3 weeks ago.
Nathan's hand hovered nervously over the small silver vials, the faint glow of the office lights catching the liquid inside. "You… you're really not going to inject this into Sam, are you?"
Sage's brow quivered, the vial twirling lazily between his fingers. "And what does that have to do with you?"
Nathan's voice sharpened, laced with worry. "Everything. First, Sam is my younger brother's friend. And second… his father is a prominent figure in the industry. You really want to mess with the Wrights?"
Sage's smirk deepened. "Sam is mine. And he will always be mine."
Nathan's stomach sank. "You do know humans have the right to reject things, right?"
Sage's eyes flickered, cold amusement dancing in them. "Sam won't. I'll make sure of it."
Nathan swallowed hard, glancing at the first vial. "And this one… what exactly does it do?"
Sage held it up, letting the light shine through the liquid, a faint silver shimmer rippling inside. "Apollo's early-stage serum. It manipulates reproductive organs. Think of it as… a stabilizer. It prepares Sam's body—well, his artificial womb—to accept my repeated fillings. The first dose primes him. His body won't reject what's coming next."
Nathan's hand shook slightly as he looked at the second vial. "And this one? I assume… it's yours?"
Sage's grin turned sharper, more dangerous. "Yes. Addiction. This makes him crave me—my touch, my seed, my presence. Only I can satisfy him. Every nerve, every cell… it will call for me, and me alone."
Nathan's jaw tightened. "You're… insane. Do you even realize what you're doing?"
Sage's lips curved into a dangerous smile, eyes cold but glittering with obsession. "I do. Precisely. Every step is deliberate. Every dose brings him closer… and ensures that, eventually, there will be no escape for him."
Nathan's hand went slack at his side. He swallowed again, a cold chill crawling up his spine. He realized he had just handed over the seeds of Sam's complete submission… and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
(Present)
Morning light filtered through the curtains, soft and unassuming. The room looked ordinary, peaceful—too peaceful for what had transpired hours ago. Sam rested in Sage's arms, robe loosely draped over both of them, skin still flushed from the night before. Everything seemed normal… yet nothing was.
Sam stirred, a small grunt escaping his nose as a sudden, mild ache pressed at his lower belly. He barely registered it, dismissing it as a fleeting discomfort.
Sage, however, noticed immediately. A slow, dark smile spread across his face. So quick… so efficient.
He'd filled Sam, month after month, letting his seed mold and adapt within him, preparing every inch of his body for what was to come. And yet, this… this speed exceeded even his expectations. Sam's body had already begun stabilizing, reshaping itself in silent, obedient response to his manipulations.
The small, involuntary sound—the tiniest grunh of pain—sent a thrill through Sage. He hugged Sam closer, pressing his chest to the curve of his back, fingers tracing lightly over the newly sensitized skin.
The second dose… the craving… it will be ready sooner than I thought, he mused, dark anticipation flickering in his amber eyes.
And then a name surfaced in his mind: Rai. Of course. The experiment was nearing its perfect state. Sage's lips curved into a wolfish grin. If I offered Rai this… would he take it? Would he use it… or destroy it?
His gaze hardened, calculating, as shadows of the future flickered in his mind. Felton… what would he do when the time came? Could anyone stop him now?
No. Nothing could. Not now. Not ever.
The impossible is happening. And Apollo… it's time for him to pay.
Sage tightened his embrace around Sam, the weight of control, obsession, and inevitability settling around them like a dark promise.
*****
After weeks of avoiding Jean, Rai finally had a moment to himself—though his thoughts were anything but peaceful. The male pregnancy experiment, Sage's updates about Sam's stabilization, the parcels of vile medicine… every detail clawed at him, a gnawing weight of responsibility and desire. He knew the dangers, and yet he couldn't entirely ignore the pull of Jean.
The doorbell rang, slicing through the tension. Heart racing, Rai quickly stashed the parcels and syringes in the kitchen drawers. Opening the door, he froze. Rowon was there—and behind him, Jean.
What are the two of them doing together?
Rowon leaned casually, though the sarcasm in his voice cut sharp.
"Please pick up his call… so he doesn't disturb me."
Jean's frustration radiated even from behind Rowon. He had called out, been avoided, been ignored—and now he was standing here, face flushed, trying not to admit how much it bothered him.
Jean huffed. "What? You're sending us away from your doorstep?"
Rai's voice, low and soft, betrayed nothing.
"Come in."
The room stretched with awkward silence. Rowon, ever the icebreaker, quipped,
"Ohhh… I'm sooo hungry… Why don't you cook for us, Rai?"
Rai blinked, incredulous.
"Me?"
Jean smirked. "He can't cook shit."
Rowon wagged his eyebrows. "Thank you for your meals, Mrs. Hermon."
Jean kicked him.
"Shut your mouth if you want food."
Rowon raised his hands, laughing. "Kidding, kidding."
Jean stormed into the kitchen, leaving Rai and Rowon alone. Rowon leaned close, voice urgent.
"What's wrong with you?! Why are you ignoring him?!"
Rai's jaw tightened.
"The experiment…"
Rowon's eyes widened. "The experiment? What?!"
Rai's voice dropped, heavy with caution.
"It may have succeeded."
The air seemed to electrify. Rowon's fists tightened, eyes flashing with fury.
"No… Don't… Wait… How? Why… How do you know?"
Rai's admission was quiet, almost fragile.
"S… Sam."
Punch.
Punch.
Rowon's anger erupted, but Jean returned, holding him back.
"What's wrong with you?!! Why are you hitting him?!!"
Rai didn't speak. He absorbed the blows, silent, controlled.
Rowon's gaze was red and burning.
"You fucker… That's why I didn't want that medicine to be completed. Now, who do you think will bear the consequences?!"
Jean, confused and angry, stepped closer.
"What are you talking about?"
Rowon's glance flicked between Jean and Rai. Rai's eyes pleaded silently: Not now. Not him.
Red-faced, Rowon took a shaky breath.
"Sorry for the commotion."
He left. The penthouse hallway fell silent.
Jean turned to Rai, voice low but sharp.
"What did you… No. What did all of you discuss in Sage's office that day?"
Rai's gaze was unwavering, serious.
"Trust me, Jean… you really don't want to know."
Jean snapped his collar, stepping closer, eyes blazing.
"Why? Why won't I?"
Rai's hands moved to Jean's waist, pulling him in just enough that their bodies brushed. His amber eyes held a storm of warning, desire, and dread.
"You're not ready for this, Jean. Not yet."
"Fine!! Don't tell me… I'll find it myself."
Jean's voice trembled, frustration mixing with desperation. Rai's eyes darkened, and without hesitation, he grabbed Jean's collar, yanking him close.
"Then tell me, you fucker!! Why… why have you been avoiding me?!!!"
Rai's hands tightened, his jaw clenching. For weeks, he had been battling an impossible hunger—not just for control, but for Jean, for everything that simmered beneath restraint. And now, the dam broke.
Without a word, he ripped Jean's shirt open, letting it fall to the floor. His hands gripped Jean's hips, spreading him wide. Jean froze, bewildered, a mixture of shock and anticipation painting his features.
It had been too long. Too long since they had been like this. And yet, Rai moved as though he had been waiting for this very moment, sliding inside Jean with deliberate precision.
"That's why… that's why I didn't want us to meet," Rai murmured against Jean's neck, voice rough, laden with warning and desire.
Jean's moans spilled out uncontrollably, each one a question, a plea.
"Ah… Ah… Ah… Wh… Why… What's wrong… I missed… you… Ah… Ah…"
Rai groaned low, his control slipping further, and released inside Jean without allowing a single drop to escape. His body was taut, trembling with restraint and need.
"You'll get scared," Rai breathed, eyes darkening as he hovered over Jean. "If you really knew what I wanted… Jean… you'd be disgusted. You… you'd leave me. And I'd rather die than see that look on your face."
Jean's back arched, hands gripping Rai's shoulders, desperate for more than words could give.
"Why… Wh… Ahhh… Ah… Ah…"
Rai ignored the questioning, ignoring the pleading. His only focus was Jean—his body, his reactions, the intoxicating mix of vulnerability and desire. He thrust deeper, a deliberate, almost punishing rhythm, and his gaze flicked to the kitchen counter.
The vials gleamed silently, reminders of secrets, control, and obsession. But then he looked back at Jean's face—so unguarded, so satisfying, so… breedable.
Lust and calculation merged into one burning need. Rai moved with precision, passion, and a hint of madness, each thrust a silent promise and a warning: he was lost to desire, and Jean… was already his.