Chapter Text
Woojun wakes up lying on white tiles. He stares out a floor-to-ceiling window, the city gleaming below the penthouse. His cunt throbs, a dull heat radiating out from his battered hole. He remembers only bits and pieces of what came before this. He remembers being spanked and held open and touched, but he doesn’t remember coming. He doesn’t remember any relief.
Curling in on his side, he makes a soft, broken noise and reaches for his puffy clit.
The instant he touches himself, pain rends through his core towards his extremities.
Crying out through his teeth, he claws at the metal collar around his throat. He gasps wetly when it constricts and reopens. There is a rich black tea scent, underscored with wood smoke, in the room. It smells familiar.
He looks up.
Yu Kangmin reads on the couch. He is just as imposing as Woojun recalls, large and broad, his dark hair shoved messily back and his shirt opened up to his tattooed chest. He looks like power. He smells like bliss.
Woojun scrambles back towards the window. He’s suddenly aware of the bruises littering his thighs and hips. He looks like he’s been well-fucked, and the shock of his situation blasts heat across his face.
Kangmin does not look up, but his scent spikes in amusement, not arousal. His long ringed hands turn the book’s pages.
Filthy images of Kangmin parting his legs and slipping those sure fingers inside him flash through his mind. He chokes the thought down. Through the haze, he grasps onto Kangmin’s sins: the people abused and sold, the money snatched from the deserving’s hands, and the bloodshed. He could never desire him.
Woojun curls up on the floor and wraps his arms around his bent knees, fighting the need to rub himself. Heat condenses behind his clit. His heat insists on release, but he does not want to give Kangmin the satisfaction of watching him shock himself again. He does not want to be beholden to his basest desires.
He tries to blink away the image of Kangmin lounging on the couch: the bulge of his biceps, the ink curling towards his broad chest. Kangmin could handle him easily. It would not take five men for Woojun to be on his back.
Woojun feels himself gush. Ashamed and aching, he shuts his eyes.
Time hazes horribly in and out until he forgets himself. He reaches down, chasing relief.
The shock rips through him until he’s whimpering against his knees. He presses his cheek to the cool floor and struggles to breathe through the pain. His ears ring, the sensation of life bleeding out of his eyes and ears.
Kangmin’s scent is unignorable: rich and dark and entertained. The knowledge of his amusement spears him. His body demands he get closer. His heart thunders through his pussy, his thoughts smearing out into nonsense.
He needs Kangmin to touch him.
But Kangmin is a criminal, and Woojun is an officer of the law. He cannot give into this terrible thudding in his hole, the remnants of pain wiring him.
He hates himself for his weakness, for allowing himself to be caught and humiliated. The memory of his body tied open on the table — hands on his cunt and clit, his back arching, the shamelessness of his desire — returns. He can never show his face again. He wishes they were still touching him.
No.
He cannot.
The seconds tick by. Only insistent need remains in his untouched pussy. Time smudges into horrible need and then horrible pain, hot tears dripping down his face. If Kangmin would touch him, he wouldn’t hurt like this. If Kangmin would cease tormenting him and remove the collar, he would not hurt like this.
A blotchy shame ripples beneath the agonizing heat. He crawls towards the hot glow of alpha pheromones — the promise of human touch. He’s wet all down his cunt and legs. His belly cramps.
“Stop.” Kangmin’s deep voice coils through Woojun’s core. His pheromones rush out in a heady command.
Woojun settles back on his ankles. Silent tears track down his face. He does not remember moving. He does not remember being a foot away from Kangmin. Kangmin smells so good, and the shape of his muscular thighs, the impression of his large cock, in his pants are enough to have Woojun curling over himself and biting back want.
What is he doing? He cannot want this.
Kangmin replaces his book, reaching around Woojun to set it on the coffee table. His scent slams through him.
Woojun makes a small desperate noise, his control slipping.
Kangmin sits back. He fixes Woojun with his dark gaze, his smile curved up.
Woojun’s lips part. He finds himself leaning forward.
“No,” Kangmin says firmly.
Woojun leans back. Humiliated, he covers his face in his hands and muffles a little sob. He cannot take this. He ruts back on his ankle, locking up as the collar shocks through his limbs.
He crumples back on the floor. He curls over the tiles, drenching his own thighs. He cannot bear any more of this.
His voice hoarse, he begs, “Please.”
“What is it?” Kangmin asks.
The omega in Woojun yearns to present for this alpha, his pulse running inside his pussy.
He says, “Please knot me.”
Kangmin laughs. “Should I whip out my cock for any omega pussy, Captain Hae? Maybe I should just shoot you and be done with you.”
Woojun can hardly think through the heat fever. He takes in the alpha before him: the hard lines of his handsome face, the ink all down his body, and the smile like a knife caught between his teeth. Kangmin has killed more men than he knows, the path to his supremacy slick with blood. He may truly kill him, a dull terror prickling down his spine. Yet another part of him insists that he must be terribly undesirable for an alpha to not want him: naked and kneeling and in heat. His stomach flipping, he stares hard at the floor.
“You can suck my cock,” Kangmin says. “A mouth is a mouth no matter the omega.”
Avoiding his eyes, Woojun reaches for Kangmin’s waistband.
“No hands,” he says.
Woojun watches, his head swimming, his pussy pulsing, as Kangmin takes his soft cock out of his pants. His pheromones hit Woojun hard. He leans forward, his mouth pliantly open. He needs to touch Kangmin. He needs to feel the heat of his flesh and take.
Kangmin grips his jaw and forces himself into Woojun’s waiting mouth. He undoes the collar and sets it aside.
Relief floods through Woojun under Kangmin’s rough hand. He moans quietly, his mind wiping under Kangmin’s hot weight on his tongue.
Kangmin’s hand slides threateningly towards his scent gland, closing around the soft part of his throat. He says, “No teeth.”
Woojun shuts his eyes. He begins to bob on his cock, his clit throbbing needily between his legs and a continual ache in his belly. He tries to blink out the building tears of frustration. If he’s good, Kangmin might touch him below. He sucks desperately.
Kangmin says nothing. He leans back, his cock hardening in Woojun’s mouth.
Woojun shivers under Kangmin’s attention. He’s dripping along his ankles, his body aching to be fucked. He kneels before the most dangerous man in the city and mouths around his cock.
Before he can think on it, Kangmin grips his hair and yanks him back. He stands. “Alright. That’s enough of your teary-eyed staring.” He begins to fuck his throat.
Woojun chokes around his large cock, more tears leaking down his cheeks. He tries to relax his throat and take it. Slick flows out of his cunt at the rough treatment.
Kangmin continues to fuck his throat.
His vision darkening, need spilling across the backs of his calves, he tries not to think about his empty cunt. He tries not to think about how he’s debasing himself for the man he should bring to justice, the scent of his arousal obvious.
His inner omega curdles at Kangmin’s lack of interest. His unhappy scent sours through his heat pheromones, saltwater tumbling down from the corners of his eyes. The shame slams through him again. He should not care.
Kangmin smirks above him. He shifts back, the v of his hips sharpening and drawing attention to the ink framing his legs. “You smell just like the whores we auction off-world.” He snaps his hips forward.
Woojun’s throat tightens on instinct, his vision blurring. His skin heats under Kangmin’s claim. He isn’t a slut. He’s a decorated officer. He—
“You’re slicking all over yourself. It’s a miracle you get through a day without having to change your little panties.” Kangmin’s pace quickens. “If I told you to present, I bet you’d be wet all the way down.”
Woojun warms. He suckles on Kangmin’s cock, his clit aching under the shame.
Kangmin pulls smoothly out. He comes across Woojun’s front.
Cum sprays across his cheeks and chin, dripping down his naked chest. He takes it silently, desperation and distaste pulsing through him. He can feel his heat scaling up. He fights the desire to beg again for Kangmin’s knot.
Kangmin tucks himself back into his pants and sits back. His eyes skate down Woojun’s kneeling form. He points his wrist comm’s camera at him and grins, sharklike. “Let’s capture this moment, why don’t we? Open your mouth and stick out your tongue.”
Woojun hesitates. Even in his heat-addled state, he knows a capture is not easily deleted. The Tiger should not have a picture of him, naked and painted in his cum.
“Woojun,” Kangmin says softly. Like a threat.
Woojun obeys, blinking away the cum from his eyes. He sticks his tongue out, heat flushing up his cheeks. He feels warm and hazy. He feels like he might faint.
The click signals the capture.
Kangmin leans back again. “So you were an omega this whole time. You’re mouthy and big, but you come to heel just like one, Captain.”
Woojun stares back, his brow locked down. He wipes his face, Kangmin’s cum still dripping down his tits. He cannot tamp down this need. Though taking Kangmin in his mouth soothed him, the heartbeat in his pussy starts to pound again. He would rather die than continue on with this. He would rather be shot than beg again.
“Come here.” Kangmin gestures forward.
Compelled, Woojun shuffles in between Kangmin’s open legs.
“Close your eyes.” He picks a handkerchief out of his pants’ pocket.
Woojun obeys.
Kangmin wipes off his face, steadying him with a hand on the side of his neck.
Woojun’s resolve crumbles under his touch. His lips part, his vision unfocused. “More.”
Kangmin squeezes his scent gland.
Woojun whimpers, his scent flooding out under the contact. He spreads his knees wider, his pussy radiating an uncomfortable amount of heat. It hurts.
“Say please,” Kangmin stops touching his neck.
Woojun mewls at being denied the contact. He says breathlessly, “Please. I’ll do anything. Anything you want.”
“Then present,” Kangmin says.
Heat pounding through his face, Woojun shuffles around on his hands and knees. He’s never willingly presented for an alpha before. Certainly, he’s been fucked on all fours, but to get down on the floor — to become nothing but a slab of meat — runs up against his morals and his hold on his dignity. But he presses his forehead to the cold tile and spreads his knees apart, cool air washing across his dripping cunt on display.
Kangmin laughs lowly.
Mortified, Woojun feels his hole clench. He makes a soft noise and starts to move. He cannot bear this mockery.
“Hold still if you want me to touch you.”
Woojun stills obediently, biting his lower lip. The click of another capture echoes through his ears. Shame burning through him, he tries not to cry again.
Kangmin’s fingers swipe between his open pussy lips.
Woojun jolts forward. He shudders against the floor. The simple touch feels amazing.
“Look out the window, Woojun.” Kangmin fucks two fingers into Woojun’s hole.
Woojun squeezes silently around Kangmin’s fingers, his thoughts fizzling out. He struggles to comply. He lifts his head up and finds the city like a patchwork of lights, each one signaling another life on Astralis.
“All those people depending on you,” Kangmin says, his tone eerily soft. “And yet here you are down on your hands and knees like a common whore, begging me to touch your cunt. What would Astralis think if they saw you like this, submitting to me?” He strokes over Woojun’s clit. “Go on. Look at yourself.”
Woojun burns in acknowledgement, tightening around Kangmin’s fingers. Kangmin’s fingers move languidly inside him, his cum drying on his skin. Anyone might see him through the window, and he doesn’t know what Kangmin will do with the captures. Who will see him like this next — the force? The citizens of Astralis?
Kangmin rubs his clit deftly, fingering his hole. “I said to look, Woojun.”
Woojun glances down at himself, shame shocking through him. Kangmin’s thumb swipes over his clit, the bud crushed under his finger pad and reappearing again, and his fingers squelch inside his hole. He whimpers at the sight, flushing pink down his chest. He drips steadily across Kangmin’s hand.
Kangmin thrusts his fingers hard into his sweet spot. “They didn’t let you come earlier, did they? You were mewling like a bitch in heat. Do you think you deserve to come now?”
Woojun sobs aloud, his ears burning in mortification. He shakes his head. He doesn’t know anymore.
Kangmin twists his fingers, stroking his clit with his other hand. He rubs his thumb rapidly over the fat tip.
Clenching down and drowning in his humiliation, Woojun teeters on the edge. He rocks his hips against Kangmin’s hand. Does Kangmin even see him as an omega? Does he only view his body as a means for his punishment? Hot with shame, he gushes around Kangmin’s fingers. Like a slut. Like a bitch in heat.
He comes all across Kangmin’s hand with a silent sob.
Kangmin rubs him through his peak. His thumb’s rough pad becomes too much.
Woojun tries to pull away.
Kangmin drags him back by his hip and continues to toy with his overheated sore pussy.
The abuse from the last few hours washes over him all at once. His body still craves a knot, but without the slamming arousal, he can feel the memory of the whip and the boot and the other alphas’ cocks. He cries softly as Kangmin drives him into overwhelming need. He squirts pathetically on the floor and drops in a sweaty heap, his knees bent below his stomach.
Kangmin wipes his hand off on Woojun’s lower back and stands up.
Woojun pushes himself up on shaky arms. He glances over at Kangmin.
Kangmin says, “Just try not to fuck yourself with my decor.”
Woojun wraps his arms around his middle. His body insists that he ensure that this alpha returns and nests with him, but he finds no nesting materials, only books and vases and empty austere couches. Kangmin has even taken the collar.
He asks hoarsely, “Can I have a blanket?”
“What? So you can nest?” Kangmin raises a dark brow.
Woojun nods mutely, unable to say it aloud. Nesting instinct feels like an unnecessary humiliation. Already, the urge to be fucked and knotted is a cumbersome chore, but nesting like some mindless animal is yet another horror.
But omegas need a nest during their heats. Surely, Kangmin won’t deny him a blanket.
Kangmin smiles. “Nesting is for good omegas who carry pups. Is that you, Woojun?”
“It’s not,” he says quietly, his voice ruined.
“Seriously. Can you imagine that?” Kangmin turns around, laughing. “The idea of you nesting is such a joke, but who knows? You did seem to like being fucked on my fingers. You’re more of an omega than I thought.” He strides out the door and leaves Woojun alone.
Woojun sits on the cold tile, feeling miserable and filthy. Cum dries along his chest and down his thighs, and his pussy feels bruised. Is the idea of him as an omega so ridiculous? Is the thought of him nesting so far-fetched? His body begins to run into overdrive, protesting the lack of an alpha’s knot and the absence of a nest. Trying not to shiver, he curls up beside the couch and shuts his eyes.
Maybe Kangmin is right. Maybe no alpha would ever want him beyond a night.