you. Good things, you bet.

"I'm going to do anything I want with you, think of it as your punishment," he shrugged. "What say you, Y/N?"

"Do I have any other choices? Because it seems like I do not," you frowned, cowering under his impertinent gaze.

"You do, you always will," he shrugged nonchalantly. "In fact, you can choose to leave right now. I'm just saying that staying is your 'get out of jail' card. Pick your poison."

Hongjoong grinned at your pale face. "And when you're in jail, sweetie, you're going to wish you were still with me," he purred.

"Y-You wouldn't dare," you shook your head in denial, your chest constricting at the possibility. "You wouldn't!"

You let out an actual scream when he slammed his palms on the table on either side of your head. He managed to lean down so close, you could feel how fast his heart was beating. You supposed you weren't the only one anxious - excited - at the prospect of what's going to happen.

"I'm sorry, I-I'll just pay for them," you mumbled, your cheeks heating up in embarrassment of how much his roughness was turning you on so much. Still, you had dignity to keep. "I have enough money to pay..."

It was true. It was what made your kleptomaniac tendencies all the more embarrassing. You couldn't take all the credit, however, your family had the money, not you. If you so choose, you could buy every single thing this department store had and you'd still have more money than the average person.

Hongjoong clicked his tongue as he stared down at you. "I know. I'm aware who you are, sweetheart."

You shook your head in denial. "Impossible."

He laughed, his chest vibrating against your own. It had certainly made the room even hotter. "Nothing is impossible, Song Y/N."

He wasn't supposed to know that. Time stood still as you stared at him. The maliciousness in his eyes deepened when he saw how stumped you were.

Your heart almost leapt out of your ribcage and landed itself plush on Hongjoong's hands when he thrust his hips against you. You had to stifle the moans that wanted to push past your lips, there was no way you were giving in to this man. Not like this.

You did, however, gasp when his hand started kneading your breast. "Here's what's going to happen," his voice thickened with impalpable lust. "You are going to call your brothers and tell them you're going to be late."

You whined, wiggling a bit to relieve the pleasurable sensation Hongjoong made you feel, but to no avail. "Stay put," he growled. A yelp resounded from you when he pinched your inner thigh hard. "Go on. Do as I say. I do not want to be interrupted once I start."

The danger that loomed over you terrified you to no end, but you weren't going to stop trying to do something as a last ditch effort. "I-I don't have brothers," you denied, stuttering as you felt his hand squeeze your breast harder while the other hand stoked your legs slowly.

He smiled, but instead of making you feel better, it terrified you even more. It wasn't the smile that was supposed to comfort you, it was the one where he knew you were lying through your teeth.

"A liar on top of being a thief, huh?" Hongjoong chuckled. His hand went higher and higher until he groaned when he felt your damp underwear. "Jeong Yunho and Song Mingi. Yunho, the oldest, was your father's son from his previous marriage, and Mingi is your fraternal twin brother."

You squint your eyes at him. Anger ran thick through your blood. Hongjoong faltered for a split second before he got his composure back. You supposed everyone kept their own secrets.

He leaned down until his lips were touching your ear. You were so taken aback by his knowledge that you couldn't even afford to feel pleasure in it. "And you," he whispered. "The mayor's well kept daughter. So well kept, in fact, that the majority of people don't even know you exist."

He wasn't supposed to know that. Your father kept you hidden not because he doesn't love you. In fact, he loved you too much. He didn't want you to find a man that only approached you as an extension of his position in politics. 

You were done for. If Hongjoong's earlier actions had scared you, you were now dead petrified of this man. "Who the hell are you? That's classified information," you couldn't help but say.

There was something about Hongjoong that made him especially fearful. It was an entirely different domain of dominance you had never seen in any other man you've encountered. One look was all it took for you to unravel yourself for him, and he knew that you knew this.

He ignored your question, opting to lean away from you and lifting both of his hands from your body temporarily. You breathe our a sigh of relief but it gets cut short when he hands you the receiver of his desk phone. He still wanted you to call your brothers.

The shift in his eyes when he held your hand and hastily placed the phone in your hands had you shutting your mouth. He looked absolutely insane and crazed, especially now that he has you where he wanted you. Kim Hongjoong reminded you of an A-Grade psychopath; an insatiably attractive psychopath.

You were definitely a moth to a flame.

"Hello. You have reached the Secretary to the Mayor, Jeong Yunho, and I am unfortunately not available to speak with you right now..."

The familiar voicemail of your older brother had you panicking on the inside. You cursed under your breath. When Yunho said he wasn't available, he meant it. He wasn't someone who you could call back.

"What's the hold up?" Hongjoong asked impatiently, his hands caressing the bands of your underwear, teasing little circles on them as if he was deciding if he should take them off or not.

You ignored him, along with the zings of pleasure down your wetness, and dialed your other brother's number while you imagined ways to smack his head if he didn't pick up the frantic phone call you were---

"Y/N? Are you okay?"

A sigh of relief escapes your mouth before you could stop it. Mingi's voice brought you immediate comfort. "Y-Yeah," you answered. "How'd you know it was me? This isn't my number."

There was a pause on the other line before a sigh resounds. "I-I had a feeling, I was actually going to call you in ten minutes," Mingi said.

Your heart warmed. There was no scientific backing about twin telepathy or something even remotely similar, but you and Mingi could swear that both of you always had that weight pressing on your chest whenever the other was in great distress. Today was one of those times.

Suddenly, Hongjoong leaned over the landline and pressed a particular button - the loudspeaker. You gulped and gave him a questioning look. "W-What are you doing?"

Once again, he ignored you. You would've been fine with it, but when he paused only to look up and smirk, you knew right then and there, that you were done for. He went from caressing to full-on massaging your hips and thighs.

You opted to put the receiver away from your ear and covered it with your palm. Your heart was beating a million miles per second. "I-I'm on the phone---"

"Shhh," Hongjoong hushed you, his stare becoming more and more devilish. "I'm not stopping you from talking, aren't I?"

My entire body was on fire. His entire hand disappeared under your skirt and the first contact he had that was remotely close to your snug heat, you yelped in utter surprise.

"Are you hurt, Y/N? What's the matter?"

You immediately fumbled and uncovered the phone to speak. "Y-Yeah," you covered up your nervousness with a small chuckle of uncertainty. "I-It's just a little hot over here, you know?"

Desire was slowly taking over your body, Hongjoong's gentle prod to spread your legs intensifying the intense craving. You could tell that his patience was slowly waning out, especially when he ripped your underwear clean in the middle.

You purse your lips to stop the moan that threatened to spill out of your lips. The cold air that he blew straight down there had you clutching the wooden table with your blunt fingernails. Your breathing became faster and faster as he started his onslaught.

"I could tell," Mingi laughed breathily. "I could hear your breathing. You've always been the one who sweated the most when the three of us were younger."

Your toes curled in on themselves when Hongjoong wasted no time slipping a finger inside your dripping sex. You couldn't help but hold onto his shoulder for support before you fell over. You blushed, not for the pleasure, but for the shame, not believing that you were getting fingered while on the phone with your brother, no less.

"S-Say, Min-Min," you began, clearing your throat. "I d-don't think I'm---oh!"

Oh, you were sure Mingi knew what was happening. Hongjoong curled his finger up and hit a particular spot that had you reeling from where you were lying. You kicked his shoulder in retaliation. He tilted his head towards you as a challenge.

Your eyes widened when he started thrusting his finger in and out of you without any mercy. The pleasure was eating you alive; a fire that swallowed you in its heat. Your back arched involuntarily at his ministrations as you twisted it to reach for the mute button on the phone, but your arm was grabbed and shoved away.

"You want to be a brat?" Hongjoong scoffed, bringing up his other hand to rub circles on your clit. "Keep talking, I didn't tell you to stop."

You shook your head repeatedly, your eyes begging him to stop. Without breaking eye contact, he turned his head to give you small love bites all over your lower legs. Eventually, he slowed down. He didn't stop, but you'd rather take this.

"You're worrying me, Y/N. I'm not fucking around anymore," Mingi's voice switched from that playful tone you knew to the tone he'd use on you when he's back in business. "Are you hurt or not? I'll come pick you up, where are you?"

Hongjoong laughed under his breath at that and you heard the distinct jingle of the car keys that you knew belonged to Mingi. "N-No! Wait!"

You bit your lip and reprimanded yourself internally. That sounded more defensive than you intended it to. "I'm fine, seriously," you squeaked. "You don't---"

"You know we're twins, right?" Mingi deadpanned. "I know when you're lying."

You released a heavy breath, your hand moving from Hongjoong's shoulder to his head, tangling your fingers in between his luscious hair strands. He buried his head on your inner thigh, giving it more tiny kisses and even tinier sucks, before you felt his tongue hit your wetness.

"B-But I'm n-not though." you whined. You just hoped it sounded like you were complaining rather than it sounding pleasure-filled.

You glanced down and almost combusted. Seeing Hongjoong's eyes closed as he lapped your pussy turned you on more than his mouth did. He explored you in your most intimate places as if he was memorizing the way you tasted in his tongue. You needed to come, and Hongjoong knew it.

"Y/N," Mingi sighed. "It's the heat, I get it, no need to be ashamed. Father won't be mad seeing you needing help once in a while. I don't want you to get hurt..."

You tuned out Mingi's voice, not by choice, however. Hongjoong's mouth was that good. He knew how to turn you on, as much as you hated to admit it, and he already figured out the areas that made you squirm under his hold.

You covered the phone again. "G-Gonna come," you whispered breathlessly. 

Hongjoong hummed, the vibrations making you squirm even more. He pulled away for a second and you almost whined from the loss. "Yeah? Hold it in, sweetheart," he whispered back. "I don't think you want to come right now."

You wanted to protest, to say that this was his fault and he started it, but you knew that he was right even though all you wanted to do right was squirt on his face.

"You know what, fuck this. You're not listening," Mingi's gruff voice snapped me out. "We didn't vouch for your independence only for you to get sick so---"

"Who's sick?"

You went rigid. Your entire body just froze immediately and you went so motionless all of a sudden that even Hongjoong had to stop and look up at you in confusion. You felt his hand rest on your thighs reassuringly. Just like that, your orgasm had completely died down.

"Hand me the phone," you heard your other brother deadpan. God, you could just imagine him with his palms out demandingly.

"Why?" Mingi asked apprehensively.

"Because I said so," the former supplied like it was a well-known fact. Mingi argued further in the background but was stopped immediately. "Need I remind you that you're not even supposed to be here right now? I could easily tell Father."

There was a shuffling sound on the other end before there was a sudden pause before a voice spoke out. "Y/N."

You gulped before answering. "Y-Yunho."

It wasn't as if you didn't like Yunho or you were scared of him. You loved him like you loved Mingi. He was just more rigid, more strict, and more emotionally absent since he was the oldest out of you three. Your father had raised him like this, but even so, and sometimes, you supposed that you were intimidated by him.

"This is not your number, where are you?" Yunho sounded exasperated and you couldn't help but bite your lip. "Are you not in the house?"

"N-No, I-I, uh, I went out for a bit and..."

You stared at Hongjoong, contemplating what to do. He sensed what you were thinking and pressed on your inner thighs. You had to bite your inner cheeks this time, because Mingi was easier to fool than Yunho. Your excuses would not work this time.

"Speak up, little one," Yunho scolded. "If Father found out you sounded like this, even I would not be able to stop him from bringing you back."

Right. As if he didn't sound even more intimidating. Your father wanted to hide you so much, but you felt suffocated in the house. Yunho might have been the way he is, but deep down, you knew he didn't want you to end up like he was raised.

Hongjoong stared at you with this unreadable expression on his face, but you ignored it, opting to clear your throat before speaking up again. "I'm not sick," you explained. "I lost my phone and I'm just having a bit of difficulty finding it."

It was a shitty excuse, and as Hongjoong smirked devilishly in your direction, you had hoped that it would work.

"When did you become so careless?" Yunho chided once more. "Fear not. I shall purchase you a new one immediately."

Hongjoong scoffed, rolling his eyes, but he didn't say anything. "I'm not, and no need," you frowned. "Never mind, I just wanted to let you guys know that I'm going to be home late. That phone had sentimental value to me."

You stared at the said phone that lay near the area where Hongjoong was. That part was truthful at least, and Yunho stayed silent this time. He did give you that phone, after all.

"I cannot stop you from doing what you want, so go ahead," he said. You frowned, heart stinging a little at his nonchalance.

"I'll let you know," you murmured.

As you were about to hang up, Yunho's voice filled the phone again. "Wait."

You raised a brow, a bit surprised, even more so when he said the next few words that'll lighten you up before he hung up. "Take care, little one."

It was short-lived, however. The moment Yunho had hung up, Hongjoong took this opportunity to pounce on you again like a starved animal that had waited too long for its meal to be served.

"W-Wait, you can't do this," you whined, pushing on him again when he resumed what he had started earlier.

"That phone call wasn't supposed to be that long," Hongjoong rolled his eyes, his fingers finding their place inside me again. "Your brothers are fucking weird. One's a potential asshole and the other one has a stick up his ass all the time."

You squint your eyes to contain the fire within them. "Don't talk about them like that!"

"Or what?" Hongjoong challenged. "You're dripping on my hand, sweetheart, I wouldn't talk if I were you. Because I could easily do this."

You shrieked when he went down on you again, but this time, he was sucking on your clit while his fingers still went in and out of you like a piston, his thumb specifically hitting your bud along with his tongue.

"Oh, God, mhm," you couldn't help but groan out, no matter how embarrassing.

"There is no God, Y/N. It's just you and me here," Hongjoong laughed against your pussy. "Finish what you started earlier. Come on my fucking face..."

Yeah, it was definitely embarrassing. You weren't someone who would orgasm fast, if anything, it was difficult to get there most of the time because your other partners just either weren't good, or you weren't that much attracted to them. Yeah, you were messed up from getting cross- eyed and screaming in pleasure.

"Fuck, yeah, give it to me, pretty," Hongjoong laughed maniacally as he stared at your fucked-out face, his fingers not relenting, though his tongue had long stopped from slurping your juices. He'd save it for later.

Frankly, it was the best orgasm of your life so far. You were never going to admit that to him, though. His ego would be the size of this room.

"S-Stop," you whined, pushing his head away weakly. "S-Sensitive..."

"Aww," he sniggered, his lips down turning tauntingly. His fingers went from going in and out to massaging your sweet spot. "But you look so fucking good like this."

"O-Oh," you sighed breathily. "I r-really can't, p-please stop..."

Hongjoong clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes, pulling his fingers out. He looked almost disappointed, but you didn't care.

You stared at the bright light up the ceiling, your chest rising up and down, the realization slowly sinking into you. Your cheeks rivaled the brightness of the light, not believing that you had just let him do whatever he wanted with you like this.

It wasn't like you didn't like it, but you wished it was in another circumstance.

You turned your head to look at Hongjoong, and whilst you were analyzing him, he couldn't help but falter a bit. 

He wasn't kidding when he said you looked pretty, he meant it. In fact, you looked a little too pretty for him just laying down his table, ready to be taken by the plucking. He wasn't impartial to the effect he does to you, he could see how you trembled the longer he stared.

He strode forward with a purpose. This wasn't part of his plan, but he needed to taste you. He just hoped his strides weren't  borderline desperate.

Your eyes widened when he snaked his hand on the back of your neck and lifted it towards his face, and before you could react, his eyes had already closed and his lips had already met yours.

His lips were pillowy soft, just the way you liked it, and it moved so well in sync with yours. It was undeniable how strong our chemistry was as our lips moved to fight for dominance. It ignited a fire within you that unfortunately, nobody else can ever put out anymore.

You could feel his smirk against yours, his tongue entangled with yours, as you tasted yourself from his lips. Combine that with Hongjoong's own taste, you were definitely screwed.

"So I guess this is payment enough," you murmured, pulling away from him just enough to get your point across.

"Think you can come for me again, sweetie?" Hongjoong asked, completely ignoring your statement. 

"W-What?"

To say that you were reeling was probably an understatement on your end. He pulled away momentarily, and you thought he was done, but then he dipped his head down your shoulder after he pushed your top aside. You whimpered when he gave your skin tiny, little kisses so gentle, you forgot what you were initially here for.

"Well?" Hongjoong whispered, his voice wavering. His lips made a small trail for your shoulder to your neck until he was dead set on one spot he knew you'd feel hot all over for. "You're gonna give it to me, right?"

"I-I'm not sure," you spoke in broken moans. 

"It's alright," he cooed. His hands were already back on your inner thighs. "Come on, baby, I'll make you feel so good..."

He didn't even give you a chance to reply. His fingers were already tracing your slit, his little groans of pleasure at the wet sounds your pussy was producing had your mind spinning. You were so lost into him; it was as if he had literally mesmerized you into his bidding.

"Ah, oh, that f-feels, ah," you stammered helplessly against his touch.  His fingers adeptly played with your pussy, alternating between pushing inside you ever so slightly and rubbing delicious circles on your clit.

"Yeah?" Hongjoong moaned softly, his kisses on your neck getting softer and softer as if he was making the sweetest love with it. "This cunt is mine, hmm?"

"Wait, I-I didn't say tha---"

"You will now," he gave your neck more sensual kisses. His warm breath hitting your skin made you extremely dizzy. His hand trails on your arm up and down even more sensually. "Ah, come on, baby, mmm, say it..."

Your groin was on fire, the tingling sensations that Hongjoong's coaxing was altering your brain chemistry all in all. You whined quietly, tilting your neck to meet his lips subconsciously. This was highly dangerous for you; exceedingly addicting.

His lips had migrated to your jawline, rendering you down to a slave to his desires. He doesn't put his fingers inside you, however, and you weren't sure if you liked that or not.

"I'll help you. Repeat after me, yeah?" Hongjoong whispered, his voice almost inaudible. "Say, 'I'm all yours,' it's easy enough."

You tried opening your mouth to say something, but nothing came out                                                                        when you tried to pry the words out of your mouth. He clicked his tongue, teasing you by slowly biting on your earlobes.

"Say it, don't be shy," he commanded softly. "I'm all yours."

"I-I'm all y-yours..."

Shame washed all over you the moment you said the words. He made a sound of approval, but he wasn't done yet.

"Good, good," he goaded, laughing breathily. "Say it again..."

"I'm all yours---"

"Daddy," he insisted, finally pulling away to look you straight in the eye. "Say you're mine, baby."

Goosebumps rose from your arms all the way to your shoulders, leaving you with shivers along their wake. "I'm all yours, d-daddy," you squeaked pathetically.

An animalistic grin stretches across his entire mouth. "That's right, you're going to give me my pussy, right?"

When he put it like that, you grasped how hypnotized you were with his words within a couple of minutes. Realization washed over you and your eye contact with him breaks, much to Hongjoong's chagrin. You both knew his spell was broken.

"Is this what you do to all the people who shoplift? Because this is wild," you frowned deeply, pushing away from him by holding onto his shoulders for support so you wouldn't fall off. 

He smirked, shaking his head. "No. Just you."

"Somehow, I find that difficult to believe," you chuckled without any humour in it. You were playing with fire by egging him but you couldn't help. You wanted to know.

Hongjoong narrowed his eyes on you, clearly annoyed with your accusations. "You seem to be following me willingly just fine earlier, sweetheart," he scoffed. "If I really wanted to, I'd make you do way more than this."

"Wasn't earlier enough? I don't believe this," you shook your head in disbelief.

"Well, you better believe it, because you still have to pay the price," he chuckled darkly. "Just not with money."

Hongjoong pushed your hands away from him and walked backwards from where you were sitting until his back hit the wall across from you so he could lean against it. Your jaw hung from his implication, the nerve of this bastard!

He nodded towards your forgotten purse. "You know what I've been thinking the whole time, sweets? I wonder how good you'd look with those on."

You blushed furiously, the scenarios of what he's implying playing through your head. The lingerie you stole was very skimpy. "Good, I'm sure," you mumbled thoughtlessly.

"Oh? Prove it."

It began to dawn on you what exactly he wanted you to do. You had hoped that you were wrong, but alas, this man in front of you was as dangerous as he was unpredictable.

You didn't respond. He stared at you with unfiltered lust, waiting to see what you were going to do.

"And if I chose not to do it?"

Hongjoong's brows drew together. "You know exactly what's going to happen," he sighed, irritated. "It's not going to be difficult, I already tore your panties off of you earlier, anyway."

His mouth was scandalous, too. However, this was a better alternative than the horrible life that was jail. It was a losing battle so you closed your eyes, and with a deep sigh, you started to unbutton your clothes until your top was completely off along with your skirt, leaving you only in your undergarments.

Since you had no panties anymore, your pussy was fully exposed in front of him. Redness covered your entire face and neck at your nudity, but this was a small price to pay so he wouldn't call the cops.

Hongjoong wanted to bust inside his pants right then and there. The sight of your shaved pussy filled his mind with animalistic urges. He held himself off, at least for now, to savour your nakedness. He'll take his time claiming you soon.

He crossed his arms as he watched you take your clothes off. There wasn't any expression on his face whatsoever and the only indication that he was enjoying this more than he was letting on was the growing tent in his pants.

"Do you want me to put them on for you?" Hongjoong raised a brow, the tone of his voice shifting from lighthearted to angry. You quickly shook your head. "Alright, hurry up before I do it myself."

You avoided eye contact, opting to look on the floor, and bit your lips in nervousness. Slowly, your hands went backwards to the hooks of your bra, but they were shaking with so much anxiety that even if you tried, unhooking them became challenging.

"Don't piss me off, sweetheart. I don't have all day," he warned, tone clipped and irate. "Take them off now."

You tried to open your mouth to reason with him, but all he did was glare at you so hard with an anger so intense, it almost disintegrated you from your spot.

"Take them off!" Hongjoong yelled. You jumped from your spot when he banged his fist on the wooden panel walls of the office. It effectively rattles the entire room and your insides.

After trying again, it finally unhooked and soon enough, your breasts were spilling out of your bra, but before they were fully exposed, you hastily grabbed the lingerie set and put on the bra that was included in it.

Next were the panties. You started putting them on quickly and that's when you noticed that they were crotchless. You paled, that would mean your hole would be fully exposed to Hongjoong's desires. You slowly craned your head towards his direction, heart beating fast.

His eyes were hooded, cloudy with the unmistakable need to completely dominate you. His breathing became laboured, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed down the saliva building up in his mouth with how delectable you looked.

"Fuck," he cursed under his breath. He always knew you looked good, and he knew that you'd look even better with the lingerie on, but goddamn, was he not expecting you to look this good.

He needed to be inside you. He needed to have you. He needed you.

He cleared his throat loudly. "Come on, give daddy a little twirl, love," he coaxed, voice hoarse, as he twisted his index finger in a twirling motion. "I wanna see that perky ass."

"But I don't want to do it for you," you frowned, shaking your head to cover up the fact that you were getting insanely turned on from him making you call him daddy.

"That's just too bad, isn't it, sweetheart?"

You had no idea where he was getting his audacity, but you weren't going to question it any further. You reckon it was from owning this whole damn mall, but still.

It's an absolute mess, isn't it? There was no use denying it, a sick part of you was extremely attracted to the even sicker man that was Kim Hongjoong. Your mind was telling you to run away, your heart being the one to pull you back, but your pussy was telling you to please him with whatever you have.

Reluctantly, you turned around, twirling like a little doll, just like he wanted. You were beet red with embarrassment, and you heard his groan of approval from behind you as he stared at your plump behind.

"Been working out, huh?" Hongjoong teased, whistling salaciously to emphasize his point.

"Maybe," you murmured. "Are you going to let me go after? I-I just want to go home."

"Maybe," he bit back cryptically.

Despite yourself, you couldn't help but let out a small chuckle at how ridiculous this all was.

The mischief in that Cheshire-like smile that was bigger than anything else you've ever seen and it had almost given you the shivers. You were glad he was far away from you across the room, you didn’t want him in your face. 

He screamed authority - you weren't sure if you hated it down to hell or loved it towards the high heavens. 

You felt self-conscious all of a sudden, your hands moved themselves to cover what little skin you could. Hongjoong tilts his head in your peripheral vision, but chooses not to say anything as he watches you squirm from where you were standing.

Holes were the only thing missing on your body by how hard he was staring. Your almost nudity wasn't bothering you this time, though. He was probably staring at all your flaws and imperfections and it worried you more than anything else.

"You don't believe me, do you?" Hongjoong mumbled, his brow raised in question.

You frowned. "What?"

"You're fucking pretty," he clarified crudely without any ounce of shame, licking his bottom lip slowly, dragging the wet muscle seductively. "The prettiest girl I've ever seen in my entire life. You really are."

A laugh bubbles out of your chest with said chest jiggling unnecessarily and catching Hongjoong's sharp gaze. "Do you honestly expect me to believe anything that comes out of your mouth?"

"No," he shrugged nonchalantly. Your frown deepens when he gets to his feet and starts to walk forward. "Which is why I'm going to show you," he pauses to raise his hand. "Come to me, love."

It was a losing fight and deep down, you knew it. Still, you didn't move, not because you were trying to resist, but because this time, you felt genuine uncertainty for the first time since entering this room almost an hour ago by now.

You gulped. "A-Are you going to...?"

"Mhhm," he replied faster than you'd like. He makes grabbing motions by closing his fists and opening them. "I'm getting impatient."

You avoided eye contact with him. It was a mistake on your end because the moment your eyes left his, was the moment Hongjoong set out his attack and dug his claws onto your skin.

Your scream was cut off when he turned you around and pushed you down the table so now you were leaning against the edge of it, ass in air. You didn't mean to be that loud, you were just so surprised by the sudden jerk of your body.

"W-Wait---"

There was a shushing sound from behind you and you were about to turn your head to look but you felt his hand on the back of it and pushed down. "H-Hongjoong, hold on---"

You didn't mean to moan when he roughly pulled your panties all the way down to your feet in one motion, and just like that, your entire behind was exposed to him to do whatever he wanted with it. That just left you with your bra, which surprisingly, he didn't touch.

A whimper slips past your lips when you hear the telltale crinkling of a condom wrapper being opened before you see the wrapper being carelessly thrown away somewhere, of course without its contents. That, alone, was enough to make your heart beat out of tune.

You felt his clothed chest press onto your back when he leaned forward, his lips teasing the back of your ears. "O-Oh, ngh," your garbled moans sounded when you felt his wet fingers prod your empty hole, lubing it from the outside.

It suddenly reminded you of your deepest, darkest secret - you were always into the roleplay aspect of sex. It was something you've only told one person before and now that it's happening, you weren't sure on how to react.

"Show's over," his voice was harsh and laboured as he whispered from behind you. Your voice was caught in your throat when you felt the tip of his cock press onto its goal. "Or is it?"

You haven't even internalized what he said yet when he held your hips tightly and started to enter you, his lust evident with how firm his shove was. You both moaned in sync, especially when you accidentally squeezed him in. 

He was cursing under his each with each thrust forward and when he had finally burrowed deep inside you, he paused for a little so as to not overwhelm you. 

Try as he might, you just felt too good for him to preserve his self-control. You weren't faring any better, his cock hit you just right. If anything, you were worried that the pleasure might drive you into incoherence. You didn't want to embarrass yourself any further.

You felt completely stuffed, and you couldn't help but moan his name out loud. "H-Hongjoong..."

You heard him groan in pleasure. He pulled out a bit only for him to enter again carefully. It was almost agonizing, you could feel every inch of his cock creating the friction you were craving for since you had laid eyes on him.

"It's not so bad is it?" Hongjoong groaned, reaching underneath you to play with your swollen nipples. "Fuck, you feel my cock deep inside you, huh?"

You didn't respond, not giving him the satisfaction he wanted yet. Ripples of pleasure spreads from your core all throughout your body as Hongjoong impales you with his thick cock over and over again, not too fast, just enough for the both of you to be a sweaty, panting mess.

At this point, you couldn't care less if there were people who could hear from outside. The only sounds in the room were the table creaking from all the thrusting Hongjoong was doing in and out of you, the slapping of skin to skin, and the moans you let out as your pussy took all the beating from Hongjoong's insatiable lust.

"You just make me so fucking horny, sweetheart, ah," he growled, thrusting particularly deep this time. "I wanna stay in this pussy forever, what do you think?"

"F-Fuck, oh, s-stop doing t-that," you panted, not able to properly produce words from Hongjoong's unrelenting thrusts.

"What? This?"

His hips pistoned into you so hard, that the table edges were scratching your stomach from too much friction. You wouldn't be surprised if tomorrow your skin there would be so dry.

Hongjoong seemed to take notice of this. Reluctantly,  he pulled out of you and for a second, you almost whined at the sudden loss of his cock filling you, but then he started to carry you to another past of the room where a couch lay waiting.

He hastily took off his clothes after laying you down, and after sprawling on top of your body, he thrust back into you once more in one fluid motion. He growled at the sensation, the sound of it making you even wetter than you already were.

"Yeah, oh baby," he hissed, this time not holding back on his animalistic desires, as he fucked you onto the couch. "Kiss me."

Your lips found his and you didn't hesitate to scream into his mouth as he kept burying his cock deeper and deeper inside you, if that was possible. Your entire body was on fire and the only thing that could quench your growing heat was Hongjoong, himself.

"God, your tits look so fucking great in these," his mouth pulled away to latch on your soft flesh, eliciting the dirtiest noises from you that you weren't aware you could produce in the first place.

"Feels good," you couldn't help but let out. "A-Ah, Hongjoong..."

"Yeah?" Hongjoong breathed out. "Want me to go faster or slower?"

"I-I don't know," you moaned out truthfully. You weren't sure if that answer was for his question or an admission on your end. Sweat was starting to trail down from your temples down to your chin.

"It's okay," he shushed. "How about you close your eyes and let me do all the work?"

Suddenly, he was taken aback when he thrust forward. He could've sworn he felt you fuck back onto him . It was all the confirmation he needed. His hand meanders towards the back of your head then pulls it towards him so his lips were against your forehead.

The gesture was so intimate and you reigned yourself from giving in to him, but when he started whispering your name like a mantra, you failed in the attempt.

"Y/N, shit," he growled over and over again. "I stand corrected," he groaned lowly. "You look beautiful, prettier, taking my cock like this."

You surrendered to the pleasure and closed your eyes. His cock surging in and out of your pussy as his other hand cupped your face tenderly was a juxtaposition. Your body went from taking a fucking to lifting your hips up to meet his as you helplessly squirmed underneath him, soft moans of bliss escaping your lips.

Suddenly, his fingers prodded your lips open. On instinct, you opened your mouth to accommodate him. "Ah," he chuckled lazily. "There she is..."

He drew his cock back the same time his fingers in your mouth did, paused, and drove back - both his cock and fingers - inside your holes just as deeply. You met his eyes as he looked down on you. They burned, this whole room could burn and you still wouldn't look away.

"Just like that, sweetheart, keep looking at me while I'm fucking you," he grunted, his face getting faster, sloppier. "Fuck, look at you, taking me so well..."

You tried to moan a protest, but there was a sick satisfaction that overcame his features when he saw that you couldn't speak since he was plugging your mouth. "It's true though," he panted, sighing in intense pleasure. "You just take it so fucking well, sweetheart."

One angle in his thrusting made you bite on his fingers, your eyes widened, whimpering because you didn't want to hurt him, but all he did was shush you, whispering words of reassurance that of how you couldn't possibly hurt him.

"H-Hongjoong, a-ah, fuck, I-I wanna come," you practically begged, your hands moving to his shoulders and squeezing to make your point known.

"Not yet, sweetie, not yet," he grunts. He, then, moved his hands so now they were fully cupping your whole face. He aligns it to his and now that you were staring directly into his eyes, you couldn't help but let out a small smile.

You felt him twitch inside you and you couldn't help your giggle even though you bit your bottom lip to stop the sound. In turn, Hongjoong let out a mixture of his own laugh and his grunts as he plunged into you in long, deep strokes instead of the rapid, shallow ones he's used to doing.

"You okay?" Hongjoong voiced out after a while, trying to stop his smirk as he looked at your fucked out face.

"Mhhm," you moaned out. "I-I just---"

"You want to come?"

You nodded so hard, you felt your neck strain at the sudden force. "P-Please, Joongie?"

He almost busted at your small, whiny voice as you begged for your orgasm. God, if the image of you underneath him as your greedy pussy swallowed his cock wasn't enough, you just had to sound as equally good as you looked. You were definitely set to torture him. 

"Goddamn it, Y/N, how am I supposed to last like this?" Hongjoong's voice was borderline whiny as well, his climax creeping in on him. "Good girls don't come until I tell them to."

You could have cried in frustration. "I'll be good, I'll be so good, daddy," you hiccupped, your tears welling up in your eyes. Safe to say, you were into him just as much as he was into you - literally on his end.

"I know, you already are, my sweet girl," he said. "You're such a good girl, yes? Come on, say it."

"I'm d-daddy's good girl," a lone tear falls from your eye. "I'm y-your good girl, Joongie..."

The little grunts he let out almost sent your vision black as his strokes got faster, sloppier, his hips pistoning onto yours, the sound of skin slapping against each other echoey all over the room, in your ears. You were so deep in this, and the thing was, you never wanted to get out.

"I'm going to fuck you into this couch, baby, and then I'm going to fuck you some more after we're done..."

"Y-You have to make me come first," you pouted even when your sight was beginning to get hazy from all the pleasure that Hongjoong was willing to indulge you in. 

Hongjoong laughed, a real laugh, his chest bubbling with unspoken happiness despite all the lust that clouded his entire being. "Oh, I will," he leaned in, burying his face on your neck. "I'm going to count to three, I want you to come in one, can you do that for me, sweetheart?"

You nodded without hesitation and Hongjoong swore you never looked more beautiful than you did right now. He kissed your neck in acknowledgement before he completely let go of all his inhibitions and began to actually fuck you hard and fast.

"Three," he pounded away so forcefully, the couch began to move from its spot backwards inch by inch, and you loved every second of it. 

He grabbed your throat for a moment, squeezed, and suddenly let go. It cut off your screams as your oxygen paused for a second. He did that over and over again until you got lightheaded. Somehow, that intensified the pleasure his cock gave you.

"Ah! Joongie, fuck, oh, oh, fu---"

He kissed you passionately, the movement of his lips bruising yours, matching the way his hips moved to its pace. Both of your moans mixed in with one another, and it was nothing short of filthy.

"Two," he ground onto you, the number almost melting into nothingness. He continued to kiss you, as if he was pouring everything he couldn't tell you into the fiery sensation of him sucking your soul out through your mouth.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, moaning as his cock went impossibly deeper into you, and crossed them. Your nails repeatedly dragged across his skin, leaving angry marks on them that you'll, for sure, savour later. You were already proud of them.

"I'm such a w-whore for you, daddy," you let out, something you didn't intend on doing, but for some reason, it just slipped out of you.

Hongjoong moaned into your mouth, your lips drowning and swallowing the sounds. He was whining and whimpering wildly as his hips stuttered and chased his high, using your body as nothing more than a tool for his own pleasures.

Fuck it. There was no going back from this anyway. "Are you going to come inside me?"

"Yeah, I'm going to fucking fill you up," he growled, his sweat dripping onto my skin. He pressed his forehead with mine, forcing eye contact. "Do you want me to come inside you? Is that what you want?"

You bit your lip so hard, it almost bled, but you nodded regardless. "Y-Yeah..."

A growl sounds out from the back of his throat as he pulls out from you temporarily. He slips the condom off from his hard cock and tosses it at the nearby rubbish bin, and when he entered back inside you, he couldn't help the loud moan that resonated from his mouth.

"Fuck, baby," he whined like he was in pain. "You feel so fucking good, damn it, I should've fucked you raw like this from that start, fuck."

It didn't take long for either of you to get to that peak you were both chasing since the beginning. Your stomach tightened, your walls were beginning to constrict and flutter against Hongjoong's cock, and he felt it. Fuck, did he feel it.

"One. Come with me, baby, please," he pumped faster and harder until you couldn't take it anymore.

It triggered that delicious feeling that you've been suppressing all this time. It was slow, but when you reached it, the world around you exploded. Your own screams were all you heard, not even Hongjoong's loud growl as he erupted his thick release deep inside you.

"Y/N, fuck," he panted, thrusting a few more times until both of our orgasms had subsided. He grabbed your chin and squeezed hard as he demanded eye contact. "Look at me when you're coming, my love. Look at me."

It was over as soon as it started, but the sensation will last you for a while. You were thoroughly fucked - thoroughly used - and you liked it like that. But only because it was Hongjoong.

It felt right for him, there was nothing more in this moment that felt as right as letting go in you akin to an animal that just wanted to possess. One final pulsating from his cock has him reeling, and he wouldn't tell you just yet, but he was definitely more blown out than you were.

He pushed your hair out of your face and looked at you. "You okay, love?" Hongjoong asked with a small frown, a worried one. "I think that was the roughest we've done it so far---ah fuck, I came too much."

Your soft moan hits Hongjoong's ears as he pulls out. Thick, sticky cum immediately oozes out from your stretched out pussy and Hongjoong could feel himself salivating at the tempting scene in front of him.

You giggled as you stared at him, and even though he literally just rocked your world, you gave him a wide smile despite the haze. "Like what you see?"

Hongjoong nodded wordlessly and you couldn't help but lightly smack him back into coherence. "What? I do," he defended himself with a small pout. "You look so good covered in my cum, sweetie."

You bit your lips when he dipped a finger in your pussy, covering them in his own release, and started writing something on your stomach as if your skin was the canvas and his cum was the paint.

You soon realized that he was writing his own name. When he ran out of 'writing material,' he would dip back in for some more. Redness coated your entire neck and creeped up all the to your scalp.

"Mine," he murmured, kissing the dried up cum on your tummy that had his name. "Property of Kim Hongjoong."

He sits straighter and beckons you to do the same. You did as told without missing and beat. He grabbed your hand and gave it a small kiss before he grabbed his dress shirt and put you in it, careful when he started looping your arms on the sleeves and buttoning it until you were completely covered, your torso, at least.

He pulled you close until you were sitting on his lap, your head plush onto his chest. Aftercare with your boyfriend was always better than the sex, itself, every single time. "Thanks, Joongie," you smiled.

"Did you have fun? Was it everything you wanted?" Hongjoong asked sheepishly. "I didn't know if I was too mean or something."

"No, no, it was good," you hummed softly as his fingers played with your hair. "I suppose we need to talk."

There were a lot of things you wanted to talk about, starting from this whole ordeal. Hongjoong and you had never really explored the idea of sex outside the bedroom, much less the idea of incorporating roleplaying in it to spice things up.

Hongjoong could say the same thing. He didn't mean for it to go that far. He saw the way you twitched when you entered the room for the first time, and he couldn't help the surprise that flickered in his eyes. 

You stared at your underwear, one that Hongjoong had actually gifted you a while back, that lay next to the thongs you wanted to take home. You were about to say something, when the door jiggled, signifying that someone was trying to open it.

Hongjoong tightened his hold on your waist as the sound of keys jingling the doorknob. He held your head down until it was completely leaning on his chest as he parted your hair to cover the rest of your face.

"Hey, boss, I got the package secured---oh? Am I interrupting something?"

Even though your face was obscured, you could still see through them. A man not much taller than Hongjoong close the door behind him. He had this briefcase with him, but that's not what scared you.

"Wipe the fucking blood off your face, Woo. It's very unsightly," Hongjoong ordered, his hand massaging your tense shoulders. "You're scaring her. And stop eyeing her legs before I shoot you between the eyes."

Wooyoung's features twisted in amusement before it morphed into realization. "Ah, that's her," he chuckled, lifting a briefcase into the air, one you didn't notice he had. "Well, anywho, I'll leave this here, then."

He places the said briefcase on the floor near Hongjoong's feet before he sauntered out from where he entered from. "And tell her everything before you pussy out again," Wooyoung chuckled, holding the door.

"Get the fuck out," Hongjoong deadpanned. 

The door finally closes as a cackling laughter sounded from behind it. You finally lifted your head up and gave him a very curious look. "What's in the briefcase, Joong? W-What are you doing?"

You had so many questions and it just further confused you the more you spent time here. Hongjoong stared at you for a moment before he got you off his lap to grab the briefcase.

"Weapons," he murmured, snapping the lock open before lifting it to reveal, indeed, weapons of various kinds and sizes. You weren't privy to what they were, after all, you needed to use these to protect yourself from Yunho and your father's political enemies.

"And you're smart, sweetie, I think you can gather what's happening," he continued. He held your hand tightly in his, eyes filled with worry. "I didn't want you to find out this way, honey. I was going to tell you."

Indeed, he was right. Wooyoung calling him boss, the blood on said man's face, a briefcase full of weapons - they were all telltale signs of mafia activity. 

You didn’t want further details, but you couldn’t help but ask. “A-Are those things you handle on a daily basis?”

Hongjoong hesitated before he took a deep breath. “No,” he shook his head. “We do the usual drugs route as well. Listen, my sweet love, I-I’m sorry I never told you. I just want to have to excuse my absence a lot, and I know that’s shitty, so I’m sorry again.”

It all made sense. You genuinely loved him, but there were times where you were curious about him. There were many things he never told you, many times that he'd never tell you where he'd been. You felt a weight lift off your shoulders at the revelation.

"There's a lot of things I don't know, Joongie," you sighed. "I didn't even know my own boyfriend owned a mall, first of all."

His hold on your hand tightened. "A-Are you mad?"

You looked at him in confusion. "No, I'm not," you said, lifting your hands to kiss them. He visibly relaxes in your touch. "I was just wondering why you, my boyfriend of almost a year now, never told me, that's all."

"The same reason why you gave me a fake last name and never told me that you were the mayor's daughter," he shrugged. 

It made a lot of sense, but you weren't even mad at him to begin with, and you wanted him to know that. "About that," you chuckled sheepishly. "How did you even know about that? And since when? Mingi did a fantastic job covering my tracks."

"He did. If he weren't your father's son, I'd actually recruit him," he laughed. "And I found out by accident."

You urged him to go on. "I was going to give you this mall as a surprise, actually," he murmured. "I had Jongho look up if you had assets that would clash with the ownership, and I guess that's how."

You couldn't hold back your surprise. "You were going to do that for me?"

"Yeah, I was," he said. He paused, gathering the words he needed to say to you. "So you'd stop shoplifting."

You paled, fumbling for an excuse to tell him because as good as this all ended, it was still embarrassing for Hongjoong to actually find out this way. "I-I can explain."

"No need," he chuckled, kissing you on the forehead. "I already knew. Why do you think you've never been arrested? Your charm can only go so far, sweetheart. And your stealth is questionable."

You lightly smacked him on the chest and he took this opportunity to grab you and wrap his arms around you. "I've been bribing people for months now, for you," he mumbled. "But you need therapy, sweetie. I can't cover your ass the entire time, and I don't ever want to see you behind bars."

"I-I know, Joong," you murmured in embarrassment and pure shame. You didn't think he'd found out, and now that he does, you were so ashamed of your own skin. A question sticks out in your head. "D-Did you plan today?"

"No," he denied. "I wasn't supposed to be here. Seonghwa decided to oversee that deal we had that involved this," he tapped the briefcase. "So I stayed. Imagine my surprise when I saw you targeted my mall."

"I see," you muttered under your breath. Still, your curiosity wasn't satiated. "But why a mall, though? You're literally head mafia, you could have everything you want."

He chuckled at your question. "Because," he grabbed something from the nearby table, a small remote, then pointed it at the wall behind his office desk. "Nobody would ever suspect a mall to be another hideout."

A small 'click' could be heard and your mouth dropped when a hidden door revealed itself across you. "Holy shit, Kim Hongjoong, you're so fucking hot for this," you said without thinking. He laughed out loud at your statement. "But knowing all this, do you still want to be with me?"

Hongjoong's brows furrowed, distress clear on his face. "Of course, I do," he confirmed, voice laced with confusion. "Why?"

"Because I'm the mayor's daughter," you frowned, sighing deeply. "My dad's literally your enemy."

His face lit up in recognition with the thought and you thought that was going to mull over it, but then he leaned in and pulled you into a tender hug. "We'll figure it out, love, don't worry," was all he said before his hand smooths out the back of your hair gently. "I've known for a while, and I'm still here."

"I suppose so," you hugged back. "And for the record, I'm not mad. Not at all, so don't worry. I just want to go home right now, I'm tired."

"About that therapy," he said, still hugging you like he won't ever hug you again. It was endearing. "We have a resident doctor, Dr. Kang Yeosang. I trust him and he's a good friend of mine, would you like to consult him?"

"Do you think that would help?"

"Yes. But it's up to you, love. I can't force you if you don't want to, but I would feel better if you did. Promise me you won't do it again?"

"I promise," you said truthfully. You did need to change, after all, this wasn't morally good to begin with.

"Thank you, my love," he murmured. "So you'll do it?"

"I'll do it," you agreed, pulling away to look at him. "I'll do it for you."

He smiled, gently cupping your face. He had a thing for doing that. "Good girl," he whispered. "But do it for you, not for me. I'd still love you even if you robbed a whole damn store. After all, you already stole my heart." 

"My God, Joong, that was so dry," you giggled loudly. "I'm going to get dressed so we can go now, okay? I really need to shower."

He smirked, burying his face on your neck. "You know I meant what I said earlier."

You were confused. "What?"

He licked a stripe up your neck and it sent shivers through you. "That I want to fuck you some more after we were done here, my sweet girl. We have all night..."

You were already imagining all the things you and him would do the entire day, maybe you'd give him something in return after today.

It definitely wasn't what a sweet, good girl would do.

It wasn’t just that he looked good—he always looked good. It was the fact that your body was currently operating on peak ovulation hormones. Every single evolutionary instinct in your DNA was screaming at you, flashing a giant neon sign that pointed directly at your vampire boyfriend. He smelled incredible. He looked incredible. The mere sight of his pale fingers adjusting his cuffs was making you dizzy. You didn’t want him to go to work. In fact, you were ready to fight the entire city of Seoul to keep him in this room.

A wave of heat bloomed beneath your collarbone, rushing upward until your cheeks were burning, thoroughly flushed. Beneath the thin fabric of your shirt, your nipples hardened into tight, sensitive peaks, chafing agonizingly against the cotton with every breath you took. A heavy ache settled deep in your lower stomach, radiating downward until your thighs tensed, unconsciously pressing together to try and soothe the sudden friction building between them.

“I should be back by dawn,” Yeosang said, his voice was smooth as he reached for his watch on the dresser. “The meeting shouldn’t run too late, but you know how the elders love to hear themselves speak.”

“Mmm,” you hummed, staring fixedly at the hollow of his throat. Take me instead, your brain unhelpfully suggested.

Yeosang paused, glancing at you through the mirror. A subtle, knowing smirk playing on his lips. As a vampire, he was acutely aware of the sudden, intense spike in your body chemistry over the last twenty-four hours. He could hear your heart hammering against your ribs, and the scent of a spike in estrogen was practically vibrating in the room. He found it endearing, if a bit distracting. “Are you alright?” he asked, turning around to face you fully. He leaned back against the dresser, crossing his arms. “You’re staring at me like you want to eat me alive. Which is technically my job.”

“You look nice,” you said, your voice a little tighter than usual.

“Thank you, my love.” He smiled, approaching the nightstand to grab his final, most crucial accessory. He swept his hand over the polished wood, searching for the familiar metal. Then, he paused. Yeosang looked down, moved a book, then lifted his charger.

Nothing.

“That’s strange,” his brow furrowed slightly. “Where did I put my daylight ring?” On the bed, you suddenly found the loose thread on your blanket deeply, intensely fascinating. You began to pick at it as Yeosang turned to you slowly, he took in your suddenly rigid posture and the guilty flush creeping up your neck. He let out a soft, amused sigh, walking over to the edge of the bed, stopping right in front of you, the expensive scent of his cologne enveloping your senses. “Darling,” he said softly, his tone gentle, but with a hint of accusation. “Where is my ring?”

“I don’t know,” you lied, looking up at him with the widest, most innocent eyes you could muster. “Did you lose it? Oh no. Guess you can’t go out in the sun. Guess you have to stay inside. In the dark. With me.”

Yeosang closed his eyes for a brief moment, letting out a breath that was half-laugh, half-groan. He knelt down, putting himself at eye level with you. Up close, his beauty was dizzying. “I have to attend the meeting,” he said gently, a playful glint in his eyes. “Considering the sun rose at six in the morning and I’d rather not combust on my way to the office... I’m going to need it back.” 

“No,” you blurted out, abandoning all pretense of innocence.

Yeosang blinked, genuinely surprised by your bluntness. “No?”

“No. If you leave, I’ll die,” you whined, leaning forward and burying your face into his neck, inhaling deeply. You wrapped your arms tightly around his waist, keeping him in the spot. “You smell too good. You look too good. You are a safety hazard to my sanity. Stay home.”

Yeosang’s hands, cool and soothing against your warm skin, came up to rest on your hips. He didn’t push you away; instead, he tilted his head to give you better access to his neck, his thumb caressing your hip bone through your shirt. “Is that what this is?” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave, becoming dangerously smooth. “A hostage situation driven by hormones?”

“Yes,” you mumbled against his skin, kissing the sweet spot right beneath his jaw. Yeosang let out a soft breath, his grip on your hips tightening just a fraction. For a second, his cool, composed exterior wavered. His fangs pricked the inside of his lip as your racing pulse beat frantically against his senses. It was incredibly tempting to just cave in, throw the silk shirt on the floor, and show you exactly what he could do. 

But, he took a slow breath, regaining his signature control. He leaned back just enough to look into your dazed eyes, a devastatingly handsome smirk on his face. “As much as I would love to spend the next several hours answering your... biological demands,” he purred, “I have a business to run. Now, where is the ring?”

You pouted, glaring at him. “I’m not telling.”

Yeosang raised a single eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Darling, if you don’t tell me, I’ll just have to use my compulsion on you. Or worse... I’ll use my supernatural agility to search the room and find it anyway.”

That was the final straw. The threat of him actually leaving—of that gorgeous, silk-clad body walking out the door and leaving you alone with a raging hormonal wildfire—shattered whatever microscopic shred of restraint you had left. With a loud, exasperated groan, you threw yourself back onto the mattress, crossing your arms tightly over your chest, shaking your head side to side into the pillow. “You are the worst,” you whined loudly, glaring daggers at the ceiling. “You’re doing this on purpose! You know exactly what time of the month it is, you know I’m burning up, and you’re just going to work!? In these pants?! It’s literal torture, Yeosang! I hate you! Just get over here and fix it, now!”

From the doorway, you didn’t even know when he get this far, a low, smooth sound cut through your dramatic display. Yeosang hadn’t left yet, he was leaning his tall, elegant frame against the doorframe, arms crossed, deeply amused smirk carved across his handsome face as he watched you writhe and kick around the bed. “Are you quite finished?” he asked, voice completely unbothered. He didn’t look angry; if anything, your little tantrum was only feeding his ego. He took a slow, deliberate step back into the room. “Because watching you throw a tantrum over my pants is easily the most entertaining thing I’ve seen all century.”

You huffed, turning your head away from his gaze and burying your face into a pillow. “I'm not throwing a tantrum,” you mumbled into the fabric.

Yeosang let out a chuckle that sent a shiver straight down your spine. The sound of his dress shoes pressing into the carpet told you he was getting closer, moving with that silent vampire grace. “Right. Of course you aren’t,” the mattress dipped significantly under his weight as he crawled up the bed, looming over your dramatic, face-down form. His cool hand wrapped firmly around your ankle, his thumb rubbing slow circles against your skin. “Now, are you going to keep kicking my sheets, or are you going to turn around and look at me properly?”

You huffed, keeping your face buried in the pillow, you couldn’t help but kick your free leg a little just to be petty. “I'm not looking at you, you’re mean. Go to your stupid board meeting.” With one effortless yank, he dragged you down the mattress until your hips bumped right against his shins. “Yeosang!” you shrieked, your dramatic scowl returning instantly as you scrambled to sit up, clutching a pillow to your chest like a shield.

He was kneeling over you now. “You’re pouting,” he observed flatly, the corner of his lips twitching upward as he reached out and casually plucked the pillow from your arms, tossing it over his shoulder onto the floor. “It’s a very undignified look for someone who was just trying to boss around a centuries-old vampire.”

“I was not bossing you—”

“You were,” he interrupted, his long fingers wrapping around both of your wrists. He didn’t squeeze, but the weight of his grip was an instant reminder of his power. He leaned down, his face stopping just inches from yours, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief. “And while I find your little temper tantrum incredibly endearing... my patience for your mouth just ran out, darling.” The playful, teasing warmth in his eyes vanished in a single blink, swallowed instantly by a sudden, pitch-black hunger that made your breath catch right in your throat. The atmosphere in the room shifted, temperature getting lower, so fast it felt like the air pressure dropped.

Your hands grabbed the lapels of his black shirt, your fingers digging into the expensive silk as you crashed into his chest. His arms instinctively wrapped around you as you tackled him down, the momentum forcing him flat onto his back. Now, you straddled his hips, pinning his thighs down with yours. The friction of your sensitive skin against his slacks sent a violent jolt of electricity straight to your core. You leaned down, your hands framing his face, your chest heaving against his as you looked down at him with desperation. “I swear to god, Kang Yeosang,” you breathed, “If you don’t put a baby inside me right now, I am the one who is going to combust. Forget the sun!”

Yeosang froze beneath you. For a second, his brain completely short-circuited. He looked up at your flushed cheeks, your parted lips, and the hunger in your eyes. A dangerous heat flared in his chest, instantly obliterating his “businessman” composure. The sharp tips of his fangs elongated, sliding down past his lip, glinting in the dim light of your bedroom. His hands, which had been resting gently on your waist, gripped your hips with bruising intensity, keeping you firmly against his lap—where you could feel the undeniable proof that his “vampiric self-control” had just completely left the building. “A baby? You’re lucky my dead body can’t actually make you pregnant, because with a mouth like that, I would have kept you locked in my bed and dripping with my mess months ago.”

“I don’t care about the logistics!” you shot back, your voice nothing but a desperate whine as you intentionally ground your hips down against his. The friction was dizzying, making your head spin and your cheeks burn hotter. “Work it out! Use your supernatural adaptation! Do something besides standing there looking like a sex god!”

Yeosang’s hips instinctively jerked up to meet yours before he caught himself. His knuckles turned white where they were gripping your waist, his fangs practically scraping his bottom lip. “I am not standing, I am currently pinned to a mattress by a human who weighs a fraction of what I do,” he gasped out, his usual elegant diction disappearing. He glared up at you, though his dark, dilated eyes betrayed how heavily he was affected. “And for the record, this silk shirt was imported from Milan. You are wrinkling it. Horribly.”

“Good! I hope it rips!” You reached down, deliberately tugging at his collar, popping a button that skittered across the hardwood floor. Your sensitive nipples brushed against his solid chest through your shirt, and you let out a frustrated whimpering sound. “Miss your meeting. Let the elders talk to an empty chair. Tell them you were detained by a biological emergency.”

“A biological emergency,” he repeated, a breathless, incredulous laugh escaping him. He tilted his head back against the mattress, looking at you through hooded eyelids. The coldness of his skin was mixed with the roaring heat of yours, creating a scent that was pure sin. “You are completely unhinged when you’re fertile, do you know that? It’s like your self-preservation instincts completely dissolve.”

“They didn’t dissolve, they just pivoted,” you panted, leaning down until your lips were a mere millimeter from his fangs. “My instincts want you. Now are you going to keep lecturing me on silk from Milan, or are you going to do your job?” Yeosang’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked violently near his ear, but he still hesitated, his hands tightening on your hips as he fought the final embers of his restraint. Seeing his hesitation, you let out a sharp, mocking scoff right against his lips. “Unbelievable,” you snapped, your tone dripping with frustrated rudeness. “What’s the matter, Kang? Are you scared? Centuries of being a vampire and you’re getting cold feet because a human girl wants you? Wow. Some predator you are. All talk. Actually, don’t bother. Maybe I should just find a vampire who actually knows what to do with a willing human.”

Yeosang’s entire body went dead silent beneath you. Before you could even blink, the world blurred. Your hands were violently ripped from his collar as he gripped your wrists, his fingers like cuffs. In a single second, the positions reversed. The mattress dipped as he flipped you onto your back, pinning your hands flat against the sheets above your head. He came down over you, his large frame completely trapping your tensed, aching thighs beneath his. “What did you just say?” his voice dropped into a terrifyingly low, lethal register.

“You heard me,” you snapped, your attitude completely taking over. “Get off me. You’re boring. Go to your little business meeting and leave me alone since you clearly can’t handle—”

You didn’t even get to finish the insult. Yeosang’s grip on your wrists tightened so violently the bones in your hands practically creaked, cutting off your words as he slammed your arms even harder into the mattress.

That was it. The absolute limit.

“You think I’m boring?” he leaned down, his face stopping barely an inch from yours, cold breath fanning over your flushed skin. “You think you can just go out and find another vampire to shove his cock inside you? You think anyone else is allowed to touch this filthy, desperate little pussy of yours?”

“Yeo—”

“Enough.”

Yeosang hovered inches above you, his chest heavy with anger. His hair fell wildly around his face, and his eyes were entirely black, the irises swallowed by his pupils. The sharp points of his fangs were fully bared, pressing down over his bottom lip. There was no more elegance left in him; he looked terrifying, and deeply offended. “You’ve gotten incredibly bold. You think because I indulge your little human whims that I’ve forgotten what I am?” His grip on your wrists tightened just enough to remind you exactly who held the power in this room. “Let me show you exactly what I can do,” he hissed against your skin, his lips moving down to press hard, bruising kisses against the frantic pulse point of your neck. “By the time I’m done with you, you won’t even remember what day of the week it is, let alone your own name. You want a predator? You’ve got one.”

“Yeosang—” you choked out, the mockery instantly evaporating from your tongue.

“Don’t speak,” he commanded, the velvet edge of his voice clipping your words right out of the air. He didn’t just kiss your neck; he marked it. His lips were firm, dragging a trail of heavy kisses from the soft skin beneath your ear down to the sensitive dip of your collarbone. Every time his fangs lightly grazed you, a violent, desperate shiver racked your entire frame. Your nipples, already tight and aching against the cotton of your oversized shirt, practically throbbed with the friction. Your thighs, still trapped beneath the rigid weight of his slacks, tensed instinctively. You tried to arch up, tried to grind the heavy, empty ache in your lower stomach against his lap to find some semblance of relief, but Yeosang shifted his weight, completely shutting down your movement. “Hold still. You wanted the predator, remember? A predator dictates the pace. You don’t get to move until I tell you to.”

Your cheeks were burning as you swallowed hard, your tongue darting out to wet your dry lips. “You’re... you’re still wearing your shirt,” you pointed out trying to regain a microscopic shred of your previous bravado. “Hard to be a beast when you’re buttoned up.”

Yeosang slowly released one of your wrists, though the implicit warning in his gaze kept your hand frozen on the sheet. His fingers moved down to his own collar. With a single, sharp jerk, he didn’t just unbutton the shirt—he ripped it open. The remaining buttons tore from the black silk, scattering across the bed with a series of soft, chaotic thuds, exposing the flawless, pale skin of his hard chest. “Is that better, darling?” he leaned back down, grabbed your free hand, and guided it up until your fingers touched his hard muscles. “Now, tell me exactly where you hid my ring, or I’m going to make you beg for it.” 

You stared up at him, your vision completely hazy as the cool expanse of his bare chest pressed flat against your burning skin. The contrast was too good. With your hand resting against his abdominal muscles, you didn’t want to play games anymore. The hidden daylight ring felt like a stupid, distant memory compared to the reality of him pinned over you with his shirt torn open. “It’s under the mattress,” you gasped out, completely abandoning the secret. “On your side. Under the corner. Just take it.”

A triumphant, devastating smirk cut across Yeosang’s sharp face. “Good girl.” He didn’t move to get it. He didn’t care about the ring anymore, and you both knew it. Instead, his hand slid down from your wrist, his veins-prominent fingers tangling firmly into the hem of your oversized t-shirt. With one tug, he bunched the fabric up, dragging it over your ribs and tossing it blindly off the bed. A second later, Yeosang came back down over you. Your thighs tensed, instantly flaring wide to welcome his weight as he slid perfectly between your knees. “You’re shaking,” Yeosang murmured against your lips. His fingers moved to your jaw, his grip firm, forcing you to look directly into his pitch-black eyes. “Still thinking you want someone else?”  

“Shut up,” you breathed, your fingers digging into the hard muscles of his shoulders, your hips instinctively arching up to grind against him. “Please, Yeosang, just shut up and—”

“And what?” he interrupted, his thumb pressing firmly against your bottom lip, dragging it down to expose your teeth. “You’re incredibly lucky I’m in a hurry. If I didn’t have the high-ups waiting on me, I would spend the entire day teaching you how to speak to me properly.”

You let out a frustrated, needy whine, your hips jerking up against his again. “Then stop talking and do it.”

“Oh, I am,” he purred, “but since we’re on a schedule, I’ll just have to make this efficient. And incredibly loud.” He leaned down, his lips crushing against yours in a kiss that was pure dominance. It wasn’t the gentle, romantic kissing you were used to; this was deep, and possessive. His tongue swept into your mouth, tasting the frantic heat of your breath, while his large hands slid down to grip your hips, lifting you slightly off the mattress, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties. Yeosang didn’t bother sliding them down. With a single, effortless twitch of his wrist, the supernatural strength of his grip flexed, and the delicate fabric tore down the seams. Before the shredded scraps of lace could even drift to the floor, Yeosang’s hand cupped your inner thigh, fingers digging in just enough to force your legs wider. He didn’t touch your wetness yet, intentionally leaving you empty, hovering right on the edge. “Look at you,” he murmured, his dark eyes staring down at where your thighs were trembling violently against his slacks. “So loud and mouthy a second ago, and now your cunt is wet, begging for me. Where did all that attitude go, darling? Did it rip along with your underwear?”

“Yeosang, please,” you whined, your previous cockiness completely evaporating as you clawed at the hard muscles of his shoulders, your hips instinctively arching up, trying to force yourself against his hand.

“Uh-uh. No moving,” he commanded, using his weight to press your hips flat into the mattress, completely immobilizing you. “You wanted to act like a brat and insult me, so now you get to lay there and wait. Every time you buck your hips without my permission, I’m adding five minutes to how long I make you wait.”

You bit your lip, a frustrated, tearful sob catching in your throat. Your core was slick, aching, and completely empty, throbbing so much that it felt like actual torture. “You said you were in a hurry,” you choked out, trying to use his own words against him.

Yeosang leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of your burning ear. “I am in a hurry,” he whispered maliciously, fingers slowly tracing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, too close to your heat yet never touching it. “But I will gladly be late to the most important meeting of the year if it means teaching you some manners. Now... are you going to behave, or do I need to keep your hands pinned above your head the entire time?”

You bit your bottom lip so hard you could taste the faint, metallic tang of your own blood. Being so close to him, so utterly exposed and yet completely denied, was driving you absolutely insane. Your inner thighs tensed, trembling under his fingers. “I’ll behave,” you choked out, the words a total surrender. “I’ll behave, just... please.”

Yeosang’s eyes tracked the frantic rise and fall of your chest. The flush on your cheeks was beautiful crimson, and the scent of your arousal was filling the room, entirely overpowering the expensive cologne on his skin. “Good girl,” the praise was dripping with authority that offered no real gentleness. He slowly released his iron grip on your wrists, but you didn’t dare move them from above your head. You knew better. His fingers slid up the inside of your thigh, finally—finally—brushing against your slick, burning folds. A high moan escaped your throat as his fingers slid through your wetness. The sudden friction was intense, making your lower stomach cramp with pleasure. You instinctively tried to lift your hips into his hand, but Yeosang immediately growled, pressing his palm hard against your lower belly to lock you flat against the sheets. “What did I say about moving?” he hissed against your lips, his fangs grazing your skin just enough to send a thrilling spike through your veins. “Do you want me to tie your hands to the headboard?”

“No,” you whimpered, your fingers blindly clutching at the silk sheets above your head, your toes curling as he began a slow, deep rhythm with two of his fingers. He was soaking himself in you, coating his pale fingers in your heat.

“Look at how wet you are for me,” Yeosang’s voice dropped into that deep, ruined register that made you feel dizzy. “Completely ruined before I’ve even touched you. You’re lucky you smell so sweet, or I’d leave you like this all day.” He pulled his fingers out with a wet, squelching sound that made your face burn a furious red. Before you could even register the loss, Yeosang shifted his weight. His hands flew to the zipper of his slacks, freeing his heavy length. He came down over you fully, and positioned his blunt tip right at your entrance, pressing against your slick folds, threatening to tear right through whatever sanity you had left.  “Open your eyes,” he commanded, his hand gripping your jaw firmly, tilting your face up. “Watch a boring vampire take you.”

You swallowed hard, your eyes completely unfocused as his tip pressed right against your entrance. You could feel him twitching against your slick skin, and the desperate, empty ache between your thighs was screaming for him to just drive himself inside. But the barrier of his clothes was driving you insane. You hated it. You hated that he was still half-dressed, that there was expensive silk of his shirt and wool of his slacks keeping you from touching him properly while you were completely exposed and melting beneath him. Your hands flew to his shoulders, fingers frantically clawing at the sleeves of his black shirt, trying to rip the fabric away from his skin. “Clothes,” you gasped out, your voice breaking as your other hand blindly scrambled downward, clawing at the waistband of his slacks, trying to shove the heavy material down his hips. “Clothes off, Sangie... please. Let me touch you... I want to see you.”

Yeosang let out a low, mocking chuckle, he didn’t help you. Instead, he grabbed both of your wrists in one hand, easily pinning them back down to the mattress above your head, completely rendering your desperate hands useless. “Oh, absolutely not,” a devastating, cruel little smirk curved around his fangs. His dark eyes hooded as he looked down at your flushed, helpless face. “You don’t get to see me, darling. You don’t get the privilege of having me completely bare for you.”

“Why?” you whimpered, a tear of pure, frustrated desperation leaking from the corner of your eye as your hips instinctively twitched against his heavy tip.

“Because you were a rude little whore,” he whispered maliciously, leaning down until his lips were brushing against your ear, making your sensitive skin break out in goosebumps. “So this is your punishment. You get stripped bare, completely exposed, while I stay perfectly put-together. You don’t get to touch me where you want. And you definitely don’t get to call me ‘Sangie’ until you learn some manners.” To prove his point, he shifted his weight, his grip on your jaw tightening just a fraction to keep your eyes locked onto his pitch-black stare. “Now stop crying and open your legs wider for me.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, please let me touch you—”

“Too late for an apology, darling.” He didn’t give you another second. With a single, brutal tilt of his hips, Yeosang drove himself straight inside, burying his thick length into you all the way to the hilt. The ruthless entry stretched your slick walls so wide and so suddenly that a scream was ripped right out of your throat. Your back arched off the mattress, your toes curling as pleasure completely took over your body. You were entirely filled, your internal muscles desperately convulsing and clamping around his cock, squeezing his length tightly. But if you thought he was going to hold still and let you adjust, you were completely wrong. Yeosang didn’t pause for a single fraction of a second. The moment he hit your depth, he let out a dark, ragged growl against your mouth and immediately pulled back, only to slam right back into you with punishing force.

“Yeosang—wait—!” you sobbed, your head thrashing against the pillow as the overwhelming friction of his pace began to tear through your sanity.

“I told you, I’m in a hurry,” he growled, the veins along his chest and neck bulged violently. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he leaned down, chest crushing your sensitive breasts, lips pressing a hard, possessive kiss right against your trembling jaw. “Look at how perfectly you take me. You were made for this.” His thrusts were heavy, deep, and punishingly fast, his slacks-clad thighs slapping bruisingly against your bare, trembling legs with every drive. Your head thrashed against the pillow, your vision dissolving into a blur of tears and heat as he drove you closer and closer to the edge. Your fingers clawed blindly at the sheets trapped beneath the weight of his hand, every single move of his hips was driving deeply into your core. The contrast of his cool, bare torso grinding against your flushed, burning skin was a sensory overload, melting whatever microscopic shred of coherent thought you had left into a puddle of pure desperation.

Yeosang looked down at you through a curtain of blonde hair, the corners of his lips were pulled back, bared fangs gleaming with venom as he watched your lips part in a string of breathless, incoherent whimpers. “Look at me.” He didn’t wait for you to comply. He released his grip on your wrists, only to slide his hand down to grab your jaw, his fingers digging into your skin to force your head back against the pillow. His other hand flew to your knee, hooking behind it and shoving your leg up, pinning it high against his ribcage to angle your pelvis perfectly for his next, devastatingly deep thrust.

“Y-Yeosang—I can’t—” you cried out, a loud, wet sob escaping your throat as he hammered into you, hitting a sensitive nerve, sending a violent, electric shockwave straight to your lower stomach.

“You can,” he hissed, his thumb pressing into your cheek, tilting your face up to meet his dark gaze. “You’re going to take every single inch of me. This is exactly what you begged for. Tell me how it feels to be handled by a vampire who doesn’t know what to do with a willing human.” The mocking, arrogant edge in his tone was the ultimate blow. You let out a broken, high-pitched moan as a sudden, intense wave of heat bloomed at the base of your spine, pressure building too fast, the friction of his pace driving you straight toward a violent climax that you couldn’t control. “Fuck—I’m going to—” you gasped, your eyes rolling back as your thighs began to shake uncontrollably against his sides.

“Not yet,” his grip on your jaw tightened just enough to pull you back from the edge. He intentionally altered his rhythm, pulling almost entirely out of your slick, swollen cunt before driving back in with a grinding slow-motion depth. “You don’t get to come until I tell you to. Hold it in.” The cruelty of the denial made tears pour freely down your flushed cheeks. He could hear the frantic, erratic stutter of your heart beating, and the power of having you completely at his mercy, totally undone by his touch, made his cock twitch. He leaned down, lips slamming back over yours in a kiss that was punishing, and utterly possessive. His tongue sweeping into your mouth to claim your desperate cries while his hips resumed that frantic, brutal pace. The slacks covering his legs chafed against your bare, sensitive inner thighs with every thrust, reminding you of what you couldn’t see, or touch. You were drowning in him, totally consumed by the strength of a vampire who had abandoned his restraint just to break your attitude. The bedroom was filled with the wet sound of his thrusts, that echoed in your ears as he relentlessly drove you closer to the peak. You were entirely at his mercy, trapped beneath his marble-cool skin, as he ruthlessly claimed every single inch of your slick, swollen heat.

Yeosang’s fangs were grazing the skin of your neck with a menacing pressure that made you whimper. He could feel the tight, erratic fluttering of your internal muscles, the desperate way your walls were spasming around him, begging for the release he was so cruelly withholding. “You’re right on the edge, aren’t you?” He suddenly slowed his pace, barely shifting inside you, keeping his thick length buried deep but entirely denying you the friction you were dying for. “So desperate,” he whispered maliciously, his pitch-black eyes drinking in your tears. “Did you learn your lesson? Tell me you’re sorry for being such a rude whore earlier.”

You sobbed, your hands blindly reaching up to grip his bicep through the fabric of the shirt, your hips instinctively twitching in a useless, frantic attempt to force him to move. “I’m sorry... I’m sorry, Sangie. Please.”

He liked the apology, but he wasn’t done playing with your obedience just yet. He reached down between your bodies, his hand sliding over your stomach to rub your swollen clit in a tight circle while his hips remained completely still inside you. The sudden friction was so intense it felt like an electric shock. He didn’t even need to thrust anymore; the rhythm of his thumb against your slick skin was a total overload to your nervous system. “Wet, desperate, and completely open for me. Is this what you want? Do you want me to put a baby in you?” 

“Yes—yes!” you sobbed out, your hips trying to buck against his stillness. “Knock me up, Yeosang... please. Put it inside me. Please, just fill me up!”

Hearing you beg for something his dead body couldn’t technically give you—yet wanting it so desperately anyway—completely shattered his remaining control. “Let it go,” Yeosang commanded, his dark eyes boring into yours, watching the exact moment your sanity shattered. “Come for me, darling.” That was the final straw. You let out a broken, wet sob as your orgasm ripped through your entire body. Your internal muscles locked down around his buried length in a grip that went on and on, shaking with the force of your own release.

The intense squeezing of your climax was the final straw for Yeosang. Moving his hand from your heat to grip your hip, he slammed into you with a frantic, punishing speed, pushing himself as deeply inside you as possible. “F-fuck... breeding you... right to the hilt...” At the exact same microsecond, the blinding rush of his orgasm sent his instincts into a total frenzy. He lunged downward, his mouth slamming against the side of your neck.

Crack.

A sharp spike of pain flashed through you as his fangs pierced clean through the soft skin of your pulse point, immediately followed by a wave of euphoria as his venom flooded your veins. You let out a loud, strangled shriek against his shoulder, your fingers clawing uselessly into the fabric of his shirt as his throat began to work. He was drinking you down, a greedy gulping sound right against your ear, pulling your hot blood into his body. Inside you, the burning volume of his release was filling you to the absolute hilt. Yeosang was completely emptying himself into you, his hips twitching while his mouth ruthlessly drained you. “Good girl... squeeze me like that... take every fucking drop...” Yeosang growled against your bloody skin, the words ruined as he muddled his release with his feeding. 

The combination of the blood loss and the intense heat filling your core was too much for your human body to process. Your vision dissolved into a beautiful, hazy blur of stars. You were completely at his mercy—being filled at one end while being drained at the other, completely claimed by him. He took three more heavy gulps of your blood before his fangs slowly slid out of your flesh. Yeosang collapsed fully against you, his heavy frame completely pinning you into the mattress. He stayed buried deep inside you, keeping you completely filled, his blonde hair damp and tangled against your neck.

You, on the other hand, saw him for who he truly was: a self-absorbed little man with a big ego. It infuriated you that he didn't follow the lectures list recommendation, no, he invented things out of his head, telling lies to his alumni that would fall just because of his pretty face. You weren't blind, you could see he was a pretty man, but all his beauty went down the drain by his huge ego.

The finals were coming and you could only rely on studying by your notes made on his classes since you couldn't find any of his information in any history book. How could a history teacher give classes with no books? With no complementary material besides the voices in his head? 

The worst part of it all was that you tried to talk to the responsible teacher, to the dean of the faculty, yet no one seemed to care that your General History teacher was a freaking liar and asshole?

And he knew you didn't like him, and he seemed to reciprocate the feeling. Mr Park looked at you like he knew what you were thinking, like he could read your mind, gosh! It irritated you! He always looked at you over his glasses that hung low on the tip of his long nose, his face always unreadable, unbreakable, as if he was the owner of the world. 

The clock ticked midday and Mr Park gave the last tick of the pen on the white board, turning to look at his students.

“Don't forget that finals are in three weeks, any questions you might have you can come directly at me” you felt your stomach turn when you sensed his eyes on you, as if he was talking directly to you. 

Not even in another universe you'd be in a room alone with this man, let alone to discuss the subject that he seemed to know oh so well and all you have studied your entire life felt like a lie. Who was lying after all?

You quickly averted his gaze and put your things inside your bag, wanting to leave that place as quickly as possible. That man was a threat to your sanity.

You were leaving class when your friend Yooha from Classical Literature came to you, her signature smile on her face.

“Hey, yn, I have an invitation to make to you” she smiled sheepishly, body turning from side to side. You nodded. “So… You know the campus is conducting the annual charity dinner and I'm one of the organizers, right?” she extended the last word, you nodded again. “I was running a research around the campus to see who would be the suitables ladies and gentleman for the date auction, and you were voted by a lot of people” she hit your shoulder with hers in a playful manner. “I was wondering… if you'd…”

“No” you answered shortly, already leaving.

“Oh come on, yn! You're so pretty, I'm pretty sure that a bunch of people will bid for your date” she said following you.

“But I don't wanna go out with a random person that bought a date with me” you put it simply.

“It's nothing serious, yn, it's for charity” Yooha rolled her eyes, you were always so serious, so goody-two-shoes. “Besides, who knows what destiny might bring you? Maybe you find your next love, or a sugar daddy” she laughed.

“I doubt”

“C'mon! It'll be fun! Besides, extra credits” you sighed and stopped walking.

“I'll think about it, okay?” she smiled happily and nodded excitedly, kissing your cheek before leaving. 

When you turned to see her leaving you noticed Mr Park a few steps behind you. How long has he been there? You bowed politely, besides wanting to flip your middle finger to him, and he bowed back, a sly smile playing in his lips.

One of the things you hated the most about Mr Park was that he was always so mysterious, so hard to read. He held that stern look in his beautiful face at all times, you barely saw him smile and then from time he would look at you and leave you that little sly smile of his, as if he could read you. As if he could see right through you. Not that you had anything to hide, but sometimes you felt as if he could see through the secrets you didn't have.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

“I can’t believe you convinced me to do this” you looked at yourself in the full length mirror at Yooha’s room where you were getting ready for the charity event at your university. 

You had to admit that you looked really good, the dress you were wearing hugged your body in all the right places, your curves being more apparent than ever. The color complemented your complexion oh so perfectly while the low cut neckline left the right amount of your chest apparent. The heels made your bum look perkier and the makeup reinforced your natural beauty. Your friend did a good job at getting you ready.

The girl giggled and twirled looking at herself, admiring her own beauty. She was going to be one of the auctioned girls as well and seemed to be enjoying this a lot. She pulled you to take some pictures with her before posting them on her socials. 

“Oh c’mon, yn, like you’re not excited to see how many people are gonna bid for you” she said excitedly. “I bet you’ll receive a lot of bids, a bunch of people dropped your name when I was asking for who they wanted to see, you are really pretty, just a bit closed”

“I’m not closed, just… quiet. I guess” you retorted, defending yourself. 

“Yn, my friend, I love you, but you walk around campus like you ate shit” you opened your mouth shocked at her and she just laughed. “Your face is always so grumpy, your stance is so closed, like you have walls around you. You need to open up more” she stated and you simply accepted, it wasn’t as if she was wrong, you indeed were very closed and didn’t want people to approach you. “You talk so much about Mr Park but you’re just like him if not worse”.

You sighed, defeated. Those were some thoughts for your therapy. Yooha was right, you needed to open up more, your therapist had already said the same thing, but it was hard after what happened the last time you did. You got manipulated, played with, hurt, broken. Those were some hard to forget scars. But maybe, just maybe, the event would bring you something good, right? 

You were cut off from your daydreams with your friend calling you to finally go to the event. Your heart pumping faster than it should out of anxiety and nervousness. 

There was a car already waiting for you two outside her apartment when you left the building, taking you to the campus within minutes. 

The building where the event was taking place was buzzing with people, students, professors, employees, and important people from the town that came to honor the event. You and Yooha took the back entrance so you could go straight to the backstage with the other people that were part of the auction.

Since Yooha was part of the organization she left you alone so she could resolve some things and make sure everything and everyone was in place. You sat quietly in a chair at the corner of the backstage, pulling your phone out of your little purse and started to mindlessly scroll through social media. The buzzing of the people talking making you a little anxious and dizzy. 

“Mind you if I sit here?” you looked up to find a cute tall boy with a sweet smile and little dimples in his cheeks talking to you. You nodded and he sat in the chair by your side. “I’m Soobin by the way” he handed you his hand so you could shake. You fixed your posture and shook his hand, forcing a smile.

“I’m yn” you answered.

“Aren’t you a History student?” you nodded, shocked that he knew that. “I’ve seen you around the building, I’m a semester behind you” you mouthed an ‘ah’ to him. You were never really good with small talks, especially with strangers. “So… are you here for the auction too?”

“Yes, my friend convinced me to do it for the extra credits” he laughed lightly and he had such a cute laugh.

“Yooha can be really convincing, she convinced me too” you nodded agreeingly. “But I bet you’ll receive a lot of bids, you look really pretty tonight” you felt a hush of heat creep up your cheeks at his compliment. “Not that you’re not pretty the other days, but today you look more, if you know what I mean. And I mean, not that I look at you on campus, I mean, I do, not everyday, just when I see you” he was stuttering and shuffling around with his words, making you genuinely chuckle at his cuteness.

“I got, Soobin, thank you” you said, a smile on your lips. “You also look pretty tonight” you managed to murmur, your voice low with shyness. You saw his cheeks glow a little pink tint and you thought he was cute. 

Before you could keep talking Yooha came running warning that the auction was about to start and everyone should be attentive to their names when called so they could go to the stage. You felt a lump forming on your throat and all you wanted was to run away and pretend you’ve never been there. Soobin wasn’t very well himself, always drying his sweaty palms in his pants, which for some reason made you feel at ease. You weren’t the only nervous one there. 

One by one people started to be called, some auctions taking longer than others. The girls giggling and gossiping about their auctioneers and how their bid was high. So far the highest bid went to one of the jocks of the lacrosse team, he came backstage feeling himself, taking back taps from his friends, a smug face planted on him. 

“Next we have yn yln” you felt your legs go jelly when you started to walk towards the stage. Suddenly the heels too high for you. But you managed to make it to the center stage, the bright light of the spotlight blinding you for a few seconds. “She’s a History student from the sixth period, she likes to listen to music, watch movies and read books” the hostess announced, your palm starting to sweat as you stood in the center of the stage. “Let’s start our bids as always with 50. Who gives 50 to yn?” you saw a student raise their arm. “50 to the gentleman in table 78. 55 anyone?” 

“A hundred” everyone looked to the voice where the bid came and even though the spotlight was hiding his face from you, you’d recognize that voice everywhere. It sent chills down your spine.

“A hundred to our lovely Mr Park, anyone else wants to up to that?”

“Hundred and twenty” you heard another student speak.

“Hundred and fifty” Mr Park counterproposed and you almost choked on nothing. 

“A hundred and fifty to Mr. Park. Anyone else?” the hostess asked, ready to hit her little hammer.

“Two hundred” a woman, that you recognized as a deputy from your town, intervened, her arm raised. 

“Two hundred to Miss Franz. A-”

“Three hundred” the second student proposed and you had to hold yourself not to buckle your knees. You were almost surpassing the jock’s bid. “And sixty” he added.

“Four hundred” the woman added and you looked over at the backstage where Yooha was with a big ‘I told you so’ smile.

“Four hundred and seventy” 

“Four hundred and seventy to Mr. Park” you were shocked. Why was he bidding so high on you? That was, at least, weird. He was your teacher after all. “Anyone else? Give you one, Give you two, give you three” she hit her little hammer on the table. “Sold to Mr. Park. Thanks for helping our institution”.

As you left the stage, still shocked with how things have turned, you couldn’t help but feel weirded out, not only feeling like an object, but because out of all people Mr Park bought a date with you. With what would become the highest bid of the night. All you wanted was to go home, take a hot bath and just forget that night happened.

Yooha tried to hype you up and make you stay for the party but you were just too overwhelmed to stay at a place full of drunk people and loud music. So you called a cab and went straight home. 

When arriving at your so loved little box you called apartment you finally released all the breath you were holding the entire night, your lunges burning with the feeling of a deep release. You took your heels and dress off, not caring to let them spread over the living room, that was a problem for the future you, and filled the bath with warm water. After a while you entered the soothing water, letting it relax your muscles. 

You closed your eyes but all that came to your mind was Mr Park’s face. His oh so beautiful face, with his chiseled jaw and long nose, his dark eyes that seemed to read your mind even in your own thoughts. You tried to shake that man from your head but you just couldn’t, the thought of him bidding so high for you, for a date for you felt so weird, so wrong, so prohibited. What did he want? Maybe he just wanted to help the university and chose you as his bid and he won’t even go on a date with you. It would feel wrong, right? A professor and a student. Sure, You are both consenting adults, but there isn’t a rule, a law that prohibits that?

You felt so confused, so overwhelmed, all you wanted was to relax but your mind seemed to have other plans for you. You groaned angrily, not really sure if at yourself, at Mr Park or the whole situation. All you knew was that you wanted to relax and you weren't able to do that.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

It was already thursday and your week passed by rather quickly and easily, besides everyone whispering about the auction whenever you passed by them, the rest was like the usual. But that day was the day, you finally had your class with Mr Park after the auction and you were more than nervous. You didn’t know with what face you would face the man, just the thought of seeing him made your head dizzy. 

“yn!” you heard someone calling you when you were about to enter class and turned to find Soobin with his cute smile coming towards you.

“Oh, hi, Soobin. How are you?” you asked politely.

“‘M good. And you” you nodded. “I couldn’t talk to you after the auctions saturday, you left so rushed”

“Oh, sorry, I was just… feeling a little overwhelmed I guess” you confessed.

“That’s fine. I can only imagine, it was a huge pressure up there, wasn’t it? But are you better?”

“I am, thank you” you smiled, adjusting the strap of your backpack on your shoulder.

There was a moment of silence and Soobin rubbed the back of his neck shyly before speaking.

“I was thinking… Maybe we could study together over coffee sometime, only if you want to, of course, no pressure. I was just thinking, we do the same course, you know, it could be good to have a study partner and such-” you laughed lightly at his nervousness, he was so cute. 

“I’d love that, Soobin” you cut him off, smiling shyly, him imitating you. 

“Then can I get your number? So, you know, we can talk and combine the details” you nodded, lending your hand, so you could type in your number. “Thanks”.

“I have to go now, I have class” you announced and nodded. “Bye” you waved your hand and he copied your gesture again.

You entered class and met Mr Park leaned against his table, arms crossed. His face seemed even more closed than usual, as if he was angry, but again, you couldn’t read him. You walked over to your usual seat and waited for the clock to hit 8am.

When the clock made its tick pointing it was 8 o’clock he walked ever so graciously to the front of the class and started to speak. You made your best effort to take notes and pay attention to whatever he was talking about but the way he was looking at you was burning holes in your face. The professor seemed to stare at you even more that day, his eyes darting at you from time to time as if they searched you, wished you. 

And the atmosphere was different, of course it was, with everyone knowing that the man in front of you, giving his lecture like nothing was happening, just bought a fucking date with you, one of his students. There were whispers, murmurs and looks thrown at you during the whole class, especially with how everyone was seeing the way he was eyeing you. You wouldn’t be surprised if rumours of you two started to circulate around college. That could ruin his career. And your life. 

Like a whisper, time went by and the clock ticked midday and everyone started to put away their stuff. 

“Don't forget, your finals are in less than two weeks, remember to study and if you need help with anything don’t fear to look up for me” everyone started to leave the class. “yn, can you stay a little longer?” the remaining students all looked at you, the whispering back at full speed. 

You put your stuff back in your backpack and went to the front of the classroom so you could talk to him. You never noticed how he towered over you, but you’ve never been this close to him. 

There was a moment of silence, while he looked at you as if he analysed the product he bought. You suddenly felt very aware of yourself. 

“We need to discuss the matter at hand” he started, his arms crossing again. “As you know, I bought your date at the auction” you nodded, a heat crawling up your neck and cheeks. “Are you comfortable going on said date with me?” the question caught you off guard, you blinked a few times before answering.

“I-I mean, you bought it, if you want to, I guess it’s your right” you stuttered like an idiot over the words and the man thought that was very endearing of you. 

“I’d like to take you on a date then, if you’re okay with it” you nodded slowly, almost as if you didn’t do it the whole thing wouldn’t come true. “Good, so I’ll pick you up tomorrow at your house at 7 o’clock. Don’t need to wear anything fancy” he was so demanding, so sure of his words, as if he knew what he wanted from way before. “You need my phone to text me your address” he extended his hand for you.

“What?”

“Your phone, so I can put my number on it” you hesitantly gave your phone to him and he typed the number on it, saving it. “Remember to text me your address or share your location” you nodded again. “You’re dismissed now. See you tomorrow, yn”.

“Yes, sir” you bowed politely and left the room as quickly as you could.

You leaned on the wall behind after you left the classroom, the air suddenly coming back to your lungs, a deep breath leaving them. You closed your eyes trying to stop your racing heart. That was the longest interaction you had with Mr Park and it was to combine on a date. A date that he bought. And he was willing to go. Your professor. Mr Park. The man that walked like he was the owner of the world. 

But truth be told, he was a handsome man, you couldn’t deny it. Or deny the fact that everytime he looked at you with his dark eyes you felt like he was staring into your soul, reading every thought of yours, some of those thoughts including him in a not-so-nice way.

You managed to ease your heartbeat and leave the wall, deciding that all you needed in that moment was a cold coffee. You headed to the cafe, hoping that there would be a few people there since it was lunch time. 

“yn!” you heard someone call you excitedly when you entered the cafe, turning to find Soobin waving at you with his big smile. “Hi, again” he said when you arrived at his table, smiling at him too.

“Hi, again” you chuckled.

“Why don’t you join me? I was just reading some notes” you nodded.

“Just gonna grab something to drink and eat” he nodded and you went to the counter.

You waited for your turn so you could order, ordering a simple espresso and a plain croissant, and returning back to Soobin’s table. You left your purse on the ground and sat in front of him, taking a sip of your coffee, the bitter taste finally invading your senses and making you relax. 

“So, what are you studying?” you asked, taking a bite from your croissant and looking at his notes that were spread in front of him.

“Ocidental History I” he showed you his book. “I suck at it” you both laughed at the way he spoke. 

“I did this class two semesters ago, I think I still remember most of it, if you want help” his eyes sparkled and widened.

“Are you serious?” you nodded, mouth full of the last bite of your food. “That would be so helpful, yn” he looked at his notes, the tip of his ears suddenly getting red. “And I get to spend more time with you” it was your turn to feel your ears burn, smiling shyly at him.

Soobin was a very nice guy, and you weren’t blind not to admit he was gorgeous, one of the prettiest guys around the faculty, if not the campus. You thought he was flirting with you but you didn’t want to make hasty conclusions, after all, no boy - or girl - has ever flirted with you before.

Having someone like him flirting with you made you feel warm and fuzzy inside, a good sensation that you haven’t felt since you were a teenager probably. The idea of flirting and courting one another made you nervous, yet you were excited for the chase.

After finishing your food and taking another sip of your coffee you changed seats, sitting by his side so you could explain the things better to him. You spent a good few hours studying with him, giving your tips to memorize the subject, joking, laughing and flirting. You really enjoyed his company.

Unbeknownst to you, a pair of eyes watched you two with more than curiosity, it was a fire that he couldn’t hold when it came to you. He couldn’t stand that he wasn’t the one making you laugh and put your hair behind your hair flirtatiously. That he wasn’t the one so close to you to the point he could hear your blood running through your veins. The one that made your scent change with pheromones. You weren’t his. At least not yet.

You and Soobin left the cafe when the sun was almost setting. His company was so enjoyable that you even saw the time pass.

“Thank you again for today, yn” he said at the door of the building, the sky illuminating his face with orange and pink hues.

“It’s fine. It was really fun, you’re a great study partner” you both smiled and fell silent. The winter wind blowing on your face, only the low whistle of it being heard. “I’ll be going then, bye, Soobin” you waved and he waved back.

You turned your back to him and started to walk your everyday path. You expected him to offer to walk you home, getting a little disappointed when you walked alone to the bus stop. The bus didn’t take long to arrive, which you were glad because you were tired and all you needed was a warm shower and go straight under your blankets. 

And as such you did, warming yourself under the thick blankets after a well-deserved warm shower. You started to mentally review your day, smiling like a teenager when you remembered your afternoon with Soobin and how cute, nice, sweet and smart he was. And then you remembered him and your whole body shivered. For a moment you almost forgot your interaction with your professor, but then the memory of his eyes looking down at you came like a wave. You tried to shake those thoughts aways, but the more you tried the more he seemed to pierce into your mind. The conversation you had was innocent yet you felt that the undertone he used wasn’t, as if he was hiding something from you, his true intentions.

And with the dark eyes of the man in your mind you fell asleep.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

The day at university passed quickly to your dismay, you wanted the day to last forever so you didn’t have to go to your date with Mr Park. You haven’t seen him through the corridors all day, which was odd, but you preferred that way, you didn’t know how you would react at seeing his face. 

Going home by five, you had time to get ready, even though you were skeptical about the whole date ordeal, you still didn’t want to look terrible. You remembered he said nothing fancy, so you just decided on a pair of black dress pants, a pink shirt, a pair of boots that had small squared heels and on top of that your trench coat, since it was freezing cold outside. You put on light makeup and let your hair down. 

It was seven on point when the man stopped his car in front of your building, sending you a message to warn you he had arrived. You felt your heart and stomach flip, anxiousness taking over your entire body. You didn’t know what to expect of this date, of him, to say you were anxious and understatement. 

“Good night, yn” he greeted you when you entered, he had to hold himself not to compliment your beauty, not wanting to scare you first thing of the night.

“Good night, Mr Park” his name sounded weird being said in a setting like this. 

“Tonight you can call me Seonghwa, we’ll be just the two of us”

“If you don’t mind me asking, where are we going?” you asked, trying to interact and maintain a conversation during the ride.

“My house” you almost choked on your own saliva. He came to get you to go back to his house? And you’d be alone with him in his house? You fidget nervous on your seat, the idea of being alone with him making you more anxious than you already were. “Don’t worry, I’ll just cook for us, I don’t like crowded places” you nodded slowly and turned to look at the road outside the window.

Seonghwa bit his internal cheek, he wanted to make a good impression on you, he didn’t want you to look at him with the student's eyes, he never wanted, ever since he laid his eyes for the first time on you. He could sense you were nervous but there was nothing he could think at the moment to make you feel more at ease, after all, the whole setting was weird, comical even. He turned the radio on, a random song humming lowly as he hoped it would make you feel more relaxed.

You watched as the city passed by you bit by bit as he drove you two to the fanciest part of town and you wondered if he could afford to live there with just being a professor or he was already rich and being a history teacher was a side hustle. He stopped the car in front of a tw0-story house, the front looking more welcoming and warm than the others around the neighborhood. 

Seonghwa came to open your door, but you had already opened yourself, and guided you inside. The house inside was nothing like what you would expect from him, it was colorful, warm, full of life, as if a happy family lived there. The walls had adjacent ones with vivid colors and wallpapers, the furniture seemed alive, the wood bright, shiny and very well cleaned. Maybe your professor could surprise you after all.

“Why don't we go to the kitchen? I’m cooking for us” you nodded and followed him, going to a small but comfortable kitchen. “I hope you like lasagna, it’s what I’m making”

“I love lasagna” you smiled for the first time of the night and the man smiled back. It was the first time you thought you saw him smile so big. “You didn’t have to have the work tho, we could’ve ordered something” you said.

“Are you dismissing my kindness and effort” you felt your cheeks heat up.

“That’s not what I meant! I mean-” he laughed and he had such a cute little laugh, you never imagined, catching you by surprise.

“I’m messing with you, yn. Besides, I wanted an excuse to use some of the things I never use in the kitchen”.

“Why you don’t use them?” you asked, feeling more at ease at his presence.

“I barely eat at home, so I almost don’t cook for myself” you nodded. “Want some wine?” you nodded again, maybe some alcohol would help ease the anxiety inside you.

He grabbed two cups and put them in front of you, going back to grab two bottles and giving them for you to choose. You chose the one on his left, the bottle seemed fancier and it was your only opportunity to drink something fancy in your life.

“Good choice” he said and served the cups, raising his one. “Cheers, for tonight” you raised your glass too before bringing to your lips and taking a sip of it.

There was a moment of silence between you and you decided to kill your curiosity.

“Why?”

“Hm?” he cocked his head and if he wasn’t your teacher, you’d thought that gesture and him cute.

“Why did you buy my date? Out of all people, why me?” he chuckled, his eyes locked on the drink in his hands before lifting his dark gaze at you, his expression unreadable yet soft, welcoming, calming.

“Do you want the proper answer, the honest truth or the even more honest truth?”

“There are two honest truths?” it was your turn to cock your head at him.

“They are basically the same, but one is… deeper, darker than the other”.

“What’s the proper answer?” you asked, curious.

“I wanted to help the university, you were just a coincidence”

“There’s no such thing as coincidence” you took a big gulp of your wine, drinking it all, you felt that you needed more alcohol in your system.

“I also don’t believe in coincidences” Seonghwa took a sip of his own cup, his eyes never leaving yours.

“And what’s the honest truth?” you asked, even though you didn’t know if you were prepared for the answer. The man took a step closer to you.

“I admire you for a long time, yn, ever since I laid my eyes on you for the first time I knew I needed to have you even for a simple dinner, even if for a night only” you gulped at his confession, not really expecting any of that. He took another two steps closer to you, but you didn’t move. “And when I heard you were taking part in the auction I knew it was my chance, but I also knew it was going to be hard, since I’m not the only one who has eyes and sees how… gorgeous you are” he seemed to hesitate at finding the right word to use to you.

“A-and what’s the even more honest truth?” you asked, not really sure if it was curiosity or the alcohol already speaking in your system. He chuckled and dropped his cup on the counter near where you stood.

“I think you already noticed how my teaching method is a little… unorthodox” you nodded. What the hell his classes had to do with now? “You see, I don’t use history books because I hate them because they are all wrong” you looked at him puzzled. What was he talking about? “And the reason why I hate them is because I’ve lived history myself, I saw those things happen” you looked at him before leaving a laugh. But he didn’t laugh with you, he remained serious.

“Are you drunk already, Mr Park?” you asked, looking at his face as if you searched for something. 

“I don’t get drunk with human alcohol” he was definitely drunk. “You see, you are not the only beings to populate this earth, you know?” he came dangerously close to you and opened his mouth, a pair of fangs growing in front of you from his teeth. 

“I think I’m drunk” you said, hand on your head. “I just saw fangs on your teeth”

“These?” he showed you them again and you blinked. “I know it all seems crazy, but vampires exist, and I’m one of them. In fact, you know more vampires than you think” 

“Wait, what the fuck? What’s going on? Is this some type of prank?” 

“I’d never prank you like this, yn” his voice was soft, velvety, deep. “I’m telling you the truth”.

“And what does this have to do with me?” you asked, your voice a tone higher than your usual, you were getting nervous again.

“You see, us vampires can smell human scent from meter away, and some of you have distinct smells, and you, my dear, is one of these”

“And what does that mean?” you asked, already entering in his craziness.

“It means your blood has a sweeter taste and it can be addicting” he stated as if he was telling you that 2+2=4. “I’ve been taking care of you for the past year, some other vampires have tried to get to you in more… unhealthy ways, so I have been keeping them away” 

“I’m going crazy, I think that’s it” you held your head between your hands, shaking it. Your mind was racing. “And what do you want from me? My blood?”

“Yes. And no” he was so close to you that you could smell his musky cologne, he smelled so good, intoxicating even, his dark eyes looking at you like a predator. “I do want your blood, but I want you to be my donor”

“Donor?”

“You’d give me your blood whenever I wanted, in exchange I’d care for you, money, expanses, whatever else you need” you blinked at him, partially dumbfounded at his proposal and partially at the way he looked at you, making you weak. Since when did he have that power over you?

“You want to be my sugar daddy?” he laughed humorously.

“If that’s how you wanna call it. All I’m asking is for a bit of your blood when I’m hungry”. You contemplated his offer. It was a very good offer, you were a broke student after all, and all he wanted was your blood right? “You can take your time to think”

“I’ll do” you said, not even believing in your own words. A smile creeped up his face. “I’ll be your donor”

“I’m sure you won’t regret” his hand came to your face, caressing the skin of your cheek, you felt a little flick of a shock where he touched. “I’ll take good care of you, yn. You are precious to me”

“We gonna start tonight?” you asked curious, anxious, not only with his answer but to know the feeling of a bite. He chuckled at your eagerness.

“If that’s your wish. I’m always hungry for you” the way he spoke seemed more than just blood but you let it slide, not wanting to think too much, even though he literally confessed to you minutes prior. You nodded. “Let’s go somewhere more comfortable for you then”.

Seonghwa took you to his room, and, again, it was not what you expected of his room, especially of a vampire’s room. He guided you to sit on his bed. You pulled the collar of your shirt and exposed your neck to him, earning a laugh from him.

“I’ll feed from your arm, your neck is for marking only”

“Marking?” you asked curiously.

“We vampires tend to mark our lovers in the neck, a mark of true and everlasting love. Once marked, you and the vampire share a never ending bond by blood”

“That’s beautiful” he nodded.

You gave your arm to him and took a deep breath. He gently grabbed your arm as if made of glass and started to caress the skin, feeling the softness, the warmth of it, before bringing to his lips. He laid gentle kisses and licks over the skin before dragging the tip of his fangs on it. The sharpness of them pulling a gasp from you. He shushed you, telling you that you were going to be fine, his voice deep, velvety, soft, wrapping you in something you couldn’t pinpoint.

Then the sting came. He punctured his fangs into your skin, breaking the layers until he found your vein, your blood flowing out as he sucked it all, low hums and satisfied growls leaving his throat.

Your head was dizzy, the pain was deliciously turning into pleasure and spreading through your body. It started slow, it came in waves, your body heat rising, your cheeks flushing, your tummy knotting, your legs automatically closing themselves, searching for something, anything. The heat in your body almost unbearable. You threw your head back and a moan left your lips as Seonghwa sucked your life elixir out of you. Everything too much.

His name started to leave your lips as whispers, the volume increasing second by second, until you were borderline moaning his name. Your free hand going in between your legs, holding your mound as you squeezed them together. You wanted him. You needed him.

He stopped sucking your blood, licking the little bites, the saliva now entering even more to your wounds. 

“S-seonghwa…” you whispered-moaned. “What’s happening?” he smirked seeing your state, he has never seen someone react to him like that.

“I forgot to mention that our saliva can be aphrodisiac to some” he looked over where your hands were in the middle of your legs.

“Do something, help me” you managed to speak out, suddenly there seemed to be no air in your lungs or in the room for you to inhale.

“What do you want me to do?” you grabbed him by his shirt, fists closed tight against his perfectly white dress shirt. “I won’t do anything unless you tell me to, baby” you moaned at the nickname.

“Do something, fuck me, finger me, eat me, whatever you want, just make this ache go away” you blurted.

“That’ll be my pleasure”.

He was quick on putting you laid on the bed, his mouth on yours in seconds. You tried to rush it, but he was slow, gentle, taking his time to enjoy being able to finally kiss you. You moaned into the kiss, your legs wrapping into his torso. Seonghwa invaded your mouth with his tongue, deepening the kiss. Your tongues fought for space between your mouths in an addictive dance. You were already addicted to him. 

His hand that wasn’t stabilizing his body was all over yours, squeezing the plush skin of your legs wrapped around him, on your waist, on your breasts on top of your shirt, on your face, he just couldn’t decide where to land them, he wanted to scan your body with the tip of his fingers. 

You started to grind onto him, searching for some friction, some release, and he left a chuckle between the kiss before breaking it. He pulled your shirt over your head, leaving you in your bra. His eyes scanned you and you felt your whole body burn. The way he looked at you with so much devotion, so much endearment, making the ache between your legs even worse.

“So fucking beautiful and all for me” he hissed before taking your bra off and admiring your naked chest. Your nipples hard with the sudden breeze of cold air. “Only I get to see all of this, right?” you nodded rapidly. “Do you think I don’t see you flirting with that boy from fifth semester?” he squeezed both of your breasts at the same time, earning a low groan from you. “But you are mine, aren’t you? Only mine” he pinched your nipples and you moaned at the pain, nodding your head. “Use your words, baby, I want to hear it”

“I’m yours, only yours- fuck! Please” you didn’t even know what you were pleading for, the stimulation in your nipples making your cunt squeeze into nothing.

“Such a good obedient girl” he landed a little slap on your left tit, making you jolt out of bed. “Fuck you’re so sensitive because of my saliva, so responsive, If I knew that how you’d respond I would have feed from you earlier” he teased.

“Please, sir, do something” Seonghwa felt his dick get even harder than before when you called him sir, the usually educated word now with such a different meaning.

“What did you call me?”

“S-sir?” you stuttered, scared that you did something wrong. But your worries went away when Seonghwa grabbed you by your hair and kissed you hard and hungry.

“Fuck yes, I’m your sir, and you’re my good girl aren’t you?” you nodded, eyes already hooded with pleasure. “Words”.

“Yes, sir”.

He didn’t even answer you, he simply assaulted your mouth once again, kissing you hungrily, teeth clashing, such a hard contrast with the first kiss. His tongue always asserting dominance over you, and you let him, tonight all you wanted was to be fucked dumb, all you needed was to be fucked until you couldn’t remember your name.

He stopped kissing you and moved to unbuckle your pants, pulling them down in one swift motion along with your panties. You were now completely bare in front of him, in front of your professor, who happened to be a vampire that sucked blood out of you, but you couldn’t care less. Seonghwa pulled you to the edge of the bed so he could be on his knees and worship you, worship your pussy like it deserved. He opened your legs and started peppering kisses along your thighs, biting in some spots so he could leave marks for you to remember who you belonged to. His fangs ever so gently grazing your skin once in a while, making goosebumps appear. 

And then he gave a long lick, tongue flat, collecting your juices and spreading them along your vulva. He hummed at your taste on his tongue, sweet and addicting, he swore he could be there forever. The man started to suck your clit, to lick it, to draw circles with the tip of his tongue, your moans becoming screams as your high was coming closer. He added his fingers to the mix, two of his long fingers entering you with ease as he sucked your clit.

“Fuck, sir, I’m gonna-” your voice was hoarse from your moans, your hips trying to buckle from the bed but Seonghwa held you in place.

“Cum for me, princess, cum all over my face” his voice was deeper, more velvety than usual, more sensual.

He kept fucking you with his fingers, curling them perfectly inside of you, his mouth doing wonders around your clit and his fangs poked ever so slightly the skin around. It was a matter of seconds before you came undone on his face. He kept his assault, helping you riding your high all while sucking your juices dry. If your blood was sweet, your pussy was candy to him. 

You started to writhe under him as you started to feel overstimulated, your clit puff and red from your orgasm as he kept sucking you throughout your orgasm. He finally stopped his ministrations, his eyes even darker than before, his chin glistening with your juices. 

Seonghwa didn’t waste his time and started to undress himself, slowly unbuttoning his shirt, eyes never leaving yours as you watched him as he was unwrapping a present for you. The heat between your legs came back with full force when he finally stood completely naked in front of you, his dick hard, long, thick, pulsing. You licked your lips at the sight and he chuckled.

“Like what you see, darling?” you nodded, now on your knees on the bed, hands expectantly on top of your legs. You couldn’t look more adorable and endearing to him. “Want a taste?” you felt your cheeks heat even more than already were as you nodded.

He slowly walked to you, stopping in front of your face and caressed your head. He grabbed your hands that were still resting on top of your legs and put on top of his hard member.

“Go on, please me” his words were taunting, teasing, a challenge that you took willingly. 

You grabbed his member in your hands, feeling the weight of it on them before starting rubbing up and down. But it wasn’t enough, nor for you or him. So you put just the tip in your mouth, sucking it gently and slowly, a hiss coming from the man above you. You licked a long stripe from the base to the tip before putting it back into your mouth, sucking more little by little, hollowing your cheeks every time you sucked him. You used your hands to help with the parts you couldn’t reach, squeezing ever so slightly the base of his cock. The man couldn’t control the moans and groans that left his mouth as you did wonders with your mouth on him, but he wouldn’t cum on your mouth, at least not now. 

He pulled you up by your hair, the stinging hurting deliciously against your scalp. He pulled you in for a kiss, your tastes mixing in your mouths as your tongues danced together. He pushed you back to the bed, your back laying on the soft mattress, the kiss never breaking up until you needed air.

He positioned himself in between your legs and stroked his own penis before prodding just the tip in you hole, an annoyed whine leaving your lips as you tried to move your hips for him to penetrate you properly, earning an humorous chuckle from Seonghwa.

“What is it, baby? Want my dick?” you nodded, hooking your legs and feet on his but he was stronger than you, not moving an inch. “Then beg” you whined.

“Please, sir, give it to me, I need you to fuck me right now, please, I need you” your voice was high and whiny but you tried your best to sound as desperate as you were feeling.

“I don't know if this convinced me” he said, a smirk on his face.

“Please, sir, I'm begging you, I need you to fuck me, to use me, to- fuck!” he cut you mid sentence, his member entering you fully and easily with how wet and dripping you were out of desperation. 

He was relentless, not giving you time to get used to his size or girth, spreading you open deliciously, the pain mixing with the pleasure, all too much for your pleasure clouded head. Your mouth was hung open, only babbles and moans leaving it, drool starting to drip from the corners of it.

“Oh baby girl is already gone is it? Are you drooling already baby? Is sir fucking you this good?” you managed to nod, your arms spread on top of the mattress, back arched. He grabbed you by your hair, pulling you close to his face. “Use your words, princess. Say it, I wanna hear it”

You tried to speak but it was all too much, the way he was fucking you, his hips pistoning in a delicious rythm, never haulting, his dick spreading you open and rearanging your insides, his grip on your hair, his hot breath on your face. You were overwhelmed. Nothing came out of your mouth besides babbles and moans and whines. You were a mess underneath him, and you were loving every second of it.

“Oh poor baby can't speak” he laughed, releasing his grip in your hair, making you fall back in the bed. “Only I can fuck you this good, right? Only I can make you a mess, right?” you nodded. “You're mine, yn, only mine now”

“Y-yours” you managed to stutter, voice hoarse. 

Both of you felt your pussy walls starting to clench violently around him and, with a high and loud moan, you came, back arching from the bed, fingers gripping the bed sheets like a vice. But Seonghwa didn't stopped, no, it only fuelled him to fuck you more and harder, his stamina shocking you. 

The man grabbed both of your legs and brought to his chest, the new angle making you jolt out of overstimulation, the sensitivity in your pussy making everything seemed much more. He kept his relentless assault on your pussy, his hips never halting, his pace fast, strong, deep. You weren't even there anymore, your head clouded and fuzzy. Blank. 

“Shit you take me so well, princess” he moaned as he increased his pace, his thrusts now shallower. “I might get addicted to your pussy” you only moaned, body limp on the bed, you were completely given to him and the pleasure he was giving to you. “I'm close” he announced.

He let go of the hold on your legs, opening them again so he could play with your clit and you could cum again. With him. Both your moans grew louder, filling the room. You came for the third time, your juices making a wet sound as he kept fucking you through your high again. When you were on the edge of overstimulation he pulled out and started to stroke himself, coming all over your legs and stomach. 

Seonghwa left the room and went to the bathroom, coming back with a damp cloth to clean you up. He carefully grazed the piece of cloth over your body, not only cleaning his cum and yours but also a bit of your sweat, discarding it by the side after. 

He laid on the bed and pulled you to cuddle him, which you gladly accepted, body still limp and mind hazy. There was a moment of  comfortable silence as your breath came back to the normal state and the smell of sex dissipated from the air.

“Sorry if I was too rough on you” he broke the silence first, his hands caressing your hair gently.

“You were perfect” you admitted with a giggle. “Maybe I won't walk properly tomorrow but that's a detail” you both laughed. There was another moment of silence before you broke it. “So… everytime you feed from me I'll get horny?” he laughed again and kissed the top of your head.

“Probably. Like I said, for some people vampire's saliva can be aphrodisiac, and you, my dear, are one of these people”

“Well, if you fuck me like that everytime you feed from me I won't complain”.

“Well, if you let me fuck you like that everytime I feed from you, I think we have a deal” you turned your head up to look at him. “But from now on, you are only mine, got it?” you nodded.

“Yes, sir”. 

You push off the mirror and walk over to where he’s sprawled. Your sneaker nudges his ribcage just enough to make him roll his head toward you. Those dark eyes blink up, heavy-lidded with frustration.

“It’s been four hours,” you say. “Everyone else left two hours ago.”

“They’re not the ones who have to sell this.” He sits up, elbows on bent knees, fingers raking through damp hair. “The choreo for the rest of the song is fine. It’s this damn dance break. Every time we get to it, I look like I’m at a school dance trying not to get caught by chaperones.”

A laugh escapes you. “That’s oddly specific.”

“I stand by it.” His mouth quirks—that smile that’s undone you since the day you joined KQ’s dance team. “I don’t know how to…I mean, you’re you, and I’m supposed to just—”

He gestures vaguely at the space between your bodies.

“Pretend you want me?” you offer.

“That’s the problem.” His voice drops. The studio’s acoustics catch the words and throw them back, intimate and sharp. “I’m not pretending.”

You know what he means. You’ve felt it before during late-night rehearsals, when his hand lingers on your waist a beat too long. During music video shoots, when he catches your eye in the mirror and holds it while the choreographer barks counts. During countless industry parties where you orbit each other, never colliding.

“Then don’t pretend,” you hear yourself say.

Yunho rises. All six feet of him unfolds with the controlled grace that made him ATEEZ’s main dancer. Standing, he towers over you. You’ve always loved that—how someone so tall can move so fluidly, how he has to angle his head down to meet your gaze.

“Easy to say.” He’s close now. Close enough that you catch the clean scent of his deodorant under the sweat. “Harder to do when there’s a camera three inches from my face and I’m trying not to think about—”

He stops.

“About?”

“Don’t make me say it.”

“Yunho.” You step into his space. The tip of your sneaker touches his. “Say it.”

His jaw tightens. The muscle flexes under skin that’s flushed from exertion and frustration. “About doing it for real. Not for choreo. Not for the cameras.” His hand lifts, hovers near your hip. “We’ve been dancing around this for a year and a half, and now I have to roll my body against yours in front of everyone and act like it doesn’t make me lose my mind.”

The confession hangs between you. “Okay,” you say.

“Okay?”

“Okay, let’s stop pretending.” You reach up—way up, he’s so tall—and curl your fingers into the damp cotton of his shirt. “Run it again. The dance break. But don’t perform it. Do it.”

Something shifts behind his eyes. The frustration melts into an intensity that makes your stomach drop. He nods once.

You take your positions in the center of the room. The mirrors catch both of you from every angle—your shorter frame, his towering one. The fluorescent lights buzz overhead. Yunho pulls out his phone, queues the track to the dance break timestamp.

“Ready?”

“Are you?”

He thumbs the screen.

The music kicks in, a slow, grinding beat layered with synths that drip down the walls. This is the part where he’s supposed to stalk toward you like prey. In rehearsals, he’s been stiff. Mechanical. Counting steps in his head.

Now he moves. His body rolls forward with a languid confidence that wasn’t there thirty minutes ago. Each step is deliberate, a predator’s prowl. His shoulders drop, his hips loosen, and suddenly he’s not ATEEZ’s smiling, puppy-like Yunho. He’s someone else entirely.

Your cue arrives. You meet him halfway, your body slotting against his according to the choreography. Chest to chest, your back arching as his hand spans the small of it. The contact burns through your thin practice tank.

“Better?” Your voice comes out breathier than intended.

“Not done yet.” His free hand slides up your arm. Over your shoulder. Traces your collarbone with one fingertip. “There’s the dip.”

In the choreography, he’s supposed to bend you backward while his mouth hovers near your throat. The camera will be close-up, selling the tension.

He does it now. His palm is a furnace against your spine, lowering you until your hair brushes the floor. His face descends. His lips stop a millimeter from the pulse point beneath your jaw. His breath ghosts over your skin.

You make a sound. It’s small and involuntary and it makes his grip tighten.

“That’s the sound they wanted me to fake getting out of you,” he murmurs against your throat.

“Yunho.”

He pulls you upright. But his hands don’t leave your body. They slide to your hips, fingers pressing into the give of your flesh through your leggings. The choreography calls for him to walk you backward now. He does. Your back hits the mirror.

“The glass is cold,” you gasp.

He just hims, his forehead dropping to yours. The music’s still playing from his phone, tinny and distant, but neither of you are moving to its rhythm anymore. “Tell me to stop.”

“Do you want me to?”

“No.” The word comes out wrecked. “I want to know if you want me to.”

Instead of answering, you fist both hands in his shirt and yank. Your mouths collide. Teeth clack and noses bump before you find the right angle, and when you do, the noise Yunho makes is something between a groan and a growl.

His tongue swipes your bottom lip and you open immediately for him. The kiss deepens, wet and urgent, while his long fingers dig into your hips. He tastes faintly of the iced coffee he downed an hour ago. Bitter and sweet.

You hum and he swallows the sound with another kiss, pressing you harder into the mirror. It rattles. One of his thighs wedges between yours, and the pressure draws a moan from somewhere deep in your chest.

“That,” he breathes. “That’s what I need to hear when we do this for real.”

“Pervert.” But you’re smiling, and he’s smiling, and his hand is sliding from your hip to trace the waistband of your leggings.

“Can I?” His voice is serious now. The playfulness dialed back. He’s checking in, even with his body caging yours against the glass and his eyes so dark the pupils have nearly swallowed the iris.

“Yes,” you say. “Yes, Yunho, please—”

His fingers dip beneath the elastic. The first brush of his fingertips against your skin makes your hips jerk. He’s methodical about it—exploring the jut of your hipbone, the softness of your lower belly, the edge of the lace you wore under your practice clothes like some part of you knew tonight would end here.

“Pretty,” he murmurs, looking down and thumbing the fabric. “Were you hoping?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe.” He clicks his tongue. His fingers travel lower. “I like that.”

The first touch is light. Exploratory. He traces you through the damp lace and his breath hitches like he’s the one being undressed. His forehead falls to your shoulder.

“You’re already wet.”

“You’ve been grinding on me for hours.”

He huffs a laugh against your skin. Then his fingers push the lace aside and there’s nothing between his calloused fingertips and your heat now.

“Fuck,” he whispers.

His middle finger slides through your folds. It’s tentative at first—mapping you, learning the topography of your vulva. When it circles your clit, your head thunks back against the mirror.

“Feel good?”

“So good.”

He applies more pressure. Slow circles that make your thighs tremble on either side of his. His free hand braces against the mirror beside your head, caging you.

“Look at me,” he says.

You do. His face is flushed. A vein stands out in his neck. His lips are swollen from kissing, and he’s watching you with an intensity that makes your stomach clench.

“Want to see what I do to you,” he says. “Been wondering what you look like when someone’s making you feel good.”

“Yunho.”

“What do you need, baby? Tell me.”

Your hips roll against his hand. He takes the hint and slides one long finger inside you. Your inner muscles grip him immediately, and the sound you make echoes off the practice room walls.

He adds a second finger. Stretches you. Curls them forward until he finds a spot that makes your vision white out at the edges.

“Right fucking there, isn’t it?”

You can’t form words. Your nails dig into his shoulders, his shirt bunching under your grip. He works his fingers in and out, crooking them on each withdrawal, grinding the heel of his palm against your clit.

“The way you look right now…” he trails off, voice ragged.

“Shut up and kiss me.”

He does. The kiss is messier now, less coordinated, his tongue fucking into your mouth in the same rhythm as his fingers. Your orgasm builds at the base of your spine—a tightening, a coiling, something gathering strength.

“Close,” you gasp.

“Yeah?” He speeds up. The wet sounds of his fingers moving inside you fill the space between you, obscene and perfect. “Good. Want to feel it. Want you to come on my fingers before I even get you on my cock.”

The filthy words push you closer to the edge. Yunho, who trips over his own feet when he gets distracted, who once accidentally called a producer “mom,” who brings snacks to rehearsals for the whole crew—that Yunho is three fingers deep inside you and talking like he was born to undo you.

“Let go,” he says, lips brushing your ear. “I’ve got you. Come, baby, let me feel it.”

You shatter. The orgasm rolls through you in waves, each one punctuated by the continued thrust of his fingers, your inner walls pulse around them. A broken cry tears from your throat, and he swallows it in another kiss, gentler this time, guiding you through the aftershocks.

When you finally go limp against the mirror, he withdraws his fingers carefully. He brings them to his mouth and licks them clean while maintaining eye contact.

“Better than I imagined,” he says.

“You imagined?” Your panting and sweating, a blissed out expression on your face.

“Obsessively.” He drops his hand to your waist. “But I’m not done with you.” The words send a fresh surge of heat through your already-spent body.

He reads the response in your expression and smiles as his thumb traces your jaw. “You can say no. We can go get ramyeon and pretend this was practice stress and never talk about it. I’ll figure out the choreography some other way.”

“Or?”

“Or you can let me take you to that couch over there and give you a proper stress reliever.”

You push off the mirror. Your legs are still unsteady, but you walk toward the worn leather couch shoved against the far wall.

Yunho follows. His steps are unhurried, but there’s a coiled tension in his shoulders, a predator’s patience. He pulls his shirt over his head as he walks. The fabric drops somewhere behind him, forgotten.

You’ve seen him shirtless before. Costume changes backstage. Summer practices when the air conditioning failed. You’ve seen the lean planes of his chest, the subtle definition of his abdomen, the way his hip bones cut a V that disappears into his waistband.

You’ve never really been allowed to look. Now you stare. And he lets you, a flush creeping up his neck that betrays his bravado.

“Your turn,” he says when you reach the couch.

You strip your tank top off. The sports bra follows. His eyes drop to your chest, and his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “I’m really going to be useless in rehearsals now.”

You laugh as the backs of your knees hit the couch. You go down, and he follows, his long body covering yours. The leather sticks to your bare skin. He braces himself on his forearms, and for a moment he just looks at you—spread out beneath him, hair fanned on the cushion, chest heaving.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says simply. Like a fact. “I’ve wanted to say that for so long.”

“Yunho—”

“No, let me.” He dips his head to kiss the hollow of your throat. “Wanted to tell you for so long.” A kiss to your collarbone. “Wanted to make you feel so good.” A kiss to the swell of your breast. “That you’d never even look at another man again.”

His mouth closes over your nipple. The heat of it arcs through you like an electrical current. He suckles gently, then harder, teeth grazing the sensitive peak until you’re arching off the couch with a cry.

“So pretty,” he murmurs against your skin, closing his eyes.

He switches to the other breast, giving it the same attention while his hand works the waistband of your leggings down over your hips. You lift to help him, and the fabric slides away along with your underwear, leaving you bare beneath him.

He sits back on his heels to tug his own bottoms off. The sight of him kneeling between your spread thighs—his dark hair disheveled, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths, his hands pulling his boxers and sweatpants off with unsteady fingers—burns itself into your memory.

When his cock springs free, your mouth goes dry. He’s proportionate. Of course he is—he’s six feet of long limbs and elegant proportions, and his cock is no exception. Long and thick and already slick at the tip.

You reach for him, fingers wrapping around his length. He shudders, hips jerking forward involuntarily. His forehead drops to yours as he lines himself up, the broad head of his cock notching against your entrance. He’s so hard it must ache.

“Go slow,” you whisper. “You’re—”

“I know, baby. I will. I promise.”

The first inch steals your breath. He pushes in, pausing every time your muscles flutter around him. His jaw is clenched so tight the tendons stand out. Sweat beads at his temples.

“Tight,” he grinds out. “So fucking tight. You’re—God, I’m not going to last.”

“Don’t care. Just move.”

He does. A slow, deep thrust that seats him fully inside you. You both groan in unison—a sound that harmonizes, that could almost be musical if it weren’t so wrecked.

“Look at you,” he breathes, pulling back to watch where your bodies join. “Look at how well you take me.”

His next thrust is harder. The couch creaks. Your hands fly to his back, nails raking lines down his shoulder blades that make him hiss.

“Yes,” he growls out, head tipped back.

He sets a rhythm—deep, driving strokes that hit somewhere devastating inside you. The angle has you seeing stars. His pubic bone grinds against your still-sensitive clit with every thrust, and you’re already building toward another peak.

“Yunho, I’m—”

“I know.” He presses closer, hooking one of your legs over his shoulder, and the new angle makes you cry out. “Feel you squeezing me. You’re going to come again, aren’t you? Going to come on my cock this time?”

“Please, please, please—”

He slams into you. Harder. Faster. The dirty talk falls away into wordless sounds—grunts and moans and the wet slap of flesh on flesh. Your leg slips down and hooks around his waist, heel digging into his lower back, pulling him deeper.

“Where?” he gasps. “Tell me where you want it.”

“Inside. Come inside me.”

He groans and buries his face in your neck. His hips lose their rhythm, stuttering into something frantic and desperate. You feel the exact moment he lets go—the hot pulse of his release flooding you, the guttural moan he spills against your skin, the way his whole body shudders like he’s been electrocuted.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” he grunts out. “God, baby, yes.”

The sensation tips you over the edge a second time. Your orgasm crashes through you, milking him, drawing every last drop from his trembling body.

For a long moment, neither of you move. He stays buried inside you, softening. His breath is hot and damp against your throat. Your fingers trace lazy patterns on his sweat-slicked back. 

“Well,” you finally say, voice hoarse. “That choreography’s not going to be a problem anymore.”

He laughs. The sound vibrates through his chest and into yours. “No. Definitely not.”

He lifts his head. His face is flushed, hair a disaster, lips kiss-bruised and swollen. He’s never looked more beautiful.

“Stay tonight,” he says. “My place. We can order food, watch something stupid, and I can do that again in an actual bed.”

“Very romantic.”

“I’m a romantic guy.” He grins, and there’s the Yunho you know—the sweet one, the genuine one, peeking through the man who just fucked you senseless on a practice room couch. “Also I want to wake up next to you.”

Warmth blooms in your chest. “Okay,” you say.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. But you’re buying the food.”

“Deal.” He kisses you. Soft and slow this time.

He pulls out gently, and the loss of him makes you wince. He notices and presses a kiss to your forehead before hunting for tissues to clean you up.

The aftercare is surprisingly tender for two people who just defiled company property. He wipes you down with care, murmuring praises the whole time. You’re so beautiful. You did so well. I can’t believe you’re real.

When you’re both dressed, wrinkled practice clothes and all, he takes your hand.

“Ready?”

“For ramyeon or for round two?”

He laughs. Pulls you toward the door. “Both. Definitely both.”

TAGLIST—

Umbra Xenobiology Solutions. A mouthful of a name plastered across a massive building on the edge of a sleepy college town. With its tall barbed-wire fences and small windows, the property gives off a prison-like atmosphere. Beneath the logo, a slogan glows in clean white letters: Research First. It was the first sentence on the website, in their brochures, and even in the billboard ads. A phrase polished, yet so secretive. 

For all their sleek professionalism, no one outside the walls actually knew what was being researched. The company released no public papers, no press statements, not even a single tour. Yet locals agreed on one thing: Umbra secured your future if they hired you.

You were no different from the thousands who applied the moment internships opened. You had the credentials. From glowing recommendation letters from professors who adored you, hundreds of volunteer hours logged and verified, fluency in sign language, and a double major. Psychology and speech pathology. A strange combination to some, but Umbra seemed to love it.

Two weeks after submitting your application, you learned why.

A lead executive assigned you to Project Fenrir, located on the fifth floor of the facility. The name alone conjured images of wolves; maybe it would be some behavioral study involving canines. You didn’t specialize in animal psychology, though you figured you could still be useful. Collect data and observe behavioral patterns. Nothing too complicated.

Then, after hours of legal paperwork to swear confidentiality, they handed you a stack of files.

Right there, printed in bold black ink on the top, was a species you had never seen in any textbook: Homo sapiens lycanthropus.

A lycanthrope, or more commonly known as a werewolf. 

A creature you had only ever encountered in folklore listed in a clinical font as if it were just another primate subspecies. Umbra had discovered them. Several, judging by the spreadsheet on page ten that listed more than a handful of subject numbers. All tucked away behind reinforced doors and layers of non-disclosure agreements.

Now you would work with one.

Today is more of the same. Half a leftover breakfast sandwich and straight black gas station coffee that had sat too long in the pot filled your stomach. You donned a soft, cozy sweater to keep you warm in the lab, paired with nice black dress slacks to keep it as professional as a college graduate can. The sound of your heels is the only noise in the long hallway after the first security clearance. Once past the second door, you’ll reach the offices. You barely spend time in your assigned cubicle. Usually emails in the morning, typing up all your session notes after lunch, and answering another round of emails that dropped in after observation hours. 

However, Doctor Richardson is a new addition to your routine today. 

He stands at your desk, in conversation with another associate. You don’t even know their name. Everyone here keeps to themselves, heads down, focused on work, trying to mind their own to stay off the board of director’s radar. The money Umbra paid for your silence could fulfill even the wildest of dreams, and only a fool would risk their job security.

If a company can buy your devotion, what can they do when you are a threat?

Probably a question you should have focused on instead of being lost in the daze of numbers on your first paycheck. 

You clear your throat as you close the remaining distance to your desk. “Good morning, doctor. Are you here for me?”

“Ah! Exactly the person I was waiting for.” He answers with a smile. “I was going to join you on your climb upstairs.” He supplies, tucking his hands into his long white lab coat. “If that’s not too much trouble?”

“No,” you answer, shaking your head lightly. “Let me put down my jacket, and we can go. I don’t want to keep you.”

“It’s appreciated.”

Even if Doctor Richardson is your supervisor, you don’t see him in person often. You met him once on your first day, then a handful of times throughout the months. Most of your interactions are his brief replies to your long emails. Though his showing up today causes your heart rate to spike. You approached the board of directors with a request, and perhaps they have reached a decision. Surely if it was a no, it would have been an email response. 

Quickly, you move around him. Jacket placed on the back of your chair, lunchbox placed momentarily on your desk as you reach for a slotted tote bag next to your computer. Inside are your notepads, pens, a folder of worksheets, and two children’s books. All materials issued by the facility are required to remain on the property. Even a single pen leaving with you will result in termination.

It takes a second to double-check all the supplies are still inside your bag. The lunchbox you brought slides in perfectly at the top. You offer a weak smile, slinging the straps of the bag onto your shoulder. “After you, doctor."

Doctor Richardson spins on his heel, leading the way to the ominous elevator sitting at the end of the maze of cubicles. You follow eagerly as if his own shadow and as silent as one, watching him tap his name badge against the reader. The two rows of buttons for each floor light up thanks to his expanded access. He presses on floor five, where your subject resides. It’s different when you use your badge; only one floor will be accessible. From eavesdropping, you learned that each floor is a designated project for the company. It helps with organization and keeps people’s clearance simple. 

The soft ding from the elevator announces your arrival on the floor. Doors open, and the environment differs from downstairs. Gone are the carpeted floors, the stationed cubicles, the vending machines, and the break room that make the workplace appear like any other office setting. Up here is more clinical. White hallways with harsh fluorescent lighting. Tiled floors that shine with pristine care. Which is expected for a facility that has experiments. 

Instead of a laboratory, there are rooms. No, isolation cells. There are eight on this floor. Every cell has large, wide one-way windows, revealing every single one houses a werewolf under Project Fenrir. You guys stop in front of the cell you spend most of your time in. 

Doctor Richardson finally expands on why he visited you in person today. “I just wanted to say the board thinks you’re doing wonderful with subject 325. As a result, we’ve permitted your request.”

Time stops for you. As his words take hold, your breath catches in your throat. The request was approved by the committee. It actually got approved. You asked for extended teaching sessions with the subject, stating the more comfortable he was, the more progress you could make with his lessons. 

Subject 325 responds well to you. The exact words Doctor Richardson used on multiple occasions. As much as that is true, the werewolf only prefers you because you don’t poke and prod him for bloodwork. Unlike the scientists, you don’t push him to his limit with strength and endurance tests. You don’t call him by his computer-generated subject number. 

No, you call him by his name, the one you worked with him to learn. 

“Now,” Richardson retrieved a small electronic card from his pocket. A special access name badge with a built-in keycard just for you. One to use whenever you want instead of being forced to request entry from security. He offers it to you, continuing to speak in a firm tone. “With this responsibility, you may extend your time with him only if he continues to improve. If he declines, we will revoke the card. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” You say, nodding while taking the card. “Thank you and the board for the consideration. I won’t disappoint you.”

“I’m glad to hear that. You have real potential here. Keep up that great work, and perhaps one day you can join those on the committee.”

Your gaze isn’t even on your supervisor anymore. It’s locked onto the windows of Chan’s so-called room. There is no way he can see you two, nor hear you, and he sure as hell shouldn’t be able to smell you with the level eight bulletproof glass separating you. He’s a specimen, kept from the elements and most contaminants. 

Regardless of what you know is impossible, Chan perks up from where he sits, gaze boring into the window where you stand. Despite the strong fluorescent lights, his eyes were wide, pupils expanded so much that only a small part of the brown was noticeable. He rises to his feet a second later, face full of confusion, glancing between the digital clock on the wall and back to the window. It’s too early for you to be here. You come around his scheduled lunchtime at noon. Currently, it’s only a little after nine. 

The werewolf hesitantly takes steps toward the window. It’s not the same movement as if he were sneaking up on prey; it’s more cautious. Maybe concerned that he won't find what he's looking for on the other side of the glass.

A speaker above you crackles with the sound of whining. Chan is growing distressed. The rise and fall of his chest is shallower than before as his breathing becomes quicker, not quite hyperventilating but close. Although the key card consists mostly of thin hard plastic, it feels heavy in your hand. You could go in there right now to confirm Chan’s suspicions. However, you remain rooted to your spot, observing the new behavior. 

Chan begins to pace. Bare feet padding to the door and back to the window. It’s frantic, reminiscent of how your dog circles back and forth from the front window to the door, excited that you’re finally home after a long day. 

It’s confirmed. 

He knows it’s you. 

Somehow he knows and is growing impatient. 

“Sir,” you say with a polite smile on your face. “I apologize for cutting this conversation short, but I’d like to get there and get started.”

“Oh, of course," he answers, giving one last glance at Chan. A hint of disgust crosses his features before he reins his true feelings back in. You don’t call him out; instead, let him say his parting words. “Keep in mind what we’ve discussed. If you have any concerns, please reach out to us.”

And then what? 

Your so-called ‘concerns’ go ignored again? You fought multiple times with the head of security over the forced sedation. Chan only reacts violently to the medication because he’s terrified. Then he wakes up with lost time and less trust. None of this helps his temperament. 

The real question is, how can you look at Chan and be proud of the work you do? Just because you don’t hurt him doesn’t mean you help him. You are an accomplice to everything that happens. Arguably, the worst person out of everyone because of your kindness. 

This is not a life here for Chan or any of the creatures stuck here. He’s a bug under a microscope of people who couldn’t care about his happiness. 

If anything, you can at least try to make Chan’s day better. 

With a swipe of the new card, the chamber door opens. Chan backs away out of precaution, in case it’s not you. It wouldn’t be the first time security has come in to collect him with tasers out, looking for any excuse for conflict. 

His lips curl up into a wide smile, a dimple popping up on one side of his cheek. The tense shoulders relax now that he knows it’s safe. Still, he doesn’t move until you step inside and the heavy metal door shuts and locks back into place. 

Chan is upon you a second later, arms wrapped tight around your body, burying his face into the crook of your neck. His cold nose presses against your skin as he inhales the scent there. A range of vanilla from the shampoo you use, the jasmine in the body wash, and white lily from a perfume paired with your own natural scent. Despite his human form, he holds onto a lot of canine traits. Scent is a primary one based on the research you read. It helps them hunt, sense danger, and find their way back to each other. 

For him, your combination melds together, reminding him of his freedom, of his home away from this awful place. Reminds him of simpler times of waking up to a sun cresting over the mountains as he lies in the grass. So you allow him to remain in your hold, seeking solace in the comfort your scent brings him. 

You force yourself to think of anything else, not wanting to cry about his captivity once more. Those moments are for when you can’t sleep at night as your moral compass haunts you. Not here when the werewolf in front of you needs a distraction. 

Rather than sitting in negative thoughts, you focus on Chan. He settled on a clump of white fur stuck in the fibers of your otherwise red sweater. A soft giggle slips through your lips. “Do you smell Henry? I swear I can’t get all the dog hair off.”

Chan pulls away without a response, moving to the table in the middle of the room. Two chairs sit on either side. It’s where most of the lessons take place. The blank paper and crayons are scattered on top. It appears he finally caved and started drawing since you left yesterday. 

You come closer, thanking him for the way he pulls out your chair like a gentleman, sitting you down for dinner. He moves around the table, plopping down in his own chair. With a blue crayon in hand, he writes in legible and precise handwriting that he’s practiced for hours with you on the top of a blank sheet: Why are you here so early? 

“I got some good news for us.” You reply while placing your tote bag at your feet. “I talked to some of the higher-ups, and they’re allowing me more time with you. You’ll be seeing me more.”

Chan smirks before jotting down another sentence: I’ll have to check my schedule.

“Don’t be a brat!” You say with playful anger. It’s nice seeing more of Chan’s personality shine through after all this time. Hopefully, this means he’ll be more receptive to your learning plan. “But this means I need you to try harder, okay?”

His smile falters. A loud sigh fills the room as he dramatically throws his head back. It’s understandable; he’s tired of the routine. Language lessons, speech therapy, and sign language practice. Day in and day out. He’s come so far, but not to Umbra’s standards yet. 

“Chan, I mean it.” You say, leaning forward to place your hand over his. “That's why they’re allowing it.” Your voice gets softer, pulling his attention back to you. “Plus, don’t you want to talk to me?”

He finds his crayon to scribble across the paper once more: I talk to you. 

“With your mouth, Chan. I know you have a beautiful voice. I want to hear it.”

A few specialists above you have examined Chan. His vocal cords are intact and developed. He can scream, hum, and groan just fine. There is no reason he shouldn’t be able to speak. At first, you assumed he didn’t want to. Umbra took him from his home, and now he is a prisoner. No one in his circumstances would want to chat. Selective mutism was another possibility. Being in a foreign place, he doesn’t feel safe. The anxiety or fear could be triggering him, resulting in him being unable to speak even if he’s comfortable with you. If that’s the case, then he may never find his voice. 

Part of you holds out hope it'll happen. 

For now, you will continue the lessons. The sign language is slow going, but Chan picks up unfamiliar words. He knows the main language the company uses and can transcribe it thanks to you. You have normal conversations every day with him as if he were a regular man at his age. 

He's not a fool, though. 

When interviewed or interrogated by board members, he will respond with simple answers. There is no elaborating. There is no communication about himself or others of his kind. Chan is protecting his species. He is well aware of what these humans want, and the last thing he’s going to do is endanger anyone else to these monsters. This protection extends to you as well. You are part of this company. Chan may have more trust in you than the rest of the humans, but he is aware of who you answer to. He shuts down the more you press to find out, building up those walls to keep himself secure. 

Though in times like today, you get brief glimpses when you peek through the cracks. Your eyes scan over the images Chan drew. There are eight wolves in total. Each with different fur colors and markings. Chan has mixed shades of crayons to differentiate them all. 

You pull the page closer to you. “I’ve never seen so many wolves together.” 

The page you hold has a thin, nimble, yellow wolf. He’s followed by an orange one that’s a tad larger. Then two brown wolves appear to be playing together. The only difference is that one has red spots along its fur. 

You move to the other page. Another yellow wolf that Chan clarifies is actually white. It’s playing with two grayish wolves, and finally, at the bottom is a large black wolf watching over the entire group. Chan extends his hand, pointing at the lone wolf and then to himself. 

“Oh?” You smile at him, understanding what he’s trying to communicate. “That’s you, isn’t it?”

Chan’s plush lips curl up in a smile as he nods. The mood in the room shifts a few seconds later; broad shoulders sink as his smile falls. Chan stares at the drawn wolves with a sense of longing. He lets out a shaky breath, focusing fully on himself to collect his bearings. 

Part of you wants to change the subject. Get his mind off ‌his loneliness. De-escalate his emotions to an easier topic. However, the looming presence of the company is so loud in the silent room. You have to push for the answers they want. If you don’t, Chan is going to lose the one thing he can take for granted will be for him in this hellscape. 

You lean over the drawing, fingers brushing along one of the smaller brown wolves. “Who is this? Are they part of your family?”

He ponders his answer, head tilting to the side. You watch silently as he draws lines to connect each of the wolves together but places a little ‘x’ on each of the lines. The very first symbol he learned is for no. The wolves are connected, just not as a family. 

You attempt to supply an answer. “Are they your pack? Is that it?”

Chan’s eyes light up at the word. He makes a fist with his hand, moving it up and down a couple of times: yes. 

The lump in your throat is hard to swallow. Your body is fighting to keep the words from leaving your lips. “Did you let yourself get caught so your pack would be safe?”

Chan’s expression shifts, lips turning down into a grimace, and nods. He’s so selfless, the more you think about it. The werewolf formed a pack and became a leader, losing everything to protect his own with no idea about their well-being. He sacrificed himself, and now he’s a lab rat being tested on.

“I’m sorry, Chan.” You reply, fighting to keep your voice stable. “I know it’s hard being here.”

Chan reaches for the crayons once more. His frame hunches over ‌his drawing. You sink back in your chair, observing the character he adds to his image. This time it’s a human, one with a red shirt and black pants, the very same colors you currently are wearing, placed right next to his wolf. He circles them with a green circle and then draws an arrow from his feet towards the edge of the sheet. Once Chan finishes, he sits back, eyes on you. 

“You want me to take you somewhere?” You ask curiously. Chan’s arm raises, and he points towards the door. In response, you attempt again to say what he wants so that you understand. “You want me to take you out of the room?”

Chan lets out a moan and gestures toward the door once more, with more aggression. Then it all clicks together. Freedom. Pain blossoms in your heart like a bruise. He wants his freedom. Your voice comes out softer. The cameras recording are going to pick it up regardless, but still you try. “You want me to take you away from here?”

The werewolf nods. He places his dominant hand against the center of his chest and rubs in a circular motion to sign a word: Please. 

“Chan, I can’t. They’ll hurt you and then hurt me if I try.” You sigh as you respond. As though a strongman showing off his muscles, Chan lifts his arms in a flex. He follows it up with chomping his teeth. It’s not enough. You give a headshake. “Honey, you're weaker in this form. The security has padding and weapons.” 

The sound of a shutter door opening and closing provides a perfect segue for the conversation to shift. “Here, let’s change the subject and have lunch. You’re hungry, right? I’ll grab your food.”

Chan exhales in a huff, offended that you would offer to get the tray. He stands while placing a firm hand on your shoulder to push you back down into your chair. The look of disbelief remains on his face as he crosses the room to where a deposit box sits for his cell. 

You roll your eyes when he's not looking. He often refuses to let you help him. For his species, many of them are hyper-independent. Typically, the pack will hunt separately, but the alpha will drag food back for those who are ill or too old to fend for themselves. Even if he doesn’t hunt anymore, the collection of the tray is still his responsibility. 

He joins you once more, eager to see what the staff has given him. When in human form, werewolves can adopt an omnivore diet. However, in order to keep their strength, higher protein levels must be maintained. If the company does nothing else right, Umbra recognizes and accepts that.

Chan is giddy when seeing the slab of cooked meat when lifting the metal cloche, keeping the food warm. He’s less interested in the steamed carrots and boxed juice. Still, you encourage him. “There’s a new juice to try. It's a mixed berry.”

Immediately, he places the juice next to you, a scowl etched on his face. You giggle in response before placing it back on his tray. “Hey now, it doesn’t necessarily mean there are blueberries in there.”

His upper lip curls up in a snarl. There is no aggression against it, only playful banter. It keeps your heart warm as you retrieve your own lunch. On occasion, Chan will be curious about the food you bring. He mostly critiques that you don’t have enough meat and says there should be far fewer plants. Despite hating most of your diet, he gets excited on days you bring in something new he hasn’t heard of. His personal favorites so far are fresh strawberries and the chocolate pudding cups you occasionally bring. 

“Today is a special day for us. It's been a year since I’ve met you, so I brought you something.” You say with a soft smile. Chan’s head lifts when you open the plastic container. There’s an unfamiliar smell for him. His nose crinkles ‌curiously as he sniffs the air. “We call it pineapple. I don’t know if you’ll like it. The fruit grows with a tough skin, and this yellow part is acidic. It’s how the fruit protects itself.”

Cautiously, Chan reaches for a piece to plop in his mouth when the container is offered. He chews for a second before his eyes go wide and his face lights up. Both hands rise up immediately, fingers opening and closing repeatedly to demand more of the pineapple.

You giggle, handing the fruit over to him. “I knew you’d like it. Have all of it.”

Chan accepts the fruit with a content hum to himself. The smile stays glued onto your face to where your cheeks hurt. He’s come so far with his temperament. When you first worked with Chan, he refused to acknowledge your presence. You were beneath him, not worth his time. He wouldn’t even glance over when you sat at the table in the center of the room. Every day you state why you were there in a calm voice and wait for the allotted session time to end. Nearly two agonizingly long weeks of the same thing passed until Chan realized you weren’t going anywhere. 

The first time he sat across from you, his demeanor was the opposite of today. His eye contact burned through you with the heat of the sun to intimidate you. The broad frame sat like a rock with how tense he was. He waited, almost ready to pounce, listening to you explain why you were here. Even after that, he still wouldn’t move or react, assuming some sort of trick was being played. Everyone else here hurt him, so he assumed it was only a matter of time until you would. 

The door to the isolation room opening pulls you from your memories. Chan is already on his feet before anyone steps in. He places himself between the door and your sitting frame, creating a wall of protection. The behavior is instinctual. He's ensuring that the food you hunted, or in this case brought, isn't taken away from you. A low growl from him fills the room as four security guards walk in. 

The electrical hum of tasers being turned on causes you to shoot out of your seat, knocking the chair over. Your voice rises with the anger coursing through you at the immediate hostility. “We’re having lunch!”

“It’ll have to wait," one man answers. “325 is needed upstairs.”

When you attempt to pass Chan to defend him, he simply pushes you back with brief acknowledgment. Dread quickly fills you when the group of men comes closer. This isn’t going to end well. Your voice becomes desperate when you speak. “He fights because you use aggression! He’ll behave if you ask him!”

“We’ll take it up with Richardson.”

It’s hard to tell who strikes first. The room erupts in a fit of screaming. Chan manages to tackle one guard despite two tasers connecting with his skin. Another hooks his arm around Chan’s neck to cut off his air supply, forcing him to let go so he can claw at the padded forearm. 

“Chan, don’t fight!” You cry out, tears running down your cheeks, hearing his choking gasps. “Don’t hurt him! Please!”

It takes all four men to subdue Chan. At some point in the scuffle, one of the security guards pulled out an emergency tranquilizer. He sticks Chan right in the meaty part of his biceps. The werewolf immediately settles in their hold, growing weak. His eyes roll back into his head, his body becoming limp and easier for the men to manhandle. 

The group exits with the werewolf in tow, leaving the cell quiet minus your panicked breathing. Today is a breaking point. Umbra isn’t doing anything for the sake of science here. Chan doesn’t deserve this. You need to get him out of here. Even if it’s the last thing you do. 

The plan for Chan's escape took months to come to fruition. Initially, the idea of breaking him out seemed impossible. Doors with double key card access, security cameras and alarms, and an imposing 8-foot perimeter fence topped with extensive barbed wire. 

What if you could walk him out?

The longer you observed how the company operated, the more you noticed little cracks in the framework. Associates finished mundane tasks haphazardly. Because of time restraints and security's laziness, some records are forged. Everyone was comfortable in their position. As long as the board of operatives received the requested results, no one batted an eye. 

No one would watch a new intern who already proved their compliance. 

Especially on a government holiday that most of the staff took off, minus a handful of security. Two in particular that you spent the last week flirting with guard the entrance you wanted to use. You also learned that security has clearance to open all cells to help staff. There would be no need to use your keycard left at your desk. These two guards would also be the only ones at this end of the building. It would be a shame if you slipped sedatives into the break room coffee and offered them both a cup while batting your eyelashes. 

Not even two minutes after consuming the tainted coffee, both men dropped like sacks of potatoes, feet crumbling underneath them. You didn’t hesitate, reaching for both key cards clipped to their belts. The plan was proceeding as intended. You left the break room straight to the elevator up. All the motions were a blur until the doors chimed on your arrival on the fifth floor.   

Even if it was the same floor you knew, it was darker this time around. Not all the artificial lights were in use, and the lack of workers left the silence deafening. Your feet barely connected with the floor, the balls of your feet only touching long enough to propel you down the hallway quickly. As you arrive at Chan’s chamber, that's when the rush of the entire plan finally courses through your body. Shaky fingers of yours fumble to grip the key card correctly. The red error light only stirs agitation in you. You don’t have room for mistakes. It's impossible to know how long the security guards will remain unconscious. The longer this process takes, the higher the chance of others catching wind. 

You take a deep breath before sliding the keycard once more. This time, you successfully opened the door. An automated message plays, the very one heard a million times, telling everyone to stand clear. You don’t wait long, forcing yourself to prop against the doorjamb where the sensor will recognize a human is blocking it and refuse to close.   

Chan is in a corner of his room, finishing a set of pushups. He rises to his feet, face contorting into a look of surprise at seeing you. He’s shirtless, with the pajama pants issued to him hanging low on his hips. His skin was flushed red from his ears to his hips. Sweat dripped from his messy curls on his head. Veins in his arms are more pronounced thanks to his ongoing workout that you interrupted.  

He’s a carved god. 

He’s beautiful. 

Your breath hitches the longer you take him in. Some sort of feeling twists in the pit of your gut. A foreign feeling that may not be nerves; rather, it’s some attraction you still battle with to keep your relationship professional. You mentally fight to shut down any distracting feelings. That’s not why you are here. You need to pull it together and get him out of here. 

You force yourself to speak. “Come on. Let’s go.”

The werewolf’s feet remain glued to the floor. He lets out a chirp while scanning the wall clock before returning his gaze to you. With a raised eyebrow, he seemed to ask why you were here. It’s late, he’s already had dinner, and no tests run into the evening. 

“Chan,” you say firmly. “We don’t have time. Come with me.”

His head shakes, feet shuffling backwards, further into his room, until the backs of his calves knock into the base of his bed. A small noise of distress leaves him. He knows to be suspicious. This could be a trap, another test to check how obedient he is. 

“Please, Chan. You wanted out, right?”

He clenches both hands into fists, extending his index fingers. One digit strikes the other, signing a word: Can’t. 

“Yes, you can," you plead, trying to keep your frustration in check. He’s scared. Of course, he’s scared. You told him what would happen if he tried to leave. Still, you insist. “We must leave now. We won't get another chance."

He never sees you acting aggressively or in distress. When he struggles with every aspect of his daily lessons, you have never yelled at him or shown your annoyance. Here you are now, acting in a way that is unfamiliar to him. Another high-pitched, panic-tinged whine emerges from the back of his throat. It’s a wretched noise you wish never to hear again. 

He wants to trust his favorite human. 

God, he wants to. 

Yet, he doesn’t move. 

An automated voice comes from above you. “Please keep all cell doors clear.”

You can’t hold the door open for much longer. The defense system is seconds away from kicking in. Not only will cell doors shut, but all hallways will lock regardless of security clearance. Then you two will be trapped, and the security guards in the next tower will receive an alert. 

“Chan, come on.” You say while maintaining eye contact with him. There’s no telling what the company will do, and you don’t want to find out. The words you speak are more honest than they’ve ever been. “If we don’t go now, they’ll kill both of us.” 

The threat to your safety gets him moving. He quickly shuffles his bare feet on the tile. You extend your hand with a smile. “Yes! Good boy. A few more steps.”

His large palm is warm in yours. Your grip tightens as you turn on your heel to drag him along to the elevator. Even though you may use this hallway almost daily, the same few steps seem three times as long tonight. Chan continues to follow closely behind you, whining every few breaths. You want to comfort him, offer words of reassurance, or do anything to keep him quiet as you focus on getting him outside.  

On the ground floor, you are not greeted by either security guard. It’s a clear shot out of the building now. You tap both keycards on the sensor; a green light flashes, and the sound of the door unlocking rewards you. Chan finally realizes his freedom is achievable. The large, clear doors reveal the setting sun lowering behind the woods surrounding the building. He picks up speed, dragging you along to the last door. His whines shift into small, nervous hums as he waits for you with the cards. His eyes are wide, desperate that this isn’t some sick joke. The rise and fall of his chest quickens as you tap the last sensor. 

One door automatically opens. You drop the keycards at your feet and lead the werewolf through the threshold. The outside world is beautifully quiet. No cars on the interstate running parallel to the building. No birds chirping or annoying chittering insects. If anyone stepped out, all they would hear would be the two heartbeats pounding rabidly from the adrenaline of possibly being caught and the thrill of a successful escape. 

Now you have to create distance. 

Even if Chan could run free, far from this place, he stays in pace with you despite being barefoot. In no time are you two panting from exertion, and still you run deeper and deeper into the woods, determined to leave the facility until it’s nothing more than a tucked-away memory. 

Temporary safety is a crumbling cabin four miles south of the lab. The heat of the sun has long set below the horizon, plummeting temperatures low enough to make the tips of your ears hurt. Moonlight shines brightly through the breaks in the leaves, illuminating parts of the forest floor. 

The second part to secure Chan’s release happens now. You would wait here, collect your breath for a few minutes, and then head to the back where you stored a vehicle. Then you would be on the road, creating a larger gap and hopefully a trail the company will struggle to track. 

You scoped this location out weeks ago thanks to an aerial view you searched on an online map database. Storing the car was even easier. Whoever owned the property clearly considered the small buildings condemned and let time hopefully bring them to the ground instead of wasting resources. It was perfect. 

The inside of the cabin is dark. A few pieces of furniture long forgotten litter around the one-room cabin. You left a small battery-operated lantern when you brought the car. However, the light it throws falls short of any actual distance. It doesn’t matter; you don’t need it for long. Just until the cramp in your side goes away.

Chan hasn’t made much noise since entering the forest. He kept his head low, not even signing a response when you asked about his feet hiking in the woods. He used to tell passionate stories of running with his pack back home. No one was faster than him. His body could handle any terrain. Despite knowing all of that, you asked to be polite. A test to see where he is emotionally about being free. You expected excitement or a sense of drive to leave you behind to start a long journey home, even if he didn’t know where to start. There’s neither, just blind following as if he were a lost puppy. 

“We won’t be here long, okay?” You say more to yourself. 

Chan still doesn’t acknowledge you. He leans against one wall, eyes still trained on the ground. It could be in shock the more you think about it. A fight-or-flight response that is tied to his survival mode. It’ll have to run its course through his body. Once on the road, he can get some sleep, and that’ll help him relax. 

You kick off your shoes with a huff. Unlike Chan, the soles of your feet ache. All that time planning Chan’s freedom, and you forgot the one key detail of putting on a pair of athletic shoes that could withstand the hike. Tomorrow there will be several large blisters. Future you can worry about it later. 

A painful cry comes from behind you. You spin on your heel to see Chan slightly bent over, both arms wrapped around his middle. His jaw is clenched with a pained groan filling the room. Whatever is troubling him is getting worse. 

“Channie,” you ask, rushing over to him. “Are you okay?” 

A snarl slips past his lips as he finally meets your eyes. The angry gaze halts you just shy of touching him. His pupils shrink and expand repeatedly as if unable to adjust to the low light from the lantern. He’s begun to pant as fresh perspiration covers his forehead. 

“What is it? How can I help?”

Chan shakes his head, violently conveying a no. He doesn’t want help? You can’t help? Is it an effect of a test today out of anyone’s control? Maybe he needs to rest, sit, and let whatever is happening pass. 

His skin burns under your palm when you try to offer reassurance. Words don’t leave your lips, trapped in your throat at the sudden shove from Chan. The force he used is stronger than you expected, resulting in you landing on your ass across the room. He now has full-body trembles as his brown eyes frantically scan the room. You don’t need your ‌years of studying to recognize his behavior. He’s looking for an out, a way to get space away from you. Something is wrong. Very wrong.

Then, like a lightbulb turning on above your head, it all connects. 

He’s shifting. 

A full-body shift? 

That only means one thing. 

Your eyes land on your smartwatch as you bring your arm closer. Fingers tremble opening the calendar. Right there on tonight’s date confirms your worst fear. It has one added icon: a full moon.

No. No. No. 

You broke Chan out on a full moon. 

His hesitation back at the lab makes sense now. 

Chan wasn’t afraid of leaving. 

He was afraid of shifting while near you.

Chan’s noises become more distressed as he kneels. Howls of pain bounce off the walls of the small cabin as each of his limbs twists at unnatural angles. Bones snap loud as thunder, shifting under the skin to extend. Patches of black fur push through the layers of skin, slowly expanding to cover his body. Long, sharp, black nails extend out of his hands, forming claws that dig into the wood, easily scraping through the material as if tearing through a ripe peach. 

You watch in horror, paralyzed by the way his teeth extend into fully elongated canines. The familiar face shifts next, contorting as his snout extends and ears on the top of his head form. It takes nearly two minutes for the full transformation to occur. One you have only seen pictures of until now. Senior staff were the only ones permitted to observe full transformations behind several walls of glass to be safe. 

Plumes of air rise in the cold temperature around his mouth as he pants like a dog. His fully formed tail lightly sways behind him while the werewolf is taking stock of his being. Golden eyes scan the room before settling on your quivering body. 

“Chan?” You ask, voice timid. 

His head tilts to the side. Recognition, you hope. The stack of files never mentioned coherency during shifts. Chan wasn’t part of that study. He could be in this beast form and aware of you in front of him. Or, maybe he’s tucked far away, as the animal has its own independence. Regardless, this is a dangerous situation. One that you must tread carefully. 

The werewolf takes a step. Then another, slowly crawling to close the distance between the two of you. Your eyes focus on the floor, avoiding direct eye contact. Thoughts race in your head as you try to remember more of the information you consumed in his file. Werewolves share mannerisms with other species of canines. It could help you now. Avoiding eye contact is the first big tip you learned. Some species interpret direct eye contact as a threat or an initiation to challenge them.  

Warm breath fans over the crown of your head when Chan stops in front of you. His claws rest on either side of your thighs. Up close, you notice the way his onyx nails start deep in the nail beds, extending nearly two inches where the tips of his fingers once were. Your stomach sinks at the thought of damage he could do. 

Play this safe, you tell yourself. 

Slowly, you tilt your head to the side to expose more of your neck. Sweat from the journey clings to your skin, dotted right along your collarbone despite the cooler weather. Chan should be able to smell your natural body odor. Several breeds of canines can tell pack mates from their scent. Werewolves are similar in that regard as well. 

You gasp lightly at the faint brush of his nose in the crook of your neck. As motionless as a statue, you let him breathe you in for as long as he wants. Your daily ritual, he remembers. He should know it's you even if the wolf is in control. He’s spent the most time ‌with you out of everyone on the project. 

A surprise headbutt against your chest sends you falling backwards. Your head connects with the harsh wood, sending a sharp pain through the back of your skull down to your spine. The werewolf yips a playful sound with another head tilt. To his credit, you could argue he’s trying to play with you. 

Chan’s right hand presses down on your stomach before you can sit back up. The jutting claws dig through the thin shirt straight into your skin, just enough to be a warning. Stay where you are. Because if you don’t, a bit more pressure and your skin will tear as if it were paper.

In the next second, you cry out at the harsh tug on your waistband. The fabric of your jeans and underwear rips cleanly down. Out of reflex, your legs try to close at the first instance of cold air against your skin. Except Chan is quicker, using his wide chest to keep your most intimate area exposed to him. 

“Chan, what…?” Your words trail off. With gentle, controlled hands, your fingers wrap around his forearm. The fur here is coarse and thin compared to the rest of his body. His eyes connect with yours. It’s a hungry gaze. Confirmed by the way drool drips from his teeth. You may as well be a steak in front of him. There’s nothing but fear in your soft voice. “What are you doing?”

The ears on his head twitch; he’s heard you but doesn’t care as his snout slowly dips to prod at your pubic bone, not bothered by the small patch of hair there. Instead, he’s fascinated. Female werewolves have scent glands around their genitals. It’s where Chan knows pheromones should be when with a mate. 

Your breath catches at the sound of his curious sniffing traveling south. His cold, wet nose is jarring against your warm, flushed skin. This isn’t right; you need to stop this and need to get away. This entire night was a mistake. You should have waited for a different opportunity to break him out. 

The press of his rough tongue against your folds pulls you out of your thoughts. He’s tentative at first, lightly prodding, as if he’s testing the waters. However, despite how much you plead for your body to not react, a wetness forms from the stimulation. Chan gives a pleased hum of approval when tasting you. The hand on your stomach untangles from your grip with ease, moving down to your thigh, holding the squirming limb in place. His other hand mirrors, leaving your lower half pinned to the cabin floor. The supernatural strength keeps you from struggling and leaves him the perfect opportunity to shift his stance. He sinks lower between your thighs, nose pressed right against your clit, and tongue picking up speed the longer it swipes between your folds right across your hole, still determined to get more of you.

“Oh—Wait,” you whine, eyes wrenched shut, mind racing, thinking of anything to stop the growing arousal. “Ch—Chan, you can’t.”

The werewolf’s nose continues to grind against your sensitive clit with every swipe of his tongue, applying just enough pressure to aid the growing heat in your core. Your body tenses; the rush of pleasure is inevitable. This creature between your thighs is going to make you come, and time is running out to stop him. 

All you have to do is get him away for half a second. That’s all you would need for the rush to die out. Your shaky fingers reach between your legs to tangle in the soft fur on the crown of his head, right between his ears, and in one last attempt to push him away, you shove with all your might. 

Chan barely moves, unbothered by your effort, too hyper-focused on your taste. The sides of the invasive tongue slightly curl in on itself for easier access to dip deep inside your hole, the tip chasing the new wave of wetness that’s forming along your walls. Never in your life have you felt a sensation like this. It’s mind-melting, addictively intoxicating enough to neutralize any self-preservation as your orgasm overwhelms you. 

“Fuck,” you whine out, ‌trying to arch off the floor while you continue to battle your body over how euphoric this creature’s tongue feels. 

Much to your relief, Chan pulls away completely, head bowing to look between his thighs. While he’s distracted, you use the opportunity to sit up slowly, using the palms of your hands as leverage to scoot away and create distance. Unease creeps under your skin. Even in the pale light of the room, you can see what he’s staring at. 

His cock rests heavy between his legs, fully erect with more length and girth than any human man. Hell, it's bigger than most sex toys you have seen. The lump in your throat is hard to swallow the longer you look. Gears shift in your head. Chan is young for his kind, not even fully mature yet, meaning he’s yet to mate because of his captivity. 

Your heartbeat pounds in your ears at the thought. He’s expected to go through a werewolf puberty phase. A natural progression to be driven to breed with one of his kind. "Rut" is the word that the scientists have used. Stabilizers typically keep his hormones in check, though there are limits to how much he can take to avoid impeding his development. And judging by how his body is reacting, the doctors didn’t give Chan his medication this month.

Now here he is, a dilemma on his hands, and a body demanding he react. 

Chan’s gaze comes back to you, and with his heightened senses, his nostrils flare, taking in the smell of your arousal that’s still permeating the air in the space between you. 

It’s now or never. You need to get away from him. Tonight escalated far worse than it should have. Running away may be a death sentence, but you have to try even if it’s futile. 

At a snail’s pace, you rise to get on your feet. Chan mirrors, standing up straight on his rear legs. He is a bipedal werewolf. One that’s taller than you expect; the tips of his ears nearly brush against the ceiling of the room. The longer you take him in, the more you realize how tiny you are. You are no match for him; you barely come up to the middle of his broad chest. The width of his shoulders takes up an entire doorframe. If you let him catch you, there is no escaping. You push the thoughts away as you turn on your heel to face the exit of the room. 

One of Chan’s growls comes out. It’s low, rumbling deep in his chest, and reminds you of an irate dog giving one last warning before an attack. It stops you in your tracks, giving you time to recognize your error. 

He’s an apex predator. 

You have turned your back on him and not submitted yourself to him. 

It’s a challenge against him. 

You don’t wait any longer, pushing off the tips of your toes, bolting to cross the room, to the one door that could separate you from the werewolf. 

Half a second later, Chan crashes into your body with the force of a freight train, knocking all the air out of your lungs and successfully stunning you for a second. Adrenaline courses through your veins, keeping the fight inside you alive, burning like a raging wildfire. Your frame twists away from the snapping jaws in an attempt to get anywhere from his grasp. Though his sharp talon nails manage to hook into the thin material of your shirt, tearing it to mere strips of fabric as he scrambles to keep his hold on you. 

With all the strength you can manage, you push off the ground, trying to get your feet under you once more to get to that sweet safety that’s a few steps away. Chan is miles faster, using only a hand to swipe at your unsteady legs, sending you back to the floor in a pile of limbs. 

Before you can even acknowledge the pain from the fall, two burly, fur-covered forearms come into view, trapping you under his body. Chan, as a human, was already muscular from his daily exercise to pass his time. Now, in his true form, the extremities have far more mass and more definition. Truly a cage to keep you from escaping. 

You whimper in response to the sound of Chan snapping his jaw by your ear. It’s a polar opposite of the sweet man you know. He’s not the same soft guy who blushes when you bring him new food to eat or the one who gets dramatic when you start his daily lessons. He’s a complete stranger, a different being. 

This is a monster. 

Yes, you knew this side of him existed; it was inevitable he would shift, but he was going to be released before he needed to.

Chan’s sharp teeth are too close for comfort as he growls above you. Your eyes wrench shut, too scared to look at him, too scared of the bite that could occur. It wouldn’t kill you nor infect you; it’s the pain that terrifies you. 

Instead of the impending doom, you flinch reflexively as drool drips down onto your bare back as he assesses you under him. You are no wolf. However, he’s coherent and smart enough to know you are a human with a hole he can use. Your teeth sink deep into your tongue to fight the noise of distress trying to escape you at the sudden tug at the waistband of what remains of your jeans. Same as before, the rest of the denim shreds as effortlessly as before, leaving you completely bare under him. 

“Chan, please.” You beg again, trying to reach for the human part of him that is still in there. Your anguished voice is unrecognizable even to yourself. “Don’t do this. It doesn’t have to go further.”

If the werewolf understands your words, he doesn’t appear to care. Too busy scraping one of his claws repeatedly along the soft flesh of your hip, attempting to force you onto your hands and knees. The searing burn of the scratches is enough to make you comply. 

His knees slip between your legs, spreading you wider to accommodate his massive thighs. Anticipation of what is coming next causes your whole body to tremble under him. If your heart hammers any faster in your chest cavity, it may explode. Silently you pray it happens to escape this fate. 

Chan’s hips shift to angle his cock against you. Your breath catches at his first attempt to push inside. He really is going to try to bully his cock inside you. There is no physical way. You aren’t even prepared for a regular cock. 

“Chan, wait. You can’t…” Your words trail off, too distracted by the way the tip of his cock slips from the wetness, now nudging against your clit each time he thrusts forward. You can feel every ridge of the thick veins running along the length as he continues to rub so intimately against your folds, searching blindly for the hole he’s desperate to bury himself into. 

His noises of complaint fill the room with his growing frustration. It’s not right. He knows he needs to be inside. Though with his size he will rip you open. He could do irreparable damage. 

One of his hands moves to curl under you. The expanse of the wide claw covers your entire stomach as he brings you flush against his body. With a few more awkward shifts from his hips, the hot, angry tip of his cock finds home in the entrance he’s looking for.

“Ah, fuck.” You cry out as the girth of his cock forces your walls to accommodate around him. Your voice grows more wretched. “Channie, please!”

Thank goodness for the patience Chan suddenly found. Perhaps the beast understands the noises of discomfort slipping past your lips. Even though he doesn’t stop the whole ordeal, he waits to press another inch deeper inside only after your helpless noises quiet down. 

The following thrusts are timid initially. He drives his cock gently from the tip to the length he’s managed to sink into you. Each minute creeping by feels like hours, a never-ending cycle of moments that ignite the arousal in your core to the fear of another inch being pressed inside. 

When Chan makes the mistake of pulling out too far, you take the opportunity to attempt shifting your legs to sit down on your ass. It’s futile. Blocked not only by his thighs but also by the claw still resting against your stomach. The hold tightens, not allowing you to squirm away. He merely shifts you back where he wants you, cock easily pressing inside; this time he ruts quicker and quicker as his patience grows thin. 

Your breath catches as the sharp prick of teeth sinks into the back of your neck. Chan is unaffected by the hair in the way, only focusing on keeping his grip tight. Not enough to pierce through the soft skin. More globs of thick saliva drip from his mouth, caking into your hair and sliding down your neck. A low, tamer grumble follows, another warning, and another familiar trait among the wolves. 

Chan is scruffing you. 

Most of the time, a mother animal will scruff their young to carry or move them. It’s different with werewolves. This is a sign of dominance. A command for you to freeze and not move till he’s done. There are even studies at the facility showing mated pairs may scuff each other to calm their partners through distress. This instance is a mix of the two, especially with the warning noise he delivered. The last thing Chan wants right now is you moving away from his increasingly aggressive thrusts. He doesn’t understand it hurts, doesn’t understand how big he is for your human form. All he sees is more disobedience, and he won’t tolerate it. Not when he’s in control and not during the confusion of his rut. He knows he must breed, and you will accept it. 

Perhaps the werewolf is right.

The less you fight, the quicker he finishes, and the faster this whole affair will end. 

Chan’s thrusts are consistent thanks to the lack of your interference. Your pussy accepts his thick cock greedily, sheathing around him again. All of your attention is on the floorboards below you as you try your best to release the tension in your body. Accept him and his cock. That’s all you need to do right now. 

Just when you think you can handle the events of tonight, an additional issue arises. 

Chan’s cock appears to be growing at the base. 

No, bulging the more you focus. 

The last part of the mating process. 

Your human biology was never intended to accommodate a physical knot that werewolves have. Still, it doesn’t deter Chan from shoving as much of the bulging gland as he can into you. You cry out, feeling impossibly full, the tip of his cock pressing right against your cervix. No matter how you shift or squirm, there’s no way to dislodge yourself until the swelling goes down. Mercifully, the thrusts have stopped. Instead, Chan now grinds against you, giving himself just enough stimulation to reach his high. 

It’s a flood. No, more of a tsunami as warm seed erupts from his cock, adding to the uncomfortable pressure. You bring a hand to your lower stomach, moving his claw, now feeling where your body extends as more cum seeps inside of you. It’s dizzying and never-ending as his cock continues to pulsate inside of you. 

You sink to the floor, defeated and accepting your fate. You won’t be able to move for a while. Werewolves can stay locked together for hours to ensure the seed takes. Those in their rut can take even longer since their bodies aren’t used to mating. Chan is working on pure instinct with his muddy, hormone-fueled brain. He won’t understand he can’t get you pregnant. 

Speaking of said werewolf, he shifts his face, releasing his hold on your neck to drag his tongue against the planes of your sweaty back. Another recognizable behavior: He’s grooming you, showing you affection for the successful coital tie. 

The worst is over. 

By some miracle, you endured. 

Judging by the chime of your watch, it takes nearly an hour for the swelling to go down enough to unlock. You know, by the way your pussy begins leaking sperm around his softening cock. It’s a welcome relief.  

Chan doesn’t stop you from dislodging yourself away from his cock or when crawling out from underneath him. All of your movements are slow and cautious to not rile the werewolf, but accepting the adrenaline rush is long gone. The fatigue is settling into every muscle in your body.

You shift to sit on your ass a few feet shy of the beast. There's no care for your nudity, nor the filth of time caked onto the floorboards you rest on, and not even the mess still leaking between your thighs. All you want is to settle your racing heart. 

However, Chan’s rut continues to rage on. 

His snout presses against the wood flooring, right into the expanding trail of fluids, and he growls, offended at the way his hard work has spilled. This cum is supposed to stay inside of you. Thorough breeding is necessary. It’s the only way he can get pups. 

“Channie,” you plead, desperate as tears burn your lash line. “It won’t take. I’m human.”

A corner of his lip curls as he snarls. It’s a cruel, angry sound. You are disregarding his wants once more. The alpha wolf in the room. A new wave of panic courses through as he takes a step forward. He doesn’t make another noise. He doesn’t have to; you know what that piercing look means. 

No more games. 

You will take his cock a second time. 

You will stop fighting his mating attempt. 

“Okay,” you say softly, hands raised to halt him. “I understand.”

His golden eyes watch as your throbbing limbs shift. This time he’s not upset as you willingly turn away from him, back on your hands and knees. Your front presses flat against the wood. Both knees shift wider to leave room for him. The position is an invitation. You are presenting your pussy to the wolf, a universal sign of submission. 

Chan chuffs, happy at the display. His claws tap lightly against the flooring as he nears. Your heart thumps erratically in your chest in anticipation. Silently you pray to whatever higher being will listen that his second round will be quicker. Your pussy aches, still puffy and swollen from the abuse it’s endured. 

One claw comes down to rest next to one of your ears, followed by the other mirroring on the other side of your head. His firm stomach muscles press against your back, keeping him physically close to you while he stays mounted over you. 

This time around he doesn’t struggle to find your hole. His cock slides right in with a loud squelch. Your walls don’t fight his size anymore. The excessive amount of mixed fluids makes each of his cautious thrusts glide back and forth easily. You groan to yourself in disgust, hearing the drips from your pussy splatter against the wood flooring. There was so much of his cum, and still it wasn’t enough to satisfy his rut-filled brain. 

This night appears to be far from over unless you can help him along. 

One of your hands slips under your body, allowing your fingers to brush against your neglected clit. Jolts of pleasure run up your spine the longer you rub messy circles in the way you know will let your own orgasm rush over you.

It takes only a handful of seconds before your own moans slip past your lips. Chan whines high and pitifully when your tight walls spasm around his cock, trying to milk his cum out of him. He must love the sensation. His hips snap faster, trying to shove his knot back inside to feel this where he’s the most sensitive. Your plan is working. The knot is already swelling back up to its previous size. 

Call it guilt for the life he’s had in the facility, call it selfishness for wanting this to be over, or maybe it’s buried feelings locked deep in your heart that you refuse to acknowledge. Just justify the whole night how you want. Your fingers continue to rub through the fall of your orgasm, pushing for another. You know your body best; you can force another orgasm. 

You can give Chan what he wants. 

The pleasure he deserves. 

Those bulky forearms of his wobble as he struggles to not collapse on top of you. His head hangs right against your face. The soft fur tickles your cheek as he pants heavily from exertion. He’s getting as worn out as you. He must be right on the edge. 

Get him there, you say to yourself. Make it happen, and it’ll be over. 

With the perfect pressure against your clit, you dive headfirst over the edge. Your moans are shameless; no one else is here to witness you. Let yourself be honest and enjoy the pleasure. Accept the way Chan eagerly pushes his knot firmly against your hole to assure a successful lock back into place. Same as before, the hot seed gushes inside you as the werewolf above howls in satisfaction. It’s a rewarding rush of power as you ride out the entire length of your orgasm. 

Your own limbs are faring no better than his, now caving to fold under you from the exhaustion. You cry out at the harsh tug of the knot, unable to dislodge it. Though Chan sinks lower immediately to ease the pain for you. His soft fur is warm across the expanse of your body, enveloping you in a comforting, safe embrace. He rests his face against yours, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth to lightly drag over your cheek. He’s content, rut settling. 

The rest of the world feels worlds away. You know there is still the threat of the company on the horizon, but Chan needs time to shift back. Then you can get him out of here. It’ll just be delayed. There’s no telling how long until he's human again. Records stated his last full shift was five years ago. It’ll happen when his body is ready. You should stay awake to keep an eye on him. Yet, no matter how hard you fight, your eyelids close as you fall asleep. 

It’s hours later when you wake.

Mercifully, on the couch that was tucked away in the corner. Chan must have moved you when he shifted back. There’s heat cocooning your body. A moth-eaten blanket was tossed over you. You don’t care how old or dusty the cushioning might be. It’s a blessing after all the time spent on the wood flooring. 

Gradually, you assess your health. Every part of the body hurts. Besides soaking, a bath is necessary to remove the sticky mess between your legs. Overall, it's not intolerable. You still have a drive ahead of you and should be able to manage. You don’t have a choice though; the security guards are awake by now, and Chan isn’t safe yet. He needs to get out of these woods. 

Your eyes scan to the left. Next to you is a small corner table with two apples and a handful of wild berries that were not there last night. Chan must have left them as a gift. Dread sinks into the pit of your stomach the longer you stare at fruit. He left the cabin. He doesn’t know that the company owns drones that can scan the entire area. Not to mention plenty of thermal cameras. 

Where is he? 

You fight the fatigue to sit up, voice struggling to come out of your parched throat, “Channie?”

A human whine slips out across the room. 

Chan is in a corner. He’s tucked his limbs tightly against himself to be as small as he physically can be. His red, teary eyes briefly meet yours before falling back to the floor. He whimpers, something sad or hurt. He looks guilty and must feel it too. 

Your heart hurts; he remembers what occurred. His favorite human hurt by his own hand, the one person he trusted and felt safe with. Now unable to even look you in the eyes, worried about how you feel. Surely, he assumes anger, perhaps hatred, or even fear of his true self. 

Yet, there are none of those emotions flowing through you. Last night was your fault. You took him from that awful place at the worst possible moment. The animal inside him only acted as its biology told it to do. He can’t fight his own nature. 

“Chan?” You whisper, keeping your voice low. “It’s okay, honey.”

More heart-wrenching whines leave him. He turns his face away, burying it in the crook of his arm. His entire frame trembles as he begins to sob. You can’t even comprehend the emotional turmoil he’s going through. Werewolves mate for life unless in dire circumstances. Poor thing probably is wrestling a heavy conscience when he doesn’t need to. 

“Channie, come here," you say, firmer. A painful knot twists in your stomach. Not only does he need comfort, but after everything that occurred, you need him. "Please.”

Chan doesn’t rise to his feet when he finally moves. No, he scampers closer on all fours. He sits on the floor, physically as close as he can be, with his head low, anticipating some sort of punishment.  

It never comes, and it never will. 

“None of last night was your fault. I’m not upset," you say, with fingers tangling in his greasy curls to scratch at his scalp. His eyelids flutter shut. The touch is soothing, solacing enough for his crying to settle. It takes a few minutes for Chan’s tension to melt away. You only speak again once his breathing regulates. “We need to move soon.”

Chan pulls away as if your touch burns. His head shakes, telling you no. One of his hands comes up to his lips, signing a word: Eat. 

“I will," you answer. “But you shouldn’t have gone out.”

Chan huffs; it’s an offended sound. His eyebrows furrowed in frustration that he can’t communicate what he wants. His body twists, searching the room for anything the previous owners left so he could use it to help vocalize his response.

You bring a hand to his shoulder, softly squeezing the warm skin, “Don’t worry about it. I know what you're doing.”

He forgets the stacks of research you consumed over the year. The only reason he left the cabin was to find you food. It’s his job to provide a meal after a successful mating session. He knew enough about the human diet to not bring you a dead animal. Instead, he picked a safer option, one probably from memory with all the times you ate lunch with him. You shared countless apples with him, and the berries are similar to the blueberries you offered him despite his hatred for them. 

Once more Chan signs for you to eat. This time, more assertive. He pulls away to crawl across the room only to return with a bucket he must have found somewhere in the house. There’s water inside. He traveled to the nearby river you passed on the way here. 

“How long were you out there?” Your tone comes out more aggressive than intended. His eyes are wide with panic, taken aback. Plush lips start to part, but only a groan comes out instead of a word. He wants to plead his case. He doesn’t get the chance, not with your continuous prodding. “Did anyone see you? Did you hear anyone?”

Chan shakes his head, shoulders tense as the questions keep coming. His breathing becomes labored as the stress of your words overwhelms him. He slams the bucket down, causing you to flinch. Water sloshes over him onto the floor. He doesn’t particularly care, instead bringing his palm to cover your mouth, shushing the words of interrogation. 

The mood around you shifts. Chan’s cheeks are still puffy and tear-stained, though his eyes have narrowed. They’re not as round and curious. No, this gaze is serious, almost commanding. Similar to last night, when Chan established his power over you. He maintains the burning alpha wolf's gaze while his free hand blindly reaches for one of the apples to drop it into your palm.  

Heat spreads across your skin with how flustered you become. Sparks of arousal curl deep in your core. It’s followed by shame at how your body reacts to his display of dominance. It's a humbling reminder that you are no longer at the lab and Chan chooses to follow your lead. He can overpower you at any moment, but he doesn’t. All because he respects you. 

He releases his hold, and for one last time signs for you to eat. His eyes don’t leave yours; he doesn’t blink, just watching as you bring the apple to your mouth to take a bite. That appears to be enough to appease him, and he falls back to a seated position on the floor. 

Minus Chan’s nudity and dirty feet, he’s in good shape after his shift. This is good, very good for you. Occasionally, some werewolves fall into a deep slumber to recover. There was a genuine fear that you might have to try to move Chan’s bulky body, and you are in no shape to do so. 

“We have a long day ahead of us. How are you feeling?” You ask timidly before biting into the tart apple again. The werewolf at your feet merely shrugs in response. That's a good enough answer for you. You’ll finish this damn apple so his provider mentality is satisfied and then get moving. 

When tossing the blanket to the side, cold air sinks straight to the bone. It’s no different from dunking yourself straight into a lake in the middle of winter. Yes, it’s time to leave and never leave the warmth of the car heater. Damn Chan and his heightened body heat. The cool weather is probably a blessing to his skin. 

“Help me up.” You say while slowly maneuvering your limbs to sit on the edge of the couch. “We have to get moving.”

Chan motions over to you and back to himself. You don’t need him to speak to understand. The lack of sunrise will keep the forest a maze. Both of you are nude, and in no shape to be back out in the woods. Especially you, with what you endured. 

“I planned ahead. Don’t worry. We just need to get me to the shed in the back.”

Instead of being a shoulder for you to lean on, Chan stands upright before reaching for your frame. His strong arms wrap around your middle, pulling you up and away. You gasp at the sudden display of strength, wrapping your arms around his neck and securing your legs tight around his hips. With one final adjustment of his hold, Chan sets off through the decapitated cabin and straight for the smaller building. 

The ice-cold cement slab the shed is built on burns against the blisters on your feet once they connect to the ground. You work quickly, hands reaching for the blue tarp you placed here a couple of nights ago. It slides off easily, revealing the car underneath. The vehicle is nearly two decades old. Bought with cash from a car lot two towns away to have no ties to you. It took a couple thousand dollars to make sure it would be up and running for the long journey, but at the end of the day the cost didn’t matter. Just as long as Chan was free. 

Slowly you hobble to make your way around to the trunk. Chan follows, hands outstretched around your frame just in case you were to fall. It’s charming how much care he has for you. Again, it’s part of the werewolf in him. In his culture, you two are bonded partners for life now. He could be shunned from his pack if anything bad happens to you. He doesn’t even know where they are, but the values instilled in him remain regardless. 

Could you handle a lifetime with Chan? 

Don’t you have the answer already? 

Your fingers search for the handle, and with some effort, the lid pops open. Inside the trunk are a few supplies. Mostly clothes and shoes. You reach in, grabbing the set for Chan first. He accepts the pants first, wasting no time to pull them on. The tee shirt is a bit tight for the broad frame, but he appears unaffected. Finally, he accepts a hoodie. It’s on the large side. Loose for him to hide in, including his face. You help zip it up before reaching around his neck to pull the hood up. 

It’s perfect.

Well, almost. The shoes are a lost cause because his feet don’t fit, but you don’t plan on bringing him anywhere near people. Not until you know it’s safe. Chan merely tosses them away. He’s always preferred being barefoot, anyway. He never used the lab-issued slip-ons the entire time he was there. 

To your surprise, Chan takes the sweatpants you packed for yourself and kneels at your feet. His touch is gentle, using one hand wrapped around your ankle to lift your foot up so he can guide your leg through. He mirrors the other before hoisting the waistband up to rest comfortably at your hips. His gaze lingers on your stomach. Even in the low light, he notices the several small cuts from where his claw pressed onto your skin. His lash line is wet as he gently covers your belly button with his palm. 

"No pups," you murmur. 

Chan lets out a relieved sigh. Another pressing question that had likely been bothering him was answered. He moves his hand only to quickly press his plush lips against each of the scabbed-over cuts. On the last one, he looks up at you, lips brushing your skin. He’s mouthing words, though no voice comes out: I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. 

If only he knew how much guilt you were battling. There will be time in the future to heal and reflect. For now, you accept his words and allow him to help you dress if it eases his pain. The tasks appear to be a good distraction from the spiraling thoughts. He obeys your command to open the shed doors due to you not having the strength to fight the rotting wood. It gives you a moment to get the car running and warmer by the time he slips into the backseat with an excited chirp.

Yes, you feel the exhilaration too. It’s time to get the hell out. Your palms adjust their hold on the steering wheel as you pull onto the old dirt road. It’s bumpy and slowly being reclaimed by nature. Chan giggles in the back with every large dip, amused by how the car rocks. It’s a wonderful noise to hear. Once this is said and done, you’ll do everything in your power to hear all the time. 

Eventually, the lack of gasoline forces you to pull off the interstate. Chan’s stomach had been rumbling for the last hour, so a pit stop was needed. You could fuel up and find him some food for‌ both of you. Something more substantial than fruit. Then keep driving until you hit the hotel tucked right over the state line. 

Tucked off a few miles from the highway is a gas station you settle on. The building is no bigger than a two-car garage. Each of the walls is weathered from the years in operation. Several windows are boarded up with wood, and the roof has pieces of sheet metal used to repair leaks. Business probably only continues in service thanks to the random cars traveling through and a handful of locals. This is ideal; the chance of security cameras is low. People out here tend to mind their own business, and you will pay in cash. There is no way the company will know you were here. 

“Channie, I have to go inside for a minute.” You say while pulling out your stashed wallet in the center console. The cash is still confirmed inside. Your body twists toward the back to face him. “Will you be okay staying here?” 

Chan nods softly, face barely peeking from the hood. He doesn’t move from his lying position. 

Smart boy, he knows to hide. 

The store attendant doesn’t even acknowledge you entering, too invested in the newspaper he’s reading. You slink through the aisles, scanning the food. Two packages of jerky, one dusty can of pineapple, bottles of water, and a couple of overpriced handmade sandwiches from the cooler. It’ll hold you guys over until the next town. You don’t want to waste much time inside; you need to get back to Chan. 

Even at the register, the worker still doesn’t speak when you pay. Just a simple nod in acknowledgment at what pump the car is at. This guy is simply going through the motions, probably thinking about how long till his shift is over. It’s a blessing; you wanted to avoid painful small talk. 

Back outside, the sun is high in the sky. It’s a nice day. The weather is warming up despite how cold the temps dipped the previous night. Birds chirp in the distance. There’s not a cloud in the sky, you realize, as you silently pump the gas. Perhaps a sign of ‌better days ahead for you. The property you bought to remain under the radar is tucked away in the woods, nearly thirty minutes away from a one-stoplight town. There is genuine fear of how the company is going to react once they find out one of their test subjects is gone. You used most of your savings making it self-sufficient. Anything to make sure you don’t have to be seen. 

Will it last forever? No, but it’s enough until Chan decides what he wants to do with his life. 

Speaking of said werewolf, isn't he a little curious about the food you bought? 

Once securing the gas cap, you peek into the back seat. 

The familiar feeling of dread hits fast and hard. 

He’s not inside. 

“Chan!” Your voice cracks across the parking lot. The dirt parking lot has no fresh tire tracks, no strangers. Just dust and a pair of footprints trailing the opposite way from the car. The grocery bag slips from your fingers as fear turns the blood in your veins into ice. 

He’s gone. 

Just like that?

You scream louder this time. “Chan!”

A second later, Chan appears from the side of the building. He jogs back over to the car, head ducked low, shoulders tight. A sight similar to a dog with its tail tucked between its legs. Guilt written all over him. 

“I said stay in the car!” You exclaim, the anger in your voice thin and shaking. Loss, anger, and relief crash into you so hard your knees nearly give out. It’s a whirlwind. Nausea hits next, causing stomach acid to burn the back of your throat. “You should have waited. I was worried.”

Chan signs two words: Toilet. Sorry. 

He circles the car to grab the fallen bag. When he straightens, his hood slips off his head. Sunlight catches in his curls, wind teasing the brown strands, and it shows off all the different shades of color. 

Chan came back to you. 

He didn’t have to. 

It was the perfect opportunity to leave you behind. 

He is choosing to stay, right?

In a perfect world, he would find his pack and return to his family. Though that dream might be impossible. You don’t even know where Chan is originally from. Umbra ships creatures from around the world. The other werewolves could be oceans away. 

Now the insecurities inside you are trying to guilt you. You are all he knows now. He is still in survival mode. He’s accepted his fate. Being with you means he’s not a lab rat. Of course he would pick being out here. That thought stings more than the scratches healing on your hip. 

You want him to stay because he wants to. 

Maybe that’s selfish of you. 

The fear of losing him lingers in your chest, raw and undeniable. There is no shoving your feelings away anymore. You care for him. No, you love him. You would do anything for him. Able to see him here free, enjoying the sunshine, is priceless. Everything you have done and endured seems worth it. You would do it a million times over. This is what you wanted for him. 

For the first time, the voice you desperately wanted to hear speaks beside you. It's trembling, strained, and soft. “L—L—Love…You.”

The world stills. These are Chan’s first vocalized words to you. After a year of working every day. It’s not letters or numbers. Not rehearsed sounds practiced for hours at a time. Not a forced syllable squeezed out of frustration. All of it has paid off. 

He is expressing his true feelings.

You knew Chan was fond of you. Yes, you also knew of his deep emotional attachment. You aren’t blind. He sought you out in that horrible place. You were his comfort; of course he would grow attached. This makes your plan for his release harder on top of all your complicated feelings. The goal was to let him run free up in the thick woods near the mountain. Very few humans travel up there, so he could shift freely and safely from danger. There is a dense population of wildlife that would be perfect for him to hunt. Now you’re unsure if you could let him out there if he didn’t want to stay with you. 

“Chan,” you whisper.

His eyes stay on the ground like he expects the words to be wrong somehow. As if he’s bracing for correction. It isn’t perfect. It doesn’t have to be. Not when it’s music to your ears.

He swallows and tries again, stronger this time. “Love you.”

“I love you too, Channie.” You answer with tears burning your lash line. Cautiously bring a hand to his cheek, cupping his face before leaning close to place a soft kiss on his plush lips. Chan pulls away immediately, face flushing a deep shade of red, and gaze falling to the dirt below his feet. He’s shy about such sudden affection, but the wide smile on his face tells you he enjoyed it. 

“Come on.” You say with enthusiasm, turning to open the door for him. “We still have a long way to go.”

Chan slips into the passenger seat, closing the door behind himself. His eyes lock onto you, watching you walk around the front and enter on your side. He allows you to buckle his seatbelt without a struggle. His fingers fiddle with the cloth strap, completely distracted by the mechanism, curious how it works. 

And with that, you two are back on the road. 

If Chan minds the soft music playing, he doesn’t show it. He eats quietly beside you, scarfing down a sandwich and a bag of jerky in a handful of minutes. The pull tab on the can of pineapple gives him a small fight, but he chirps in excitement when realizing what’s inside. He eats one piece at a time with his fingers, savoring the fruit. 

The car ride was fairly silent after that. Chan rests his head against the cool glass, focused on the scenery passing by. Cautiously, you bring one of your hands to his, intertwining your fingers to hold. Out of your peripheral, he glances down at the hold and tightens the grip.

The two of you will figure out what to do about his next shift. Your new home has a basement. Though the idea of chaining him down doesn’t seem too appealing and is rather cruel, maybe he’ll understand. However, the real question is if you can werewolf-proof your home just in case it’s not enough to hold him. Sure, you live outside the city in the woods, but there are still neighbors miles down the road. 

Those thoughts don’t matter right now. 

After all, you have time until the next full moon. 

︎Abiaswreck | Do not copy, repost, or translate | As always, reblogs are appreciated! Feel free to comment, reblog with feedback, or send me an ask. I’d love to hear from you; it helps with motivation. I hope today is kind to you. <3

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