Chapter Text
The only time Yeosang was permitted to remove his collar was to shower. He liked to take that opportunity to study it a bit more thoroughly, to feel the stitched leather under his fingertips, to read the embroidered name on the side. It was not his name. It was Alpha’s.
A tiny, gentle smile spread across his face. He loved Alpha.
The collar was heavy in his hands, clearly high quality. The buckle was metal, sturdy. It was a piece meant to last, meant to endure and withstand. He got the funny mental image that in ten years, regardless of what happened to him, this collar would look exactly the same. Black, suede leather. Alpha’s name in silver, little flowers embroidered along the rest of it in pink and white, green vines connecting them. A work of art, really. Somebody had likely practiced for years and years before being able to create such a thing.
He’d been staring at it for a few minutes. One of the others might notice that he’d turned the water off some time ago. But he let himself have another minute, sitting on the counter in the big bathroom attached to the omega room, feeling the ornate thread beneath his finger. It was prettier than he’d ever imagined. He felt so special wearing it, so beautiful. Even Alpha agreed. He’d tucked a finger under the strap, used it to tug Yeosang closer, examined it carefully. Pretty, he’d said.
Yeosang felt delirious just at the memory of that word. Pretty. It’d been the only thing Alpha had said to him since their mating ceremony, so he’d kept it precious in his heart.
Praise was valuable in Yeosang’s world. It was the currency he operated on.
Someone knocked on the bathroom door. “Yeosang?” One of the other omegas, though he was still too new here to recognize them by voice alone. “Are you done, yet?”
“One moment,” Yeosang called. He couldn’t keep the driver waiting, so he scooted off the counter, leaned in close to the mirror, and carefully refastened the collar around his throat.
There, he thought. Pretty.
One of the rules in Alpha’s house was that they were to be home for dinner each night, so they could all eat as a pack. Requests to stay out late, or have other dinner plans, needed to be submitted to Alpha’s assistant with at least three days notice. Yeosang didn’t have anywhere else he wanted to go, though, so he came straight home after his last lecture.
Plus, dinner was his only chance to be noticed. To catch Alpha’s eye and give a shy smile in answer. He hoped that eventually he’d gain a bit more favor. Alpha’s favorite omegas got to sit on his lap during dinner, got to sleep in his bed. His bed. Even on their mating night, Yeosang hadn’t gotten anywhere close to his bed. Alpha had bent him over the chest of drawers in the corner of his bedroom, kicked his legs apart, and pinned him by the scruff of his neck. Afterwards he’d sent him away without explanation.
Alpha didn’t need to give explanation.
Yeosang waited at at the end of the table, hands in his lap. Alpha dished for each of them, one of the many ways he cared for them. Everything came from him. The money for Yeosang’s university tuition. The clothes he wore. The driver that brought him anyplace he wanted to go. Alpha provided.
At last, a plate was passed down to Yeosang. He bent his head in Alpha’s direction, knowing better than to speak out of turn. Thankfully, he’d been raised to thrive in a pack like this. He knew how to be quiet, how to be good. It was second nature. Submission wrapped around him like a blanket that he gladly snuggled into.
His mom had always described it best. If your head wasn’t attached to your shoulders, you’d forget where you put it. He just wasn’t meant to control his own life. He wasn’t designed to.
“Yeosang.”
Yeosang looked up fast, startled to hear his name from Alpha’s mouth, and smiled. Attention like this had him nearly vibrating from excitement. He felt so special under Alpha’s eye, so treasured.
Alpha lifted his wine glass. Aside from special occasions, he was the only one allowed to drink. “I saw you got a ninety eight percent on your biology exam.” The tiniest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Smart little thing.”
Yeosang flushed hard, ducked his head away, unaccustomed to praise. “Oh, I—” He swallowed, forced himself to slow down. Didn’t want to look sloppy, look stupid. Had to be humble, accept this compliment properly. “I tried my best. Thank you, Alpha.”
He realized the other omegas were toasting to him, and he quickly reached for his own water glass. But his hand was shaking from all the attention, and he couldn’t look away from Alpha’s pleased gaze, and his knuckles bumped into it, his grip faltering. It tipped, spilled all across the table, ruined the plate of food set before the omega beside him. The warm, pleasant glow in his chest turned to ice.
“I’m sorry,” Yeosang mumbled, already standing, using his napkin to soak up the spill. “I’m so sorry. Alpha. I didn’t—”
“Yeosang.”
“I didn’t mean to, I’m so sorry, Alpha—”
“Yeosang.”
He looked up, his heart hammering in his chest, the now soaked napkin clenched in one hand. Alpha beckoned him over with one finger. His expression, which moments ago had been happy, was now like steel. Eyes narrowed, mouth set in a firm line. It made Yeosang feel so little, feel every bit of their fifteen year age gap.
He set the napkin down on the table. Shuffled slowly to the head, hands folded neatly behind his back, chin down. Already, tears were pricking at his eyes. He was so sensitive, always had been. Disappointment and rejection hurt worse than physical pain. All he ever wanted to be was a good omega.
Alpha stared at him for a heavy moment. The other omegas watched, too. The room was so silent he could hear their breath, the tiniest creak in a chair as one of them shifted.
Alpha’s scent, usually a pleasant cinnamon, was harsh and burning. “I don’t like clumsiness.”
Yeosang nodded. He knew that. Clumsiness implied a lack of care, a lack of respect. Alpha gave him everything, a beautiful home and everything he could even think to ask for. The bare minimum he could give back was self-control.
Alpha left him like that for a moment. Took a slow sip of his wine, wiped his hands off on his napkin, and then pushed his chair back to stand. He undid his belt buckle.
Yeosang’s jaw began to wobble. “Alpha,” he whispered. “Please not in front of everyone.”
Begging was pointless. Unattractive. Alpha did not react to his words, merely folded the belt in half, then used his other hand to guide Yeosang to the table, push him to brace against it, presenting himself.
It was his first punishment in this house. He’d been so careful to be good, to follow the rules. And now he’d undone all that, the odds of him getting invited to Alpha’s room anytime soon were nonexistent. Why’d he have to be so stupid?
There was no warning. No warmup. No tap to let him know where to expect the first stripe. Instead the leather cracked hard across his lower back. His arms buckled, he nearly fell against the table, his knees going weak. The pain didn’t register for a moment, only the impact. But then it was a fiery burning, an agony that had him gritting his teeth. The other omegas only stared, a mix of pity and vague amusement. He probably looked pathetic.
Alpha’s swings were fast, efficient. Across his lower back, his bottom, his thighs. Yeosang curled himself against the table, face buried in his arms, struggling to keep his feet under him. Each strike pushed an awful little cry out of him, a fresh wave of sobs.
At last, it was over. Alpha scruffed him, pulled him to his feet, and walked him back to his spot at the table. Yeosang crumbled gratefully into his chair, struggling to get his crying under control. He knew he’d deserved that, but it didn’t make the pain easier to handle. If anything, it made it worse. Two weeks here and he’d earned a punishment. He’d been raised so much better.
He shifted uncomfortably on the wooden chair, but there wasn’t a position he could sit in that didn’t aggravate the now tender skin. School tomorrow would be hard. The rest of the week would be hard. He hadn’t been belted like that in a long time.
Good, he told himself. Good for him to remember it as a lesson, to feel the sting for a while. A reminder of how badly he needed Alpha’s guidance, of how incapable he was on his own.
“Yeosang, pet,” Alpha said. He’d put his belt back on, had resumed sipping his wine. “Anything you’d like to say to the table?”
Yeosang managed a nod. Sniffed hard, wiped at his eyes with the heel of his hand. “I’m sorry,” he said, forcing himself to look up, meet everyone’s eyes. None of the other omegas offered him anything, not even a tiny smile for comfort. “I’ll be more careful in the future.”
Alpha raised his eyebrows. He wanted more.
Yeosang swallowed roughly. “Thank you, Alpha.” His nose was running. He wiped it with his sleeve.”For correcting me.”
•••
San liked everyone.
Mom said it was just in his nature. Said he’d been born as a lover, not a fighter. Born to keep the peace. The perfect beta, she’d said.
San had thought this would always be true. That he’d move through his life smoothly, adapting to people and situations with ease, guided by a sense of genuine goodwill. Maybe it would’ve been so, maybe he could’ve had that, if it hadn’t been for Wooyoung.
Wooyoung hung around the gym San boxed at, though he wasn’t a boxer. Sometimes he would walk on the treadmill, or talk to some of the other regulars, but otherwise he had no place there. Just took up space, got in the way, and made a point of bothering San. And oh, he loved bothering San. Criticizing his form, laughing when he got hit. One time San had forgotten to lock his stuff up, and when he’d returned Wooyoung was pulling the laces out of his sneakers, out of his gloves. It was like he was a child.
Same went at school, because they attended the same university. Attending together would’ve been doable, but they were somehow in two courses together. Wooyoung made a point of sitting behind San in each of them. Sometimes he’d peer over his shoulder to snoop at the grades he was getting, ready to make some snide comment about them.
San knew he wasn’t the best student, but he tried his best. He worked hard. He didn’t want some alpha younger than him bothering him about it.
Today was no exception. Wooyoung’s eyes locked on him the moment he entered the lecture hall, a smug smile already on his lips. “Sannie,” he said, even though they were not familiar enough for that. “How’d that last quiz go?” He slid into his spot at the table behind San, leaned halfway across it, and flicked the back of San’s head. “I got full points.”
“Good job,” San mumbled. He was too tired for this. Yesterday he’d gone from class, to the gym, straight to his nightshift. That was his routine four days out of the week, and it left him permanently exhausted. He wasn’t meant to run off of four or five hours of sleep a night, but he made do.
Wooyoung leaned closer, shamelessly peering at San’s computer screen. “Aw,” he crooned. “Seventy percent isn’t too bad.”
San slammed his computer shut, shot a glare over his shoulder. People like Wooyoung explained why so many betas disliked alphas, primarily young ones. They were so arrogant, so annoying. There was a reason the only alpha San concerned himself with was Hongjoong, and he’d been awfully hesitant about him at first. It’d taken months of reassurance from Seonghwa, his best friend, before he’d fully accepted Hongjoong had changed.
Wooyoung persisted, still stubbornly in San’s personal space. The class wouldn’t be starting for another six minutes. “Are you boxing after this?”
San shrugged. Wooyoung knew full well he boxed five days a week.
“Oh good, I’m gonna be there. I wanna watch.”
Great. “Why do you even go?” San snapped. It was rude by his standards, but it was also well overdue. “I’ve never seen you in the ring.”
Wooyoung was undeterred. “Oh my dad used to workout there. I’ve been hanging around since I was a kid.”
San left it at that. His silence provoked another flick from Wooyoung. “Maybe sometime you…could…”
San looked up. It wasn’t normal for Wooyoung to trail off like that. Usually he went on and on until the class started. But he quickly identified the cause.
Yeosang.
An omega who sat in the front row. The object of San’s adoration. The prettiest person on campus. Just seeing him provoked a pleased sigh out of San, made him want to lean his head on his hand and stare for hours on end. Everything about him. The hesitant way he’d raise a hand when he had a question, the purple clip he often wore in his hair. Everything about him San committed to memory, treasured.
The only problem was the collar that had appeared approximately two weeks ago. A sturdy one. His alpha’s name stitched on the side for anybody to see. Hopelessly mated to someone else. Out of bounds forever. God, it made San want to crumple up and die.
Wooyoung blew out a long breath behind him, his eyes also on Yeosang. “You ever talk to him?”
“No,” San said. He hadn’t dreamed of it. “I’d embarrass myself.”
“I might,” Wooyoung said. “But I’m also one hell of a masochist.”
San broke out of his daze to shoot a glare back at Wooyoung. What a weird thing to say at nine am on a Tuesday. “I doubt he’d want to talk to you.”
“Why not?” Wooyoung made a face, raised his hand to threaten another flick. “At least I’m not boring, he’d fall asleep hearing about your boxing drills.”
“Not true.”
Wooyoung stood. Four minutes until class began. “I’m introducing myself. Why not? Mated omegas can still have friends.”
San hesitated, watched helplessly as Wooyoung moved to the front of the class. On one hand he was right. Yeosang could still have friends. But San knew being just friends would be difficult. Because even looking at him from the back of the room made him feel hot, made him feel fluttery.
But the last thing he was gonna do was let Wooyoung of all people beat him to it.
He stood, took a big breath in, and followed.
Yeosang looked up as they approached, clearly curious, but also smiling. “Hello,” he said. His voice sounded different up close. It sounded nice.
Wooyoung gave a little bow that San hurried to copy. “I’m Wooyoung, I—”
“I’m San. I sit in the back.” He ignored the glare he got for interrupting.
Yeosang nodded. “Oh.” He twirled a pencil in one hand. “That’s why I’ve never seen you.”
Ouch.
San was too determined to give up now. He pointed stupidly at the collar. “That’s new.”
Wooyoung elbowed him. “Shut up.”
But Yeosang took them in stride, put a hand up to touch the buckle idly. “Only a couple weeks ago, yes. I joined a pack. Are you two together?”
San wanted to barf. “No.”
“Not yet,” Wooyoung chimed in. He grinned, elbowed San again. “I’m getting to him.”
The conversation lulled. Yeosang just stared a them, smiling a little, though clearly unsure what to say now. He was especially beautiful up close, and his scent was just barely suppressed under the patch on his neck. Strawberries. Fresh off the vine. Bright and sweet.
“I box,” San blurted. “If you’d ever be interested in learning. Or watching a match. It’s…fun.”
Wooyoung snorted.
But Yeosang nodded, his smile growing. “I’d love to. I’ve always wanted to get stronger, to—” He paused, his smile dissapearing. “But I’d have to ask Alpha, first.”
“Alpha?” San repeated. He knew pack leaders could be a bit possessive, especially with their omegas, but this felt a bit excessive. He’d never once seen Seonghwa ask Hongjoong for permission to do something. “All right. Just let me know.”
Class was starting. They bid Yeosang goodbye and walked back to their spots. A moment passed. Lecture began. And then Wooyoung leaned in again, whispered in the direction of San’s ear. “Something seem off about that?”
San couldn't help but nod. Which was odd.
Because he'd never imagined he and Wooyoung could agree on anything.
•••
“I don’t know, darling.” Seonghwa considered it, one hand slowly twisting loops into the strands of San’s hair. “Some packs like that dynamic.”
The three of them were on the couch in their shared apartment, San sprawled out between them. Hongjoong had complained about his legs in his lap, but had accepted it, and was now working to find a movie for them.
San twisted around, so he was on his back, and stared up from Seonghwa’s lap. “I know. But it felt weird. Like he was sad about it.”
“Rules aren’t always fun,” Hongjoong said.
San made a face. “Big talk coming from you.”
The three of them were a pack, even though they didn’t meet the requirement to legally register. It didn’t matter. If they wanted to be a pack, then they would be. And they’d made it official three months ago by deciding Hongjoong ought to be in charge. Not because he was the only alpha, but because he’d proven himself capable of leading. Still, that didn’t mean San couldn’t joke with him about it, considering Seonghwa had quite literally spanked the leadership into him over the course of two years.
The jokes came from a place of love, though. San was beyond proud of who Hongjoong had become.
Seonghwa pushed the bangs out of San’s eyes, stroked his thumb gently over his skin. “Keep an eye on him. Maybe he needs a friend.”
“I guess.”
A mischievous smile crossed Seonghwa’s face. “Is there a part you’re not telling us?”
Instantly, San’s face heated up, and he wished he’d stayed face down, so he could hide himself against Seonghwa’s leg. “No.”
“Just say it,” Hongjoong said. “He’s got a sixth sense with this, you know that.”
It was true. Seonghwa seemed to know San’s feelings before San did, though that just could’ve been a result of them growing up neighbors. They were a funny mix of best friends and packmates and sometimes lovers, but always undeniably intertwined.
“Fine.” San shrugged, like it didn’t matter. “He’s cute. But he’s taken, so it doesn’t matter.”
That was all it took. Seonghwa gasped, far too excited considering Yeosang was unavailable, and grabbed San by the face. “More.”
“Nothing more to say.”
Seonghwa retaliated hard on that one, wiggled his fingers on the spot just under San’s ear and above his scent gland, the secret most ticklish spot on his body. The effect was instant. He batted the hand away, kicked against Hongjoong’s legs until he scooted up and out of the danger zone. “Fine! Fine. His name is Yeosang—” Seonghwa jabbed a hand just above San’s hips. “He smells like— hey! I’m telling you!”
“Okay, okay.” Seonghwa pulled his hands back, held them out in a show of peace. “What’s he smell like?”
San settled back down against the arm of the couch, arms folded protectively over his stomach. “He smells like strawberries. Like—” He couldn’t help but try his best to imagine that scent again, how fresh and sweet it’d been. And that’d just been a sliver of its full potential. Who knew what it’d be like without a patch, if San stuck his nose right against it… “Like the best strawberries in the world.”
Hongjoong sighed. “Oh no.”
“That sounds lovely,” Seonghwa said. He reached out and took San’s hand in his, gave him a quick wrist scenting. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with getting to know him. Especially if you’re worried.”
“I know.”
“What is it, then?”
San shrugged. He didn’t have the words for it. Because, realistically, nothing Yeosang said was cause for true concern. Some sort of rules and punishments were standard for packs, his own included. Except when San thought of their little pack’s rules he didn’t feel disappointed or upset. The rules they had for one another made him feel cared about.
Hongjoong set down the tv remote, his search for the perfect movie on pause. He looked at San for a long moment, contemplation all over his face. “If I was you…” He chewed his lip for a moment, likely reflecting back on he and Seonghwa’s difficult courting stage. “I’d ask him over for dinner.”
“Yeah, not happening.”
Seonghwa’s mouth opened. “Why not? Oh, that’s a great idea. It won’t be weird, we’ll be here!”
“No.” The last thing San wanted was to get Yeosang smothered. And if there was one thing Seonghwa was going to do, it was smother another omega. Particularly one he knew San had a liking towards. It’d happened before, when they’d been teenagers. Since then, however, San hadn’t really found anybody he’d liked. Sure, there were plenty of attractive people at school. He noticed a few of them on campus, kept an eye out. But Yeosang was the first in a long time he’d mentioned at home.
God, if only it weren’t for that collar.
“Just pick a movie,” San said. It was already getting late, and he needed to be up early tomorrow. He didn’t want to spend one of his few nights at home on the couch scrolling through movies. “I don’t—”
His phone buzzed in his pocket. And, considering the only two people that cared about him were currently on the couch, he picked it up. It was an email.
From: Jung Wooyoung <[email protected]>
To: Choi San <[email protected]>
Subject: hi
i was thinking we should probably get a study group or something together if we want to pass biology :) i think yeosang has really good grades so lets ask him
i don’t respond to emails so text me at the number below
San stared. Wooyoung had some nerve, tracking down his email. Some nerve to send a message without any punctuation. Some nerve to assume San would be interested in forming a study group with him.
Although… It’d be less suspicious, he supposed, to have Wooyoung at stuff. It’d make it clear he wasn’t attempting to pursue Yeosang, just wanted to get to know him better.
And if Yeosang really was dealing with an over protective alpha, then a study group was a much easier ask than dinner.
Hongjoong waved the remote. “Can we start?”
“One second.”
San [22:18]
It’s San.
Let’s ask him tomorrow.