Reason flashed a red warning. Jaeha’s lips parted.
"J-just… I should… go now…."
He wanted to say he’d go to his own room. He wanted to get out of the man’s arms, but there was no strength in his waist; he kept floundering.
Like hauling someone lightly from the water, Taegun wrapped an arm around his waist and lifted him onto his lap.
"Lee Jaeha."
"…Yes."
The obedient answer slipped out—before he even realized. He didn’t notice that his forehead was nuzzling against Taegun’s collarbone.
The heat didn’t vent at all; it bubbled like lava. His lower belly itched. At the same time it felt heavy.
Rut—he felt like rut had come.
"No… it’s not…."
He murmured like a child, unable to tell dream from waking. This wasn’t rut. Rut didn’t boil so abnormally hot that you couldn’t do anything.
Even if it made you feel trapped in the mire of possession, conquest, want—this prickling heat that ate you alive wasn’t it.
With an arm tucked under the backs of his knees as if to hoist him up, Jang Taegun said,
"Who told you to go into heat in my room."
Every time he spoke, a humming vibration thrummed through the collarbone against his brow.
Jaeha wanted to say that wasn’t it. Even if they were spouses, suddenly losing his head to rut and flooding the room with pheromones was rude.
He could feel the room filling with the scent of ash. His pheromones. But it wasn’t only ash.
There was sweet wild rose, sea salt, and with the ash blended like an explosion, a faint…
"No."
He denied it. There was a faint winter jasmine—jasmine—scent. Because of Sumin’s love of flowers he’d had to memorize it: winter jasmine’s meaning.
"Seductive."
"Not, huh? Your memory’s really that bad?"
"……"
"Every time I fuck you, you drip and make a mess, but sure, you’ll die before you admit it."
And, "You are mine." He had no idea why that flower meaning suddenly surfaced. This chapter was copied from g.com without permission.
"Then whose hands were kneading your hole till my cock almost burst, if not yours, Mr. Lee Jaeha."
"Team—Team Manager Jang…."
"Team Manager my fucking ass, Jaeha. You don’t call the man who stuffs your back door ‘Team Manager.’"
The beast sunk below the night sea laughed. With irises and pupils equally black, Jaeha avoided that beast’s gaze.
Now the bedroom was nothing but winter jasmine.
You are mine.
Even though the winter jasmine scent was his, somehow the protagonist of that flower meaning didn’t feel like him. Lee Jaeha might be Jang Taegun’s, but Jang Taegun couldn’t be Lee Jaeha’s.
You are mine.
Then who was that flower meaning for?
"Ah—! Hh…."
Ecstasy pooled and seemed to shake his whole body.
"D-don’t… ah—hhn…."
He tried to pry off the hand pinching and tugging his nipple long, but it wasn’t easy. His hands had no strength.
He had never once imagined that spot being stimulated, so from the instant it was pinched he couldn’t make sense of the itchy rush of blood.
Tch—k, schlck—the sounds of a cleft soaked in something viscous echoed between his legs. He could hardly believe it.
He didn’t understand why that place was wet. As if he knew Jaeha was denying it without end inside, Jang Taegun murmured in a low voice that rumbled like a throat-growl.
"Drop the act. You’re soaked here too. Anyone can see it, but only your mouth keeps saying no."
A moment ago he’d been calling him gently, "Jaeha hyung," and now he smacked Jaeha’s ass with a sharp slap, coaxing him like a naughty child.
It was a spot he’d never been hit in, even as a kid; it burned scarlet and brought a dazed, mortified feeling with the sting.
Yet separate from that, Jaeha’s cock bobbed and smacked against his own abs. The head, wet with some unknown clear fluid, made a lewd splash.
"W-wait, Team Manager Jang…."
Before he could say anything to stop him, something pushed inside and stirred. It felt thick—had Taegun already shoved his cock in? He glanced down and saw it was only standing, frighteningly hard.
Then what was inside…? As he blinked, muddled by heat, Taegun flicked his tongue to lick his lower lip and kindly told him,
"Fingers. You can’t even take two and you’re whining. Your lower mouth is short as hell."
Fingers…? They were too thick to be fingers… He shook his foggy head, rubbing the back of it against the pillow, thinking.
All kinds of scents were whipping through the room. Lee Jaeha’s pheromone scent was ash. A dew-wet branch—never sweet, never floral.
Even through the heat he thought it strange. After manifestation, an Alpha’s and an Omega’s pheromone scents don’t change. It’s genetically fixed, like your iris color not suddenly changing over time.
And yet suddenly he smelled of winter jasmine. It confused him.
"Well, well—daydreaming too."
As if displeased by that, the man drove those thick-knuckled fingers deeper and stirred precisely.
Deep inside along the wall, at a slightly raised, prominent spot, he pressed with the pads—no nails—and rubbed steadily.
At the circular grinding, Jaeha gulped a gasp and trembled all over. At the tip of his cock, there was a feeling—pop—of something shooting.
While thinking that couldn’t be, he still glanced down because the feeling was so unlike ejaculation.
From the tip of his bobbing cock, clear fluid spurted in little jets.
"You can fountain?"
Taegun patted his ass again—as if praising a clever kid. Shame made Jaeha twist.
His body was strange. It felt like rut, but deeper inside he was itchy with a sensation far more unfamiliar.
But if it wasn’t rut, there was no explaining this rapture. In the end, he seized Taegun’s wrist and begged,
"M-my body’s weird… It feels like rut—maybe a suppressant…."
"Our Director’s in rut?"
His voice sounded mock-gentle. Jaeha nodded; if he took a suppressant now, maybe—
The corners of his eyes were already wet. He didn’t even know why his eyes were wet; he bobbed his head like a child.
The look in Taegun’s eyes as he looked down at him was odd.
"So am I."
"What…."
"I’m in rut too. You fucked me last time and bolted, so this time I didn’t take a suppressant—so I can put it in properly."
…What? What was he talking about… Jaeha stared at him, confused.
He didn’t look like an Alpha in rut. Jaeha prided himself on being a fairly rational Alpha, but during rut any iron discipline wavered.
He hated himself then—when you became nothing but a beast of want. He had little attachment to skinship with others, so he usually endured with suppressants, but even so, there were times when desire was hard to control.