Work Text:
The end of the year party is always a hassle.
Impatiently, Yu Junghyeok picks up a glass of champagne. With the assistance of alcohol, he can tolerate the swarm of barely legal women attempting to flirt with him.
He keeps the conversations brief. Professional. Nothing about his demeanor invites physical contact.
He forces himself to suffer pedantic nonsense for an hour and a half before he beats a hasty retreat, stalking into the garden to get some fresh air. He can see his breath, but he’s willing to brave the cold, forgoing his coat in favor of solitude.
Yu Junghyeok walks into the bushes, startled to find another man standing there.
He’s thin. Pale, too. Cigarette smoke wafts from his lips. It’s an odd time of year to wear white, but it suits him. It gives him a certain gravitas, painting him in sharp relief against the foliage.
Yu Junghyeok stares at him for an uncomfortable period of time. The stranger reaches in his breast pocket, pulling out a carton and a lighter. “Want one?”
He scowls furiously in response.
“Sensitive nose? My bad. Do you have any gum on you?”
Yu Junghyeok shakes his head.
The other man pats the rest of his pockets down until he finds a piece of candy, likely taken from a dish in the entryway. “Where are my manners? My name is Kim Dokja, and you are?”
Yu Junghyeok frowns, convinced that Kim Dokja is playing him for a fool. He decides to give him the benefit of the doubt, replying honestly.
One minute passes, then another. Kim Dokja gazes at the moon overhead, rolling the sweet over his tongue.
Unable to help himself, Yu Junghyeok arrogantly says, “Is that all?”
Kim Dokja lifts an eyebrow.
Yu Junghyeok’s fingers twitch. He tamps down the urge to break Kim Dokja’s nose.
After a moment, realization dawns. “Ah, I get it. You’re posturing.”
Yu Junghyeok’s jaw drops. “Excuse me?”
“You know—throwing your weight around, testing boundaries to see what I’ll let you get away with. Don’t bother. I feel no need to prove I’m the bigger man.”
He bristles. Rather unintentionally, he finds himself crowding Kim Dokja’s space. “You can’t prove something false.”
Kim Dokja’s eyes are dark and defiant. Yu Junghyeok has half a head on him and significantly more muscle mass. He huffs at Kim Dokja like a hot-headed bull, but he remains nonplussed.
“Why are you doing this, then?” After a beat, he asks, “You want to know what I think?”
“No.”
“Too bad,” he hums, pulling Yu Junghyeok down by the lapels. The jerky movement startles him. Kim Dokja leans in obscenely close, whispering into Yu Junghyeok’s ear. “Alphas like you, they hate their designations. You’ve been forced you into a mold, but what you want—what you need—is for someone to put you in your place. I’m sure you’re far too traditional to acknowledge that.”
Reflexively, Yu Junghyeok punches Kim Dokja in the gut. He’s liable to get sued, but he can’t bring himself to care.
“You’re wrong,” he snarls. He storms back to the manor with color high in his cheeks, aiming to put the exchange behind him.
Yu Junghyeok had been adopted as an infant.
His parents had done their due diligence, researching genetics, considering their options until they chanced on a baby that suited their needs: a boy with alpha characteristics present long before he’s subjected to an official subgender diagnosis test.
The pheromone bloodwork completed at age twelve reinforces his haughty, holier-than-thou attitude.
For years, Yu Junghyeok has been seen as an exemplary, thoroughbred alpha, a model for his peers to envy and emulate.
Still, Kim Dokja’s words wrap around his brain like insidious thorns. No matter what Yu Junghyeok does, he can’t seem to cut them loose.
He may not be as ‘alpha’ as everyone has always claimed him to be and the implication is daunting.
With gritted teeth, Yu Junghyeok sends out a series of emails, tracking down the man he assaulted.
One of them lands in the lap of a client. The head of their engineering department says, I asked Dokja to go in my stead because I couldn’t make it. How can I help you?
Yu Junghyeok removes everyone else from the chain. Then, he requests Kim Dokja’s number, aiming to keep their conversation off the record.
What does your schedule look like on Tuesday?
Who is this?
Yu Junghyeok.
Several minutes pass before he gets a response. Decent.
I want to talk to you. Lunch or dinner?
Are you asking me out on a date?
Yu Junghyeok is so insulted, he nearly throws his phone. You must think very highly of yourself.
Not really. I have a low opinion of you, though.
His eyebrow twitches. Across the room, Yu Junghyeok’s secretary prays for deliverance.
Dinner works. See you soon.
“It’s not a date,” Yu Junghyeok grumbles to himself as he looks in the mirror, pulling a sweater over his button-down. His jeans, crisply pressed, highlight the contours of his legs.
He puts on his favorite cologne, oozing alpha charm. People turn to him as he enters the building, entranced. The attention makes him square his shoulders, proudly straightening his spine.
Kim Dokja arrives seven minutes late, but Yu Junghyeok doesn’t comment on that. He looks tidy. Unassuming.
Yu Junghyeok pulls out a business card, shoving it in Kim Dokja’s face. This time, he will not allow the other man to feign ignorance.
Kim Dokja, rat bastard that he is, gives it a cursory glance before he sticks it in his breast pocket. When Yu Junghyeok tells him that he’s going to foot the bill, Kim Dokja orders a bottle of red wine.
He waits for the server to uncork it before he speaks again. “You didn’t bring me here to exchange pleasantries. You’re buying my silence,” he hums, mulling over the menu.
Yu Junghyeok is grateful that his hands are empty. His fists are clenched tightly enough to shatter glass. “You are exceptionally rude.”
“Far from the first time I’ve been told,” Kim Dokja agrees, wine staining his lips ever so slightly.
No matter which way Yu Junghyeok slices it, he doesn’t understand Kim Dokja. He’s not an ambitious brown-noser. His attitude is unfit for high society and it doesn’t seem like he’s particularly interested in Yu Junghyeok’s looks.
“You’re willing to take my offer, then.”
“What offer? We don’t have anything to discuss. I have no intention of pressing charges. There weren’t any witnesses. If it was my word against CORE’s CEO in a court of law, I would lose.” He brandishes his fork when the appetizer is placed on the table. “I just came here to mess with you. The free food is a plus.”
Yu Junghyeok growls. “That night, you knew who I was.”
“Of course I did. I don’t live under a rock.”
“You played me.”
“I did no such thing. Surrounding yourself with people who pander to you has dulled your senses. That’s not my fault.”
“And you’re so superior,” Yu Junghyeok hisses, irritated.
“That wasn’t what I meant to imply.” Dramatically, Kim Dokja steeples his fingers together, leveling Yu Junghyeok with an even stare. His lips curl into a sly, humorless grin. “I know people like you, burdened by the weight of the world on their shoulders. You’ve always played by the rules, haven’t you? You know exactly what you’re supposed to do. You stick to the script even though you hate it. You’re tired of being put on a pedestal. How am I doing so far?”
Yu Junghyeok swallows, brow furrowing. His read is painfully accurate. He forces himself to look up from his plate and into Kim Dokja’s eyes, equal parts horrified and intrigued.
“If you don’t bend, you’ll break, and that would be a shame.”
They fall into an uncomfortable silence. Kim Dokja eats, appreciating the tenderness of the meat. Woodenly, Yu Junghyeok pours himself a glass of wine. Kim Dokja knocks their glasses together in a facsimile of a toast, candlelight dancing in his eyes.
“What do you propose that I do about this?”
Kim Dokja laughs, dismissively waving a hand. “Hire an escort. You won’t know if the grass is greener on the other side the until you check it out, right?”
Yu Junghyeok knows a number of people who would happily give him a recommendation, but he had always found such services distasteful.
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
He glares. “You’re the one who brought the issue to my attention. This Saturday, come to my penthouse.”
Kim Dokja gapes at him, astounded. Yu Junghyeok smirks, flushed with victory.
He hands over his credit card without looking at the receipt. Kim Dokja sneaks glances at Yu Junghyeok, expression contemplative. The two of them drink until the bottle is empty, then they go their separate ways, swallowed by the blistery winter weather.
Yu Sangah is too polite to laugh at him, but the gleam in her eyes speaks volumes.
Han Suyeong, on the other hand, could give less of a shit about tact.
“I can’t wait to watch them fish your body out of the Han River. I can see the headline now: Local Man Murdered By Vindictive Serial Killer.”
Yu Sangah unhelpfully adds, “I would join the search party,” holding a bracelet up to his wrist. She puts it on the dresser with a nod, coordinating his outfit.
“Your faith in my judgment is astounding.”
Though he had spent the majority of the afternoon griping, he’s not against spending an evening with Yu Junghyeok—he’s the wrong person for this job. Yu Junghyeok is a condescending, repressed asshole. He wasn’t going to bare his soul to some no-name beta.
Kim Dokja grumbles under his breath, listening to his friends bicker about which one of his scarves does a better job of highlighting the hue of his irises.
He sighs, shooing them out of the room so he can get dressed.
A series of station transfers brings him to a high-rise in the middle of the city. Kim Dokja curses their class disparity, wordlessly handing his ID to the security guard on duty.
The guard squeaks as he hands it back. Kim Dokja lifts an eyebrow, confused by his reaction. Slowly, he blinks. “Lee Hyeonseong?”
Lee Hyeonseong lets him in, ostensibly per Yu Junghyeok’s request. Kim Dokja ambles onto the elevator. He watches the numbers change until they stop, praying that his friend would not tell Jeong Huiwon about this.
Yu Junghyeok is standing in front of the elevator when the doors slide open, arms folded over his chest.
Oddly, Kim Dokja finds his sour countenance comforting. He waves.
Yu Junghyeok leads the way into his spotless space. It’s gleaming in a soulless way that makes Kim Dokja wonder if Yu Junghyeok ever had company over, but he has the good sense not to ask. He pulls off his coat and gloves, but he keeps the accessories on.
Yu Junghyeok makes for the bedroom, but Kim Dokja’s groan stops him. “There’s such a thing as foreplay. Setting the mood. Do you treat women like this?”
He receives a nasty glare in response. Slowly, Kim Dokja holds up a hand. “Fine, whatever. No more questions. I’ll help myself.”
Kim Dokja gets the distinct impression that Yu Junghyeok would like nothing more than to maul him, to grab him by the nape and put Kim Dokja out of his misery, but it’s too late. He goes on a self-led tour of the penthouse, cradling a glass of obscenely expensive whiskey in his hand. He sips at it at a leisurely pace.
Yu Junghyeok is no less tetchy when Kim Dokja finally approaches, careful to maintain his distance as he speaks. “We should lay out a few ground rules.” He had brought a plastic bag full of supplies with him, suspecting that Yu Junghyeok would not be prepared for the things he had in mind. As expected, his eyes widen. “Hard no’s, things you’re interested in, etcetera.”
“Anything is fine,” Yu Junghyeok mutters.
Kim Dokja clicks his tongue, wagging a finger. “Unacceptable. First things first, you need a safe word.”
After a moment, Yu Junghyeok says, “Mia.”
“Mia?”
“My sister.”
Kim Dokja shudders. “That’ll do.”
Eventually, they decide that pain is okay, though Kim Dokja has no intention of taking things to an extreme level. Gagging is out of the question—Yu Junghyeok needed to be able to speak—and marks above the neck are out for obvious reasons.
Kim Dokja lines up the box of latex gloves, condoms, and the lube pump on the nightstand before he pulls off his scarf and his bracelet. His shirt, he keeps fastidiously buttoned.
“I’m not an alpha,” he explains, washing his hands. “As you can see, you’re perfectly capable of overpowering me.” With Yu Junghyeok seated on the mattress, he looms, gaze cutting. Yu Junghyeok glares at him, issuing a silent challenge. “This is a test to see how well you can restrain yourself.”
Annoyed, Yu Junghyeok aims to bite Kim Dokja, but Kim Dokja deftly avoids his mouth. He kneels down to take off Yu Junghyeok’s belt and Yu Junghyeok doesn’t fight it, but he bucks once he’s stripped down to his undershirt and briefs.
“You’re failing,” Kim Dokja murmurs, pale fingers on Yu Junghyeok’s neck, cleverly rubbing at Yu Junghyeok’s scenting juncture. His touch, firm and warning, makes Yu Junghyeok pliant, makes him go slack for the briefest of moments.
Kim Dokja strips him completely before he pulls on a glove, warming the gel in his palm before he touches Yu Junghyeok again. Yu Junghyeok’s cheeks are hot, but his expression is furious. It’s difficult to tell if he’s on the brink of tears or not, what with his nose scrunched up, but Kim Dokja forges ahead.
“Relax,” he says, petting Yu Junghyeok. He slides his fingers between Yu Junghyeok’s cleft, waiting until he looks less murderous to circle his rim. The gesture earns Kim Dokja a gasp, Yu Junghyeok’s adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.
Instincts have his blood boiling. A fever pitch rises in his head. This is wrong.
He ignores the voice in his head because he’s never failed at anything in his life. He sinks his teeth into a pillow to prevent himself from lashing out, howling when Kim Dokja breaches him.
“Stop clenching so tightly. You’re going to break my fingers.”
“Good,” Yu Junghyeok snarls, struggling to keep his head above water.
A palm hits his rear. Bewildered, Yu Junghyeok’s head whips around; he stares at Kim Dokja in disbelief. Much to his humiliation, his dick twitches in interest, arching towards his stomach.
Distracted by the pain, he forgets to make things difficult. Kim Dokja smirks coyly, spanking him at odd intervals until Yu Junghyeok quivers beneath him, pleasure-pain setting his nerves on fire.
With careful, consistent motions, Kim Dokja milks an orgasm out of him. He strokes Yu Junghyeok’s back and calls him a good boy, ignoring the furious tears streaming down his face.
“I hate you,” Yu Junghyeok whispers. He buries his face in the sheets while Kim Dokja cleans up the mess. He had come without popping a knot, with a beta, and it felt good. His world is falling to pieces and it’s all Kim Dokja’s fault.
“You’re welcome,” Kim Dokja says, washing his hands. He’d expected Yu Junghyeok to say something along those lines.
He considers himself lucky that he’s able to leave the penthouse in one piece.
My place. Saturday. Seven o’clock.
Kim Dokja stares at his phone, shocked. He had expected the excursion with Yu Junghyeok to be a one-and-done thing, satisfying his curiosity and nothing more.
Guys like that tend to sink further into denial, Kim Dokja thought, pulling his convenience store meal out of the microwave.
He could have found something decent to eat in Yu Junghyeok’s fridge, but he didn’t want to push his luck. Han Suyeong cursed when he let her know he got home safely. I owe Jeong Huiwon 10,000 won. I hope you’re happy.
I am.
All jokes aside, thanks for texting me.
Sure.
Han Suyeong worries about him and he knows it, which is why he ignores her jibes.
Do you think you’ll ever see him again?
Kim Dokja had mulled over the question, picking at his food. Probably not.
Yet, here he is, being sent an invitation. You’re a glutton for punishment, huh? Kim Dokja says, purposefully riling Yu Junghyeok up.
Is that a yes or a no?
I’ll be there.
It’s not like he has anything better to do.
“You’re busy tonight? Again?” Mia frowns at her brother, disappointed.
His mother, on the other hand, is delighted. “Your brother is an adult. He has important business to take care of.” With a wink, she shoos Junghyeok off of the premises, encouraging him to have fun.
Her jokes don’t phase him—he’s preoccupied.
Anticipation thrums hot in his veins. He would chalk it up to his rut cycle, but the timing is wrong. An irregular rut would be plausible if he were concerned with knotting someone. Instead, his mind replays the experience of finger-fucked by an acquaintance on a loop.
He cleans his bathroom and his kitchen with religious zeal. He pulls out two glasses, puts whiskey in a decanter, and waits.
“You’re late,” Yu Junghyeok grunts in lieu of a greeting, watching as Kim Dokja unfurls his scarf. There is no method to his madness that Yu Junghyeok can discern. He is chaos incarnate, a menace made manifest, and he drives Yu Junghyeok insane.
“You try riding the train at this time of night and see how it goes for you,” Kim Dokja mutters, breath smelling faintly of mints. Nicotine clings to his clothes, but today the scent is not suffocating, drowning out all semblances of his natural scent. He smells mild, as expected, sweat and city grime more prevalent than hickory wood chips and anise.
“I’ve never taken the train.”
“Good for you. I, like most people in Seoul, am at the mercy of fate. It gets crowded on the weekend.”
“Next time, I’ll pick you up.”
Kim Dokja stares at him, slack-jawed. “That settles it. You’ve been replaced by an imposter. I need to call the authorities.”
Yu Junghyeok glares at him, slamming a fist on the countertop. “Stop spouting nonsense.”
“Never mind, crisis averted. That temper is impossible to replicate.”
“I despise you.”
“I choose to take that as a compliment.”
Kim Dokja pours each of them two fingers of whiskey, pausing to admire the smell of the liquor. “This is nice stuff.”
“It was a gift.”
“I assumed as much. You don’t seem like the type who drinks for the sheer sake of it.”
Yu Junghyeok scowls, sharp gaze focused on his unlikely companion. Under normal circumstances, they never would have met. Kim Dokja’s abrasive comments and preternatural observation skills unnerve him. “Neither do you.”
Kim Dokja laughs. The lighting in the penthouse is low; it dances in his eyes. “What makes you say that?”
“Instinct,” Yu Junghyeok replies.
It’s not a lie. The general populace widely considered smoking and drinking vices, but something about the way Kim Dokja indulged in said vices made the act seem put-upon.
With absolutely no evidence to support the claim, Yu Junghyeok assumes that Kim Dokja picked the habits up to cope.
Kim Dokja had probably learned how to read men like him by sneaking into their spaces, offering them cigarettes and keeping their glasses topped-up at restaurants.
The man in question looks over his shoulder, tossing Yu Junghyeok a carefree smile. “I’ve acquired a taste for it.”
He chatters on and on about inconsequential things, badgering Yu Junghyeok for information about the sound system before they wander into the bedroom.
The alcohol loosens Yu Junghyeok’s limbs, makes the edges of his mind fuzzy. Kim Dokja asks if he still wants to be touched and Yu Junghyeok nods.
Being tipsy makes him no less feisty. He nips at Kim Dokja at every opportunity, but this time, the gesture doesn’t seem aggressive.
Kim Dokja thoughtlessly calls Yu Junghyeok cute because his self-preservation skills are horrible. Rightfully, the comment earns him a nasty scratch.
He works Yu Junghyeok open on his back, admiring Yu Junghyeok’s abdomen as he spreads his fingers. His face is a work of art, obviously, but the rest of him is gorgeous too. Despite the fact that it’s the dead of winter, he’s tan and meticulously well-groomed.
“Seriously, why the hell are you single?” Kim Dokja murmurs, watching as precome leaks from the tip of Yu Junghyeok’s cock.
“You tell me, you self-important jackass,” Yu Junghyeok snaps, sweat beading across his temple.
Kim Dokja picks up the pace. Yu Junghyeok writhes for him. He squirts lube directly into Yu Junghyeok’s hole, slamming a fourth digit inside.
Yu Junghyeok’s back arches off the bed. The burn of the stretch makes him snarl, but when Kim Dokja asks him for a color, he says yellow.
“Good boy,” slips out of his mouth unbidden.
With his eyes closed and his lips parted to release a bawdy moan, Yu Junghyeok climaxes for him beautifully.
Kim Dokja has every intention of wiping Yu Junghyeok down and walking away like he did last time, but something compels Kim Dokja to tease him. He pulls the glove off, poking the base of Yu Junghyeok’s shaft with a hum. “This would be the first thing to go, you know. Good riddance. It’s unwieldy.”
“Kim Dokja,” Yu Junghyeok roars.
He looks like he wants nothing more than to lunge across the room and strangle Kim Dokja, but his body won’t obey his commands.
“I’m just being honest. If I was an alpha, you would have let me bitch you.”
Bolstered by fury and adrenaline, Yu Junghyeok finds the wherewithal to pin him to the mattress. His grip on Kim Dokja’s windpipe is bruising, nostrils flared. His body is the very picture of debauchery, lubricant dripping down his thighs and onto Kim Dokja’s slacks, but his expression is stormy. The veins in his neck are bulging.
Kim Dokja gasps for air. He coughs when Yu Junghyeok releases him, gaze frigid. “Get out.”
He doesn’t need to be told twice. He pulls on his coat and scarf, sacrificing his gloves in his haste.
Yu Junghyeok forces himself to take a shower, brooding as the water hits him.
He hates himself because Kim Dokja was right. He punches the wall, seething with rage.
He will recover from this.
“All adults are corrupt,” Kim Dokja says, imparting his teachings to his favorite youths. “Never trust anything they say.”
Jeong Huiwon smacks him on the back of the head. “It’s good to be cautious, but there are trustworthy adults and not-so-trustworthy adults. This guy is in the second category.”
“Don’t be mean,” says Shin Yuseong. “I trust him.”
“I trust him more,” Lee Gilyeong mutters.
Instantly, the two of them fall into a nuh-uh, uh-huh playground-level argument. Kim Dokja walks away, dusting off his trousers before he joins Jeong Huiwon on a bench nearby.
“What’s got your panties in a twist?” she asks, keeping an eye on the kids as they chase each other around the park.
“On a scale of one to ten, how upset would you be if you lost a lottery ticket worth one and a half billion won?”
“Honestly, I think I’d jump ship. I’d fly across the world and obtain a new identity. Cut my losses,” Jeong Huiwon replies, deadpan from beginning to end.
“Right? I’m getting my papers together.”
Jeong Huiwon stares at him, horrified. “One point five billion? Seriously? You’re an idiot.”
“I thought it was pretty clear that that was an analogy,” Kim Dokja drawls.
She sighs with relief. “You’re too stingy to play the lotto and too shrewd to lose your ticket. For a second, I was scared that you had a doppelgänger on the loose. Does this have anything to do with Han Suyeong’s bet?”
“Not exactly.”
“That’s a yes in Dokja-speak.”
He grins. “I preferred it when you weren’t very good at deciphering my bullshit.”
“Please. I’ve known you were a dirty liar since day one. Stop stalling and tell me the story.”
He tells her the abbreviated version. He artfully leaves out the part about guilt gnawing at him because he pushed the poor guy out of his comfort zone.
By now, Yu Junghyeok has probably resigned himself to a loveless marriage with an omega woman. He would quash his dreams of nesting, ignore his desire to be pampered a few times a year. Never again would he know the pleasure of being fucked.
Kim Dokja, for his part, is grateful for the reprieve.
Jeong Huiwon is less than impressed with the conclusion. “Let’s pretend I believe that,” she says, theatrically holding out a hand. “How did you expect this to play out?”
She slaps his wrist when he goes for a cigarette. He winces, opting to stroke his chin instead. “Yu Junghyeok would find a suitable mate through a matchmaking service. With a face like his, he wouldn’t have any problems. They would embrace his needs and sire children, then the two of them would give speeches about being rich and successful at local universities.”
Jeong Huiwon groans. “I’m beginning to understand why he ditched you.”
“It’s not like we were dating. I performed an act of public service. I deserve to be invited to the wedding. He’s going to be miserable.”
“What wedding?” Jeong Huiwon hisses, jabbing a finger into his chest. “If there’s going to be a wedding, he’s going to marry you.”
Kim Dokja frowns. “I’m—”
“If you’re about to tell me that things won’t work out with him because you’re a beta, don’t bother.”
Intelligently, he shuts up.
“I’m willing to bet that he’s alone in his room trying to get himself off and he’s upset because it’s not working.” Kim Dokja opens his mouth to protest, but Jeong Huiwon carries on, paying him no mind. “Buddy, you’ve called him sexy five times in the last ten minutes. You’d have to be a special kind of idiot to deny the fact that you’re into him.”
“That is a gross exaggeration,” he mutters.
“Call him,” Jeong Huiwon says, tone brooking no argument.
Kim Dokja sighs, resigned.
He’s not in the mood for an ass-kicking, so he nods, thumb hovering over Yu Junghyeok’s name until he locks his screen.
The phone rings for a long time.
Kim Dokja expects the call to roll to voicemail. He’d written his script down in a notebook, anticipating that. All he has to do is wait for the beep to hit his ears.
Shockingly, he’s greeted by a gruff voice instead. “Kim Dokja.”
He licks his lips. Swallows. “That’s me.”
It’s been two weeks since they saw each other last, but it feels like it’s been two months. Yu Junghyeok is the type of person who’s difficult to ignore and even harder to forget.
“I have been informed that I haven’t been fair to you,” Kim Dokja says, careful to keep his cadence airy. “I wanted to apologize.”
Yu Junghyeok snorts. “You’re not sorry.”
“I’m not. You deserve to have someone in your life who gives you what you want.”
Silence falls between them, tense and thick. Gradually, Kim Dokja realizes that Yu Junghyeok is breathing heavily, holding the phone at a distance so the sound is muffled.
“Did I call at a bad time?”
“No.”
“Do you want me to hang up?”
Quietly, Yu Junghyeok says, “No.”
Kim Dokja inhales. Exhales. “Walk me through your process,” he says, inflecting authority in his voice.
Yu Junghyeok curses, hissing through his teeth. “What process? I put my dick in my hand. I was tugging on it before you called.”
“And that usually works for you, does it,” Kim Dokja drawls, amused.
“What do you think,” he snarls.
Kim Dokja curls and uncurls his fingers, pacing around his room. His mouth opens before he can stop himself. “Normally, it doesn’t take much. Spitting in your palm usually does the trick. For you, getting off is a task to be completed when you’re horny, but…” Eyes wide, he freezes. “You couldn’t get hard?”
Yu Junghyeok laughs bitterly. “Have you hidden a camera in my room?”
“When would I have had time to install it, exactly?”
This time, his laughter is sweeter. “I have an appointment with my proctologist next week.”
“Cancel it. Use the lube.”
He can practically see the mulish scowl painted on Yu Junghyeok’s face. “Take responsibility.”
Kim Dokja blinks. “Excuse me?”
“If I use it, you have to take responsibility for whatever comes next.”
Kim Dokja hums a noncommittal agreement to get Yu Junghyeok to continue, but his pulse thunders in his ears. This guy is nuts.
He’s dragged back to earth by the sound of Yu Junghyeok slathering gel on his fingers. “You have to enter yourself slowly,” he says, drinking in Yu Junghyeok’s responding hum.
He grunts a lot, biting his lips so he doesn’t moan when he spreads his fingers. He pants, pushing them in and out at Kim Dokja’s command, settling into a rhythm.
Minutes later, he mutters, “I’m hard,” and Kim Dokja is too, dammit. Who wouldn’t be, listening to Yu Junghyeok fuck himself on the phone?
He palms himself through his pants, hazily continuing to issue instructions. Yu Junghyeok comes with a moan that veers into a whine.
“Send me your address,” Yu Junghyeok says, demanding.
“Why, so you can kill me in my sleep? Pass.”
“I’m going pick you up next Saturday.”
“Oh.” Despite everything, Kim Dokja is genuinely surprised by the admittance.
He rattles off the district and his apartment number. Yu Junghyeok hangs up without saying goodbye, but Kim Dokja finds that he doesn’t mind.
Yu Junghyeok buzzes him on the intercom. He garners attention, waiting in the cold, leaning against the building’s façade like a model.
Kim Dokja emerges smelling of mint toothpaste. The wind tousles his hair. The evenings are starting to get lighter, but he’s eager for the arrival of spring.
He blinks, momentarily confused when a pair of gloves are thrust in his face. Eventually, he remembers where he’d left them. “Thanks.”
Yu Junghyeok says nothing, coat flapping behind him as he leads the way to his luxury vehicle.
The seats are warm. The engine purrs as Yu Junghyeok drives. Kim Dokja chatters aimlessly, filling the silence. He takes every snort and smirk he receives in stride.
If Lee Hyeonseong is surprised to see them walking in together, he makes no show of it. If anything, he seems pleased, nodding at Kim Dokja as they pass.
Kim Dokja doesn’t bother pouring himself a glass of whiskey, turning on soft, unobtrusive music before he makes for the bedroom. He’s had an itch under his skin ever since he called Yu Junghyeok and he’s restless.
He jumps when Yu Junghyeok grabs his wrist.
“I know what I want,” Yu Junghyeok says. “Do you?”
Bold words for a guy who almost killed me when I insinuated that you wanted to be bitched last month, Kim Dokja thinks.
Outwardly, he lifts an eyebrow. “Mind sharing with the class?”
“If I’m going to commit myself to this, I’m committing wholeheartedly.”
“Meaning?”
“You need to claim me.”
Kim Dokja splutters. “Surely bonding can wait.”
Yu Junghyeok pushes Kim Dokja against a wall, gaze burning. “Are you against it?”
“Right now? Absolutely. You’re being too impulsive.”
“Fine. I’ll attempt to build a nest first,” Yu Junghyeok declares, treating his one-sided decision like a compromise. He drags Kim Dokja inside, tossing him on the mattress.
Wide-eyed, Kim Dokja watches Yu Junghyeok collect his things, yelping when long fingers go for his belt. His body is nothing to write home about, but Yu Junghyeok stares at his exposed skin like it’s an exhibit in an art museum.
He allows Kim Dokja to keep his underwear, but he organizes everything else in neat piles. Yu Junghyeok lies on his coat, curling his fingers in Kim Dokja’s button-down and his undershirt tightly.
Surrounded by the scent of his would-be partner, Yu Junghyeok seems agitated, not relaxed.
My clothes smell like cigarettes. “I’ll cut back.”
“You should quit,” Yu Junghyeok mutters, long lashes resting on his cheeks.
“I should,” he agrees.
Kim Dokja undresses him carefully, smiling at his duck-patterned socks. Stress bleeds out of Yu Junghyeok in waves.
He looks so peaceful that Kim Dokja almost feels bad for stepping away. The lurid eyes of a predator stalk him as he grabs the lube. Yu Junghyeok lets him in without a fuss, digging his nails into Kim Dokja’s back to anchor him.
His lips close around Kim Dokja’s forearm. This time, he lets Yu Junghyeok bite down. It’s an exercise in trust.
Yu Junghyeok finds himself watching Kim Dokja’s cock grow stiff—after all, the experience is novel. Yu Junghyeok gingerly cups Kim Dokja’s balls when he thinks the time is right, but Kim Dokja yelps, alarmed.
Frustrated, he frowns. “You’ve been touching me this whole time. I’m not allowed to reciprocate?”
“I never said that.”
“Are you against this too?”
“No. Junghyeok-ah, use the fucking lube,” he hisses.
Stunned by the overly familiar term of address and the unexpected profanity, Yu Junghyeok falters. He works the pump, fingers trembling. He scrabbles for purchase, slipping when Kim Dokja fucks his fingers in deep, orgasm hot on his heels.
“Loosen your fist,” Kim Dokja says, lips rasping against Yu Junghyeok’s collarbone. “I don’t like pain.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” Yu Junghyeok mutters, following directions. Yu Junghyeok spills over first, but Kim Dokja had a head start. He forces himself not to succumb to the haze of pleasure, watching Kim Dokja come undone with bright eyes.
In the aftermath, they’re tacky and sweaty, chests heaving as they lie in the lamplight.
Kim Dokja strikes up a conversation, staring at the ceiling. “You asked me what I want.”
“I did.”
“I don’t know.” Yu Junghyeok opens his mouth to berate Kim Dokja, but a glance tells Yu Junghyeok that he’s telling the truth. “This wasn’t part of the plan.”
He snorts. “I find that difficult to believe.”
“What kind of maniac do you think I am?”
“You seem like the type of person who makes contingency plans for your contingency plans. If you ever decided to commit a crime, the authorities would never catch you.”
“…You’ve gotten better at reading people.”
“Not people,” he mutters. “Just you.”
He slinks down Kim Dokja’s legs like a viper, wordlessly pulling his cock into his mouth. Yu Junghyeok is unpracticed in this art. He drools excessively, but Kim Dokja appreciates the view.
He forces himself not to buck his hips. With all the entitlement of a domineering alpha, Yu Junghyeok takes what it is his, humming around Kim Dokja’s shaft.
Kim Dokja complains about him forgoing a condom. Yu Junghyeok’s eyes narrow. “You haven’t slept with anyone else, have you?”
“Of course not.” His eyes are clamped shut to combat the onslaught of endorphins; he refuses to come prematurely.
Yu Junghyeok pulls off, grinding into Kim Dokja with full force. His eyes are wet when he opens them, staring at the beauty above him in awe.
“I’m clean.”
With that said, he licks his way into Kim Dokja’s mouth, riding him hard. A healthy dose of lubricant keeps the strokes smooth.
Absently, Kim Dokja fantasizes about having a feverish Yu Junghyeok in his lap, knot long gone. Heat-slick and desperate for sex, it wouldn’t be much different from this.
It’s then that Kim Dokja realizes he’s in too deep.
He comes inside, mind blank. Yu Junghyeok’s grip on his wrists is bruising.
Even with wavy hair matted to his sweaty forehead, he’s gorgeous. Kim Dokja disentangles himself to grab a washcloth as soon as Yu Junghyeok flops over, exhausted.
As soon as they’re clean, Yu Junghyeok squeezes him like a stress toy, refusing to let Kim Dokja go.
All told, it’s a pleasant evening.
“So, when do I get to meet your boyfriend?” Han Suyeong asks, watching Kim Dokja throw his laundry into a bag.
Kim Dokja is not bitching Yu Junghyeok in the most technical sense, but he’s following the standard trajectory. The formal shift is a matter of when, not if.
As of late, he’s been displaying pseudo-heat symptoms. Kim Dokja doesn’t want him to die of dehydration, that’s all.
“Not my boyfriend,” he insists, packing enough clean clothes to last him for three days. Yu Junghyeok would complain about him ordering takeout, but he would be even more annoyed if Kim Dokja decided to waste precious time in the kitchen.
“Right,” Han Suyeong drawls, unimpressed and unconvinced. “He’s just some guy that you’re weirdly protective of who you’ve been fucking for seven months.”
“Six,” he says, correcting her.
“Same difference. You won’t even show me a picture, you pig. This is cruel and unusual punishment.”
Han Suyeong pushes him out of the apartment as soon as he’s finished packing, dragging him to the neighborhood farmer’s market.
Unsurprisingly, the kids are waiting for them. Lee Gilyeong and Shin Yuseong stop fighting when they see him, racing to grab Kim Dokja’s hands. They bounce on their heels, staring at the food and trinkets.
Their words wash over him, ceaseless and soothing. It’s nice to have a break, sucking on candy to distract himself from craving nicotine.
He’s all but kicked the habit, though he caves whenever work gets to be too much. Yu Junghyeok bristles whenever he catches a whiff because he’s a bloodhound, laving at Kim Dokja’s collarbone with flinty eyes.
Lee Gilyeong and Shin Yuseong share a look when they hear Kim Dokja chortle, laughing to himself at the thought of Yu Junghyeok attempt to overwrite the smell of cigarettes with his own musk. It’s an open secret that Kim Dokja has been seeing someone, but pushing him for answers would only serve to make him recede, so they say nothing.
It’s only once his companions realize he’s staring at a stall selling collars that all three of them balk.
Shit, Han Suyeong thinks, suddenly panicked. This is serious.
She elbows him in the side, opening her mouth to ask which one caught his eye. She is interrupted by a man who smells confusing. Han Suyeong freezes, leveled by the glare of a guy who is half-rancid alpha and half burnt-sugar omega. “Kim Dokja?”
Kim Dokja acts like he’s been burned, plastering on a smile as he turns to Yu Junghyeok and the adorable little girl holding his hand. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“I refuse to wear any of these.”
“Hey now. The artisan is standing right there,” Kim Dokja chastises him, one hand on his hip. “It’s not like you’ve tried any of them on. Don’t be rude.” After a beat, he hums. “Does that mean you’ll wear one you like?”
Yu Junghyeok grunts.
“Aww, Hyeokie, I’m honored.”
He growls. “Don’t call me that.”
“Okay, no. No way,” Han Suyeong points, bewildered. “This is the guy? Why have you been hiding him?”
“I deliberately withheld information. I didn’t lie,” Kim Dokja protests, holding his hands up in surrender.
“Who is she?” Yu Junghyeok asks, tone demanding. His eyes are focused on Han Suyeong’s fingers, carelessly wrapped around Kim Dokja’s arm.
“A friend.”
“His best friend.”
“You’re going to get both of us killed,” Kim Dokja mutters. He pushes her away, ignoring her responding wicked grin.
Yu Mia is distraught. She can’t quite believe that her notoriously particular brother tolerated such a hooligan.
“Maybe we should take this somewhere else,” Kim Dokja say, all too aware that they’re garnering attention. They’re in the way.
Lee Gilyeong and Shin Yuseong stick to Kim Dokja like glue. The two of them glare daggers at Yu Mia, who is, in this very moment, their sworn enemy.
Kim Dokja wishes that Lee Hyeonseong had been nominated to go on this excursion. Kim Dokja would pay to hear his voice right now, basking in his soothing presence.
“Yu Junghyeok, meet Han Suyeong,” Kim Dokja says, completing introductions. “According to a number of disreputable sources, she’s a writer.”
“You are such an asshole. I’ll have you know that I won two awards last year.”
“Good for you,” Kim Dokja says, waving off the comment without opening his eyes. “Yu Junghyeok is the CEO of CORE.”
Han Suyeong’s eyes widen. “CORE, as in the fifth most prominent corporation in the country?”
“Do you know of another company called CORE?”
“Fuck.”
“Language,” Kim Dokja and Yu Junghyeok chastise her in unison.
Thankfully, the kids are preoccupied, busy attempting to persuade Yu Mia to play tag. Lee Gilyeong offers bug-hunting as an alternative when she declines. Shin Yuseong rallies for animal-petting, but Lee Gilyeong insists that his option won’t get them in trouble.
Mia looks to her brother for help. Yu Junghyeok simply nods, expression fond. It’s about time she made friends her age.
Han Suyeong folds her arms over her chest, arrogantly turning up her nose. “I will let you off the hook on one condition.”
“No.”
“Hear me out,” she whines, breaking character.
“It can’t be anything good.”
“There’s this animation studio—”
“No.”
“Do you hear this, Yu Junghyeok? This is the type of man you’ve saddled yourself with. There is no love in his heart.”
“Admittedly, it doesn’t seem like anything in this proposal benefits me. It sounds like a losing investment,” Yu Junghyeok deadpans.
Han Suyeong groans. “Oh, great. You’re just as bad as him. You two deserve each other.”
Kim Dokja grins.
Eventually, they part ways to fetch the youths, though Lee Gilyeong and Shin Yuseong seem ready to tackle Yu Junghyeok if he tries anything.
It’s the alpha in them, Kim Dokja thinks, but Yu Junghyeok knows how to play their game. He oozes potent, abrasive pheromones, forcing them to back down.
Han Suyeong drags them away, shouting that there will be a party. Apparently, their attendance is mandatory. As soon as she’s out of earshot, Yu Junghyeok asks his sister to step away, granting them some semblance of privacy.
“Is it still okay for me to come over tonight?” Kim Dokja asks.
“It’s fine. I’ll be dropping Mia off shortly.”
Casually, Kim Dokja puts his hand on Yu Junghyeok’s forehead, taking his temperature. It’s summer, so the weather is humid, but his hand is surprisingly cool. Subconsciously, Yu Junghyeok leans into the touch.
Flustered, Kim Dokja pulls away. That face of his is so unfair, he thinks, clearing his throat. “How do you feel?”
Yu Junghyeok shrugs. “Fine.”
“‘I’m pretending I’m fine but I’m dying inside,’ or actually fine?”
The sardonic inquiry earns him a scowl.
“If you collapse in the next three hours, I’m never going to let you live it down.”
“You are the bane of my existence.”
“What a coincidence. I feel the same way.”
Kim Dokja waves, then he jogs away.
It’s only once they’re seated in the car that Mia finds her words again. “Are you really dating that ugly old man?”
“He’s not ugly.” Or old, for that matter, but from Mia’s perspective, anyone over the age of sixteen probably seemed ancient.
Mia whines, mournfully weeping into her hands. “I liked Seolhwa-unni more.”
Yu Junghyeok rolls his eyes. Mia was three when he broke up with Lee Seolhwa.
She had been always been a better friend than a romantic partner. The two of them had known from the start that they weren’t playing for keeps. She hadn’t consumed his every waking thought the way Kim Dokja does.
Lee Seolhwa would laugh at him if she could see him now, congratulating him for learning what it meant to truly, properly yearn for someone.
“Too bad,” Yu Junghyeok says, flashing a contented smile.
Mia wails once more for good measure, planning to kill Kim Dokja if he hurts her brother’s feelings.
Kim Dokja helps himself to a glass of whiskey, watching Yu Junghyeok pad around the penthouse.
He smells faintly of shampoo after his post-workout shower. His joggers are slung low on his hips, fitted tee highlighting his contours. He’s a feast for the eyes and Kim Dokja appreciates the view, nibbling on pretzels to pass the time.
Yu Junghyeok’s first nest had been sparse. His second had been akin to a pillow fort. This time, he’d put a futon in the guest room floor. He builds his third nest from the corner out.
When Kim Dokja steps inside, he is surrounded by his own scent. Several articles of soft clothing have been placed center, given a place of honor next to Yu Junghyeok’s favorite pillow.
He’s a warm-blooded male. It’s impossible not to feel anything as he takes in the display. Yu Junghyeok glows with pride, cheeks stained with color.
“Should I get a thermometer?”
“No need,” Yu Junghyeok mutters, patting the space he’d meticulously carved out for them.
Because you can tell or because you can’t? The question dies in Kim Dokja’s throat—he doesn’t want to know.
For several minutes, all they do is kiss. They had seen each other earlier, but they haven’t had sex in weeks, separated by Yu Junghyeok’s hellish travel schedule. Possessively, he weaves his fingers into Kim Dokja’s hair, tugging at it.
The scrub of Yu Junghyeok’s nails against his scalp makes Kim Dokja shiver. He repays the favor, allowing Yu Junghyeok to push him down.
Casually, Yu Junghyeok rolls his hips. Today, his movements are tinged with desperation.
“I’ve got you, Junghyeok-ah,” Kim Dokja murmurs, stroking his back. “Relax.”
He rolls to the side so Kim Dokja can undress him. He’s unnaturally sweaty, hot and cold all at once.
Yu Junghyeok growls when Kim Dokja pulls away, but Kim Dokja assures him he’s not going far. He returns with a bottle of lubricant that’s nearly empty and half a dozen condoms, though Yu Junghyeok’s animalistic brain grouses, Not enough.
Kim Dokja is always insecure when he’s nude, but Yu Junghyeok is a sufficient distraction. Kim Dokja explores his body, cataloguing the litany of transformations that have taken place.
His muscle mass is unchanged. To the nose-blind, Yu Junghyeok looked every bit like an alpha—tall, imposing, flinty-eyed and built, an ideal specimen.
He, however, is privy to a location no one else is. Yu Junghyeok’s cock hasn’t shriveled so much as shifted. The space between his legs has become damningly sensitive. His balls have receded and a substance not unlike slick threatens to spill whenever Kim Dokja rubs at his newly formed lips. His ejaculate is no longer milky. It’s clear.
Kim Dokja inhales shakily, watching Yu Junghyeok’s toes curl as he makes contact. “You’re pretty,” he whispers, unable to help himself.
“How articulate,” Yu Junghyeok rasps.
“If you’re going to be a brat, I’ll stop.”
His silence is an answer, a promise to behave. Kim Dokja laughs. “Good boy.”
As always, praise makes Yu Junghyeok’s pulse race. Kim Dokja’s touches are light, nowhere near as rough as he likes. The urge to snarl and buck rises, but he tamps it down.
Tonight is special.
Kim Dokja starts to narrate his observations, smooth palms running over Yu Junghyeok’s abdomen. Kim Dokja pinches his nipples. “You used to complain when I did this, but you like it now, don’t you?”
Tellingly, Yu Junghyeok does not refute the claim.
He goes on and on until he arrives at Yu Junghyeok’s bonding juncture. He usually avoided it at all costs, terrified to cross the threshold.
Yu Junghyeok likes to think he finally knows what Kim Dokja wants. He might be more aware than the man himself.
“Stop stalling,” he barks, flipping their positions. Every bone in his body screams alpha, my alpha.
He had allowed this to happen. He welcomed Kim Dokja into his nest. Kim Dokja knows what it means.
He’s known since the beginning.
“I don’t think anyone would believe me if I told them you were a hopeless romantic,” Kim Dokja murmurs. He closes his eyes as Yu Junghyeok bites him, claims him, blood singing with unbridled want.
“Who would you tell?” Yu Junghyeok counters, licking his lips as Kim Dokja drags him down, using gravity to his advantage.
He bites Yu Junghyeok in kind, fingers dancing up Yu Junghyeok’s spine as sucks at the sensitive skin.
The bondmark serves as a reminder that their fates are intertwined. It doesn’t burn like an alpha’s mark, nor does it have a cooling effect like an omega’s. The pain is mild. Kim Dokja’s mark is a faint scar, as quiet and constant as the lunar cycle.
After that, things move quickly. Kim Dokja fingers Yu Junghyeok open with fervor, breath hot on his face. “You’re tight,” he hisses. Yu Junghyeok reminds him that it’s been a while. “You haven’t touched yourself since then?”
“No.”
“What are you, some kind of monk?”
“I don’t think the church would approve of our bedroom activities,” he retorts, dry-witted as usual.
Kim Dokja laughs. “True.”
He’s not strong enough to manhandle Yu Junghyeok. Thankfully, Yu Junghyeok understands his intentions, pulling his legs up.
Yu Junghyeok had been so uncomfortable the first time they did it like this that Kim Dokja had pulled out, but with practice, he had come to prefer this position.
He puts his calves on Kim Dokja’s shoulders, groaning as Kim Dokja’s tip brushes against his seam. The bondmark heightens all of their sensations. Half-delirious with lust, he drags Kim Dokja into a slipshod kiss.
It’s more teeth than anything, but it’s delicious all the same. Kim Dokja slathers gel all over his condom, but it’s not necessary.
Yu Junghyeok is slick.
“Shit. You really are in heat.”
He preens at the comment.
“Stop smirking, you bastard. I need to email my boss.”
“It can wait until tomorrow.”
“You’re going to get me fired.”
“You don’t need a job. I’ll support you.”
Kim Dokja blinks at him for a moment, baffled. Slowly, his eyes crinkle. It is the most dazzling smile he’s ever offered Yu Junghyeok. “You’re sweet, but I refuse to be a freeloader.”
“You have a busy mind. I’m sure there’s something you like doing more than writing code.”
“I wish you would stop trying to have deep conversations in bed.”
“You only tell the truth when you’re getting your dick wet, so my opportunities are limited.”
“Asshole,” Kim Dokja mutters, nailing Yu Junghyeok’s sweet spot to shut him up.
“Takes one to know one.”
Their conversation trails off into a series of grunts and moans as pleasure crests. Kim Dokja comes first, but he stubbornly gets Yu Junghyeok off afterwards. They trade orgasms like blows, the fever eating away at Yu Junghyeok’s brain.
He whines when Kim Dokja pulls out. Kim Dokja kisses his brow. “You need to eat something,” he insists.
He forces Yu Junghyeok to sit up and drink water. He wraps his arms around Kim Dokja’s skinny waist whenever he gets close enough.
Miraculously, Kim Dokja manages to beg off of work, though his supervisor has some choice words for him, given his trademark terrible attendance.
Within hours, he’s wrung dry. He allows Yu Junghyeok to do whatever he wants the rest of the time, within reason.
Yu Junghyeok fucks like a machine, riding him hard. He puts his dick in Kim Dokja’s mouth while Kim Dokja pushes toys into his ass—anything to quench his thirst.
His vision is blurry by the time the third day rolls around. He promises to do calisthenics to contend with his partner’s inhuman stamina.
Reason comes back to Yu Junghyeok in bits and pieces. A headache pulses at his temple, thudding and insistent.
“Welcome back,” Kim Dokja says, then he passes out, flashing Yu Junghyeok a V for victory.
“Stop messing with it,” Kim Dokja tells himself, chastising his reflection.
Yu Junghyeok’s search for the perfect collar had been painstaking. He had been disgusted with the temporary options, going so far as to pay for custom leatherwork. Kim Dokja’s collar is white in contrast to Yu Junghyeok’s black, but the trimmings are the same. The embroidered patterns are complimentary as well.
Quite frankly, Yu Junghyeok had spent so much money on them that they were embarrassing to wear, but Kim Dokja’s protests had fallen upon deaf ears.
He is all but shoved into the passenger seat. He jostles his legs the whole time.
Yu Junghyeok turns to him when the hit a red light. “Are you nervous?”
“Aren’t you?”
For weeks, Yu Junghyeok has pointedly ignored questions about his relationship.
The rumors are boundless. His colleagues whisper amongst themselves, speculating about the type of person who ensnared their frigid CEO. Most people assume that ‘she’ is a beauty, an incomparably charming omega.
No one had come close to the truth.
Yu Junghyeok is introducing Kim Dokja to his parents. It’s a customary step and a requirement, besides. His PR team had given him the go-ahead to break the news. If things went south, they would protect him.
A member of the staff opens the door, but Mia is close behind. She had done a remarkable job of keeping her mouth shut, but Kim Dokja suspects that’s because she doesn’t like him.
She’s in denial, he explained. Yu Junghyeok scoffed.
“Kim Dokja,” she says, forgoing honorifics.
His eyebrow twitches. “Hello, Mia.”
Contrarily, Mia beams at Yu Junghyeok. He ruffles her hair affectionately, listening to her babble without interrupting. He tosses a smirk over his shoulder. Kim Dokja clenches a fist. Is it truly a victory if it’s the other party is biased?
He files his irritation away for a later date. Vindictively, he pictures Yu Junghyeok on his knees. It soothes his bruised ego.
All things considered, his parents take the news well.
They’re disgruntled by the fact that Yu Junghyeok has thrown his lot in with a beta, but Yu Junghyeok stands his ground, stating his case.
His father is the first one to concede, reminding his mother of Yu Junghyeok’s contributions.
“The business has grown tremendously in the three years you’ve been in charge. As long as you’re willing to keep managing it, this is a small concession to make.”
Yu Junghyeok tells his father that he has no intention of stepping down as long as he is willing to recognize their children as legitimate heirs.
Kim Dokja buries his face in his hands at that statement. He prays for the floor to swallow him whole. His mother and Mia are equally flustered, careful to avoid Yu Junghyeok’s blistering gaze.
His father coughs to dispel the tension. “Of course.”
Triumphantly, Yu Junghyeok falls into his chair. He turns to Kim Dokja, whispering in his ear. “I told you that everything would be fine.”
“No one told you to steamroll your parents into accepting me.”
“Your plan had twelve steps and it would have taken two years to reach fruition. Entirely unacceptable.”
“I want a divorce,” Kim Dokja grumbles.
“That would imply that we’re married.”
His heart skips a beat at Yu Junghyeok’s not-proposal. “You’re bad for my health.”
Thankfully, the awkward afternoon at the manor is followed by a kickback at Yu Sangah’s house.
The weather is pleasant, so the kids are outside. His friends are all tipsy by the time they arrive.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the man of the hour,” Jeong Huiwon says, grinning fiendishly. “It’s nice to see you.”
Yu Junghyeok is surprised to see a familiar face on the couch next to her: the security guard who worked the night shift more often than not. “Hyeonseong, do you know him?”
“Yes. He’s an…acquaintance,” Hyeonseong hums, shy and sweet.
Yu Junghyeok looks away, ignoring Hyeonseong’s knowing gaze.
Kim Dokja always dodged the subject of family, gaze vacant on the rare instances he remembered his mother. She’s alive, is all Yu Junghyeok knows. As much as he would like to crack Kim Dokja’s skull open and understand what that means, he’s willing to wait until Kim Dokja tells him of his own accord.
On the other hand, Kim Dokja never shied away from singing his friends’ praises. He had met a number of them online, including a foreign girl who demanded to be called Uriel and Han Suyeong, but a great deal of them had stumbled into his life for some reason or another and decided to stick around.
The kids hiss at Yu Junghyeok like territorial cats, but he reigns supreme. He chats with a number of people until he gets tired of talking. He’s sipping liquor in a corner when an exceptionally inebriated Kim Dokja falls into his lap. He hasn’t forgotten that they’re in public, exactly; his sense of shame has always been questionable. “What do you do to get a chest like this, seriously?”
“You could go to the gym with me,” Yu Junghyeok mutters.
“No thank you. I’m not into being humiliated.”
Kim Dokja gropes his pecs until Yu Junghyeok tells him to stop. He goes quiet. For a moment, Yu Junghyeok wonders if he’d fallen asleep.
When he turns Kim Dokja’s head, he sees that his eyes are glassy. He’s tired, but he doesn’t lose his balance. Slowly, a smile graces his face. It’s a soft, raw thing and Yu Junghyeok feels privileged to see it.
Kim Dokja says nothing, continuing to stare. The silence is comfortable. Like this, he looked less like a sly weasel and more like a boy, one who never had anything like this growing up.
“Let’s go home,” says Yu Junghyeok.
Kim Dokja blinks, coming out of the trance. He doesn’t question the use of home referring to Yu Junghyeok’s penthouse. He doesn’t fire off a single witty quip.
He interlaces their fingers. He says, “Alright,” and Yu Junghyeok falls further in love.
Moving Kim Dokja in is a matter of course.
Yu Junghyeok pays a carpenter to build shelves for his tchotchkes and Kim Dokja fusses, but he fills them meticulously, his figurines and novels lovingly organized.
Learning how to live together takes time.
Yu Junghyeok is a perfectionist. Much to Kim Dokja’s exasperation, he’s particular about ironing his clothes. He preferred to make his own food and he was a damn-good cook, which, given his upbringing, comes as a surprise.
His nagging drives Kim Dokja crazy, but thankfully, he’s easily distracted.
To pull the hopeless workaholic away from his computer, all Kim Dokja has to do is rub at his bondmark and Yu Junghyeok turns to putty, growls of annoyance quickly becoming groans of pleasure.
Technically, it’s Wednesday, but it’s Tuesday in Kim Dokja’s soul—it’s midnight, after all.
“Come to bed,” he murmurs. He waits for Yu Junghyeok’s brow to furrow, signaling that he’s given in.
At first, he’s unruly. He so often is. Kim Dokja plies him with kisses and filthy words, stroking Yu Junghyeok’s back until he shivers. With a huff, he closes his laptop, dragging Kim Dokja into the bedroom with him.
Several minutes later, Kim Dokja whispers in his ear. “Next time, don’t be so stubborn,” he says, sliding two fingers in without resistance.
“You, of all people, don’t get to say that to me,” he snarls, dragging Kim Dokja’s hand into his mouth.
He grinds against Yu Junghyeok lazily, slick staining the front of his sweatpants. He waits until he feels drool dripping down Yu Junghyeok’s chin to disentangle himself, freeing his cock from its confines.
“You’re so good for me,” Kim Dokja hums. “Such a pretty omega.”
Yu Junghyeok bites the inside of his cheek to keep from moaning like a whore. He’s ninety-nine percent sure Kim Dokja has no idea what he’s saying. His compliments always slipped out unconsciously, true feelings laid bare in the midst of lovemaking.
He doesn’t think he’s a particularly good omega, nor does he think the term ‘pretty’ applies to a man of his height and stature, but he drinks in the praise like a man stranded in the desert.
Fingers dance around his navel. Yu Junghyeok’s breath hitches. A raw sound is knocked loose when Kim Dokja rocks into him, thumb pressed to his notching juncture, cock keeping him stuffed.
Kim Dokja liked kids; that much was obvious. Watching him play with Mia, Lee Gilyeong, and Shin Yuseong was amusing.
It dawns on Yu Junghyeok, belatedly, that they could have children of their own.
“What are you thinking about, hm?” Kim Dokja’s voice is like honey, addictive nectar flowing into his ears.
“Nothing,” Yu Junghyeok says, flustered by his own train of thought.
“Liar,” Kim Dokja murmurs, sliding in another finger in just to watch Yu Junghyeok squirm. He likes the burn and Kim Dokja knows it.
He’s an inch away from coming up with an excuse when Kim Dokja bites his bondmark. In response, a flood of slick drips down Yu Junghyeok’s thighs. His knees go weak and his arms go slack, leaving him gasping into a pillow.
Kim Dokja wipes him down. Then, he combs his hair. He helps Yu Junghyeok hobble into the shower before he changes the sheets.
He is everything Yu Junghyeok never knew he wanted and more.
“I’m going to stop taking my birth control. Forget the condoms.”
Color spreads from Kim Dokja’s chest up to his ears. “What.”
“You heard me,” he mutters. Yu Junghyeok closes his eyes and pulls the comforter over his shoulder, compartmentalizing his embarrassment.
“Okay, no—you don’t get to roll over and pretend you didn’t say something crazy. What about your reputation?”
“We can register our marriage at the courthouse in the morning. That will silence any naysayers.”
“You’ve finally lost it. I always knew this day would come.”
Yu Junghyeok glares at him. “Do you have a problem with marrying me?”
“I should be asking you that,” Kim Dokja mutters, pinching Yu Junghyeok’s cheek.
“I’ve proposed to you before.”
“I thought you were joking.”
“I don’t tell jokes.”
Kim Dokja snorts. The flat, wry tone of Yu Junghyeok’s statement invalidates his claim.
For several long minutes, Kim Dokja thinks. He heaves a heavy sigh, lying down so he can look Yu Junghyeok in the eye. “Kids, huh?”
“Let’s start with one,” he counters, his voice a low rumble.
Kim Dokja laughs. Idly, he strokes Yu Junghyeok’s fingers, thinking.
“If you’re not ready, we can wait.”
He’s grateful for the consideration, but the truth is that they don’t have much time. Yu Junghyeok transitioned late in life. Male omegas had lower birth rates. An alpha surrogate would guarantee pregnancy, but the two of them would have to try a few times to get it right.
“I want to have a proper ceremony,” Kim Dokja mumbles, shyly burying his face.
He wants all of his friends to see him on his special day. He wants to force Yu Junghyeok to wear a white suit he’ll hate. He wants Yu Sangah to take pictures of them on the dance floor, eternally commemorating his lack of coordination. He wants to get drunk with Yu Junghyeok after they exchange vows.
“We’ll do that, then.”
Neither of them say I love you, but they don’t need to.
They hold each other all night instead.
epilogue
The office had been exceptionally noisy when Yu Junghyeok announced his engagement.
At first, his peers only had nasty things to say, but his subordinates had been pleased. “Just look at him. He’s happy. Isn’t that good enough for you?”
The chatter became rosy after that, everyone giggling over the lovestruck Yu Junghyeok. His nose wrinkled whenever he got a text from his fiancé. He grumbled, attempting to play off how smitten he was, but those on the extreme ends of the spectrum could smell his glee.
The wedding itself had been surprisingly subdued. Yu Junghyeok complained about his spouse’s frugality at length, but he crammed in as much extravagance as he’d been allowed. Their suits had been immaculate and the decorations had been exceptional.
For two and a half years, they’ve maintained status quo, adjusted to the less cranky Yu Junghyeok.
It’s only after an intern catches him running to the bathroom that they realize another shift has occurred. Those who hadn’t cottoned on to his change in status change are bewildered by his bladder problems and the nausea. Those in-the-know stare at him sympathetically, offering well-wishes for his health.
He demands a lot of them, but he demands more of himself, working long hours to make sure the place isn’t going to burn to the ground while he’s out on leave.
Then and only then do his colleagues come face to face with Yu Junghyeok’s unremarkable husband.
Yu Junghyeok stares at Kim Dokja in silence, fixated on his lopsided grin. “What are you doing here?”
“What, I’m not allowed to visit?”
“At this time of day?” He glances at a clock on the wall.
“You caught me. I finally got fired.” Yu Junghyeok bristles, opening his mouth to spew a litany of curses. “Kidding. I took the day off. For the record, I told you that this morning, but you didn't listen. Here. You forgot your lunch.”
A broad range of emotions washes over Yu Junghyeok’s face before he settles on cranky contentment. Kim Dokja sits on his desk cross-legged without a care in the world.
Yu Junghyeok’s secretary stares at them, baffled. He glares at her. She squeaks, hurriedly gathering her things.
Kim Dokja clicks his tongue, running a hand through Yu Junghyeok’s hair. “Calm down, Junghyeok-ah. You’re scaring her.”
He bristles, muttering under his breath. Whatever he says makes Kim Dokja laugh. Their body language is stiflingly intimate. When she finally excuses herself, Yu Junghyeok’s relief is palpable.
Regardless of the risk, she can’t help peeking through one of the office windows. Kim Dokja does most of the talking. Yu Junghyeok listens, tidily eating his meal.
Kim Dokja leaves an hour later, breezily waving to the people he passes. His visit improves Yu Junghyeok’s mood by leaps and bounds. He’s so pleased, in fact, that he dismisses them early, slipping out of the conference room the minute his meeting is over.
He receives envious stares as he walks to the elevator, fiddling with his phone, expression fond. His smarter employees think, thank god, sticking around a few more minutes to make their lives easier tomorrow.
The next day, Yu Junghyeok is practically glowing with vitality.
His secretary gives praise to her savior, hoping against all hope that Kim Dokja will work his magic again on Thursday night.
She could use a break.