Wonbin’s POV
The omega stirs, shifting beneath the sheets, blinking up at me like he’s just waking from a dream.
“Oh,” he says quietly, voice rough, familiar in a way I don’t want to think about.
“You’re here? I’ve been waiting for you. Why’d you make me wait so long?”
I chuckle, rubbing a hand over my face.
My head feels too full, thoughts bumping into each other, none of them lining up right.
I can’t really see his face clearly—not the way I should.
And his scent… I can’t tell where it begins or ends.
Everything smells like Jihan.
That’s stupid.
I shake my head slightly.
I’ve been around him all night.
Of course my senses are mixed up.
“Oh yeah?” I say, leaning back slightly, letting my gaze drag over him.
“Bet you got all dressed up for me.” I laugh under my breath.
“Too bad I’m way too drunk to appreciate it properly.”
He shifts closer, sitting up.
The robe he’s wearing slips off one shoulder, deliberate or not, and something hot coils low in my stomach.
I swallow.
“Why don’t you help me relax a bit,” I say, voice rougher now.
“I’ll take care of you after.”
He tilts his head, eyes searching my face, studying me like he’s trying to figure something out.
“What do you want me to do, hyung?” he asks softly.
That word—hyung—hits me wrong.
Too familiar.
Too close to something I shouldn’t be thinking about.
I laugh it off, shaking my head again, reaching out without fully realizing it, my hand hovering near his shoulder.
“Just… come here,” I murmur, my voice rough, almost breaking under the weight of everything I’m trying to bury.
“Help me forget for a bit.”
The words taste bitter as they leave me, because even as I say them, my mind betrays me.
Flashes of earlier tonight burn behind my eyelids—Jihan leaning too close, his laughter brushing against my ear, the way his eyes lingered on me like I was something worth holding onto.
That look… it carved into me deeper than I wanted to admit.
I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing myself to breathe.
Get it together.
It’s just the alcohol.
Just my head twisting things.
It has to be.
But when I open them again, the sight before me knocks the air from my lungs.
The omega is crawling toward me, slow and deliberate, his body moving across the mattress like a shadow drawn to flame.
On his hands and knees, he tilts his face up, eyes catching mine in the dim light.
A groan escapes me before I can stop it.
My hand trembles as I reach out, fingers brushing against his cheek.
“God… you’re so pretty,” I whisper, the words spilling out like a confession I shouldn’t make.
And yet, the resemblance claws at me.
Even in the dark, even blurred by drink, I see Jihan in the curve of his lips, the tilt of his head.
It’s madness, I know. Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
But madness feels easier than emptiness.
If I can’t have Jihan, then maybe pretending is enough.
He parts his lips to speak, but I silence him with the press of my thumb against his mouth.
The warmth of his breath fans over my skin, and I trace the edge of his lips, teasing, testing.
My chest tightens at the way he looks at me—wide-eyed, uncertain, but willing.
“Are you going to be good for me?” My voice drops lower, heavier, each word dragging tension between us.
“Are you going to suck me off?”
His eyes flicker, nervous yet curious.
“I… I don’t know how,” he admits, his pout deepening, vulnerability laid bare.
I bite down on my lip, the taste of iron grounding me.
Slowly, deliberately, I slide my thumb past the edge of his lips.
“Then learn,” I murmur.
“Start here.”
His mouth closes around me, tentative at first.
The sensation is nothing compared to what I crave, but the sight—the sight of him obeying, of him trying—sends a shiver down my spine.
“Yes,” I breathe, my voice rough, guiding him.
“That’s it.
Take your time.
Don’t rush.
Just… follow me.”
“Now… undress me,” I say, my voice low, almost dangerous in its need.
The words hang in the air like a command I can’t take back.
The omega obeys, fingers trembling as they untuck my belt, sliding it free with a slowness that feels deliberate—like they know I’m watching every movement, like they want me to suffer in anticipation.
When the buttons come undone and the zipper lowers, he looks up at me, wide-eyed, searching for approval.
That look—so eager, so uncertain—makes something inside me twist.
I reach out, caressing his face, grounding myself in the warmth of his skin.
He pulls everything down, and I see the shock flicker across his features.
His lips part, his breath catches.
I should feel shame at how hard I am, how much I want this, but instead I feel a surge of power.
“Will you… knot me?” he whispers, almost afraid of the answer.
“Will this even fit?”
A laugh escapes me, sharp and hollow.
“Maybe,” I murmur, curling my fingers around myself.
“But first… let’s see if you can take me at all.”
I guide him down, pressing his head lower, closer.
My chest tightens as he hesitates, then leans in, lips brushing against me.
The heat of his breath makes me groan, and when his mouth finally closes around me, I nearly lose control.
Too hot.
Too wet.
Too much.
But even as he moves, even as I watch him obey, my mind betrays me again.
Jihan’s face flashes in the dark, overlapping with the omega’s.
The tilt of his head, the way he presents himself—it’s too similar.
My heart stutters, my grip tightens.
Is this him?
No.
It isn’t.
But I want it to be.
I pull away suddenly, needing space, needing air.
The omega shifts, compliant, waiting for my next move.
His body trembles, restless, leaking need onto the sheets.
My breath catches.
Heat.
“You’re burning up,” I mutter, suspicion clawing at me.
“Are you in heat?”
His eyes widen.
“No… I finished long ago. It shouldn’t come back.”
But he’s grinding against me, desperate, clinging to my shirt like I’m the only thing keeping him alive.
His voice cracks when he pleads, “Please… don’t leave me. I’ll be good. I promise.”
My chest aches.
I should stop.
I should walk away.
But the way he looks at me—like I’m everything, like I’m the only answer to his hunger—pulls me under.
“You’re sure?” I ask, my voice rough, almost broken.
“Yes,” he breathes.
“Please.”
I nod, my hand trailing down his cheek, his neck, his chest.
He trembles beneath my touch, needy, fragile, yet begging for more.
“So needy,” I whisper, and the sound of his whimper shatters the last of my restraint.
His plea echoes in my head—fuck me, alpha… knot me—and something inside me snaps.
The words coil around my chest like chains, dragging me deeper into the hunger I’ve been trying to deny.
I don’t remember how many times I reached for him, how many times I pulled him closer, only the blur of heat and motion.
His body pressed against mine, pliant and trembling, every sound he made feeding the fire in me.
Each whimper, each gasp, each desperate plea blurred into one endless rhythm that I couldn’t escape.
And through it all, Jihan’s face haunted me.
Every tilt of the omega’s head, every glance upward—it was Jihan I saw, Jihan I craved, Jihan I pretended was here with me.
The illusion was so strong it made me dizzy, made me reckless.
I wanted to drown in it, to lose myself completely, even if it meant tearing apart the line between fantasy and reality.
The sheets twisted beneath us, the air thick with sweat and need.
His nails dug into me, his body arching like he was offering himself to be consumed.
I couldn’t stop.
I didn’t want to.
The desperation in his voice, the way he begged—it was a mirror of my own hunger, my own madness.
I lost count of the moments, the movements, the times I gave in.
All I knew was the endless cycle of taking and being taken, of giving in to the obsession that had already claimed me.
By the time silence finally fell, I couldn’t tell where he ended and I began.
I couldn’t tell if it was him I wanted… or someone else I have been wanting for so long..