Work Text:
“Pay attention to the grind size,” says Jiung, his shift lead.
Keeho couldn’t give a fuck about what the omega’s talking about. He hates to be a dumb, bitched alpha about it but the guy smells good . It’s a bit tough to pick up on in a place as busy as this, but Jiung’s got this sharp, almost bitter, herbal scent that cuts through everything.
“This is when we jot down how long it takes to pull at the bar,” Jiung instructs, gesturing from one machine to the other. “If it’s too slow, we have to make adjustments.”
It’s whateverrrr . Keeho gives two shits about espresso and grinders and milk ratios and all the other pretentious fuck shit. He’s kind of over the whole coffee shop shtick and his shift only started two hours ago.
Jiung goes, “Are you paying attention?”
No. “Yes,” Keeho responds automatically. Robotically. Jiung’s not even making the same drink anymore, that’s how long Keeho’s been zoned out.
“We do have a vanilla and caramel blend option on the register. You’re double charging ringing them up separate.” Jiung’s at the bar now, pulling another shot. He’s got this head of bushy, dark brown curls and these light eyes that almost look a little hazel beneath the fluorescents. He looks straight up dorky in that apron and with his shirt buttoned all the way up to his neck but there’s something about him that’s still kind of hot. Keeho puts a hand on Jiung’s shoulder as he leans in so as to get a better view as Jiung works but the omega lifts a hand and slowly pushes Keeho’s fingers away from his neck. Even through the earthy, almost nose-itching smell of the freshly ground coffee beans, Keeho picks up on the way Jiung’s scent smokes up with anxiety.
It kind of pisses Keeho off. He hasn’t done anything. Hasn’t said anything. But Jiung treats him like he’s some violent stereotype.
Jiung’s demonstrating his technique for getting a good, frothy foam in the milk, but even then, he sidesteps away when the alpha moves close to observe. Jiung plays it off with a cheery grin. “Oh, and there is also an extra sugar button on the screen. Near the bottom. And for salted caramel–”
Anger flares in Keeho’s chest. Part of it is Jiung’s weird pronunciation of ‘caramel.’ The rest of it, though, is because he’s not even trying to hit on the guy! He’s just trying to fucking learn but Jiung’s squirming away from him like he thinks Keeho’s gonna mount him.
It happens one more time. Keeho steps close. Jiung steps away.
Keeho gets on his tiptoes because Jiung angling his back to him means he can’t. fucking. see. “Stop,” Keeho growls.
The high-pitched whirring of the steamer halts abruptly and Jiung, who had been constantly fidgeting before, goes still. Even his ceaseless yapping cuts off mid-sentence.
Several seconds pass before Keeho realizes that he’d let a bit of his Voice slip out in his frustration. Not much , or so he thought, but Jiung has frozen up as if paralyzed. Keeho steps backward to give the stunned omega some space. Some breathing room. Hell, he even opens his mouth to do something as wild as apologize but before he can, Jiung lets out this really soft kicked-puppy whimper as the effects of Keeho’s Voice wear off and he can move his body again.
Keeho tries to be a good person and say he’s sorry but he takes half a step forward and Jiung flinches .
Welp.
The alpha rolls his eyes and walks away.
I’m fucking the owner , Intak had said. I can get you a job .
Fuck this job!
Schedule says he’s here till five but he’s about to get off now . Fuck this job!
He undoes the ties of his apron. Pulls it off over his head. Tosses it onto the nearest flat surface.
Keeho can’t even really cool off because he’s hit with some wicked humidity the second he turns the corner into the little kitchen. The dishwasher’s running and it’s enough to briefly fog up his fake glasses. He takes them off. Undoes a few more buttons of his shirt. Props himself up against the wall. And although he’s been specifically told he can’t do it, he pulls his vape out of his pants pocket and takes a hit.
The first inhale doesn’t do anything for him but the second gets him that lovely head rush but then the third actually starts to calm him.
A million thoughts gum up his head: Are alphas not allowed in a place like this? Then why’d Boss Lady offer him the position? Does he look frightening today? He even put on his nerd glasses and brushed his hair back to look cute today!
He can’t stop being an alpha, though. Ugh. He really hadn’t meant to use his Voice. It was a fucking accident! He can keep it under control. He’s not a teenager.
Speaking of which…
Keeho looks up to see Jiung standing at the far end of the galley, hands stacked with dirty dishes. He looks like he wants to say something. Probably some shit about Keeho smoking. He’s not brave enough to speak up, though. And even at this distance, he turns his whole head to not look in Keeho’s direction. Keeho doesn’t budge. He takes another slow hit off of his vape and keeps standing in Jiung’s way, like a dare.
It takes a moment, but Jiung works up the nerve to walk further into the kitchen. He’s trembling enough that Keeho can hear the ceramic mugs clinking together but Jiung has to get close to pass him.
Keeho puts some bass on and goes, “Woof.”
There’s a noisy clatter as Jiung drops all of his dishes into the sink. Something breaks. His herbal scent goes fucking medicinal with fright.
Fine. If he wants to be scared so bad, Keeho will give him a reason to be scared.
He puts his vape pen back in his pocket and takes one step forward.
Jiung goes stiff. Defensive.
Keeho puffs out his chest, ready for confrontation. “Do you have a fucking problem with me?”
The omega squeaks out, “N-no.”
“You wanna stop acting like a little bitch, then?”
Jiung stammers out something. Can’t get past the first word. Quits.
Keeho puts a hand on his shoulder and he’s surprised that the contact goes for one… two seconds… three seconds… four…
Jiung finally lifts a shaky hand. Puts it on top of Keeho’s. Pushes his away.
But–
“Present,” Keeho commands, his Voice crackling like a wildfire in his throat.
The effect is instant. The omega grunts in protest but his body obeys. Jiung’s grip on Keeho’s hand slackens. His shoulders slump. He squeezes his eyes shut and clenches his teeth but still tilts his head and exposes the long column of his neck.
Keeho closes in on the dude. He had only intended to get a quick sniff off of his neck and then literally quit this shit job on the spot but his hormones riot inside of him and he kinda loses control of himself. Keeho puts his hands around Jiung’s waist to pin him down. Gets his nose right against Jiung’s neck, his scent gland, so he can inhale from the source. Beneath the charred smell of fear, Keeho can parse the greener, lighter notes of the omega’s scent. Can damn near taste it on his tongue! He succumbs to his baser instincts and licks at the skin, tasting the salt of sweat and the fragrant kick of submission. When that’s not enough for his inner beast, he gets his teeth in for the lightest little nip and Jiung’s scent floods his senses, humiliation burning up the mid notes.
The hold of the previous command loosens now that it’s been fulfilled and Jiung attempts to swat Keeho’s hands away with a mildly acidic, “Fuck off.”
“Let me touch you,” says Keeho in his Voice.
Jiung keeps struggling for a second or two but then he can’t resist the iron vice of his biology. His body succumbs to the command and Keeho’s hands roam Jiung’s pliant, ragdoll body, squeezing and scratching and biting like he’s a dog with a chew toy.
Arousal rocks through Keeho. A tidal wave from chin to toe. Unexpected but burning hot. His pheromones mix with the steam off the dishwasher and swamp up the air. “I don’t usually act like this,” he huffs against the shell of Jiung’s pinkening ear, “but you’re bringing out the worst in me.”
They aren’t moving much but it still feels like a fist fight. Jiung tries to wrench free of Keeho’s influence over him. His entire body shudders with the strain. “I don’t like–” he starts.
“Be quiet,” Keeho snaps in his Voice.
At the proclamation, Jiung’s mouth audibly snaps shut.
If Keeho hadn’t been looking, he wouldn’t have noticed the stain darkening the back of Jiung’s slacks. Was the omega leaking slick? Just from this?
Emboldened, Keeho presses his chest to Jiung’s back. Slides a hand around Jiung’s body, slips it beneath the apron and then drags it up the omega’s torso. Groping. Squeezing. Keeho’s pleasantly surprised by the solid musculature he feels beneath the omega’s starched button-down, but he’s more amused by Jiung’s jackhammering heart and heaving belly.
He bites the omega’s neck again with the intention to mark the skin, high enough up to be difficult to hide. When he pulls back, Jiung’s neck is an irritated red and Keeho can see the circular indentations of his teeth. Fuck. He should have broke skin. But he’s not trying to taste blood. He’s not trying to lay claim.
Seconds pass and the influence of the alpha’s Voice wanes. Jiung wriggles in his grasp. Almost gets free of him with a choked off cry.
With his Voice, Keeho says, “Hold still.”
Jiung jolts like he’s been electrically shocked but he stops trying to pull away.
“Good boy.” Keeho keeps rubbing on him. Palms exploring the plush muscle of Jiung’s chest before he drags them down the omega’s ribs to clutch him by his narrow hips and dig his nails in. He bucks his hips forward to grind his hard dick against Jiung’s ass and surprises a moan out of his own mouth. A sound he barely manages to pinch back by biting his bottom lip. Keeho feels juiced up. Drunk. It’s a side effect of using his Voice back to back like this but like with all vices, just because it hurts doesn’t mean he can stop. “Face me,” Keeho demands.
He can feel how he’s got Jiung tangled up in his net. It’s a rush of power. Of victory. The omega lets out this sharp, panicked exhale as his body surrenders to the alpha’s Voice and he twists around in Keeho’s grip so that they are chest to chest.
“Look me in the eye,” says Keeho. His Voice rattles his teeth and gets his gums sore.
The omega obeys him. Has no other choice. Jiung’s eyes are watery with barely held back tears and his face is red, a mottled blush creeping across his cheeks and down his neck. His scent sits so heavy in Keeho’s lungs that it burns.
“Are you hard?” Keeho asks.
It wasn’t spoken in his Voice but Jiung’s still quick to nod.
“Touch yourself,” orders Keeho. He’s testing his limits. His head’s starting to ache.
Jiung obeys the command even as he lets out this high-pitched, frantic whine. His hand slips beneath the apron to palm himself and he blinks his tears back rapidly, still unable to break the eye contact.
Keeho feels like he’s on fire. Both with horniness and with blowback from using his Voice. He jerks the knot of the apron ties at Jiung’s spine loose and pushes the thing aside so he can properly watch.
Jiung’s pretty fingers massage the shape of his dick beneath his slacks.
He’s bigger than Keeho expects. Skinny around, but the kind of length that would swing all crazy if Keeho got him on all fours and fucked him from behind. And Jiung’s got this really weird grip too, so that his thumb’s doing most of the stroking. He does something good, though. Touches something just right. Gets the right amount of pressure. He whimpers nice and soft while he writhes as much as he can beneath the restraints of Keeho’s Voice.
Keeho leans in. Grabs Jiung’s hand. Peels his fingers off of his dick. He feels the way Jiung’s hand trembles in his grip. Presses the omega’s clammy palm to his cheek. Jiung’s properly sweating beneath the weight of Keeho’s control over him and he digs his fingernails into the backs of Keeho’s knuckles, baring his teeth defiantly.
“You shouldn’t have pissed me off.” Keeho slots a leg between Jiung’s. Nudges close and then closer until the friction ignites.
It must be nice for Jiung too because it gets a choked off sound out of him. High-pitched and bitchy and right into Keeho’s ear.
The alpha pins him to the sink. Growls low in his throat. “Ride my thigh until you cum,” he croaks out.
The words are hardly out of his mouth when Jiung starts grinding down against his leg. Slow at first. And just these tiny little swivels with his hips like he’s trying to find the right angle. But then he gets things how he wants them and starts picking up his speed.
Keeho spreads his stance so Jiung’s thrusts won’t test his balance. He snakes a hand around to Jiung’s ass to give the tiny thing a squeeze. His fingertips come away damp from Jiung’s slick wetting the seat of his pants. Keeho puts his fingers under his nose and sniffs. Is hit by Jiung’s rich, leafy green smell.
Jiung makes this chopped-up sound that he didn’t intend. His widened eyes confirm things.
The alpha shushes him. He glances to the doorway of the kitchen, surprised their coworkers haven’t come looking for them yet.
He looks back to Jiung and they make eye contact. Jiung stares like he wants to both kiss and kill him.
It makes Keeho grin. Gives him this wild rush of adrenaline. Of pride. “Come on,” he half-whispers. “Hurry up before we’re caught.” He doesn’t put his Voice into it. Can’t . But Jiung’s been made obedient enough. He grips Keeho’s shoulders for leverage and then really starts rutting against him, panting from the effort.
Keeho puts his hands behind his back and stands there with this smug look on his face, knowing he’s got all of the power.
Jiung thrusts against him haphazardly. He presses his nose to Keeho’s throat and lets out a sound almost like a sob as he inhales.
Oh, he’s gonna cum.
And it didn’t even take them five minutes.
“Say my name,” Keeho rasps out.
He’s got no Voice left in him but he’s still got Jiung wrapped around his fingers.
The omega whimpers, “Keeho,” into his ear and then shakes apart against him. It’s a violent orgasm. It almost feels like he’s trying to climb Keeho until the hurricane of it passes him by and he slumps back against the sink, the front of his pants absolutely soaked.
The alpha steps back before his own slacks get wet. He pulls his vape out of his pocket. Takes a hit. The words leave his mouth as clouds when he says, “Fuck this job,” before he turns to leave.