Chapter Text
Gi-hun lay on the massive bed with its dark silken covers pulled across his muscular chest, which was clad in a silken cream-colored pajama top. His eyelids were softly closed, eyelashes heavy and dark, his pink lips softly parted with a feverish flush upon his cheeks. He released soft but labored breaths from his parted lips. His scent, dalgona, was syrupy thick in the space of the private quarters, practically dissolving on the tongue when one entered the space.
In-ho stood, mask still in place, beside Gi-hun, pressing a damp washcloth to his forehead and pushing his hair from his face with gloved fingers. “Gi—Player 456,” He said, his voice modulated through the mask. “The doctor…”
“You mean… y-your butcher…” Gi-hun rasped. It was the most he had spoken in hours—since the heat had taken hold in the aftermath of the failed rebellion. His eyes opened slowly, pupils blown wide, black and burning. They were ringed with red, bloodshot, and wild.
In-ho tilted his head slightly, his tone unreadable through the smooth modulation of the mask. “Butcher?”
“He’s not a doctor,” Gi-hun snapped, throat raw but fury sharp. “He’s one of your guards. I know what he’s done. What he’s doing—beneath our feet. Doctors heal. He carves. He takes. While they’re still alive. And when they’re not, he keeps taking. Until there’s nothing left to strip but bone. Then he burns them like trash.”
In-ho straightened, unbothered. “Regardless of what you think of him, he is qualified. It will be your first heat in… quite some time, and by his assessment, it will be a difficult one.” He replaced the cloth with the back of his glove, pressing gently to his forehead. The omega flinched beneath the contact, body trembling. His skin burned even through the thick material. “He tells me you may not survive it unattended. Is that how our little game ends? With you writhing, sweating, begging—then dying on my silk sheets, unclaimed and untouched? While an alpha stands within arm’s reach?”
Gi-hun stiffened, staring at In-ho, his expression burning like a brand, for it was one of pure disgust and hatred. “So you want to attend to me, then,” Gi-hun hissed, his eyelashes swept down as he glared up at him, eyes fevered, pupils drowning in black. His scent thickened in the heat, turning golden-sweet, honeyed pheromones melting from him like sap from a tree. “Alpha.”
In-ho leaned forward, the air between them nearly trembling with the weight of it. Gi-hun recoiled instinctively, his face turning away, body curling defensively as he pulled the blanket tighter around him. His shadow swallowed the space, his voice velvet-wrapped steel.
“Your life hangs by a thread, Player 456,” In-ho said, voice low and steady, almost gentle. “I could save it now—if you ask me to attend to you. I will not force myself on you.” He let the silence hang just long enough before adding, quieter still, “But I expect you to beg by the end.”
“Or… I could let you suffer. Humiliate you further. I could open the door and let the guards in. Most are alphas. Men and women who haven’t touched an omega in months.” His voice thinned to a blade. “And they would take you. Gladly. The one who killed their comrades.”
Gi-hun felt all the blood drain from his face. His shallow, rasping breaths filled the space between them as the alpha closed in once more.
In-ho reached down and ran a gloved hand slowly over his toned stomach, palm gliding across the thin silk of his pajama top, lingering just above the heat of his core. The touch was possessive, almost reverent. He leaned in, his voice a whisper,”They’d form a line outside this door,” His breath warm against his fevered skin. “Or maybe they’d take you all at once. Fight over you like dogs over a bone.” He paused, drawing in the scent that clung to the room, heady and sweet. “You do smell,” He murmured, “So, so good.”
“Stop,” Gi-hun said, voice small but sharp.
With quiet precision, In-ho raised his other hand and cupped his jaw; the other still lay, fingers splayed, on his stomach. The omega flinched, muscles tensing, but the alpha paid no mind. He tilted his face upward, studying him through the black gleam of the mask. “How many of them could you take,” He asked, almost thoughtfully, “Before you begged for death?”
Gi-hun did not move. Did not blink. Terror, sharp and primal, pounded beneath his ribs, bloomed in his chest like something alive.
In-ho continued, his voice calm as ever,“Of course, if the guards don’t appeal, there are the VIPs. Wealthy. Insatiable. Interested in rarities—”
“I said stop,” Gi-hun gasped, the sound raw, cracking with effort.
In-ho tilted his head slightly, as if intrigued by the sound of it. “Then you understand your choices?”
Gi-hun gazed up at In-ho, tears brimming in his wide, dark eyes, his chin trembling with humiliation. He gave a broken, shaking nod, and in a low, keening whisper of submission, breathed, “Alpha…” Then, slowly, with shaking hands, he pushed aside the blanket that had served as his last defense. He opened his arms. “Alpha, please…”
In-ho climbed atop Gi-hun in a controlled, measured motion. The heat radiating from his body hit the alpha immediately, pheromones heavy, sticky-sweet, cloying with desperation and shame. He reached down, brushing his gloved fingers along his fever-flushed cheek, pausing at the tremble he felt there. His cock throbbed beneath his breeches, pulsing hot and heavy, almost painful. He lowered himself over the omega with a slow grind, letting his clothed length drag across the fevered heat nestled between his thighs. Through the silk, he could feel the molten press of slick already dampening the sheets. He was soaked.
Gi-hun gasped, eyelids fluttering, back arching. “Oh—oh… please… Alpha…”
“There,” In-ho murmured, voice smooth and coaxing, “This is much better, isn’t it?” He continued stroking his cheek as if calming a feral thing while also continuing the slow torus grind of his hips. “I’m going to make you feel so good. Be so good to you… as long as you behave.”
“I…” Gi-hun whimpered, his voice hitched and breathless, his hips lifting in spite of himself. He ground up into the clothed hardness above him, the friction setting his nerves alight. Heat and slick seeped through his thin pajama bottoms, soaking through the fabric. His head fell to the side, lips parting in a helpless moan as his eyes fluttered open, dark, glassy, and dazed.
He pressed into the hand cupping his cheek like a shivering animal might lean toward warmth. “I’ll be good, Alpha,” He whispered, broken-soft. “So good…”
“You could probably spend yourself against me just like this,” In-ho said, his voice a dark purr, breath brushing his ear. He rutted into him again, a little firmer this time, savoring the gasped moan that spilled out in response. “Just from this… this little tease.”
He bit back a groan, grinding deeper, letting the omega feel every throb, every inch of the hardness straining against fabric. “But I want more,” He whispered. “I want to taste you. Every part of you. I want you bare. Shaking. Filled.”
Gi-hun whimpered and tilted his chin upward, and his lips brushed the glove, soft as a kiss. Then he sank his teeth in. Leather split beneath the pressure, flesh giving way beneath it.
In-ho hissed, his body jolting with pain, his entire frame coiling reflexively. Still, Gi-hun held on, jaw clenched, until the other hand seized him by the face and squeezed. The omega snarled, the pain in his jaw blooming like fire. He released the hand with a sharp cry, blood staining his teeth, his lips red and wet. His eyes were wide and gleaming, wild strands of hair stuck to the sweat beading on his face. Then he spat, and a splatter of bloodied spit hit the glossy curve of the mask, red against black like a wound.
“Was it good for you too?” Gi-hun panted, voice hoarse with rage and something dangerously close to laughter.
In-ho seized Gi-hun by the throat with both hands and slammed his head back, first against the headboard with a dull, sickening thud, and then shoved him down into the pillow. The bedframe rattled, silk sheets bunching beneath the sudden violence. Gi-hun barely reacted. His body, slick with fever, sagged beneath the weight of heat and exhaustion. He did not even struggle. If anything, he leaned into it, head lolling weakly to the side, a single tear slipping from the corner of his eye and disappearing into the pillow. The grip around his throat tightened.
Gi-hun released fragile, fluttering gasps, eyes rolling half-lidded as the pressure closed in. In-ho held him there, kept him teetering on the thin, agonizing line between consciousness and the void. Then, just before the light in his eyes could flicker out, he released him. The omega choked, body convulsing slightly. Without hesitation, the alpha reached up and peeled back the bottom of his mask, revealing bloodless lips drawn tight with restraint.
In-ho leaned in over Gi-hun and crushed their mouths together in a brutal, bruising kiss. His tongue forced its way past parted lips, hot and slick, curling against his with a slow, punishing rhythm.
Gi-hun gasped into it, breath catching in a hoarse, involuntary moan. “Oh—” He rasped, his voice barely more than air.
When In-ho finally pulled back, a thick string of saliva stretched between their mouths. Gi-hun turned his head and coughed, the motion weak, his body trembling. His chest heaved with shallow pants, mouth slick and red from the force of the kiss.
“Why…” Gi-hun gasped, his voice catching on broken breath, lips wet with saliva, trembling. “Why won’t you just… kill me?”
In-ho stood over him, calm as ever, mask lowered back into place. His voice, once again filtered through smooth mechanical modulation,“Because our game is not yet over, Player 456. This—your heat, your humiliation, your eventual submission—it’s just another round to me.”
In-ho had needed stitches and a tetanus shot, as the bite had gone deeper than it looked, and now his hand was swathed in clean white bandages beneath the black of his glove, fingers stiff and aching. If the omega wanted to sink his teeth into something, the alpha would simply have to redirect that impulse somewhere more productive next time. His mating gland, perhaps. He flexed the wrapped hand as he stepped out of the operations room, the echo of boots on concrete still sharp in his ears.
The rebellion had been quelled, of course. Most of the players who had voted to leave, or were going to, were gone. Eliminated. The vote had passed overwhelmingly in favor of continuing. The fourth game would begin later. But first, he had somewhere else to be.
Gi-hun was waiting for In-ho in the private quarters, the heat no doubt deeper now, fever boiling beneath his skin, blurring thought, dragging his body toward the edge of delirium. And In-ho had been thinking. Watching the remaining teammates of that defiant, foul-tempered omega cling to each other in the aftermath, wide-eyed, waiting for the bullets that did not come, he had remembered something.
When In-ho had been undercover in the games, Young-il had become more than a name on a roster. His own teammates had smiled at him, clung to him, and stared a little too long, like they had known him in another life. The omega had been no exception, flushing when their eyes met. He had ducked his head and smiled, shy and sweet, like a schoolboy caught staring.
Even knowing that “Young-il” had a sick, pregnant wife waiting at home had not been enough to extinguish the quiet flame of a crush. Gi-hun had not acted on it, frustrating In-ho at the time, but the affection had been real and useful. He had told the omega about his wife and unborn child, both of whom had long since passed away, in order to gain his favor and sympathy, not to become a monk. The lie had cost him precious time beneath the sheets with the omega or, at the very least, a bathroom stall. But now?
It had been simple enough for In-ho to slip back into the player-issued sweatpants and shirt. It was all In-ho needed to become Young-il again, the sheepskin he had worn upon reentering the games to hide the wolf beneath. As he stepped back into the private quarters, the thick aroma of heat clung to the air, thick and sticky like caramelized sugar, and he inhaled it deeply, letting it roll over his tongue like a decadent morsel. It was intoxicating. He nearly drooled.
There, laid out flat on the bed, was the omega, half-curled beneath the silk sheets. His eyelids were softly closed, eyelashes dark against flushed cheeks. His pink lips parted slightly with each labored breath, his chest rising and falling in a slow, unsteady rhythm. Even through the covers, the alpha knew his thighs were trembling, the warmth between them slick and constant, seeping through fabric like a hidden heartbeat. And the scent only got sweeter.
In-ho stood there for a long moment, just breathing it in.
“I’m surprised you haven’t invited your guards in yet,” Gi-hun rasped suddenly, startling awake, his voice ragged and sharp. “You must not be fond of sharing your playthings.”
“Gi-hun,” In-ho said softly, intentionally lacing disbelief into his voice, letting it land like a quiet wound.
“Young-il,” Gi-hun rasped, voice raw and trembling. He stared up at him with wide, fever-glazed eyes, so full of relief it cracked something in his chest. His scent was thick in the air, ripe with heat, need, and longing, but what broke him was not the pull of instinct.
It was the way the omega reached up with shaking arms and drew him in, clutching him tightly, desperately, like he might vanish if not held. There was no friction in the embrace, no attempt to grind against him or pull at clothing. Just a silent, aching hold.
“I thought—” Gi-hun began, his voice cracking, breath catching. “I thought they killed you too. I heard it on the radio. I thought you were gone. They… they killed them all, Young-il. They—no, he—he killed Jung-bae…”
In-ho swallowed hard, guilt scraping like glass down his throat. He curled his arms around the omega, pressing his face briefly into his hair, the scent of heat and desperation overwhelming. It was cruel, maybe unforgivable, to let him believe this, but he had to. Just a little longer.
“I thought I was dead too,” In-ho said, his voice low and rough. “They clipped me and took me in. What you heard on the radio… it wasn’t me. It was someone else.”
Gi-hun shuddered in his arms. He was burning up, sweat slick against his skin, and yet he trembled like a fevered animal, overwhelmed by more than just physical need.
“I shouldn’t be here,” In-ho murmured, trying to sound bewildered, human. “I should be dead. They should have killed me. But I’m here—”
“Wait—Gi-hun, listen to me,” In-ho said, and something dark inside him purred with satisfaction when Gi-hun obeyed instantly, falling silent with wide, glassy eyes.
“They brought me in here for a reason, Gi-hun. You’re—you're in heat. You’re dying. And I don’t think they want you dead. Not yet. They said if I didn’t help you…” He let the pause linger, just long enough to tighten the dread. “They’d send in the guards.”
Gi-hun flinched, the words striking deep. His breath hitched again, and he looked away. “Young-il…” He whispered. “I… I’m sorry they dragged you into this. You shouldn’t be here.”
In-ho shook his head, the movement soft but firm. “No, Gi-hun… I want to be here with you. You’re my friend. I can’t just stand by and let you die—or worse, be left to the guards.” His voice broke just slightly, perfectly calculated. “I want to help you. To save you. And then… maybe we can both go back to the games. Save who we can, even if we can’t bring it all down like you wanted. But not if you die here, not like this.”
In-ho leaned in over Gi-hun, his weight shifting subtly over his body, bracing his arms on either side of the omega as he hovered above him. He bent down slowly, almost shyly, and pressed a gentle kiss to his fever-warm cheek. “Please,” He whispered against his skin. “Let me help you. Tell me yes. Let me…”
Then In-ho pressed forward against Gi-hun, and their mouths met tentatively at first, his dry, hot lips brushing softly against his. The moment the omega did not resist, he deepened the kiss, angling his head just so, enough to taste the salt of dried tears and fevered breath. The omega made a soft sound in his throat, not quite a whimper, not quite a moan. His hands came up, slow and uncertain, and fisted in his shirt, holding him there. It was not desperate yet. But it would be.
Abruptly Gi-hun turned his head away from the kiss with a soft, aching whimper. “W–We can’t, Young-il. I’ve already done so much… taken so much from you. I could never ask for more.” His voice cracked as he shook his head, as if trying to physically shake off the pull of instinct, of heat, of the raw ache rising inside him. “That’s too much. Just tell them you won’t do it. Tell them—tell them no.”
“Gi-hun,” In-ho murmured, trying to anchor them both as he cupped his burning cheek, fingers trembling. He licked his lips, breath unsteady, the scent of his heat thick on his tongue. He ached to kiss him again, to taste the sweetness clinging to his lips, to lose himself in the press of skin and trust, but instead he tried to soothe, to reason, even as the omega unconsciously ground against him, seeking contact, seeking relief. “What are you talking about? You’ll die like this. Just let me help. Please, just let me—”
“Your wife,” Gi-hun rasped, fighting to breathe, to think. His body was screaming for touch, for pressure, for anything to relieve the fire in his blood, but his soul refused to budge. “Young-il, you can’t… I can’t let you. You’re married. She’s out there—alive. Pregnant. Waiting for you to come home. How could I—how could I take that from her–”
In-ho stared down at Gi-hun, breath caught in his chest, disarmed by what he saw. An omega in deep heat, his body flushed and trembling, muscles locking and unlocking in waves of unbearable tension, drenched in the scent of need, slick clung to his thighs, and his pupils blew wide, but his gaze was not one of mindless hunger. No feral edge. Instead, there was anguish. There was restraint. Any other omega would have begged by now, sobbed for release, and clawed at any alpha, desperate to be knotted and claimed. But this omega, stubborn, maddening omega, curled in on himself like a prayer unspoken. Even in agony, he thought of others.
Even on fire, he remembered who he was. And he remembered her.
In-ho knelt beside him on the bed, unable to stay distant. With shaking fingers, he brushed aside an errant curl, his touch reverent. “She’s gone,” He said, voice hoarse with grief. “She and our baby… they’re both gone.”
Gi-hun froze. His breath hitched. “No,” He whispered. “No, she—it happened while you were here? While you were in the games?”
“Yes,” In-ho said quietly. He did not elaborate. That it had been almost a decade ago did not matter. The grief was still rooted in his chest like an old blade.
Gi-hun sobbed; the sound cracked the silence like a fault line splitting open. It was raw, unguarded, carved straight from the chest, a sound of mourning that had no name, no direction, only ache. It was not just for her. It was for the cruelty of the world, the permanence of loss. For the child he had never met. For the love he was being asked to take in her shadow.
“I couldn’t save her,” In-ho whispered. “I did everything I could, and I still couldn’t save her. Don’t make me lose you too. Let me help you, Gi-hun. Let me save you… since I couldn’t save her.”
“Young-il,” Gi-hun whimpered, his voice little more than a breath as In-ho leaned in, their mouths barely brushing, dry and trembling. Their parted lips caught as they brushed again, exhaling together, breath warm and reverent, and then they kissed, firm, aching, the press of mouths unspoken hunger. “I’m sorry,” He whispered between breaths, “Sorry that I’m weak… that I need you to save me—”
“I want to,” In-ho cut in, voice rough. “Just let me. Say ‘yes.’” There was a flicker of frustration beneath the plea, leaking into his tone as he hovered above him, lips ghosting over his again. He savored the way the omega unconsciously leaned upward, seeking the kiss like it was the only thing tethering him to the moment.
“Yes,” Gi-hun breathed, barely audible.
In-ho kissed Gi-hun again, deeper, and eased him back into the bed, body sliding over his, aligning their hips until his aching hardness pressed flush to the burning heat between his thighs and another hardness met him there in return. The omega gasped into his mouth, and he swallowed it, grinding against him in a slow, deliberate rhythm. Then his mouth moved, lips trailing down to his jaw, his throat, the hollow of his collarbone, marking a path of heat and claim. His bandaged hand gripped the back of his head, fingers tangled in sweat-damp hair.
Beneath In-ho, Gi-hun surged upward into the ministrations, gasping, clawing at the body pinning him down. His hands slipped beneath the layers of his shirt and jacket, fevered fingers skating over skin and muscle, nails dragging hard enough to sting, to leave paths of sensation in their wake. Then he began pushing the jacket off his broad shoulders, chest rising with every stuttering breath. The alpha moved with the omega, one hand reaching down to the silk pajama top clinging to his flushed body. He seized the collar and yanked, buttons snapping in quick succession, scattering like beads across the floor, clinking off the nightstand.
“Young-il,” Gi-hun whimpered, voice thin and shaking.
In-ho said nothing. He did not need to.
Gi-hun gasped as the cool air kissed his now-bared skin. His body trembled against the dark silk sheets, flushed with fever, lit from within by heat and desperation. His ribs pressed gently against his skin with every breath, his waist small and vulnerable.
In-ho sat up just long enough to strip his own shirt over his head and discard it, allowing it to fall carelessly to the floor. His torso was lean, hard, and muscled from discipline, and old scars mapped across his skin from another life, another mask, the exception being the scar on his upper left shoulder. Then he lowered himself once more, chest to chest, the heat between them palpable. Breath to breath, heartbeat to heartbeat. And the world outside that bed fell away.
Then In-ho kissed Gi-hun once more, cradling the back of his head in one hand, fingers sinking into sweat-damp hair as his lips found his, moving hungrily, insistently. His tongue slipped between parted lips, soft and moist, curling against his in a rhythm that left no room for resistance, only breathless surrender. The omega whimpered softly beneath him, pliant now, his heat-slick scent rising like steam between them. It was caramel-thickened with vanilla, warm, spiced with something earthy, and undeniably omega. It coated his tongue, invaded his lungs, and dragged nails down the inside of his skull. His desire, once sharpened by years of distance, study, and fascination, now roared. It was hunger, primal and absolute.
In-ho kissed down his jaw, down the line of his throat where the perfect, painful impressions of his wrath remained, bruises he had left ringing black on the pale skin. Then his lips moved over the rapid pulse that fluttered just beneath. “I could devour you,” He murmured, voice wrecked with restraint. He did not wish to hurt him again if not necessary.
“I dreamed of this,” Gi-hun breathed, staring at the ceiling above as In-ho continued kissing and licking at his throat hungrily, his eyes fever-bright, dark, and glistening. “But it never… it never felt like this.”
“How does it feel?” In-ho murmured against his throat, the words hot against his pulse point. His tongue flicked over the scent gland there, followed by a nip that made the omega gasp, hips twitching. His hands moved, pushing at the waist of their pants, fingers brushing too-warm skin.
Gi-hun shuddered. “Like I’m burning and drowning at the same time,” He breathed, reaching up at the alpha, his fingers threading through his hair with slow, reverent strokes. The motion was trembling, pleading. “Don’t let me lose myself. Not yet. Please, Young-il.”
In-ho froze at the sound of that name, his lie, his shield, and something sharp twisted behind his ribs. But still, he nodded, forehead brushing his. “I’ve got you now,” He whispered, fiercely gentle. “Just hold onto me.”
In-ho kissed Gi-hun again, deep and searing, his thumb stroking slowly over his too-sharp cheekbone, tracing the lines of exhaustion etched into his face. When he broke the kiss, he moved lower, his hands dropping to the silky pajama bottoms clinging to his sweat-slick skin. The undergarment followed, soft and clinging with sweat and scent. Every inch of newly exposed skin felt fever-hot, the scent rising from him dizzying. As the fabric slid away, threads of slick clung and stretched, delicate as spun sugar. The alpha bowed his head, breath catching, and he let out a low, aching groan.
“Y–Young-il?” Gi-hun squeaked, starting to pull his thighs together out of sudden shyness.
“Don’t do that,” In-ho rasped, eyes locked on the flushed heat nestled between trembling legs. “Please… you smell like heaven. I could die between your legs and never want for more.”
“Between my legs,” Gi-hun said, his voice a breathy hitch. He had expected fulfilling his heat as he lay on the precipice of death, burning with fever, nearly delirious with it, to be a quick, passionless affair, just a minute or so of him fisting the sheets as he was rocked into the bed brutally. He had not expected this: lips caressing his skin, the revenant inhaling his scent as if trying to memorize it, the slow exploration of his body that made him shiver with anticipation. The intimacy of it all caught him off guard, leaving him vulnerable yet strangely exhilarated.
In-ho slid a hand up one trembling thigh, then the other, and Gi-hun arched his back in response, a low moan escaping his lips. The alpha paused only to gently nudge his cock aside and admire the soft curve of his cunt. He groaned, fisting his own cock, lined it up with practiced precision, and sank in with one smooth, deliberate thrust. The omega beneath him sighed like a furnace as he was entered, nearly sobbing in relief, the sound turning into a moan as he moved his head from side to side, drawing on the cock in him with darting pelvic thrusts. This excited the alpha, who began with short, deep thrusts, rubbing his face and lips on his cheek.
Reaching up In-ho, Gi-hun gripped his wide shoulders and pushed him forward, desperate for more. The alpha responded by increasing his pace, each thrust driving them both closer to the edge of ecstasy. Then the omega wrapped his long, lithe legs around his waist, pulling him in even deeper, their bodies moving in perfect synchrony as they reached the peak of pleasure together. The room filled with the sounds of their passion, echoing off the walls as they surrendered to the overwhelming sensation of release. The alpha ducked his head, nose nuzzling against his long, slender neck against his scent gland there, the mating gland specifically, breathing in his scent deeply before whispering soft words of adoration and devotion. The omega felt something in him swell with something dangerously close to affection, feeling completely connected to his alpha in that moment of intimacy.
"Young-il, please, oh, please," Gi-hun whimpered beneath In-ho, his hands running up his broad back, nails dragging. He had a gorgeous red flush on his face, bitten red lips, and his dark eyelashes swooped with every thrust. The scent he emitted with his pleasure, a sweet musk that enveloped the alpha, driving him to move faster and harder, lost in the heat of the moment.
In-ho spilled within Gi-hun on a hard thrust inward, shoulders curling as orgasm washed over him as his knot locked him in place. He felt dizzy with it for a moment and did not resist the urge to slump downwards, to rest his weight against the omega, fisting his uninjured hand into his hair. The omega let out a soft whimper, his body trembling beneath the weight.
As they lay there in the aftermath, their heavy breathing filling the room, In-ho whispered, "I've got you." He brought his bandaged hand up, caressing his cheek.
The omega leaned into the touch, half-lidded eyes fluttering closed, lips parted, red and swollen from kisses and bites. “You were so good,” He continued, his thumb tracing over his bitten, bruised mouth. “Did so good. Felt so good, didn’t it?” His words came in a soft rhythm, coaxing and indulgent, like praising a prize-winning hors. “You must feel so much better now…”
“You’re hurt,” Gi-hun said quietly. “From… earlier?” He reached out, fingers brushing over the bandage. “What happened? One of the guards? A graze from a bullet?”
In-ho stilled atop Gi-hun. The shift in the air was subtle, but it was one Gi-hun felt in his bones.
In-ho could have lied to Gi-hun, who would have believed it, fever-dazed, worn thin by heat, still clinging to trust as if it were a lifeline, sweet, naive, despite everything, but no lie came.
Instead, In-ho tilted his head slightly, studying the body below him, warm and flushed against silk, pliant from exhaustion, and his bandaged hand rose to sweep a damp strand of hair aside. Then the same hand returned, fingers resting gently against a cheek still warm with leftover fever. “No,” He said, voice unwavering.
Gi-hun blinked and pulled back slightly, his cheek no longer resting in that gloved palm. His body remained still, but his scent shifted—uncertainty slicing through the soft haze of aftermath, tinged now with something colder, sharper. The heat-induced fog had begun to lift. Not entirely—but enough. Enough to remember. The memory snapped into place. Leather splitting beneath his teeth. The cry of pain. The iron tang of blood on his tongue.
The Front Man.
“No,” Gi-hun whispered, breath catching in his throat. He began to move, limbs slow but urgent. “No—no, get off—get out—”
The words faltered into choking gasps as Gi-hun pushed at the broad chest above him, pressing weakly, instinctively, even as the knot remained lodged inside. The connection between their bodies held fast. It kept him grounded and trapped all at once.
“Gi-hun," In-ho said, voice low and controlled, not easing his weight on the body beneath him, instead increasing the pressure until the man gasped. Then he seized both of his thin wrists, held them firmly, and pinned them to the bedding above his head with no struggle in the motion, no haste, only practiced strength. The omega twisted, panic clawing at his ribs, but the alpha released a growl, low and guttural, and snapped his hips hard, driving the knot deeper, forcing stillness. “Don’t move,” He continued. “You’ll only cause harm. To both of us.”
“I don’t care,” Gi-hun choked out, the words tumbling one after another, wild and cracked. “I don’t care, I don’t care—get off—get—” His voice pitched high with panic, veering toward hyperventilation.
Then lips met his own, and a muffled groan escaped as the alpha kissed him, firm, quieting, and possessive. His eyes clenched shut, body trembling as helpless sounds leaked between them.
“Shh, Gi-hun,” In-ho whispered, brushing soft kisses along his mouth, his breath warm and coaxing. “I know you’re confused. Angry, even.” His tongue traced the edge of his lips, savoring the shudder that followed. “There’s no need to tremble. I’m not going to hurt you… not unless you force my hand again.”
In-ho held Gi-hun by the wrists with one hand firm and unmoving; the other slid down, curling around his lithe waist, pulling him in close, locking them tighter in a false sense of safety. “Trust me,” He murmured, nuzzling against his cheek. “Just breathe with me. In and out. That’s it. We’ll figure this out. Together. But first we need to finish dealing with this pesky heat, hmm?”
In-ho felt the knot begin to ease, the pulse of connection starting to wane. But when the alpha shifted in the sticky heat between them, the slick warmth immediately reignited him, his length thickened again, already hardening. With a low groan, he pulled out.
Gi-hun twitched beneath In-ho, limbs uncoordinated and weak, and began to move but stumbled. In-ho caught him easily and guided him back onto the mattress, easing him down onto his stomach.
“Shh,” In-ho murmured again, helping the omega position his knees beneath him, and folded his arms under his head, with him still dazed and trembling. "Poor thing… look at you,” He continued in a soft coo. “Like a newborn deer trying to stand. I’ve got you. Just let me.”
“Y–Young-il,” Gi-hun gasped weakly, chin trembling. “Please—”
“That’s not my name,” In-ho said gently. “I made it. For you.” His voice dipped into something soft, almost affectionate, as he followed the omega down onto the bed. The silken sheets were mussed and stained beneath them, carrying the scent of heat and helpless surrender. His hands slid slowly over sweat-slicked skin. “My name is In-ho,” He whispered, leaning close. “I want to hear you say it. Cry it out—whether it’s in pleasure or rage, I want to hear it from your lips.”
Bruises were beginning to bloom, small, purpling marks across where In-ho had first fucked Gi-hun and he ran his fingers over them smirking slightly as the man flinched. Then he rested both hands on the narrow hips and shoved him gently, firmly, flat against the mattress. Then one hand slid over the curve of his backside and landed a sharp slap, the sound echoing in the stillness. A knuckle traced down the center of his slick, swollen cunt, pausing just long enough to feel the tremble before lining himself up. With another low, guttural groan, he sank back into the omega, slow and deliberate.
Gi-hun wept. He wept from the pleasure, from the release, and from the unbearable guilt that came with receiving it. His breath hitched. “I hate you,” He snarled. “You sick fuck—I hate you—”
In-ho seized Gi-hun by the hair, fingers tangling roughly in damp strands, and pulled his head back. His voice came low, mocking, teeth bared behind every word. “Hate me?” He echoed with a bitter laugh. “You’re trembling for me. You’re weeping for me. What do you think your heat would’ve done if I’d really left—if I’d walked away like you begged me to?”
“I would’ve died,” Gi-hun snarled, breath hitching. “And I would’ve been happy to. I would’ve been free. Free of this place. Free of you.” His voice cracked with fury. “Front Man. Young-il. In-ho.”
In-ho chuckled darkly—and then gave a particularly brutal thrust, forcing a gasp from Gi-hun’s throat. “You say my true name like a curse,” He murmured. “Say it again. I want to hear it—dripping from your mouth like blood or honey.”
Gi-hun groaned, the sound breaking at the edges. His body bucked helplessly beneath the rhythm of each punishing motion, every shift of pressure wringing new, aching sounds from him. His voice pitched high with a tremble. “In-ho… In-ho…”
“Yes,” In-ho groaned, voice strained. “Just like that. Like that.” He squeezed the omega by his hips, fingers digging into the bruises already forming. Then one hand slid forward, curling around the hard length between his thighs, stroking in time with each thrust. Slick noises filled the space between them, obscene and rhythmic. “Say it again."
“I hate you, In-ho. You’re a monster,” Gi-hun cried, again and again, voice hoarse, eyes wet, hating how little he meant it with each repetition.
And each time, In-ho answered without hesitation, mouth against his throat, lips brushing tear-streaked skin,“You don’t, Gi-hun. You don’t hate me. You can't,” He murmured. “I love you. I adore you. You’re everything.”
His hands were bruising, possessive, and unrelenting on him. So was his devotion.
As such, In-ho leaned over Gi-hun, finishing inside him with a final thrust, his knot swelling and locking them together once more. And then he dragged his teeth, just a tease, before biting down hard over his mating gland, drawing blood.