He shakes his head—a small, stubborn jerk against my shoulder. A muffled grunt escapes him, face still buried in the crook of my neck like he’s hiding.
I smirk, even though he can’t see it. My free hand drifts down his spine, nails scraping lightly over the ridges of his vertebrae, dipping into the sweat-slick dimples at the base. “What do you want then?”
Nothing. Just another huff, warmer this time, lips brushing my collarbone.
“Tell me.” I nip his earlobe—sharp enough to sting. “Use your words, hyung.”
He squirms, knot tugging us both with the shift, and mumbles something into my skin. Too garbled, too quiet.
“Louder.”
“Fuck off,” he mutters, clearer but still muffled, breath ghosting hot.
I tighten my grip in his hair—not painful, just enough pull to tilt his head back an inch. “Say it.”
He resists for a beat, thighs clenching around my hips, then lifts his head with a glare that could strip paint. Eyes narrowed, cheeks flushed red under the post-orgasm glow, lips still swollen from my mouth. “No,” he snaps, voice hoarse and pissed. “I prefer your body over mine. I like being fucked, okay?”
There it is.
I bark a laugh—low, genuine, rumbling up from my chest. His scowl deepens, but before he can spit more venom, I yank him down by the hair and crush our mouths together. He fights it for half a second—teeth grazing my lip in retaliation—then melts, kissing back sloppy and desperate, tongue tangling with mine.
I break it just enough to rasp against his mouth, “Happy to oblige.”
“Asshole,” he growls, but it’s breathy, needy, already nipping at my jaw like he’s starving for round two.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Sihwan
The agreement was simple. Or, well, it was supposed to be.
Ruts only. Behind closed doors. Absolute secrecy.
We laid it out like a business contract, two Alphas trying to manage a biological disaster with as much dignity as we could scrape together. But dignity is a funny thing when you’re bonded to a guy who looks at you like he wants to devour you whole right in the middle of a crowded lecture hall.
Technically, we’re breaking every single clause of our little treaty. And I’m the one letting it happen.
It starts small. A brush of shoulders in the hallway that lasts a second too long. A glance across the canteen that feels heavy enough to bruise. Before the dinner with my parents, I would have bristled. I would have puffed my chest out, flooded the air with my spiced rum scent, and turned it into a pissing contest.
Now? Now, when Kang Donghwa walks into the room, my pulse doesn't spike with aggression. It spikes with something else entirely. Something needy and pathetic that I refuse to name out loud.
Wednesday afternoon, three days since I've had him inside of me, the hallway's packed, bodies shoving past like rush hour on the subway. Laughter bounces off lockers, omegas giggling in clusters, alphas posturing like it's a damn beauty contest. I weave through it all, shoulders squared, pretending I'm not scanning the crowd like a heat-seeking missile.
There he is. Donghwa, leaning against the wall by the vending machines, black coat draped over one arm. Our eyes lock. His dark gaze pins me, unblinking, that stupid smirk tugging at his mouth. Heat crawls up my neck. I should flip him off. Should flare my pheromones and remind him who's supposed to be top dog. Instead, I jerk my chin toward the bathrooms down the hall. Subtle as a brick, but fuck it. The bell's about to ring anyway. I duck inside the men's room, heart hammering like I've sprinted laps. Empty, thank god—far wing, nobody uses it between classes. I lean over the sink, splash water on my face, stare at my reflection.What the hell are you doing, Sihwan? This is how you got knotted in the first place.Chest tight, cock already twitching at the thought. The door creaks. Footsteps. I don't turn around.
"Knew you'd crack first," Donghwa murmurs, voice low and gravelly, right behind me. His scent hits, wrapping around me like smoke. My knees go liquid. I grip the sink edge.
"Fuck off. We're in public." His big hands land on my hips, yanking me back against him. His hard length presses into my ass through our pants.
"You led me here, hyung." Hot breath on my neck. Teeth graze my earlobe. I hiss, but my body's already arching into it.
"This doesn't count as—" He spins me, slams me against the tile wall. His mouth crashes down on mine, rough, demanding. His tongue sweeps in, tasting like black coffee. I groan into it, hands fisting his shirt, pulling him closer even as my brain screamsabort. Donghwa breaks the kiss, eyes blown dark.
"Quiet," he warns, hand diving between us. His zipper rasps. Cool air hits my skin as he shoves into my pants, fingers wrapping my cock—stroking once, twice—before sliding lower. I buck, biting my lip to stifle the whine.
"Donghwa—door's not locked—"
"Then don't make noise." Two fingers circle my hole, teasing, then push in slick and sure. No warning. I clench around him, vision spotting white. He curls them, hits that spot dead-on, and my head thumps back against the wall.
