"You don't have to prove anything to me," I say, letting the words land with the weight of a promise.
Sihwan stares at me, his chest rising and falling rapidly against mine.
Sihwan lets out a wet, jagged scoff, the sound tearing through the fragile intimacy I just tried to build. He pulls back just enough to look me in the face, his expression twisting into that familiar, defensive sneer—the one he wears like armor when he feels exposed.
"Equal," he repeats, the word dripping with skepticism. He shakes his head, looking down at his shoes. "Don't bullshit me, Donghwa. I'm not an idiot. How the hell can I be your equal when I'm the one who always ends up on my knees? When I'm the one getting fucked?"
He spits the last word out like it tastes bad, like it confirms every terrible thing his father just implied about his lack of masculinity.
I arch a brow, unimpressed by his self-pity. "You think the position dictates the power?"
"Doesn't it?" he snaps, gesturing vaguely between us. "You're the one in control. I'm the one... yielding. That's not equality. That's losing."
I sigh, shifting my weight. This is the problem with being raised by people like the Ohs. They think power is a zero-sum game. If one person has it, the other must be weak. It’s a boring, two-dimensional way to view the world.
"You have it backwards," I say calmly.
I step into his space again, forcing him to look at me.
"Any weakling can try to dominate someone else. That’s easy. That’s just aggression. But to submit?" I tilt my head, studying the flush rising on his neck. "Especially when you are biologically wired to be a Dominant Alpha? When every instinct in your body is screaming at you to fight and bite and claw for control?"
I shake my head slowly.
"To suppress that instinct and willingly give control to someone else... that takes a hell of a lot more confidence than just topping, Sihwan. You have to be incredibly secure in who you are to let someone else hold the reins."
Sihwan stares at me, his mouth slightly open. He looks like he wants to argue, but he can't find the logic to dismantle what I'm saying. So, naturally, he pivots to an attack.
He narrows his eyes, glaring up at me with renewed suspicion. "If it's so noble, then how come you never do it? How come you're always the one on top?"
"I have," I say breezily.
The silence that follows is absolute.
Sihwan’s eyes go perfectly round. His jaw actually drops this time. He stares at me like I just confessed to murder, or worse, to shopping at a discount outlet.
"You..." He stammers, blinking rapidly. "You what?"
I shrug, leaning a shoulder against the wall casually. "I have. During my gap year. I tried a lot of things. I wanted to know."
"You... bottomed?" He whispers the word, scandalous and horrified.
"I did."
"And?"
"And it wasn't my thing," I say simply. I don't look embarrassed because I'm not. It was an experience. I learned from it. "I didn't like giving up the control. It made me anxious. I couldn't relax into it."
I push off the wall, closing the small distance between us again.
"Which brings me back to my point," I murmur, reaching out to take his hand. His fingers are still twitching with nervous energy, but he lets me take them. "Perhaps you are more confident than even me in that respect. You have the security to let go. I don't."
Sihwan looks at me, searching my face for the lie, for the mockery. He doesn't find it. He looks down at our joined hands, his expression complicated—a mix of confusion and a grudging, blooming pride.
I lift his hand to my mouth.
I keep my eyes on his as I press a kiss to the center of his palm. He shivers, his breath hitching audibly. I can taste the salt on his skin, smell the spike in his scent—the spice returning, sweeter this time.
"Besides," I murmur against his skin. I shift my grip, catching the tip of his index finger between my teeth and nipping down, just hard enough to sting.
