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No one talks about the plight of alphas.
Omegas get all the sympathy in the world, deserved as it may be, for having to carry pups and manage heat cycles and generally undergo the miracle that is childbirth. But don’t alphas suffer as well? Don’t alphas deserve a little bit of tenderness in turn?
Wonwoo’s boyfriend would backhand him into the next dimension if he heard him talking like this. Fortunately for him, he’s already there. He’s allowed to be a little pathetic.
He feels pathetic, losing it like this on a peaceful Sunday afternoon. The sun is shining through the windows, the apartment quiet save for the soft whistling of the tea kettle on the stove. A perfectly tranquil scene. If it were any other day Wonwoo would be curling up with a manga in his living room.
But no, Wonwoo is so worked up he could erect a second Eiffel Tower right here in his kitchen, like the world’s most inappropriate wedding-cake topper.
The smell of clean laundry and freshly baked biscuits is decidedly tainted by Wonwoo’s scent glands pumping overtime, filling the air with his heavy, musky desperation. It’s embarrassing. He’s embarrassing.
It would be so much easier to deal with if he were alone.
If he could go full caveman-mode, shutter the blinds and strip his blankets, put a crate of energy drinks in the centre of the living room and crawl in naked. He’s used to riding it out this way, emerging from his hibernation den two days later, lips cracked, hair flattened to one side of his head, ten pounds lighter from all the organic matter expelled, but whole. Dignity intact, because no one else had to see him this way.
But, now.
Now there’s a figure on his couch, reading a book and giving Wonwoo the silent treatment, and generally being the root of all his problems.
Because Wonwoo’s rut is starting, and he’s in the fucking doghouse.
Yeah, yeah. Make whatever jokes you want, he’s heard them all before.
Joshua turns the page, smelling like strawberries and fucking cream and everything else that makes Wonwoo salivate like a street dog who’s never been fed.
It’s maddening.
It’s torture.
It’s—
Fine.
Wonwoo squeezes his eyes shut and shakes some sense back into himself. He’s still got a few hours before the rut haze completely takes over, and until then he has the chance to talk things out. Like an adult. Like a rational, human man. He’s really gotta shake this dog comparison.
Wonwoo adjusts the saucer on the tray, and brings it out into the living room.
He made tea and honey biscuits from scratch, Joshua’s favourite. A peace offering of sorts. Wonwoo kneels down next to the couch and sets it on the coffee table.
Joshua’s scent is overwhelming up close, creamy and lactonic and heavy on Wonwoo’s tongue.
He switches to breathing through his mouth.
“I made biscuits,” he says, a bit nasally. “They’re still warm from the oven.”
Joshua doesn’t even glance up from his book. He flicks a page over.
“Shua. Please don’t be mad at me.”
Pointed silence.
Never let it be said that Wonwoo’s boyfriend would lose a competition in pettiness.
“I said I was sorry. What will it take for you to forgive me?”
Nothing. Dust motes swirl and settle in the rays of sunlight warming the patch of couch Joshua’s sitting on. Wonwoo wants nothing more than to crawl in next to him, maybe nuzzle his face into the juncture where Joshua’s shoulder meets his neck. Breathe in the sweet milky scent, maybe leave a couple of soft purple marks in his wake. Joshua’s skin is so soft, he goes over it with two rounds of lotion before bed every night. One layer to moisturize, and a second layer to lock the moisture in, he says whenever Wonwoo complains about Joshua taking too long to come to bed, sliding into the sheets slippery and greasier than a newborn seal. What are those called, again? Oh. Pups.
Pups.
It’s the ghost of a whisper in his hindbrain, beckoning him closer to ruin.
Pups.
Wonwoo, breeding him full of them. Joshua, carrying his pups. They’d probably have to go at it every day, maybe even multiple times a day, to really try in earnest. Wonwoo could take him over every surface he owns, make a sort of game out of it. Horizontal over the arm of the couch, vertical against the wall of his study, sideways on his smooth kitchen counter. They could go topsy-turvy around the entire one bedroom kingdom of his apartment.
Joshua gets this magical glow about him whenever they’re having a ton of sex. His skin gets all flushed and bouncy, and his usual creamy scent takes on an almost fermented edge, like makgeolli that’s been ripening in the fridge for a week. Wonwoo is addicted to the way Joshua smells, rolling around in the residuum he leaves in the divots of his life. The collar of his borrowed hoodies, the silk pillowcase he sleeps on, the warm cleft between his couch cushions. Wonwoo could bury his face there for hours, just breathing in the comforting scent of his boyfriend.
Then again, his boyfriend's sweet nature is often belied by the fact that he, at times, exhibits behaviour more aptly befitting of a sex-crazed demon.
Dating Joshua Hong is a lawless, lawless world. Nothing is sacred. Joshua will take every last thing Wonwoo holds dear and wrest it from his control, turning it into some sick, perverted competition. And because Wonwoo is biologically wired to never retreat from a fight, he finds himself upping the ante every single time. Just when Wonwoo thinks he couldn’t possibly get worse, Joshua finds a way to sink him a little deeper.
He’s not exactly proud of where it’s led him, at times. Before Joshua, Wonwoo thought of himself as a vanilla sort of guy. Sure, he had a folder of hentai bookmarked on his desktop, but so does every other guy his age. But when it actually came time to get down with it, missionary and holding hands was great for him, thanks.
That lid has been blown clean off.
Omega. Breed. Now.
Wonwoo jolts. Hello there. A familiar heat flares in his groin, licking at the base of his spine like an open flame.
He suddenly realizes that he’s been breathing in lungfuls of Joshua’s scent, and his dick is now half hard in his sweatpants. He’s still kneeling by the couch, face just inches away from the exposed sliver of skin between Joshua’s pyjama pants and his shirt.
Wonwoo’s mouth waters. “Shua hyung.”
It’s as if Wonwoo doesn’t exist. Joshua continues reading his book on– macroeconomic theory? Wonwoo knows for a fact that he finished that course last semester. He grits his teeth.
The weight in his dick is starting to become uncomfortable. He reaches down to adjust himself, gives himself the heel of his palm to grind up against. It feels good, the relief stirring his arousal into full focus. He thinks he might have less time than he thought.
At least he can still think clearly. He takes a deep breath and places a hand on the couch between them. He allows himself to graze his knuckles against the hem of Joshua’s shirt, right where it’s riding up against his waist. Wonwoo can feel the heat of him radiating from his skin.
“Hyung, you can’t keep ignoring me. We should… we should talk. We should talk things out.”
Wonwoo can’t help himself. He slides his hand under the warm heat of Joshua’s shirt, feeling the soft skin underneath. This is what he would hold onto for leverage if he were sheathing himself inside Joshua. Two hands on his waist, pushing in to rock back and forth into him. Another chunk of his sanity breaks off into the abyss.
“It’s not good for us to stay mad at each other. We could be having a proper conversation like– like two functioning adults.”
Joshua is still pretending he’s not there. Frustrated, Wonwoo leans forward and sets his teeth on his waist, rucking his shirt up even further. He mouths at the skin above his waistband, which only stokes the flames of his arousal. Gently, he bites down, soothing over the soft marks with his tongue afterwards. He continues his path downwards, nose brushing against the soft fabric of Joshua’s flannel pants.
He can’t get the angle right. He wants– he needs–
Wonwoo manhandles Joshua’s legs open so he can lie belly-down between them.
Joshua turns the page, coolly ignoring him.
Here is exactly where he needs to be. Wonwoo runs his hands over Joshua’s hips, ducking his head so he can take a long, slow inhale against Joshua’s cunt.
Even through two layers of fabric, the smell makes his dick twitch.
Before they got together, when Wonwoo was still watching from afar like a creep, he would drive himself mad imagining what Joshua might smell like if he ever found himself lucky enough to get between his legs. He doesn’t need to imagine anymore.
It’s thick, and heady, and deals the same effect as slugging three glasses of wine. Wonwoo has to remind himself to keep breathing.
“I’m just… I’m just going to…”
He shuffles back a bit, tugging Joshua’s pants and underwear down, careful not to jostle him. He tosses them off his ankles and slowly, worshipfully, spreads Joshua’s legs open.
Wonwoo could weep at the sight. His favourite thing in the entire world, but admitting it would earn him a smack to the head.
The prettiest goddamn pussy he’s ever seen.
His voice trembles when he whispers, “So fuckin’ perfect down here, Shua.”
He brushes a knuckle down the centre seam, and Joshua’s cunt unfurls for him like a flower bud. It’s already slick to the touch.
Wonwoo chances a glance upwards, and Joshua still has his nose buried in his book. He feels like a kid about to get caught stealing from the cookie jar.
But fuck, Joshua is laid out so nicely for him. A five-star buffet, just for Wonwoo.
He settles in, ignoring the persistent, bordering-on painful ache in his dick.
It’s forever a debate between them whether Wonwoo keeps his glasses on during sex. Joshua insists on it, whereas Wonwoo feels they are burdensome. He wants to see what’s in front of him just as much as Joshua wants to see him in them, but once he gets all sweaty and horizontal, his glasses are liable to slip right off. And if he’s eating Joshua out, they get uselessly foggy, and he ends up looking like a scrambled Mr. Potato Head.
Wonwoo gives himself the executive right to make a decision today. He sets his neatly folded glasses on the coffee table, and lowers his mouth to Joshua’s pussy.
Joshua tastes like well, human ejaculate, but beneath that there’s an undercurrent of milk. Sweet milk, lactonic and creamy in a way that makes Wonwoo’s head spin, one taste rendering him uselessly drunk with his tongue lolling out, desperate for more.
He must spend ten, twenty, forty minutes down there, trapped in a haze of Joshua’s cunt. He loses track of time when his face is buried down here, the world narrowing down to him and Joshua’s wet slick leaking out from his slit, the minute twitch of his thighs, the engorged bud of his clitoris.
Wonwoo licks and sucks as lazily as he feels like. Joshua is normally so demanding, yanking at his hair and directing Wonwoo in that swotty voice that definitely doesn’t get him off.
But today, Joshua continues to not acknowledge his existence.
Wonwoo supposes he likes when Joshua’s a bit mean to him. It’s part of his boyfriend’s charm.
But being ignored while he’s right in front of him, kneeling at his altar? Like Wonwoo’s simply a nuisance, inconsequential as a housefly?
It’s making him feel like he’s being scorched from the inside out.
He moans into Joshua’s cunt, sloppily dragging his mouth over the plump skin. Wonwoo’s dick is leaking like a faulty hose inside his boxers.
At this point, even if Joshua isn’t reacting, his pussy can’t hide his arousal. It clenches and unclenches around nothing, squeezing out a fresh round of slick. Wonwoo’s about to make another meandering round down and across his slit, just barely slipping his tongue inside–
Something solid pops against the side of his skull so hard his vision sparks.
“Ow…” Wonwoo whines, rubbing at the spot Joshua has just whacked him with his book.
He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, blinking Joshua back into focus. He grabs his glasses off the side table. Aside from a flush creeping up the side of the neck, he looks completely normal. And he still has his nose buried in that stupid fucking book.
Wonwoo, on the other hand, is so hard it feels like his dick in danger of falling off. He reaches down to palm himself, and the wet spot on the front of his sweats sticks uncomfortably to his skin. The fog settled at the front of his brain spreads to the rest of his limbs, rendering them distant, like they could float away from him at any moment.
A sudden lurch in his stomach folds Wonwoo in half. It’s a doozy, one second he’s upright and the next he’s so overtaken by the need to fuck, to breed, that he’s white-knuckling the back of the couch for balance.
“Shit, I think– Shua, my rut…”
He shoves his boxers down, fisting his own cock just this side of too tight. His clothes suddenly feel burdensome. He sheds them in a daze, tossing them behind him half-haphazardly.
His voice comes out all warbly, needy even to his ears. “C-can I fuck you? Please?”
Wonwoo doesn’t know what he’s going to do if Joshua keeps ignoring him. He thinks he might give up on being an alpha and go get himself bitched.
Joshua, miraculously, looks up from his book.
“Are you going to do it right?” he says, archly. It’s the first thing he’s said to him all day.
Wonwoo nods so hard his glasses almost fly off. “Yes, yes! Please, hyung.”
He doesn’t care that he sounds desperate. He is desperate.
Joshua rolls his eyes.
“I don’t think you’ll last more than ten seconds.” And then he goes back to reading.
Wonwoo is actually starting to pant a bit. Just the thought of being inside Joshua, of sliding into that perfect, slicked up pussy, is turning his brain to soup. He feels his chances slipping through his fingers like sand.
“I-I will! I promise, hyung, I’ll make it good for you!”
Joshua’s eyes narrow, and he places his book down. He then sits up slowly, leaning in until their lips are almost touching. Wonwoo swallows thickly.
“I don’t believe you.”
The air is thick with their combined scents now, Joshua’s sweet cream mixed with Wonwoo’s heavy musk. Every neuron firing in his brain is telling him to spread Joshua’s legs and sheathe himself inside, but he can’t. He won’t. Not without his permission, first.
“I think,” Joshua says, advancing on Wonwoo until he lands on the couch in a big, sweaty heap, “that you’re going to cram your useless cock inside my tight, wet pussy, and immediately cream yourself like an overeager puppy.”
Wonwoo whimpers. His brain is starting to leak out of his fucking ears. Why did he think he stood a chance?
But Joshua isn’t done with him yet. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Coming inside me, getting me nice and filled with your sloppy cum. That’s all your dumb alpha brain can think about right now, isn’t it? Breeding me full so I can get pregnant with your pups?”
Joshua traces a finger over the underside of Wonwoo’s engorged dick, flicking the tip so it bobs against his stomach.
Wonwoo thinks he’s started to black in and out of consciousness. He lets out a miserable moan.
“Pump me so full that you’re leaking out of me, so that there’s no chance it won’t take? Tell me, is that what you want? Alpha?”
Wonwoo’s tongue is thick and clumsy in his mouth. “Yes,” he pleads, fully embracing how pathetic he sounds. Maybe Joshua will feel sorry for him. “I want it, I want it so fucking bad, Shua.”
Joshua tuts like Wonwoo’s some recalcitrant schoolboy. In a faraway corner of his rut-soaked mind, he wonders what Joshua would look like in a pencil skirt, wooden ruler smacking against his palm.
Suddenly, the hovering heat overtop of him disappears. Joshua has laid back down again. “Well? Hurry up before I change my mind.”
To say that Wonwoo scrambles to comply is an understatement. He almost falls off the couch.
“Thank you, Shua, promise ‘m gonna make you feel so good, fuck,” he rambles, so grateful he could cry. He shoves a pillow underneath his hips and lines himself up with Joshua’s entrance.
Joshua just huffs and retrieves his book, opening it back up to the dog-eared page. “Let’s not make promises we can’t keep.”
Wonwoo feels a bit like a kicked puppy, but he’s determined to make this good. He wants to make Joshua feel good.
Carefully, he pushes inside in one, achingly slow motion, and goes rigid once he’s buried to the hilt. He trembles, a hairline crack away from immediately proving Joshua right. Hot, wet, fluttering heat engulfs him, frying him at his nerve endings. He has to grit his teeth and desperately think of math equations until the risk of imminent orgasm passes.
Joshua absently flips the page, and Wonwoo is filled with the determination to give him a reason to put his book back down. He adjusts the angle and pulls out slowly, thrusting back in again.
He settles into a steady tempo, a bead of sweat running down his temple, either from rut fever or exertion or the effort not to come, but likely all three.
He’s not sure how much time passes like that. Joshua’s slick cunt beckons Wonwoo inside, and he feels like a man possessed, helpless to chase the heat of him over and over again. He understands why alphas get compared to animals, now. He feels dumb, unable to respond to anything beyond his base urges to fuck and breed. Joshua is holding every ounce of power over him right now simply by allowing him inside.
“Thank you,” Wonwoo slurs, words starting to jumble together. “Thank you for letting me f-fuck you, hyung, it feels s-s’good.”
Joshua just hums, looking bored.
But the pages under his fingers are starting to crease.
Encouraged, Wonwoo hitches him closer and pushes a bit deeper in, searching for the right angle. He brings a hand down to circle Joshua’s clit, lightly brushing the pad of his thumb against it.
A breathy moan sounds off above him. Wonwoo’s head flies up to see Joshua digging his teeth into his lower lip, eyes focusing and unfocusing on the page in front of him.
Feeling like he’s won the lottery, he gathers some extra slick from around Joshua’s entrance and smears it around his clit to make the glide easier. He continues trying to find the spot in Joshua that makes his toes curl.
The idea that alphas somehow have an upper hand over omegas is laughable. Wonwoo has never felt so akin to a dog on a leash, showing his belly after being told to roll over. His pleasure is solely tied up in Joshua’s, his own needs secondary to making Joshua feel good.
At least it seems to be working. Joshua is starting to make these sweet little noises, breathy gasps and choked off whines that are like music to Wonwoo’s ears, and he’s not even pretending to read anymore. At a certain point the book falls out of his grasp, and he doesn’t bother picking it back up.
Wonwoo hikes Joshua’s legs over his shoulders, using the leverage to pull him down onto his cock.
“Is that,” Wonwoo swallows a pant, “is that good for you, Shua?”
Joshua glares at him, lips mottled by his teeth.
“T-tell me when you’re close, okay? I'll make you come first,” he promises.
Joshua gets a gleam in his eye that can only mean trouble for him.
“You promise?” His face goes innocent all of sudden, no trace of his previous ire to be found.
Wonwoo nods. He doesn’t know what Joshua’s plotting, but there’s no space left in his brain to think about it. All of his mental power is being expended towards making Joshua feel good.
“You wanna kiss me, puppy?” Joshua says.
If he were lucid, the built-in alarm-system for Joshua-related traps would be tripping right now. Unfortunately for him, all defense measures are currently disarmed in the scrambled hash of his brain.
Wonwoo lights up, nodding eagerly.
“Come here, then.”
Or maybe it’s just that he doesn’t care.
Wonwoo crawls forward, careful not to crush Joshua under his weight, allowing himself to be pulled downwards.
The kiss is mind-meltingly dirty, all tongue with a little bit of teeth, and Joshua rakes his fingernails over Wonwoo’s scalp in a way he knows makes his knees go weak. He moans helplessly into Joshua’s mouth.
Then, when he’s least expecting it, Joshua hooks his leg over the back of Wonwoo’s thigh and flips them over like an egg sausage roll.
The wind gets knocked out of him. Wonwoo lands on his back, now tucked underneath Joshua.
He looks gorgeous from this angle, lit by the sun, a light sheen of sweat on his skin as he sits triumphantly astride him. He shucks his shirt off, tossing it to the growing pile of clothes on the floor.
“You’re going to be a good boy for me, right?” he says, grabbing the base of Wonwoo’s cock and giving it a few test strokes.
It takes Wonwoo’s brain three seconds to think of the right answer. “Y-yes!”
Joshua laughs a bit, and it should sound mocking but there’s a bit of warmth to it. He lines himself up so he can sink down onto Wonwoo’s cock, and the pleasure is tenfold from this angle, deep and satisfying. Joshua seems to think so too, from the way he sighs, tilting his head back.
Then, he starts to move.
Wonwoo knows this isn’t going to end well for him. Because when Joshua’s naked and on top of him, hips moving like water, face lost in bliss, Wonwoo can’t do anything but stare, and feel the full brunt of pleasure hitting him in waves, each crashing tide pulling him closer to annihilation.
If that isn’t enough, Joshua starts talking.
“I can’t believe you’re actually getting off on this,” he notes, casually, as if they were talking about the weather. “Do you like it when I treat you like a piece of gum on my shoe? Does it make your pathetic alpha cock hard?”
He does something with his hips that makes Wonwoo see stars, and he grips onto the couch cushions for dear life.
“N-no,” he protests weakly.
Joshua laughs, and it drips with condescension this time.
“No? I can smell how desperate you are from a mile away. Leaking hormones like a faucet, I would’ve thought this was your first ever rut. So pathetic, Wonu-yah.” There’s nothing he can really say to refute that.
“Doesn’t it make you want to get me back?” Joshua is getting lost in it now, eyes practically turning black. He’s like an angel sent down to punish Wonwoo for his sins. Divine retribution, hellfire and whatnot. “Pump me full of seed and claim me? Fill me until I’m trapped with nowhere to go, helpless to sit on your knot until I’m bred? You wanna make me yours, Jeon Wonwoo?”
Wonwoo is blinded by visions of Joshua, round with his pups, unmistakably his, and it’s game over.
He comes with a jagged cry, pleasure ripping through his body like a tsunami wave.
Wonwoo must black out for a second, because he regains consciousness to the sound of laughter.
Not jovial “ha ha” laughter, but corrosive and barbed in derision.
His blurry vision swims into focus as Joshua, still mounted on top of him, pulls off of Wonwoo with a squelch, a mess of white ejaculate dripping out of him. Wonwoo can barely produce two brain cells to rub together, the heavy fog of his rut pervading his mind and settling into all of the cracks.
“Ah, that was too fucking easy,” Joshua sighs, full of mirth. He’s looking at Wonwoo like he’s going to eat him alive. “What was it you were saying? About making it good for me?”
Wonwoo’s last brain cell is an ailing goldfish swimming upstream.
“That– that wasn’t fair!”
Joshua reaches behind him to cup the base of Wonwoo’s cock, knot already half-formed and growing with urgency, and squeezes.
“No? Is my big, bad alpha not feeling up to the task?” Then he smiles, and the image of his boyfriend flickers into the devil for a moment. “Maybe I should go find someone else to take care of me, instead. Shall I let another alpha knock me up in your place, Wonu-yah?”
It's a match dropped in a propane tank. Gasoline fire rips through Wonwoo’s chest.
He’s up and at Joshua’s throat before it even registers.
“What did you say?” Wonwoo breathes, seized by something more primal than he can understand. He probably looks crazed, pupils ringed with hellfire.
Joshua tilts his head up, jaw locked stubbornly.
“If you can’t do it, I’ll find someone who will–”
He doesn’t even finish his sentence before Wonwoo is pushing Joshua onto his back and shoving his swelling cock inside him again.
Wonwoo is dangling by his ears like an uprooted carrot, his instincts yanking him out of the dirt and bolting off in a sprint. The threat of Joshua letting some other mystery alpha claim him, his omega, overrides any ounce of good sense he might have left.
His head feels feverish, beads of sweat forming on his top lip and trickling down his neck, but he drills into Joshua with a renewed force from some higher metaphysical power he didn’t know he had access to. It’s madness. Even in past ruts, he’s never felt this crazy before.
Through the mist, Joshua is looking up at him with an expression Wonwoo can only describe as “shit-eating”, eyes upturned to crescents in lucid satisfaction.
A shrewd voice in the back of Wonwoo’s head recognizes he’s been played like a fucking flute. The overwhelmingly larger portion of him doesn’t care.
The slick glide of it is even better the second time, everything messy and sweaty. Wonwoo’s instincts propel him like rocket fuel, elated to be trying, in earnest, to impregnate his mate.
Eventually he can’t pull out far enough to thrust back in, swollen knot catching inside Joshua’s rim. He grinds into him instead, nudging himself even deeper inside, making it impossible for Joshua to do anything but squirm and pant and clench around him.
“What was it you were saying?” Wonwoo pants, toying at his entrance with his thumb, stretching it slightly to watch a bit of cum drip out. “Still thinking about letting some other alpha get you pregnant?” He smears the escaped droplet back inside. “Pretty big talk for an omega who refuses to let me fuck him with a condom on,” he snarls.
Joshua whines, eyes starting to glaze over in a way that means Wonwoo has won the argument, at least for now. He gathers some slick on the pads of his fingers and spreads it over his clit, gently so as to not overstimulate him. Joshua is already twitching underneath him, legs deadlocked around his waist.
He knows he can’t hold off for much longer. Wonwoo was built for pleasure, not stamina.
“Are you going to come for me, baby?” He murmurs, trying to tamp down the ailing tremor in his voice. “I know you’ve been holding off for so long. It’ll feel so good to finally let go, won’t it?”
Joshua whimpers, and he knows he’s won for sure, because he doesn’t even try to argue.
Wonwoo rubs at his clit in repetitive motions. He wants to see Joshua come on his cock more than he wants to see tomorrow’s light of day.
“It’s okay, Shua,” he repeats, crazed intensity focused all on him. “Come on my knot, baby, I got you, it’s okay,” he murmurs, and the dam is broken.
Joshua tenses up around him, rosy mouth quivering and thighs trembling.
“Fuck, alpha,” he shivers, and finally, beautifully, lets go.
Joshua convulses in waves, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he gushes around Wonwoo’s cock, adding to the wet sticky mess between them. Watching him is like a sunrise in his chest, light peeking out over the shadowed mountains, a warm glow rolling over the hills and valleys of his muscles like molasses. Wonwoo helps Joshua through it best he can, applying soft pressure on his clit, grinding into him slowly.
Finally, he lets himself go.
Wonwoo comes for the second time in an hour, all of him pouring out, out, out. He empties himself inside of Joshua, with the single-minded intention of knocking him up. Joshua is his. His, his, his.
The headrush is overwhelming all of a sudden, and it’s all he can do but lie down without crushing Joshua under his weight.
The last thing Wonwoo remembers is tugging him down against his chest, still locked together, their sweaty, livened bodies cooling in the sun.
When he comes to, the first thing he notices is the plate on the coffee table. It’s empty.
Joshua is still sitting atop of him, cunt warming his knot, nose buried in that goddamn book again, rapt. There are biscuit crumbs stuck to the corners of his mouth.
“I thought you did macroeconomics last semester,” Wonwoo rasps, clearing his throat when his voice comes out all creaky.
Joshua turns the page. “It’s more interesting than I remember.” He reaches for the teacup, bringing it to his lips even though it must be cold by now.
With great effort, Wonwoo props himself up on the couch. Joshua has done a cursory job of cleaning them up, he notices, with the small hand towel they keep between the cushions for this exact purpose.
“You’re not mad at me anymore?” He dares ask.
Joshua’s lips quirk, tongue darting out to catch some stray crumbs. Cat, meet dog. “Do you know why I was mad, Wonwoo?”
His heart sinks. Joshua woke up this morning with a vendetta, but Wonwoo thought they were fine yesterday. He racks his waterlogged brain for an answer.
“You cheated on me,” Joshua says primly. He shifts his book up so it covers the rest of his face. “…In my dream last night.”
There aren’t enough words to describe what it’s like to be Joshua Hong’s boyfriend.
Long-suffering, is one. Dogged, might be another.
Two things happen in immediate succession.
First, Wonwoo realizes that Joshua is the devil incarnate. Clearly, he’s been sent up from the underworld to punish Wonwoo for some worldly sin he’s not even aware of committing.
He slowly reaches out and peels Joshua’s book away from his face.
His boyfriend’s face is tinged light pink.
Then, Wonwoo realizes, for all intents and purposes, the devil incarnate has left itself open for the taking.
It’s a miracle. It’s the best day of his life.
He shifts, and the knot inside Joshua moves slightly. He’s still sensitive, delicately balanced astride Wonwoo, gasping at the movement.
“Oh,” Wonwoo says, suddenly filled with the most incomprehensible joy he’s ever felt. “Oh.”
Joshua still won’t look him in the eye. It’s like the keys to the kingdom have been handed directly to him.
He sits up properly and tugs his knot out slightly. Joshua lets out a helpless little whine at the stretch.
Wonwoo grins, and tosses his book aside. It lands on the floor next to the couch with a thwap.
“You really shouldn’t have told me that,” he says.
Every dog has its day, after all.