Chapter Text
At first, Kim Dokja had agreed to this arranged marriage because he knew it would allow him to escape his father.
He’d thought, maybe this rich, pure-blooded alpha would only expend the bare minimum amount of effort to take care of him, sickly as he was; the jump from presenting as an alpha to suddenly presenting as an omega was a rough one, and though Kim Dokja’s immune system wasn’t weak by any means, there were days where he felt more lethargic than he usually did. His skin was getting soft, and his clear-cut figure was slowly giving way to curves. Not to mention that strange soreness at his pelvic region as his body decided to just grow a womb.
So no, he hadn’t expected Yoo Joonghyuk, bachelor of the decade, to sit by his bed when he was sick, or make sure he ate. In fact, the alpha even made time to eat with him. Him! Of all people. Yoo Joonghyuk learned of his favourite foods, of his hobbies. He learned of him, and even spoke to him. And, maybe Kim Dokja was lonely or desperate, but despite the twelve-year age gap, the soothing, gentle way in which the alpha spoke to him won him over. Against all odds, he’d come to trust Yoo Joonghyuk in ways he didn’t trust even his closest friends.
“Dokja,” calls a familiar, deep voice. Blinking, Kim Dokja comes back to himself and sees his maths sheet lying half-finished before him. Yoo Joonghyuk is close; his arm is swung around the back of Kim Dokja’s chair, and Kim Dokja can feel the alpha’s hot breath upon the side of his neck.
Once, he would have been irked by the proximity. But now, he simply turns his head to look at Yoo Joonghyuk, who has an inquisitive eyebrow raised. “Can you really afford to be spacing out when you’re only halfway done with this sheet?”
“It’s not due until next week…” He mumbles, despite the fact that he was the one who had asked for Yoo Joonghyuk’s help. Can you blame him? He lived in poverty up until two years ago. He didn’t even have a proper education! Some days, he can hardly understand why Yoo Joonghyuk would help him. “I mean, I just… I’m a little tired.”
It’s summer, so Kim Dokja’s opted to wear shorts and a slightly oversized T-shirt rather than his usual silk pyjamas (coourtesy of Yoo Joonghyuk). The night is more humid than he’d like, so he pulls at the collar of his shirt. He misses the way Yoo Joonghyuk’s gaze drops down, seeing the pale expanse of Kim Dokja’s chest, his nipples. Misses the way Yoo Joonghyuk’s gaze trails down his stomach, then to his pale, exposed legs.
Yoo Joonghyuk tears his gaze away just as Kim Dokja looks up. “I want to rest,” he says, only because he’s come to realise that Yoo Joonghyuk is weak to the way he says it; all soft and sticky. Vulnerable. He’s too good of a man to make him do what he doesn’t want to.
“You should finish it first,” he says, voice strained. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to do.” Yoo Joonghyuk combs a gentle hand through Kim Dokja’s hair, and the fact that he almost pulls it back so he can bring his omega’s neck into full view will be a secret for himself only.
Kim Dokja huffs and throws his arms upwards. “My brain isn’t functioning well enough for me to solve all of these questions. I’m serious!” The shirt goes up with him. Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes latch onto the exposed skin of Kim Dokja’s stomach, laser-focused. Oh, how he would love to–
“Just for tonight?”
Does he have to say it like that? Yoo Joonghyuk wonders. It could mean so many things in different contexts, and Yoo Joonghyuk is still a man in the presence of his beloved. He’d nearly broken when he looked down Kim Dokja’s shirt, but now this? “You know,” he says, tilting his head to the side and letting his hand fall from Kim Dokja’s hair to his thigh. His hand is big and warm and squeezes the pudge, and Yoo Joonghyuk feels the satisfaction of successfully putting some meat on Kim Dokja flow through his blood. He squeezes–the most he can allow him, because Kim Dokja has no idea what he’s thinking and he doesn’t intend to let him. Yet.
But Kim Dokja–he thinks Yoo Joonghyuk is golden. He thinks he’s a saint, an upstanding, honourable gentleman. Not someone who wants to tackle him and kiss him until his lips are swollen, someone who wants to spread his legs and make him beg for it—
Yoo Joonghyuk crosses his legs and drapes an arm over his knees as he leans towards the other. “... Fine,” he says, because he doesn’t think he’ll win this battle if this keeps going down. “But make sure to finish it tomorrow.”
And when Kim Dokja leaves his office singing praises about how kind and perfect he is, it takes nearly all of Yoo Joonghyuk’s energy not to dash into the bathroom and get it off.