The news anchor's voice echoed across the wide office, the screen flickering with Rai's face.
"Detective Rai Hermon—officially the youngest officer in bureau history to receive a double promotion after resolving the mass slaughter of youths."
Sage smirked in his leather chair, whiskey glass tilting lazily in his hand. "Well, well," he murmured, eyes glittering. "Guess the little detective needs to know the fun game that's about to begin."
He dialed.
"Hello, detective," Sage drawled when the line clicked. "Should I clap?"
On the other end, Rai's jaw flexed. "If this is about congratulations, you can choke on them."
Rowon, stacking the awards and bouquets on the desk behind him, muttered, "Here we go…"
Just then, Felton stepped inside and perched on the sofa arm, arms folded, glare sharp as a blade. Sage ignored it.
"Relax. I'm proud of you," Sage purred. "So proud, in fact, I thought you and your partner should join me for… a little celebration."
Rai's voice was flint. "Get to the point."
Sage's smile turned wolfish. "You know BETA better than anyone, detective. See you in a bit." The call died before Rai could curse him out.
Felton exhaled, voice low. "What is this about?"
"What do you think, Fox?"
Felton's glare deepened. "I'm not in the mood for your riddles."
"Patience," Sage said simply, sipping his drink. "Always patience."
---
Thirty minutes later.
The office doors slammed open. Rai didn't bother knocking, Rowon at his shoulder. Felton straightened from his seat, tension softening only a fraction at their arrival.
"Oh my," Sage said smoothly. "Fast little detectives."
"Get to the point," Rai snapped.
Sage slid a file across the desk. "This," he said, voice velvet and venom, "is the fun part."
Rowon seized it first. His eyes froze on the title. "…Male pregnancy?"
Rai leaned in, his disbelief snapping into fury. "What kind of sick joke—"
"It's no joke," Sage cut him off, eyes narrowing. "My father's experiments. Your bureau doesn't have the full picture. This—" his finger tapped the file, deliberate "—is the real game."
"Love has made him crazy," Sage added, tone dark enough to silence the room.
Felton's gaze flicked sharply toward him, something unspoken clicking in his mind.
Rowon snapped the file shut, fire in his glare. "If this is true, we don't wait. We strike now before he hunts anyone else."
"Exactly," Rai bit out. "Every second is another victim."
"No." Sage's voice was calm steel. "We wait."
Rai slammed a hand on the desk. "Wait—for him to keep twisting boys' organs into blood and pulp?"
"The medicine doses are half complete," Sage said smoothly.
The room stilled.
Rowon leaned forward. "Then that's more reason to hit him first!"
It was Felton who finally broke the air, stepping forward, eyes locked on Sage. His voice was low, edged. "Why wait, Sage? What possible reason do you have to let your father finish?"
The silence stretched tight.
Sage leaned in, smirk never wavering, but his voice dropped soft, razor-sharp:
"Because unfinished experiments tell you nothing. Let him complete it. Then I'll know the limits… and the weaknesses."
Rowon slammed the file back onto the desk. "You're insane."
Rowon's mind raced. The scattered notes, the doses, the grotesque diagrams—they all connected to one terrifying conclusion. Eros. And judging by the hard set of Felton's jaw, he had reached the same thought.
Rowon surged forward, fury blazing, he couldn't take Sages bullshit anymore and dashed to pull his collar but Felton stopped Rowon, grabbing his wrist.
Rowon muttered, " Fel.. "
Felton just grabbed his hands and took him out of the office. While giving a one last glare to Sage, " We need to talk, Sage. "
Sage nonchalantly, " Of course, we do. "
And both left. Rai was still in the office. Standing and watching the drama unfold.
Rai, " Is your old man sick in the head, even women in their 50's are not capable of bearing children. And he is dreaming of impregnating a man in his 50's ? "
Sage, " That's the fun part. "
Rai signed.
"Really, don't you want to see it too, Rai? "
Rai didn't say anything, but an image came to his view, Jean. Before the image could become more lucid, Rai shook his head, as if shaking off all the ill images Sage had bore into him.
Sage only smiled, whispering like it was the simplest truth in the world.
"Patience wins wars, detective. And I don't intend to lose this one."
***
18+ ⚠
Felton didn't stop walking until he shoved Rowon through the cabin door and kicked it shut behind them. The lock clicked, sharp in the silence. In the next breath, Rowon was hauled onto the desk, papers scattering under his back.
Felton's hand fisted in his hair, yanking his head back, eyes blazing.
"What the hell do you think you're doing? Trying to pull his collar like that?"
Rowon spat the words back without hesitation.
"Why not?! He's messing with human life—biology—like toys, and I should just stand there and listen to his filth? Even more when it's about—"
Felton slammed his palms on either side of Rowon's head, caging him, leaning down until their noses almost touched. His voice cracked with fury and something rawer.
"I know! I fucking know! What Apollo is doing… is for my father."
Rowon froze, chest heaving. His voice dropped, almost disbelieving.
"Then why? Why the hell are you not saying anything to Sage?!"
Felton's jaw clenched, eyes dark as coals.
"You think the man who's stood beside Apollo all these years doesn't know what his husband is doing?"
Rowon's breath hitched, confusion cutting through his anger.
"Then… why hasn't your father stopped him? Don't tell me he's actually—"
"No." Felton's voice was steel and smoke. "He isn't searching for a womb. He's searching for a way to die. And take Apollo with him."
The words dropped heavily, merciless. Rowon's eyes widened, his body going rigid under Felton's weight. Death. He was speaking about his father's death like it was weather.
Felton's mouth twisted into something bitter, almost cruel.
"What's with the big eyes? Regretting it already? Realizing who you tangled yourself with?"
But Rowon didn't flinch. He locked eyes with Felton, heat clashing with heat. The tension between them snapped like a whip, pulling their bodies flush, hard lengths grinding against each other.
And then their lips crashed. Hot. Brutal. Desperate.
Felton's tongue invaded like he was claiming what was already his. Rowon's legs hooked around his waist, dragging him closer, deeper. Felton yanked him off the desk mid-kiss, slamming him against the wall, hands roaming rough, sliding beneath his shirt and down—lower, claiming the hole,testing the softness, and punishing it .
Rowon gasped, hissing when fingers pressed where he hadn't been touched in too long.
Felton's smirk ghosted against his neck, biting down hard enough to mark.
"It's still shallow," he rasped.
Rowon's voice cracked on a whimper. "Slow… slowly…"
Felton obeyed only in pace, stretching him with deliberate cruelty, every second a torment. Five long minutes of dragging Rowon to the edge, until the man was trembling, nails clawing his back, begging without words.
And then—Felton thrust. Hard. Deep.
"Your body remembers me. Look how easily it swallowed me whole."
Rowon's moans broke into the air, raw and helpless.
"Ahh—ahhh—hahh—Felton—!"
Each thrust stole his breath, slow but merciless, until his release hit—once, twice, three times. His body gave in, but Felton didn't. He held him up against the wall, buried deep, grinding in deeper as he came inside, groaning low into Rowon's ear.
The thought he tried to bury clawed back to the surface—the nightmare of Apollo's twisted experiments, the whisper of male pregnancy. The dangerous idea that he could fill Rowon, breed him, mark him in ways he couldn't erase.
Rowon sagged against the wall, half-conscious, still locked around him, smelling of sweat and sin. Felton stared at him, heart pounding with something too dark to name, his desire burning hotter with every ragged breath.
And for the first time, Felton feared his own hunger for Rowon.