Warning: Explicit sexual content and adult themes. Mature readers only.
The water beat down on Seo-jun's skin, hot and heavy, but it wasn't enough to wash away the heat coiling inside him. His breath came uneven, thighs pressing together as slick gathered between them. The sharp, sweet pull of his pheromones filled the bathroom.
In the middle of the night, unable to calm down, he whispered to himself, "I… I should just…" His hand found himself before he could think, fingers curling around his length. A soft, shaky moan escaped him, "Ah… hah…"
He slid down to sit on the wet tiles, back against the wall, his hand moving in quick, desperate strokes. I took my supplements… I did… but… ahh— The thought dissolved into another broken gasp, his hips jerking into his own grip.
Seo-jun stepped out of the bathroom, steam curling off his skin, damp hair clinging to his forehead. He had thrown on loose clothes, still drying himself with a towel as he walked into the bedroom.
Soo-yeon was sitting on the edge of the bed, his gaze steady. "Are you calmed now?"
Seo-jun gave a small nod.
"I'll sleep with you tonight," Soo-yeon said, "maybe it'll help you calm down more."
Seo-jun shook his head quickly. "No, Father… I'm fine now."
Soo-yeon studied him for a moment, then slowly stood. "Alright, then."
He stepped out, closing the door behind him.
In the quiet that followed, Soo-yeon's thoughts slipped to the past. The sharp smell of antiseptic, the blinding white lights of the hospital… the day he had given birth. A man had entered the room, his presence heavy and cold. Soo-yeon had looked up and murmured, "Father-in-law."
The man's eyes had been hard, burning with anger as he approached. His hand clamped around Soo-yeon's wrist, his voice low but seething. "You Alpha gave birth to an Omega?"
The slap came fast, stinging his cheek before he could react.
Soo-yeon's breath caught as the memory faded. He exhaled slowly, rubbing at his face as if to wipe the ghost of the strike away, then turned and walked back into his own room.
Morning light spilled into the café, the warm smell of fresh coffee drifting through the air. It was a spacious place, bright and inviting. At the front, Hye-mi flipped the sign on the glass door from CLOSED to OPEN.
Within minutes, customers began to trickle in, ordering drinks and pastries. Hye-mi, dressed neatly in the café uniform, moved behind the counter with practiced ease. Other staff members bustled around, preparing for the rush.
A young woman stepped up to the counter, smiling brightly. "Hey, Hye-mi. Are you free tonight?"
Hye-mi shook her head. "No, I'm not."
The woman leaned forward slightly, lowering her voice. "I know it must be hard, having children… but don't you think they should have a mother?"
Hye-mi's expression stayed calm. "I haven't decided to get married yet."
Before the woman could say more, one of the other workers called from nearby, "Ma'am, if you're not ready to order, could you step aside, please? There are customers behind you."
The woman let out a small laugh, brushing it off. "Fine. A coffee, please."
Hye-mi quickly prepared the drink and handed it over. The woman walked off to a table without another word.
One of the younger male workers glanced at Hye-mi as he passed. "Don't listen to her."
Hye-mi gave a faint smile. "Okay."
Seo-jun stood in front of Cha Min-ja's desk, hands clasped behind his back as the older man flipped through the file.
"Do it again," Min-ja said flatly, pushing the papers back toward him.
A while later, Seo-jun returned with the revised file. Min-ja glanced through it, then slid it back without looking up. "Do it again."
Seo-jun bit back a sigh and went back to his desk. This boss is making me sick, he thought, flipping the pages and trying not to let his frustration show.
Do-hyun leaned over the divider between their desks. "Hey, Seo-jun. What's going on?"
"The boss doesn't like my files," Seo-jun muttered, still staring at the papers.
"Let me see," Do-hyun said, holding out his hand. "You know I'm co-SEO here. Give it to me, I'll check it."
Seo-jun handed it over. Do-hyun skimmed through the contents, then raised a brow. "This looks fine. Why didn't Min-ja like it?"
Seo-jun shrugged, leaning back in his chair. Maybe he just enjoys making me sick, he thought bitterly.
Do-hyun set the file down with a shake of his head. "Forget it for now. Let's take a break before you blow a fuse."
Seo-jun glanced toward Min-ja's office. The door was shut, his shadow faintly visible through the frosted glass. "If he catches us—"
"Then I'll tell him it was my idea," Do-hyun interrupted with a grin. "Come on. Coffee's on me."
Reluctantly, Seo-jun grabbed his phone and followed him out of the office. The cool air of the hallway felt like a relief after the stuffy tension inside.
They headed down to the small café in the building's lobby, the faint sound of jazz music drifting over the quiet hum of conversation.
As they waited for their drinks, Do-hyun leaned closer. "You know, I've been watching him all week. He's been riding you harder than anyone else."
Seo-jun stirred his coffee, eyes fixed on the swirling cream. "I noticed."
"Any idea why?"
Seo-jun's mouth twitched into a humorless smile. "Maybe I just have the kind of face he hates."
Seo-jun pushed open the café door, the warm scent of roasted beans wrapping around him like a blanket. Behind the counter, Hye-mi — the owner — looked up from the register and smiled.
"You look tired," she said, wiping her hands on her apron.
Seo-jun let out a small laugh that didn't quite hide his frustration. "The boss is making me sick. Giving me way too much work."
Hye-mi tilted her head. "Oh? How many orders this time?"
"Two coffees," Seo-jun replied.
She chuckled softly. "Alright, I'll have them ready in a minute."
As she moved to the espresso machine, the hiss of steam filled the air. Seo-jun leaned on the counter, letting the smell of fresh coffee take some of the edge off his day.
The afternoon sun streamed through the lace curtains, casting warm patterns across the living room. Laughter echoed from the carpeted floor where the children were sprawled out, playing a noisy board game.
Great-Grandma sat nearby in her favorite armchair, knitting needles clicking in a slow rhythm. Every so often, she glanced at the kids and smiled, her eyes soft with affection.
On the sofa, Soo-yeon sat with a book open on his lap. He turned a page slowly, half-listening to the playful chatter.
"Grandma," one of the older children piped up between turns, "is it true that Soo-yeon was the one in the family who gave birth to an Omega?"
The room quieted just a little. Great-Grandma's knitting paused mid-loop. She looked up, her gaze moving from the curious child to Soo-yeon.
"Well," she said at last, her tone gentle but steady, "yes. He was the one."
One of the younger children tilted their head. "Why is that special?"
Great-Grandma's smile returned, faint but proud. "Because Omegas are rare in our family. It's a gift… even if not everyone understands it."
Soo-yeon lowered his eyes back to his book, though his fingers stilled on the page. A faint warmth spread through his chest — part pride, part something more complicated.
The children went back to their game, the moment slipping away as quickly as it had come, but the weight of Great-Grandma's words lingered in the quiet corners of the room.