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Gyuvin exhales slowly through his teeth, as he braces his rifle against his shoulder and looks down the scope.  

Below him, the men on the dock talk loudly as they move the crates with the lightheartedness of people who think no one is watching. 

It’s almost cute, the naivety. 

Gyuvin shifts his weight on the warehouse roof as he finds his target, a lieutenant of the Cho pack, the bastard responsible for knifing one of their men last week. 

He waits just a moment, until the shot is lined up perfectly, and then he fires. The sound is suppressed to nothing louder than a soft cough, a shiver on the wind, as his bullet hits its mark. Below him the man drops like a stone, the dockworkers around him freezing, chaos rippling outward as they try to determine where the shot came from. 

Gyuvin doesn’t bother watching the rest. 

He’s good at this.

Everyone knows he’s good at this. 

His shots are always clean.

Gyuvin breaks the rifle down quickly and efficiently, his motions practiced enough that he could do this blindfolded. He might be the youngest Kim, but he’s never been careless. Just as he’s finishing wiping down his fingerprints and checking the rooftop for anything he might have left behind, his phone buzzes softly in his pocket. 

Gyuvin pauses, frowning. There’s only two people that know this number, and his brother never texts him during missions unless something is wrong.

Jiwoong:
Dinner tonight. Father wants you there.

“Shit,” Gyuvin curses under his breath. 

He hasn’t fucked anything up. Not recently, anyway. 

And certainly nothing big enough that would warrant a meeting with his father. Whenever their father requests his presence, it usually means A Talk. And The Talks usually mean he’s either fucked up, or someone is about to try and shove responsibility at him again.

Gyuvin slings his rifle case over his shoulder and starts down the fire escape, typing out a quick reply to Jiwoong as he goes. 

Gyuvin:
why???? what did I do?

The response is instant, which means Jiwoong has been waiting for him to check his phone.

Jiwoong:
Does it matter why? Just come home.

Gyuvin groans under his breath. 

He hates when Jiwoong avoids answering the question, that usually means it’s even worse than he’d originally feared. 

Gyuvin:
hyung 😭😭 at least tell me if this is a good thing or a bad thing

But unlike his last reply, this time Jiwoong doesn’t reply right away. Gyuvin curses under his breath again, as he steps into the street, moving quietly through the shadows. Nobody pays attention to him, not when he doesn’t want them to.

He’s ten steps from his bike when his phone buzzes again.

Jiwoong:
We’re meeting with the Shens.

Gyuvin stops walking.

Oh.

Well, that explains it then, it’s the fucking Shens.

Territory disputes between their packs have been going on for months, since the previous Shen boss died of… illness? Poisoning? An “unfortunate complication after surgery”? 

The answer depends on who you ask. But really, the truth is irrelevant, what matters is that the man died, and left his empire in the hands of his only child, Ricky Shen. 

Gyuvin doesn’t know much about the alpha admittedly, just that they were about the same age, and that Ricky had spent most of his life living abroad with his mother, keeping his hands clean of his father’s gang affairs, until now. From what Gyuvin’s heard whispers of though, the alpha is colder, crueler, and far less forgiving than his father had been.

Gyuvin’s father has been courting an alliance with the Shen pack ever since Ricky's father had passed. With the Kim pack and the Shen pack allied, the Cho pack wouldn’t stand a chance, but the Shens never even pretend to entertain the offer of a meeting. 

Until now.

Why now?

Gyuvin:
what do they want? 

Jiwoong:
We’ll talk at dinner.

Gyuvin flicks up the kickstand of his motorcycle, merging into the street traffic and weaving between cars as he heads towards the pack home. 

He has a feeling this meeting won’t go well. 

Nothing with the Shens ever does. 

They’re too secretive, and too sure of their own power.

Ricky Shen most of all.

Gyuvin has never met him in person, but he’s seen the photos. He’s unfairly pretty for an alpha, with a face that looks like it was carved out of stone and meant to be worshipped. Pretty boy alphas are always the worst, too full of themselves, too used to getting whatever they want. 

He turns down a narrower street, heading toward the Kim estate. 

The familiar pull of being within his pack’s territory steadies him a little, but not much. If anything, the closer he gets, the more the anticipation of their meeting makes his inner alpha tense. 

Gyuvin pulls through the iron front gates of the Kim estate. He parks, kills the engine, and swings off the bike. 

The scent of unease lingers faintly in the air as Gyuvin steps into the house. Jiwoong is waiting for him, he’s dressed up in a sharp formal looking suit. 

“Get cleaned up,” Jiwoong says in lieu of a proper greeting, “Father wants everyone presentable.”

“Presentable for what?” Gyuvin asks, trying to sound casual, but his voice comes out sharp with his annoyance at only being given half answers.

“We’ll talk after you change,” Jiwoong replies. 

Gyuvin grinds his teeth but obeys, hurrying upstairs to his room. Once he’s there, he strips out of his black tactical gear and throws himself into the fastest shower of his life, doing his best to quickly wash off the lingering scent of gunpowder. When he finishes, he dresses in a dark suit that had been laid out for him already, whether by Jiwoong or one of the household staff. 

It’s a nice suit, one that’s enough to look respectable but still allow movement, just in case. 

When he steps out into the hallway, Jiwoong is there leaning against the wall, checking his watch. 

“What, you timing me now?” Gyuvin asks. 

“You take forever when you sulk,” his brother replies smoothly. 

“I’m not sulking.”

Jiwoong just hums and starts walking.

They head down the hall together, Gyuvin’s senses prick at the faint perfume drifting ahead, floral and delicate, the sweet type of perfume favored by betas who lack scents of their own. He knows even before they turn the corner that his sister Dayeon will be standing there, but he hadn’t expected her to be so put together. Gyuvin watches as she smooths down the front of her pale silver dress and observes the imminent look on her face. 

“Why are you all dressed up?”

“Nice to see you too, little brother,” Dayeon replies sarcastically. 

“Seriously,” he says, gesturing towards her, “What is this?”

“This is what I needed to explain,” Jiwoong says. “As you know, Father has been discussing a more formal alliance with the Shens.”

“What kind of alliance?” 

“An arranged marriage.” 

“And they want Dayeon?” Gyuvin asks, not bothering to hide his surprise. Typically alphas prefer to take omegas as mates, and as beautiful and deadly as his sister is, Dayeon is a beta, not an omega. Which was why their father had yet to find her a suitable match. 

Until now, apparently. 

“You? They want you?”

“Beta women marrying alpha heirs is not unheard of in political arrangements,” Jiwoong says. “Less common, but Dayeon is—”

“Perfect,” Dayeon finishes with a roll of her eyes. “Beautiful enough to have caught the attention of Ricky Shen.” 

“Then why am I here?” Gyuvin asks. “If this is just an arranged meeting between Dayeon-noona and Ricky, certainly I don’t need to be there too.” 

Jiwoong’s pine scent goes a little tense at that. “You and I are being brought as back up, extra muscle just in case the Shens pull something. In case agreeing to the arrangement is just a pretense to get us in the room.”

“So I’m supposed to smile politely at a dinner with people who keep trying to steal our ports and blow up our warehouses, while father offers up Dayeon-noona as a peace offering?” 

“Yes,” Jiwoong says. “Exactly that.”

“Fantastic.”

Jiwoong reaches out, gripping Gyuvin’s shoulder. “You’re armed, right?”

“Always,” Gyuvin says, patting his boot where his knife is hidden, and opening his coat just enough that Jiwoong can see his gun hostler there. 

Something about this feels off. 

Arranged marriages aren’t a casual topic, and you don’t call for one suddenly after months of silence, not unless they’ve decided they need something badly.

Not unless they’re desperate.

Or plotting.

“Let’s just get this over with.”

*

The restaurant that they are meeting the Shen’s at is one of those exclusive places that normally take months to get a reservation, months- or in this case, the right connections. 

The Kim pack is expected, as soon as they step through the doors they are guided towards the back of the restaurant without needing to wait. Their father leads the way, flanked by two of his most trusted guards, while Gyuvin and Jiwoong walk directly behind him with Dayeon between them, guarding their beta sister as they’re escorted past the main dining area into a private corridor. 

The hostess stops at a tall set of double doors, bowing and stepping to the side, as she says, “The Shen party is already waiting for you inside.”   

His father opens the door, and Gyuvin tenses a little as they follow him inside the room. Inside the room, a long table is set. On one side of the table is Ricky Shen, along with a single other companion, that Gyuvin knows from intel reports on the Shen pack to be an omega named Zhang Hao, who primarily seems to be employed as Ricky’s translator. Other than the omega, Ricky doesn’t have any other pack members with him, no guards or enforcers.

Gyuvin can’t help but be surprised at Ricky’s arrogance, to meet them with only an omega as a guard. 

Then again, the restaurant that they’re in right now is in all likelihood under Shen pack control, and he supposes if anything were to go amiss here today, that there are likely members of the Shen pack lurking around not so far outside of this room. 

As his father exchanges greetings and pleasantries, Gyuvin takes a moment to observe Ricky. The alpha is just as striking as the photographs made him out to be, his posture immaculate and his expression unreadable as he listens to Hao translate their father’s words to him. 

Ricky’s eyes glance briefly over Dayeon, before setting upon Gyuvin. Instinctively, Gyuvin meets Ricky’s eyes, unwilling to show weakness to another alpha. Though the second he does, he feels something inside of him stutter. 

It isn’t attraction, not exactly, though objectively speaking, Ricky is attractive. His features are delicate enough that he could almost pass for an omega in the right light. But it’s something more than that, something that tugs at his inner alpha in the most instinctive way, making it hard for Gyuvin to look away from Ricky. 

The other alpha’s icy scent flickers with interest, just for a second, just long enough for Gyuvin to pick up on the hints of Ricky’s interest, before Ricky breaks their eye contact, turning to look at Gyuvin’s father just as Hao says, “Welcome, Chairman Kim. Please sit.”

Gyuvin’s father nods once, taking the seat opposite Ricky. Jiwoong sits to his right with Dayeon taking the seat to their father’s left. Gyuvin remains standing a step behind them with the rest of their guard detail, his right hand resting near the knife concealed at his hip. 

For a long moment, nobody speaks. The air is tense, too many alpha scents all mixing in the air, the mint scented omega’s pheromones too restrained to ease any of the tension. Through it all, Ricky’s eyes linger on Gyuvin, even as his omega companion breaks the silence with pleasantries. 

“We’re honored you agreed to meet on such short notice,” Hao says. “And that you’ve brought your children.” 

“We are always willing to negotiate,” Gyuvin’s father replies, “Our packs have had… lingering misunderstandings, but I believe we can settle things with the right arrangement.”

“As do we,” Hao agrees. 

“These are my sons, Jiwoong and Gyuvin,” his father explains, motioning to each of them, “And my daughter, Dayeon.”

At her name, Dayeon sits up a little more primly, and Ricky looks towards her only very briefly, his eyes flick over her once, up and down, polite but with no real interest on his face, at least not that Gyuvin can detect. No obvious signs of attraction or even curiosity in his expression.

Irritation sparks inside of him at Ricky’s disinterest, if the bastard is going to marry his sister, he better at least treat her with some respect. 

Gyuvin’s father continues speaking, unlike Gyuvin he’s not bothered by Ricky’s placid expression, “Dayeon is twenty-two and well-educated. She is a beta, yes, but a strong one, with proper agreement, we believe she could serve as a stabilizing partner for your leadership, and a union between our families would—”

Ricky lifts one finger, just slightly, cutting Gyuvin’s father off at once. 

Hao turns to look at Ricky, for a second Gyuvin swears they have a silent conversation, made up only of the most minuscule twitches in expression, before Hao turns around with a sympathetic look on his face as he says,  “Mr. Shen declines the offer.”

Dayeon goes still at once, her displeasure and surprise clear on his face. Gyuvin feels a hot punch inside of his stomach, embarrassment and anger mixing together all at once, as he watches Ricky reject his sister without any hint of apology. 

“I see.” Gyuvin’s father says. He doesn’t let it show in his face or in his scent, but years of living with the man has taught Gyuvin to see the obvious signs of his father’s displeasure. He too is probably wondering why they wasted their time coming here if Ricky was just going to reject Dayeon. “May we ask why?”

Ricky murmurs something in Mandarin, his voice drawling in an almost bored sounding tone. 

Hao translates for him without missing a beat, “Mr. Shen says he does not believe she is the match he requires.”

“Then perhaps you’d like to suggest another match? My daughter is the only woman of age in my immediate family, however I have a niece that is due for presentation this spring, she’s very soft and delicate, likely to be an omega if Mr. Shen is willing to wait for her presentation.”

While Hao translates his father’s words to Ricky, the other alpha once again focuses his gaze upon Gyuvin. Not just a simple passing glance the way he had looked upon Dayeon, but instead his eyes linger on Gyuvin, scrutinizing him. He’s sure it’s a tactic, that Ricky is trying to intimidate him, but his inner alpha buzzes all the same, his pulse speeding up the longer their eyes stay locked on each other. 

Ricky murmurs something again in Mandarin, smirking a little as he does. 

“We would be willing to accept another child of the Kim line,” Hao translates for Ricky. 

“My niece is not technically a Kim, she is my sister’s daughter, however she is very beautiful,” his father explains. “I have photos of her on my phone if you would like to see.” 

Ricky shakes his head a little, speaking more Mandarin. 

Gyuvin doesn’t know what he says, but whatever it is causes Hao to look in Gyuvin’s direction, before he says, “Mr. Shen is not interested in your niece.” 

“I am confused then,” Gyuvin’s father says, “I have no omega children and no other single women of age in my family.” 

“Ah, the secondary gender will not be an issue,” Hao says, looking directly at Gyuvin as he says the words. 

The intention is clear in a moment, and Gyuvin watches in horror as his father turns a little to look at him, to confirm just who both Ricky and Hao’s eyes are focused on. 

“You are asking for my son as a political spouse,” his father asks in confirmation. 

“Yes,” Hao confirms. 

“This is a… significant request.”

Ricky’s voice drops low, saying something in Mandarin for Hao to translate, a smug little twist to his expression as he speaks. 

“Mr. Shen says: If the Kim pack wants peace, this is the match he will accept.”

Gyuvin’s tongue feels like lead in his mouth as he forces out the words, “You’re not serious.”

“Mr. Shen does not joke in business,” Hao says. 

“I’m an alpha,” Gyuvin snaps before he can stop himself. “Why—”

Another small gesture from Ricky, one finger lower, a little more relaxed, smiling far too much for someone asking for something so outrageous. 

“As I said, secondary gender will not be an issue,” Hao replies. “There are work-arounds for that, as I’m sure you are aware.” 

A work around. 

Gyuvin feels sick to his stomach at the suggestion. He knows what they’re talking about. It’s uncommon, but not completely unheard of. When one alpha takes another alpha as a mate, given enough times of one alpha submitting to the other, eventually nature takes hold, bitching the submissive alpha, rewriting their biology. 

But it’s a shameful fate, humiliating for any alpha to be subjugated in such a way, and… Of course, that would be the only way the Shens would agree to any arrangement between their two packs. Only one that would be shameful to accept, that would be humiliating, that would put their pack in a situation of either maintaining their honor or declining. 

He expects his father to decline.

It’s the right thing to do. 

To not give into their ridiculous request, to not offer his second son up to be bitched by their enemy. 

And yet… “I’m willing to consider your terms.” 

*

“No, absolutely not,” Gyuvin says the second they’re home, whirling on his father. 

Dayeon jumps a little from where she’s taking off her heels, and Jiwoong gives him a small warning look, but their father doesn’t look surprised or bothered in the slightest. 

“What the hell was that,” Gyuvin snaps, “You offered me up like livestock!”

“You’re exaggerating,” his father replies calmly, loosening his tie as if the conversation is already tedious. “This is politics.”

“Politics?” Gyuvin repeats, “You tried to sell Dayeon off to him first! And then what—since he didn’t like the beta option, you’re just gonna hand over one of your alpha sons instead?” 

Dayeon winces but doesn’t argue with him. She knows he’s defending her even as he’s losing his mind.

“We were not ‘selling’ anyone,” his father replies smoothly. “A mating bond between packs in exchange to form an alliance is not unusual, you know that.”

Sure, under normal circumstances it would be. If Ricky had accepted Dayeon, maybe it would have been normal, or even if Ricky had agreed to wait until Jungeun was of age, but to demand an alpha, that wasn’t Ricky agreeing, that was him testing how willing his father was to humiliate himself and his pack, and his father had fallen right for the trap. 

“He’s an alpha. I’m an alpha. How is this supposed to work?”

There’s a beat of awkward silence, before Jiwoong clears his throat and hesitantly says, “Technically… two alphas can mate, even against instinct, and after enough times, mating against instinct, usually the more submissive alpha’s body will—”

“Stop,” he cuts Jiwoong off, “Don’t say that.”

“You know it’s what his translator meant when he said—”

“No.” Gyuvin’s voice cracks into a snarl. “I am not getting bitched by some smug bastard, who—” 

“Enough,” his father says, cutting him and Jiwoong off. “You are thinking with pride, not strategy. You saw the tension in that room tonight. The Shens aren’t just trying to form an alliance. They’re testing us.”

Gyuvin swallows. At least his father knew that it had been a test, but it does little to douse the heat under his skin, when even knowing so, his father had agreed. 

“We couldn’t refuse outright,” his father continues. “Not when they control half the port routes and have been encroaching on our logistics. We have forty-eight hours to officially respond. If we say no, they will interpret it as an insult.”

He knows from the tone that his father’s already made up his mind to agree to the Shen’s terms.

“Tell him no, then,” Gyuvin still stubbornly insists. 

“Look, I’m not saying this is great,” Jiwoong cuts in again, the good cop to his father’s metaphorical bad cop. “I’m not even saying you should like it, but strategically? You being tied to the Shens puts you in a position of power. You’d be close to their leadership. You’d see everything from the inside. Which would be good for us.” 

Gyuvin opens his mouth, ready to protest again, but some of the edges of his anger start to dull, as he realizes what Jiwoong is implying.

They want him to be a spy. 

Something useful to shove across the board.

“You want to use me,” he says quietly, staring at his father. “As a spy?” 

“I want you to protect this family,” his father corrects. 

Gyuvin flinches at his father’s tone. 

Dayeon touches his arm, her expression gentle, “If I had been the one he chose, I would’ve done the same.” 

“Yeah,” he replies, “But he didn’t choose you.”

*

The next forty-eight hours feel like a blur of paperwork and meetings, all of which boils down to two days later, Gyuvin signing his name on a marriage contract right next to Ricky Shen’s signature. 

“You’re legally bonded now,” his father says, flipping through the final packet. “On paper, at least, however it isn't the same as a mating bond. Technically, the marriage doesn’t become binding until you exchange mating marks during his rut.” 

“And when is that?” Gyuvin forces the words out. 

“Two months,” his father replies, “The Shens confirmed his cycle.”

That means he has two months to play the role of dutiful spouse, gather intel, report what he can, and be gone before Ricky’s rut begins, and things become irreversible.

“You’ll be living at the Shen compound once the public announcement is made,” his father continues. “They want you there before the end of the week.”

“Great,” Gyuvin mutters. 

“You’ll have full communications access,” he adds, “We’re not abandoning you there.”

“Feels like it.” 

Later, after their father leaves for another round of confirmations, Gyuvin sits at the kitchen table while Jiwoong pours tea for both of them. The domestic normalcy makes everything feel strange, the calm before the storm, so to speak.

“You know,” Jiwoong says lightly, “You don't have to be miserable.”

“Don’t start,” Gyuvin groans. 

“I’m serious. It may not be your ideal arrangement, but it might not be that bad,” Jiwoong replies, his lips quirking up into a smile as he adds, “Who knows, you might even fall for him.”

“There’s no way.” 

“Plenty of alphas enjoy the company of other alphas,” Jiwoong says with a shrug. 

Sure, he knows there’s some alphas that enjoy that sort of thing, certainly not the way Jiwoong had implied, but Gyuvin knows with certainty that he is not one of those alphas. He’s not had much experience in the way of dating. It's a bit hard when you’re the son of one of the biggest mob bosses in the country, but he’s fooled around a little and he’s always preferred the sweetness of an omega. Not once has he ever looked at another alpha and thought that it would be nice to submit to them. 

“I won’t fall for him,” Gyuvin tells Jiwoong,  “I’m going there to get information, keep our pack safe, and get out before his rut hits. That’s it.”

“If you say so.”

*

The Shen’s compound is about what he had expected, not too dissimilar to his own family’s private residence, dripping of wealth and heavily guarded.

However, while his family’s home had always felt lived in, heavy with the scent of his immediate family and other pack members that moved around their home, the air around the Shen compound is nearly scentless, as if someone had purposely gone through the effort to drown the whole place in scent diffuser spray before his arrival. 

The lack of scents, not even a hint of the icy scent that he knows belongs to Ricky, sets Gyuvin’s inner alpha on edge just a little, as he’s led into the main area by a set of guards. 

A part of him had expected Ricky to be there to greet him, they are husbands after all, but it’s not Ricky there in front of him, but rather another alpha. 

“Kim Gyuvin-ssi?” the man says, bowing respectfully, “My name is Sung Hanbin. Master Shen has asked me to assist you and help ease your transition into the pack.” 

“Lead the way.” Gyuvin bows a little in return in greeting. The alpha in front of him is mild looking, soft enough that Gyuvin might have originally mistaken him for a beta, with a soft, muted rainwater scent. 

“This is the main living space on the second floor,” Hanbin explains warmly as they walk. “Your rooms are down this corridor.”

“Rooms,” Gyuvin echoes. “Plural?”

“Yes,” Hanbin replies, “Master Shen does not think it appropriate for the two of you to share private quarters until after the rut season and the mating takes place. He wanted to give you comfort and privacy in the meantime.”

Comfort and privacy, that’s a weird way to say that Ricky doesn't trust him enough to let Gyuvin close when his guard is down. At least, not until he’s sunk his teeth into him and forced submission upon him. 

Still, it’s nice to have his own space, nice enough that he doesn’t protest the clear excuse that Hanbin had given him, and simply lets himself be led to a ridiculously large room. 

“Master Shen asked that you wait here until dinner,” Hanbin says, once Gyuvin is settled into the room. “He wishes to dine with you.”

“He wishes to dine with me? Like I’m some omega bride he needs to welcome?”

“It is a sign of respect.”

Respect is not the word Gyuvin would use for it, but he doesn’t protest any further. It’s not worth the effort, and eventually Hanbin leaves in response to his silence. 

Once he’s alone, Gyuvin flops back onto the bed staring up at the ceiling. It’s ridiculous. He was raised an alpha prince, a weapon, a future lieutenant—instead, he’s going to be what? A mafia wife.

The thought feels absurd, and yet, as he looks around at the expensively decorated private room that Ricky had prepared for him to live in, Gyuvin can’t help but feel that’s exactly the sort of role the Shens have in mind for him. 

*

Dinner is served in an absurdly long dining hall with floor-to-ceiling windows. 

The table could easily fit thirty plates, but instead it holds only two.

Gyuvin sits stiffly after being ushered in by Hanbin, who had appeared to finally free him from his rooms when it was time to dine.

Ricky is already there, sitting before his place, his meal untouched, his eyes tracking Gyuvin’s every move the second he enters the dining room. It’s the first time that they’ve seen each other since that initial meeting, and surprisingly, Ricky looks much the same as he had looked there. His dark hair is gelled back away from his face, and his suit is fitted so perfectly that it looks almost like he was sewn into it, but most infuriating of all is the expression on his face almost completely unreadable. 

Had it not been for his eyes tracing Gyuvin, Gyuvin would almost think that Ricky doesn’t notice him at all, with the way his expression and icy scent remain unchanged as Gyuvin takes his seat at the other head of the table. 

Gyuvin meets his gaze head on, not one to hide from another alpha, but doing so makes his stomach lurch at once. He feels it again, that strange tug around his inner alpha, it’s the same thing that he had felt when he first met Ricky. 

After a long moment of prolonged eye contact, Ricky gestures at their meal, saying something in perfectly crisp Mandarin. Gyuvin, of course, understands none of it.

“No translator tonight?” Gyuvin asks. 

Ricky’s expression doesn’t change, he doesn’t even seem to react to anything Gyuvin is saying at all, he simply begins eating, with small delicate movements. 

It’s the silence that gets to Gyuvin more than anything else. 

“Why me?” he demands, after a few moments, the question that has been plaguing his mind since their first meeting. “Why pick me? If this is some move to humiliate my family, just say so.”

Ricky pauses mid-bite, slowly lifts his eyes. There, just for a second, something fluctuates in his icy scent. Maybe he can’t speak Korean, but clearly he can understand Gyuvin. 

“You made it clear my sister wasn’t good enough for you—fine, but don’t drag me into this,” Gyuvin continues. “We both know this is a power play, or a joke, or whatever, but I’m not—”

Ricky drops his gaze back to his food like Gyuvin isn’t even speaking.

The humiliation of being ignored makes Gyuvin’s own cedar scent burn with embarrassment as heat flashes through Gyuvin’s body. 

“Are you listening to me?” he asks. 

This time, Ricky does not look up. 

“I’m done,” Gyuvin says, standing up and shoving his chair back. “Eat alone.” 

He knows he’ll be hungry later, he hasn’t touched his food at all, and if he’s going to be confined to his room outside of meal times, then he’ll probably regret this by the morning, but he can’t stand another second sitting in this room while the other alpha ignores him. 

However, when he makes it to the door of the dining room, ready to leave, two Shen guards block the door, their expressions just as blank as their boss’, and completely unmovable. 

“Move,” Gyuvin says, baring his teeth a little in threat. 

They don’t. 

Instead, one of them looks beyond him to where Ricky is, and when Ricky shakes his head ever so slightly, they go back to blocking his path. 

“Are you kidding me?” Gyuvin says, spinning back around to glare at Ricky. “You don’t get to trap me at a dinner table like this. I’m not—I’m not some decorative omega you can order around.”

Ricky’s fork pauses, just for a moment, so slight anyone else would miss it. Then he resumes eating, silent and controlled. Ricky doesn’t look up, but Gyuvin sees the faintest curve at the corner of his mouth.

Like he’s amused.

Like Gyuvin’s humiliation is entertaining.

Like this is all some sort of game to him. 

*

A week passes.

Gyuvin marks it not by dates or events, but by how many times he’s forced down for another silent dinner with Ricky, or how many times he wakes to the quiet click of guards changing shifts outside his door, or how many times Hanbin cheerfully asks, “Would you like to go shopping today, Gyuvin-ssi?” as if that’s an acceptable use of his time and talents. 

As if that’s all he is, a pretty ornament for Ricky to keep locked away and look at on special occasions. 

He hadn’t done anything more than laze around and shop since he arrived at the compound. 

A part of him had foolishly hoped that if Ricky wasn’t doing all of this to humiliate his family, that maybe the alpha would want to use Gyuvin’s talents for his own gang’s advantage. But not once has he even been brought to a simple meeting to observe the way the Shen gang operates. 

Instead, he’d spent most of his days walking through malls and markets with Hanbin by his side and two silent Shen guards trailing, buying shit he doesn’t want with Ricky’s limitless card, because apparently, that’s the extent of his permitted activities.

Gyuvin can’t help but hate it. 

“Master Shen said you can buy anything you like,” Hanbin reminds him once again, watching politely as Gyuvin stares at rows of designer watches. “You don’t even have to look at the price.”

“Yeah, I know, you’ve said that already,” Gyuvin mutters, flipping over the one he’s holding. It’s nineteen million won, and admittedly a very nice watch. But accepting it feels too much like giving in to this role that Ricky is trying to make him play, a role not suitable for an alpha of his talents. 

Gyuvin puts the watch down, bowing to the shop attendant that had been helping him and stepping away from the counter. 

“Where would you like to go next,” Hanbin asks, as they step out of the store. 

Hanbin doesn’t push him to buy anything. In fact he seems perfectly content to just trail along after Gyuvin and waste their day not buying anything at all. 

Despite how much he hates being stuck here, Gyuvin does like Hanbin a little. He’s friendly and talkative, and always all too happy to ramble on and on about what he and his mate, Ricky’s favorite translator Hao, are getting up to when they’re not working for the Shen’s, filling the space around them with conversation even when Gyuvin doesn’t feel much like talking. 

It’s nice, the way Hanbin is relaxed around Gyuvin even though nobody else in this pack seems to be, but even good company feels like a leash when you’re being escorted everywhere like a house omega.

“Any chance you’ll let me visit the firing range today?” Gyuvin tries, not for the first time. 

The sympathetic look Hanbin shoots at him is an answer in and of itself, even before he says,  “I’m sorry, Master Shen hasn’t approved that yet.”

“Right,” Gyuvin mutters. “Of course not.”

By the end of the week, the routine is so suffocating he swears he can feel his muscles atrophying. 

He wakes up, showers, eats breakfast alone in his room, gets escorted to some upscale street and eventually buys something just so they can go home, and then lazes about every evening until eventually it’s time to dine with his husband. 

Then, just as they had the first night, Gyuvin sits on one end of the absurdly long table and Ricky on the other, the distance between them just enough to make conversation unnecessary. Not that conversation would happen anyway. Ricky eats in silence, watching Gyuvin, but saying nothing as he does so. 

Gyuvin can feel… something… in those dinners.

It’s annoying, especially because it doesn’t make any sense. 

“Is this seriously going to be our life?” he mutters under his breath. “You eating like a statue, me eating like I’m at a funeral?”

Ricky doesn’t react, he doesn’t even blink.

Gyuvin stabs a piece of steamed fish with more force than necessary. He shouldn’t care. He really shouldn’t, but the lack of any response makes heat crawl up the back of his neck.

He eats faster just so he can excuse himself. So that Hanbin will take him back to his room, and he can sulk in peace.

Gyuvin stands, ready to mutter something rude and leave, as he has many times before—only to stop as Ricky stands up as well, having finished eating at just about the same time. 

Ricky says something in Mandarin, soft and quick, like a passing comment, as he glides past Gyuvin, his icy scent making Gyuvin’s nose twitch in displeasure. 

“I don’t know what that means,” Gyuvin tells him, the same way he has many other times before. 

But, just as he also has many times before, Ricky doesn’t say anything in reply. 

*

On the eighth day of this arrangement, Gyuvin wakes to the sound of Hanbin knocking softly on his door.

“You’re here early,” Gyuvin mutters. He hasn’t even eaten yet, normally Hanbin doesn’t make his appearance until after the other staff have brought him his first meal of the day.

Hanbin gives him a soft smile as he explains, “Your schedule today is free. Master Shen hasn’t given any outings, but he said you may use the gym if you’d like, as long as one guard is present. I personally like to work out first thing in the morning, and I thought you might as well. However, if you’d like, I can come back later.” 

Gyuvin could almost cry from relief, finally something that isn’t sleeping, eating, or shopping, “Gym. Now.”

“I thought you’d say that!” 

Hanbin leads Gyuvin carefully through the compound to where the in-house gym is. The gym is state of the art, all polished chrome and expensive machines. Gyuvin ignores most of it and heads straight for the free weights. 

It feels good to actually strain his muscles again. He loses himself in the rhythm of finally being able to do something. Losing track completely until sweat runs down his spine and adrenaline surges through his veins. Until he almost forgets he’s technically imprisoned still. 

Until he feels an ever so subtle tug under his rib cage, followed immediately with a familiar icy scent.

Before Gyuvin even looks up, he already knows who will be standing, watching him from the doorway. 

Still, he turns, taking in the sight of Ricky there. He’s already dressed for the day, even though it is early in the morning, though his suit jacket is off and his sleeves are rolled up to the elbow. His expression is neutral, arms crossed loosely over his chest, not disapproving, but not really approving either.

Just… watching.

“What?” Gyuvin says in lieu of greeting. “Am I in your way?” 

Ricky says something in Mandarin, just a few words, accompanied by the small shake of his head. Gyuvin, of course, understands none of it, but he can read from Ricky’s body language that this is a dismissal. 

“I’ll take that as a no,” Gyuvin mutters. 

Hanbin, stationed against the wall, clears his throat delicately, and translates for Ricky, “He said your form is good.”

“Oh, huh,” Gyuvin says, not sure what to do with that. 

He hadn’t expected a compliment from Ricky Shen, then again he’s not sure what he should be expecting from Ricky, even this privilege seemed unexpected, and being able to do something other than shopping and being treated like some mob wife is… It’s nice enough that Gyuvin doesn’t want to risk losing this. He shouldn't seem ungrateful.

“Thank you for allowing me to use the gym,” Gyuvin says after a long moment.

Ricky doesn’t say anything in reply, he just holds Gyuvin’s gaze for a few seconds too long, then nods once to himself and turns, disappearing as quietly as he appeared.

It’s only once he’s sure that Ricky is out of earshot that he mutters to himself, “What the hell was that?”

*

Dinner that night is the same routine. 

Silent as always.

The food is good, but it sits heavy in Gyuvin’s stomach, enough so that he can only manage a few bites. He notices Ricky glances at his plate from time to time, a small frown on his face at the sight of Gyuvin not eating. He’s sure tomorrow, Hanbin will be buzzing around ever so casually asking about all of his favorite foods, so that the meal is more to his liking tomorrow.

Even though that’s not the problem at all. 

The problem is Ricky. 

“Can I ask you something?” Gyuvin says, after a few more minutes of pushing his food around his plate. 

Ricky doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even give a flicker of having heard him, he just cuts another piece of meat, while staring at Gyuvin. 

He’d been able to understand everything Gyuvin had said in the gym this morning without Hanbin needing to translate for him. Ricky may not speak Korean, but Gyuvin knows he understands it. 

Gyuvin says as much outloud a moment later. 

“I know you understand me,” he says quietly. “Even if you won’t talk to me.”

At his words, Ricky’s head tilts to the side, just barely, the faintest of acknowledgement. 

He hates this. 

He hates having to be soft, polite, and humble. 

He hates wanting something badly enough that he feels like he has to beg another alpha for it. 

“I appreciate you letting me use the gym,” Gyuvin tells him. “Really, it was nice. But I’m—I was—” He swallows, annoyed that he has to ask permission to do something he used to be able to do freely. “I’m trained, more than trained, I’m an excellent sniper, I have been for years, but if I don’t keep up my skills, they’ll get rusty.”

Ricky says nothing, just continues to watch Gyuvin, but his icy scent fluctuates a little with what can only be described as interest. So Gyuvin pushes on. 

“So I’m asking,” he continues, “If you’d allow me to go to the shooting range, just a few hours a week, Hanbin can supervise me or whatever. It’s fine. I’m not trying to escape or cause trouble, I swear—I just… I hate feeling useless.”

Gyuvin stares at his plate, cheeks burning, embarrassment eating him alive.

An alpha should not have to beg another alpha permission.

And yet… Here he is, doing exactly what. 

Ricky says nothing. 

Silent still, and after a long moment, he turns back to his meal as if Gyuvin’s hadn’t said anything at all.

The embarrassment is too much, his scent burns with it, and his stomach feels sick with humiliation and shame. Shamed to have asked, but even more shame, to have clearly been ignored and denied. 

He pushes back from the table before humiliation eats him alive. 

Ricky doesn’t try to stop him. 

The guards at the door do, of course, but Ricky waves his hand dismissively towards them, and after his permission, they step aside and let Gyuvin leave. 

Nothing changes that night.

But the next morning, Hanbin knocks on his door with unusual energy in his step.

“Your request has been approved,” Hanbin says, smiling brightly. 

Gyuvin’s heart jerks so violently he almost drops his toothbrush. “Wait—what? Which request? Do you mean—”

“Yes,” Hanbin confirms with a smile. “You are permitted to visit the private range on the west grounds, I will escort you there after breakfast.”

“Fucking finally!” 

*

The Shen Pack range is about as he expected it to be- spotless, as if it was hardly used, or had been cleaned personally for his arrival. Rows of stalls, reinforced walls, targets set at multiple distances. Gyuvin can’t help the almost giddy feeling that overtakes him as he looks the range over. It’s been too long since he’s had a gun in his hand. 

“Take your time,” Hanbin tells him. “No rush and no limit on ammunition.”

Gyuvin stares at the boxes stacked neatly beside the counter.

Unlimited ammo.

Unlimited time.

Like a certain someone wanted him to enjoy himself.

He’s presented with a selection to choose from, but in the end he goes for a pistol that looks not too dissimilar to one that he used to have at home. He takes his time loading the pistol, getting a feeling for it in his hand, and then the moment he raises his arms, everything else falls away.

Breathe in.

Exhale.

Fire.

For a few hours, the world narrows to nothing more than that, and for the first time in days, since he got here really, his muscles loosen, and his inner alpha settles in his chest- content, finally. 

It’s so good that he almost forgets that this is a privilege he had to beg for. 

So good that he forgets about Hanbin, his little babysitter, watching silently from behind the safety line.

So good that he forgets about almost everything. 

By the time his box of ammo runs dry, he’s high on the clarity shooting always gives him.

He pulls off his ear protection—

—and freezes at the sound of slow, polite clapping.

Gyuvin turns.

Just like yesterday in the gym, Ricky is standing near the entrance, watching him. Though this time, he looks at Gyuvin in clear approval, and his icy scent is threaded with interest, and a hint of something that almost smells like arousal.

“Very impressive,” Ricky says. “I had been told that you were a good shot, but seeing it in person is much more impressive than reading it on paper.”

Loud and clear.

And in fucking Korean. 

A little accented, but not too badly, not like someone who only knew a word or two, more like someone fluent enough not to need to use a translator. 

“Are you kidding me?”

Ricky arches a single eyebrow, as if he was confused about Gyuvin’s reaction. 

Gyuvin storms out of the stall, ripping off his gloves. “You’ve understood every word I’ve said this entire time and you couldn’t bother to—?”

“You talk more when you think I can’t answer,” Ricky shrugs, the tiniest movement. 

“That’s—! No—!” Gyuvin splutters. 

A small smile tugs at Ricky’s mouth, as if he was amused by Gyuvin’s reaction. 

It ruins Gyuvin’s attempt at indignation.

He scowls harder.

Ricky steps closer, eyes flicking down to the discarded ear protection hanging around Gyuvin’s neck, then up to Gyuvin’s flushed face, “You shoot well.”

“I told you I wasn’t useless.”

“No,” Ricky considers him. “Not useless, but predictable.”

“If you wanted a pretty, pliant spouse you could treat like a pet, you should’ve married my sister,” Gyuvin tells Ricky.  

“Oh I know, but I didn’t want your sister,” Ricky replies smoothly. “I wanted you.” 

“I’m not a house omega you can keep on a leash and parade around,” Gyuvin pushes on. “I’m a sniper, and a damn good one. I can do more than sit around and look pretty for you.”

“And how,” he asks, “Am I supposed to trust a sniper who looks at me like he’s planning my murder every evening?”

Gyuvin grimaces.

He didn’t think it was that obvious.

“If I wanted you dead, I would’ve shot you by now.”

“Comforting,” Ricky quips. 

“I’m saying,” Gyuvin insists, “I don’t have anything to gain from betraying you. I’m already stuck here, we’re already married, let me be useful to you.” 

Ricky hums, a small, thoughtful sound, considering Gyuvin’s words. 

Gyuvin does his best to keep his expression and his scent neutral. 

“Nothing to gain?” Ricky repeats softly.

“Nothing that matters.”

Ricky hums again, looking Gyuvin over, as if searching for cracks, before finally, he says, “Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Let’s test your loyalty.”

“Name the test.”

*

They take him underground.

Gyuvin knew the Shen compound was a big, sprawling labyrinth of a place, but he didn’t know it went this deep. Hanbin leads the way through one reinforced door, then another, then a hallway lit with low, red emergency lights instead of normal bulbs. 

Gyuvin does his best to keep his scent neutral as he walks beside Ricky. The other alpha is as silent and calm as he usually is at their dinners, his expression as unreadable as ever, but his scent is colder than usual, sharp enough to feel like a frostbite. 

At the end of the hallway waits a metal door, two guards that have been stationed there open it to reveal a holding room, where a hooded figure sits bound to a chair. His scent is vaguely familiar, enough that it makes Gyuvin’s nose twitch as he takes in how heavily saturated in fear the bound man’s scent is. 

It isn’t until Ricky steps forward and tugs his hood off that Gyuvin realizes why it’s familiar. 

“Seongmin,” Gyuvin says, the alpha’s name slipping from his lips before he can think to pretend not to know him.

Not that it would matter. 

This is a test of his loyalty, and a part of Gyuvin had expected to see someone at least somewhat familiar there. Someone he would have to sacrifice to prove that he was loyal to his new husband's pack, and not the Kim Pack. 

Gyuvin looks Seongmin over. He hasn’t seen him in months—not since his father assigned the man to infiltrate the Shen syndicate finance wing. Seongmin had always been good at smiling around lies, good at disappearing into places, not much of a good fighter, but one didn’t need to be when their focus was on numbers and gathering intel. Jiwoong liked him, Gyuvin was mostly indifferent to the other man. 

“He was caught sending reports to your father,” Ricky tells Gyuvin. 

“He worked under my older brother,” Gyuvin answers. “Finance division. He’s mostly harmless.” 

“He’s a very sloppy spy,” Ricky tells him. “He cracked faster than I expected.”

Seongmin flinches as if struck, his scent still so heavy with fear that it seems to hang in the air around him.

He knows what’s coming.

Any spy knows what will happen if they get caught. 

“This is your test.”

Gyuvin already knew that, but hearing it aloud makes something cold settle behind his ribs, his cedar scent turning a little smokey. 

“You want me to kill him,” Gyuvin asks, just to be sure. 

“If you’re loyal to me—if you’re loyal to your mate,” Ricky says. “Then you don’t protect your father’s spies.” 

Mate.

They’re not mates.

Not technically, not yet. 

Not until Ricky’s inevitable future rut ruins him, and forces him to submit. 

Not ever, if he can manage to get out of here with some secret big enough to ruin the Shen Pack. 

And to do that, he needs to do this. 

A guard steps forward and hands Gyuvin a gun. 

“Gyuvin-ssi, please, you don’t have to do this. I can be loyal to you and your mate,” Seongmin whispers hoarsely, “Spare me and I’ll be loyal to you, I swear it.” 

Gyuvin lifts the gun. 

He doesn’t look at Seongmin, he looks at Ricky- he stares straight into those dangerous, winter-cold eyes, and Ricky stares back. 

Gyuvin feels it again, that pull from his inner alpha, that makes him want to take a step closer, to lean in Ricky’s orbit. 

And then—He fires.

The shot is precise and mercifully quick. Seongmin’s body slumps. 

Gyuvin lowers the gun slowly. 

His pulse is calm, his mind is quiet.

But what he notices most—Is the scent that floods the room from Ricky.

Not the usual ruthless ice.

But something hot and sweet. 

Gyuvin has never smelled sweetness from him before. 

Not from an alpha, not like this.

Scent scents are far more common in omegas. 

And yet, Ricky’s scent lingers in the air around them like honey under the snow, so heavy that it digs into Gyuvin’s instincts. His knees almost buckle from how overwhelming that scent is, and his own cedar scent flares in an answer, before he can think to try and reign in his inner alpha. 

He knows Ricky can detect the change in his scent from the way the other alpha’s eyes go a little wide.

For a heartbeat, Gyuvin breathes in Ricky’s sweet aroused scent, his own answering it, and then Ricky folds that sweetness away, burying it back under the ice, as if it was never there at all. 

“Your loyalty,” Ricky says, “Is acceptable.”

*

Things start to charge after that. 

Gyuvin wakes each morning in the same guest room, Hanbin still shadows him everywhere, but something in the air of the Shen compound feels different now. Even the guards let him do what he wants for the most part, nodding their heads and saying “Yes, sir” whenever he asks for something. 

Gyuvin doesn’t know how he feels about that. 

He tries not to think about how he feels about that.

What he does think about is gathering intel: routes, schedules, personnel structure, anything his father would want to know. 

It’s easier now that Ricky is letting him get close enough to actually see things.

It starts small. 

Hanbin hands him a schedule one morning and says, “Boss wants you with him this evening,” like it’s normal, as if Gyuvin hasn’t been treated like a very pretty and useless hostage-wife for two straight weeks.

The collection run is fast and efficient, the way Gyuvin likes to work. Ricky moves through the backroom of a nightclub, and Gyuvin stands slightly behind him, flanking him the way he used to flank Jiwoong, and it hits him unexpectedly how familiar this feels.

Like he could get used to it, this being his place, just a few steps behind the other Alpha.

He hates that he thinks that.

At dinners now he asks questions, carefully mostly neutral ones. Most of the time Ricky answers him, and when he does, when he’s cutting it a little too close, Ricky just stares back at Gyuvin with that winter cold gaze that should chill him, but somehow leaves him heated inside. 

Sometimes, very rarely, Ricky’s scent will go sweet again, usually when Gyuvin’s had to step in to act as his enforcer, as if the sight of violence turns him on, which… Considering this is Ricky Shen, Gyuvin wouldn’t be entirely surprised. 

Still, it bothers him a little.

The way his inner alpha seems to jolt to attention any time he catches a hint of that honeyed ice, desire coiling low in his stomach, haunting him well into the night until he comes into his own hand in the privacy of the guest room, as his mind tries to hang onto any lingering hint of Ricky’s scent. 

A week passes. 

And then another. 

And another.

Gyuvin’s room stays separate from Ricky’s, but the distance between them everywhere else shrinks, inch by inch. As Ricky brings Gyuvin to negotiations, to warehouse inspections, and even once, to a sit-down with a smaller allied group. 

One evening, after another silent dinner where Ricky keeps meeting his eyes like he wants to say something but doesn’t, Gyuvin lies awake staring at the ceiling. 

His chest feels tight. 

His inner alpha is so loud, pushing against his rib cage, making him want to get out of bed, to find whatever room in his massive house belongs to Ricky, and push him down onto the bed and claim Ricky as his mate. 

*

Gyuvin watches as Ricky stands in front of a kneeling man, his expression smooth as glass, as he once again asks the same question he has been asking for the last hour, in that same flat and unimpressed tone, no matter how much vitriol the man spits back at Ricky in a mix of Korean and Mandarin. 

He’s one of Ricky’s men, or at least he had been, until at some point he’d taken a deal with the police to work for them as an informant. Gyuvin doesn’t know what the man has been saying, or what Ricky’s said in return, but he can tell from the tone of his voice that the man isn’t planning on giving Ricky the answer he wants.

Ricky sighs, a small annoyed sound as once again, the man shouts at him. “I’ve grown tired of this, finish him for me.” 

Gyuvin does it without flinching, this man far from the first person he’s killed, and he certainly won’t be the last, not in this line of work. A single gunshot, clean and efficient, does the trick. 

The moment the man hits the concrete, something coils off Ricky’s body, that cold and sharp icy scent of his is once again edged with a sweetness that always catches Gyuvin’s inner alpha off guard. It sticks in the back of Gyuvin’s throat, making it hard for him to breathe, hard for him to resist the urge to cross the space between them and take Ricky. 

As some of the others move to drag the body away, Ricky turns and his eyes land on Gyuvin, his lips twitching up in a small hint of a smile, “You listen well, puppy.” 

Gyuvin’s hand twitches a little as he holsters his gun, normally another alpha talking down on him and calling him puppy would be enough to get his inner alpha to snap, but here it does something else to him, his jaw aches with the desire to clamp his teeth into Ricky’s nape.

He pushes that thought down and instead asks, "What's with your scent?” 

Ricky’s head tilts, that unreadable expression slipping into place. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Gyuvin replies, “It’s sweeter than normal.”

Ricky steps closer. 

Not touching distance, but close enough that Gyuvin feels his body react, his muscles tightening, ready to spring forward if Ricky comes any closer, but then Ricky turns his head a little to look at the blood spreading across the floor.

“I find violence arousing,” he says simply, as if he’s commenting on the weather. “Don’t you?”

He wants to say no, of course not, what the hell kind of question is that—but the lie catches and dies on his tongue.

Because he does feel something, right now with Ricky standing so close and smelling so sweet. 

“Sometimes,” Gyuvin mutters after a moment. 

Ricky makes a small sound like that answer pleases him, “It seems you and I are a lot more alike than you originally thought?”

Gyuvin’s fingers twitch. 

He suddenly needs to put distance between them, but his feet won’t move. 

That faint sweetness is still there, mixing with the icy edge that Ricky’s scent always carries. 

It shouldn’t smell good.

But it does.

Fuck, it does.

For a moment, Gyuvin lets himself imagine it—Ricky pushed back against a wall, breathless for once, those cold eyes of his half-lidded with want. Gyuvin’s hand in his hair, forcing him to tip his head back, so that he can press his teeth against Ricky’s scent gland. 

He wants that, more than anything, but there’s no way Ricky would willingly submit to him, and there’s no way Gyuvin would ever willingly submit to another alpha. 

“Just because I get it doesn’t mean I’m agreeing to submit to you as your bitched mate,” Gyuvin tells him coldly. 

“I never asked you to submit,” Ricky points out. 

He didn’t have to ask out loud.

Not really.

Not when it was written down on paper, laid out in their marriage contract, how else would two alphas be mates. 

“Good, because I won’t.” 

*

Something goes wrong on the run.

Gyuvin knows the second the shouting starts that the meeting was a setup. Ricky moves first, always fast, but the knife flashes in the dark before Gyuvin can even shout his name. 

Ricky turns to avoid the worst of it, but the blade still slices deep across his side.

Gyuvin doesn’t remember leaping forward, doesn’t remember the growl ripping out of him as he slams the attacker to the concrete and keeps hitting until the man stops moving. Everything blurs until his chest is heaving, his fists are dripping in someone else’s blood, and Ricky is standing a little hunched, but still upright.

“I’m fine,” Ricky says, though there’s a tightness in his expression that betrays him just a little. 

He’s not fine. 

Gyuvin can smell it in the air, the sharp iron tang of blood, and the way pain bleeds into Ricky’s normally ice cold scent, but Ricky waves off the others when they try to help him, refusing to look weak in front of his men, even if he’s just been stabbed. 

By the time they make it home, Ricky’s jacket is soaked through. 

Gyuvin follows Ricky silently through the house, into what must be the master bedroom, a room that Gyuvin has never stepped foot in before. The room is heavy with Ricky’s scent, lingering in every nook and cranny of the room, his icy scent so cold that it stings at Gyuvin’s nose. 

Ricky sits on the edge of the bed and finally exhales like he can’t hold his posture anymore, slowly peeling off his jacket to reveal his shirt, stained horribly red across the left side, the knife having cut through the fabric there. 

“Let me see,” Gyuvin says.

A part of him expects protest from the alpha, but Ricky lifts his shirt without argument. That alone tells Gyuvin how bad it is.

The cut runs from his lower ribs down toward his hip, not particularly deep, nothing that needs to have a medic called for tonight, but bloody enough that Gyuvin can’t help but gasp a little at the sight. 

Ricky’s expression is still pinched, clearly trying to hide the pain, even as Gyuvin goes to grab a medical kit from his bathroom, before kneeling between Ricky’s legs to clean the wound. Gyuvin does his best to keep his hands steady as he presses the gauze against the bleeding. Ricky for his part is the ideal patient, if it wasn’t for the way his brow furrowed, Gyuvin might not have even known he was in pain at all. 

“You’re an idiot,” Gyuvin mutters. “You should have let someone tend to you before coming back here.” 

“I’ve been through worse,” Ricky replies with a shrug. 

Gyuvin doesn’t doubt it.

Nobody in their line of work dies with their body unscarred. 

“Thank you,” Ricky says, his voice soft. 

“Yeah well, a medic would’ve been better, but it should be fine for tonight,” Gyuvin says. 

“Not for that,” Ricky says. “For how you handled that guy after.” 

“Ah, well,” Gyuvin starts, then stops. How does he even explain it? The way his inner alpha had reacted to the sight of Ricky being hurt? 

Gyuvin looks up at Ricky ready to give an excuse, but something in him goes still, because now that Ricky’s scent isn’t laced with pain, it’s gone honey sweet again and Gyuvin can’t help himself from breathing in and letting Ricky’s scent settle inside of him. 

He needs a second before he does something reckless—so he tapes the bandage down quickly, before standing up and slipping into the en-suite bathroom to wash Ricky’s blood from his hands. 

It’s easier here with a little space between them. Gyuvin can breathe easier, he can control his inner alpha more easily. Gyuvin scrubs at his hands, scrubs and scrubs until the water finally runs clear, and his shoulders don’t feel so tense. 

He reaches for a towel, then opens the cabinet to grab some painkillers for Ricky—and freezes.

Inside is a stash of bottles, but not painkillers. 

He recognizes them at once, they’re one of the Shen Pack’s premium imports, black market omega suppressants, the kind that omegas can use to mask their scent, making it take on a more alpha edge. The high grade ones like these are illegal in Seoul, but anyone with the right connections can get their hands on some. Especially someone whose gang were the ones in charge of importing. 

But why would he need to, unless… 

Gyuvin’s throat feels dry as he picks up one of the bottles, turning it over in his hands. 

No wonder the Shens were so involved in the suppressant market. 

Because Ricky Shen had a personal interest in making sure black market suppressants were accessible here in Seoul. 

Suddenly, so many things make sense: this is the reason Ricky’s scent always shifts to sweet when he’s pushed a little too hard, the reason why Gyuvin’s inner alpha always reacts to Ricky, even from their very first meeting, and the reason why Ricky hadn’t wanted his sister. Of course he didn’t want a beta, not when what he needed was an alpha. 

Ricky is an omega.

An omega pretending to be something else.

An omega in charge of one of the largest gangs in the city. 

An omega carrying himself like a predator, when he’s nothing more than prey. 

Gyuvin shuts the cabinet quietly, breathes in and out once, and then smooths his expression into something that looks placid rather than the expression of someone who suddenly knows too much. 

When he steps back into the room, Ricky’s eyes look up immediately, searching his face, “You okay? Took you a while?” 

“Yeah.” Gyuvin shrugs. “Dried blood’s a bitch to get off.” 

Ricky’s head tilts a little to the side, his honey sweet icy scent flickering with notes of curiosity, but after a minute, he lets it go in favor of leaning back against the headboard, an exhausted look on his face. 

For a long moment, the room is quiet. 

Ricky’s eyelids lower, his breathing easing. Then, softly, Ricky says, “For what it’s worth… I know you weren’t happy with this arrangement, and that you still might not be happy to have been forced into it, but—” Ricky lets out a soft, almost sigh of a noise and says, “I’m glad you were there tonight. There’s no one I want more by my side than you.” 

*

Gyuvin wakes to the ache in his knuckles and a feeling of unease settling low in his belly. 

He lies there for a long moment staring at the ceiling, his inner alpha feeling unsettled, like the shape of the world shifted while he wasn’t looking. He forces himself to get up and shower, purposefully avoiding his expression in the mirror. 

By the time he steps out of his room, there’s breakfast on a tray outside, having been brought up at some point while he was in the shower. Gyuvin picks up the tray, taking it with him, popping a sausage into his mouth as he moves through the house. 

The house is quiet, heavy and silent, as if not anyone dares to make a sound. When Gyuvin passes by the room that he knows to be Ricky’s now, he can pick up on Ricky’s scent, no longer honey sweet, back to just the familiar ice cold winter scent that he’s become familiar with. The omega is probably still inside, resting and healing after last night’s failures. 

Gyuvin’s stomach churns at the thought of what he’d discovered last night. Suddenly any chance of him being able to stomach his breakfast is gone, replaced instead by the burning feeling of bile in his throat. 

Gyuvin sets his plate down on the kitchen counter, braces his palms on the counter and lets out a breath that he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. 

He’d spent too long last night, laying awake and thinking about what he had learned. 

Ricky is an omega.

The realization is shocking, but also, it makes so much sense. 

The tug he felt the moment he met Ricky—His inner alpha wasn’t confused, but rather his inner alpha recognized compatibility on sight. The way one does when they meet their fated mate. 

Gyuvin presses the heel of his hand to his sternum, as if he can push the feeling down. 

As if he can make his inner alpha forget their connection.

Reject it all together. 

This whole arrangement is supposed to be temporary, he’s supposed to get in and get enough intel to make getting out worth having the Shens as their enemies.

And he has it now, all the intel he needs to tear their gang apart. He could destroy the Shen gang with just a single move, all he has to do is open his mouth and tell the world that their heir isn’t an alpha at all. Tell them Ricky has been using illegal drugs to maintain the illusion of strength, when this whole time he’s nothing more than an omega.

Gyuvin doesn’t need to pull a trigger. 

He doesn’t need to stab anyone in the back.

He just has to reveal the truth, and the entire pack will devour itself.

If he does this… he’ll finally be free, no more forced marriage.

He could go home, back to safety, and to his family, and to everything he understands.

Freedom sits right there, within reach.

And yet Gyuvin hesitates, because a not too small part of him wants Ricky. 

Not in any sort of soft, romantic way but in the most crude and undeniable way his body responds when Ricky drops the cold mask and lets his natural honey scent bleed through that fake ice scent from his suppressants. 

He wants Ricky.

So much his chest aches.

He wants to go up to that room where Ricky is sleeping, unguarded, and step into his space. He wants to press his lips against Ricky’s and kiss him. He wants to see just how sweet the omega’s honey scent gets when finally he’s got a cock filling him. 

In the end, he does not do those things.

He goes to his room instead, shuts the door, and reaches under the mattress to where he carved a slit the night he arrived, pulling the burner phone that he’d stashed there out. 

Gyuvin sits on the edge of the bed, his thumb hovers over the power button for too long, before finally he turns it on, typing out a message to a number that he has memorized. 

Need a meeting.
Urgent.
Tell Father I have information about the Shen heir.

*

Gyuvin waits until the compound is so quiet he can hear the hum of the security cameras rotating. He times his breath with them, keeping his scent neutral and his footsteps soft as he slips through the side corridor that they rarely bothered to control.

He’s gotten good at this, learning the patterns that those loyal to Ricky Shen follow, finding their weaknesses so that he can move unnoticed and slip out into the shadows. 

Gyuvin sneaks out the back gate without being caught, heading down the slope behind the compound, to where he’d asked for his motorcycle to be waiting for him to take him to the warehouse his father had agreed to meet him in.

At least the men loyal to the Kim Pack can listen to directions. 

It doesn’t take Gyuvin long once he’s on his bike, but by the time he gets there, his father is already there waiting for him, sitting on a crate like it’s a throne in this abandoned building. Two lieutenants flank him. Gyuvin recognizes both as men with unwavering loyalty to his father. 

“Son,” his father says, in a tone that is neither warm nor cold. “I hear you have information for me.”

“I do,” Gyuvin answers, bowing slightly. 

“Good.” His father stands, hands clasped behind his back. “Then let’s hear it.”

This is it.

This is the moment.

All he has to do is say the words.

Ricky Shen is an omega.

He can expose him now, and then sit back and watch as the Shen pack collapses overnight.

Gyuvin opens his mouth to say the words, but nothing comes out. His throat locks up, the muscles tightening like he’s physically choking on the betrayal. He tries again. This time, the words scrape the back of his teeth, but they don’t fall. 

His father watches, frowning slightly, waiting.

Gyuvin forces himself to breathe.

This should be easy.

He should be able to say the words.

But he can’t. It’s as if his instincts have silenced him, his inner alpha refusing to allow him to betray his fated mate. Not allowing him to betray his omega.

“I found—” His voice breaks. He clears it. “I found documentation on their suppressant trafficking routes.”

His father narrows his eyes.

“They’re moving the new synthetic product through the coastal line, not the inland like everyone assumed. They’ve been hiding shipments inside legitimate cargo,” Gyuvin continues, rushing to explain himself. “If you hit it right, you could intercept two, maybe three, major deliveries this month.”

The lieutenants exchange impressed looks.

But his father? 

His father looks… confused. 

And suspicious.

“That’s all?”

Gyuvin’s heart hammers in his chest. He’d put on a scent blocker patch before leaving, but now he wonders if the edges have come up, if his cedar scent is betraying him. 

“It’s what I’ve found so far,” Gyuvin tells him. “They’ve only just started allowing me to join in on things.” 

Not a lie. 

Not entirely.

But nowhere near the truth he intended to come here and reveal. 

“It’s useful. Not what I expected, but useful,” his father says, before he pauses and studies him for a long moment. “You’re sure that’s everything?”

“I’m sure,” he lies.

His father steps forward and places a hand on his shoulder, a gesture that coming from anyone else might have meant to be reassuring, but here, just feels like judgment. 

“You’ll bring me more next time,” his father says. “Something bigger.”

Gyuvin nods, throat tight, and bows again before turning to leave. He doesn’t dare breathe until he’s halfway across the district, the warehouse a dark shape behind him.

He hates that a part of him feels relieved that he didn’t have to betray Ricky. 

He drops his motorcycle in the same place he’d originally found it, trusting his brother to send someone by to get it later, and moves back through the forest to the compound. If he’s timed this right, nobody will ever know that he was gone at all. 

He’s almost to the edge of the compound when the hairs on his neck stand up.

It’s quiet, too quiet.

He turns on his heel quickly at the scent of rain in the air on an otherwise cloudlessly night. 

Hanbin steps out from behind a tree, lowering a gun just enough to show he isn’t shooting yet.

“Fuck,” Gyuvin freezes. “Hanbin—”

“I really wish I didn’t have to do this, Gyuvin-ah,” Hanbin tells him, his voice trembling a little. “I thought you were starting to like it here, we all did.” 

“It’s not what it looks like,” Gyuvin insists. “I swear—I didn’t betray anyone.”

Even though he knows it’s foolish to even try to explain. He knows first hand what the Shen Pack does to traitors, he’s been the executioner himself plenty of times. 

“You left the compound without permission,” Hanbin says, “And you met with your father. We have the tail confirming it.”

“Hanbin, listen to me—” Gyuvin steps forward slowly, palms lifted. “I didn’t give them anything important. I swear. You have to let me explain.”

“I can’t,” Hanbin raises the gun again, apologetic but resolute. Hanbin is too soft though, he can see it in the other alpha’s eyes, there’s a reason Hanbin was guarding him around the compound rather than working for Ricky out in the field. “Orders.”

“Then take me to Ricky. Let me talk to him. He’ll understand—”

A soft voice cuts in behind him. “He won’t.”

Gyuvin barely has time to twist before an arm hooks around his neck, pulling him back. A cloth smothers his mouth and nose, pungent with chemicals. His vision blurs instantly, but before he goes down, he makes out the familiar face of Ricky’s favorite translator. Hao’s voice is almost regretful, as he says, “You shouldn’t have lied. Ricky hates liars most of all.”

Gyuvin claws at Hao’s wrists, knees buckling as the drug overwhelms him, like fog poured into his veins.

“I didn’t—” He starts to explain, but his tongue feels thick.

And then everything goes dark.

*

When Gyuvin wakes, he feels like he’s freezing.

Trapped in a storm of ice.

Every part of him, buried under the snow. 

It takes him too long to recenter himself, to remember that the iciness he feels must be Ricky’s faux scent, laced so strongly with hurt and anger that it feels like his lungs are frozen solid. Once he’s able to breathe in and remind himself of whose scent that is surrounding him, the rest of the world comes into focus slowly. 

He’s in the interrogation room, a room he’s become very familiar with over the last month, though usually he’s not the one kneeling on the ground with his hands tied behind his back. 

It doesn’t take long once he’s awake for the bag over his head to be pulled off, immediately once it’s off, a hand fists in his hair and jerks his head up.

“Wake up, pretty boy,” one of the enforcers says in heavily accented Korean. “Boss wants answers.”

The Boss. 

Gyuvin finds Ricky at once, standing several feet away, his arms crossed over his chest, standing perfectly still, looking perfectly calm and composed despite the fact that Gyuvin knows his injury is still bothering him, despite the fact that someone he trusted has for all intents and purposes betrayed him. Only his eyes reveal that he’s anything less than perfectly composed, they’re sharper than usual, fixed on Gyuvin with a chilly fury. 

A punch from one of the enforcers lands in Gyuvin’s stomach, and he folds forward with a choked exhale, breaking his eye contact with Ricky. 

“Tell us what you told them, and we’ll make this quick.”

“I didn’t—”

There’s a slap hard against his face, his lip splitting and the taste of blood filling his mouth. A boot catches his thigh a moment later, roughing him up as once again they ask for answers, without giving Gyuvin a chance to get more than two words out before hitting him again. 

He knows what they’re doing, they’re playing with him, roughing him up that he’ll be desperate enough to get them to stop and won’t hesitate to be honest. 

Gyuvin forces himself to raise his head again, he needs Ricky to see his eyes, needs him to feel that pull between them. 

And for just a second he can smell it, honey under that ice. 

Then another hit lands, snapping his focus sideways. 

“Enough,” Ricky says. 

The enforcers step back at once to give their boss space, and Gyuvin waits as Ricky approaches slowly. He stops just in front of Gyuvin, lifting his chin with one gloved finger.

“I really don’t want to have to kill you,” Ricky leans in, voice quiet enough that only Gyuvin can hear it. “But I don’t treat traitors kindly, even if they’re my fated mate.”

Ricky’s expression doesn’t change. He doesn’t soften or even blink. But his scent has gone sweet again, in a way that only Gyuvin knows what it means. 

“I’ll tell you,” he says. “But only you.”

The enforcers seem uneasy at that statement, not wanting to leave Ricky alone with him, even though he’s tied up and half beaten, and Ricky even recovering from being stabbed could probably take him. 

“Everyone else needs to leave,” Gyuvin presses. “I’ll tell you the truth, but only you. Trust me, you don’t want them to hear what I have to say.” 

Ricky steps back, his gaze sweeping over Gyuvin’s bruised body. 

A slightly nervous look passes over his face, but it vanishes after just an instant, so quick that Gyuvin almost misses it. 

“Out,” Ricky says. 

The men file out quickly, shutting the heavy metal door behind them, leaving Ricky alone with Gyuvin.

The moment the last lock clicks shut, silence fills the interrogation room. Gyuvin shifts against the restraints, the metal scraping against his wrists uncomfortably, as Ricky stands there watching him. 

“Speak,” he says quietly. “What did you tell them?” 

Gyuvin wets his split lip, before he answers Ricky, “I was going to tell him the truth.”

“And what truth is that?” Ricky asks.

“That you’re an omega.”

Gyuvin waits for the recoil.

The denial. 

The excuses. 

Or some sort of reaction, any reaction, surely Ricky would have to be a bit upset to have what is surely his deepest and darkest secret spilled out into the space around them. 

But Ricky doesn’t look bothered at all, if anything, his lips twitch just a little, amused, and he claps his hands, the same way he had at the shooting range the first time he went.

“Well done,” he says with a maddening calm. “You’re so smart, puppy.”

Gyuvin stares at him in shock. 

How can Ricky be entirely unbothered that Gyuvin has just spoken the one secret that could level the Shen Pack if the wrong ears heard it.

“So why didn’t you tell him?” Ricky asks, cocking his head to the side, “Have you fallen for me?”

He ignores the question, jerking against the restraints, his inner alpha burning hot beneath his ribs at the almost smug look on Ricky’s face. 

“You really don’t care,” Gyuvin asks, shocked, “Your entire empire would burn down if people found out.”

“Good thing,” he says lightly, “You won’t tell anyone then.”

There’s something about the way he says it, so self-assured. 

As if he’d never worried for a second about Gyuvin finding out about him. 

“You can’t,” Ricky continues. “Your alpha won’t let you, will it?” 

His mind flashes back to how he’d stood in front of his father, trying to say the words, but his mouth had refused to work. 

“See, that’s the thing about fated mates,” Ricky continues. “My inner omega, your inner alpha, they’ve known each other before for lifetimes, and instinct won’t allow you to betray your fated mate. You couldn’t hurt me even if you wanted to, but you don’t want to, do you?” 

He doesn’t, he knows he doesn’t.

A small part of him had felt relieved that he hadn’t been able to force Ricky’s secret to spill from his lips.

The part of him that craves the omega, even here, beaten and chained in front of him. He yearns to be untied, to close the space between them, and pin the omega against the nearest wall. To press his teeth into Ricky’s mating gland and claim his fated mate. 

“No, I don’t,” Gyuvin admits.

“Good puppy,” Ricky replies. 

For the first time since he’s met Ricky, a genuine smile finds its way onto his face. Not the twitch of amusement, or the smug little look he gets when he manages to rile Gyuvin up, but a soft and genuine one. One that catches Gyuvin so off guard that it nearly steals his breath away.

He’s always found Ricky attractive, but this goes beyond attraction.

There’s a softness to him, a gentleness, and Gyuvin can’t help but yearn for more glimpses of this version of Ricky. The version that must have existed before his father’s death, before he’d been dragged to Seoul to run this branch of their pack’s gang, to play pretend at being an alpha. 

Gyuvin tenses as gloved fingers slide over his wrists. Ricky works with the lock slowly until the first cuff releases, and then the second a moment later, with a soft click.

He sways for a moment when he stands up, disoriented by the sudden freedom, but Ricky catches his elbow to hold him steady. 

“I’m not afraid of you hurting me,” Ricky murmurs near his ear, voice low. “If you were going to, you already would have.”

Ricky steps back, but not far. 

Not far enough for safety. 

Only far enough to look him in the eye.

Gyuvin stalks forward, for each step he takes forward, Ricky takes one backwards, one after another until Ricky’s back nearly hits the wall, and he tilts his head up to look at Gyuvin, his breath hitching a little as Gyuvin crowds into his space. 

“You asked me once,” he murmurs, “Why I chose you and not your sister.”

Gyuvin nods his head, he remembers as much. 

“I didn’t choose you to humiliate you,” Ricky continues softly. “I chose you because you’re mine, my fated mate, my alpha.” 

Ricky is his.

His omega. 

Gyuvin fists the front of Ricky’s shirt and slams him back into the wall—not hard enough to hurt, just enough to put him in his place. Ricky’s breath leaves him in an unmistakably omega whimper, his pupils blown wide with want and his honey scent sweeter than Gyuvin’s ever smelled it before. 

He doesn’t think twice before bridging the small space between them and kissing Ricky. 

It’s not gentle or sweet, not even close. 

The kiss is messy and deep, and long overdue. 

Ricky makes a low noise in his throat, dragging Gyuvin closer by the waist, opening his mouth a little to let Gyuvin’s tongue slip inside. He bites against Ricky’s lip, listening as another whimper escapes the omega. So it’s not just violence that turns him on, but pain too, Gyuvin will have to remember that for later. 

For now though, he focuses on kissing the omega until Ricky breaks the kiss, panting breathlessly, “My alpha, I need you.” 

Gyuvin presses his forehead to Ricky’s, his own breath shaky. He has no words, but he doesn’t need them, not really, not when Ricky’s hands slide up his back, pulling him in again, not when the bond between them hums, pleased with them for finally figuring out what it wanted.

Ricky’s breath is still unsteady against Gyuvin’s mouth, pupils blown wide, cheeks slightly flushed. He’s usually immaculate in his composure, always looking so cold and untouchable, but now, he looks completely undone and desperate for Gyuvin, gasping a little against Gyuvin’s mouth. 

And all because of him.

“You’re staring,” Ricky points out. 

“So are you,” Gyuvin mutters, pressing a kiss against Ricky’s jaw. 

Ricky doesn’t deny it.

Instead, he slides a hand up the back of Gyuvin’s neck, and Gyuvin shivers at the touch of his fated mate’s hand on him, going easily as Ricky pulls him in for another kiss.

This one isn’t messy like the first.

It’s slower, and more intimate. 

Ricky opens for him easily, mouth warm and pliant, and Gyuvin loses any thoughts he had of showing restraint when Ricky lets out a small involuntary whimper as Gyuvin deepens the kiss. 

Gyuvin’s knees almost buckle at the sound.

Ricky hears his breath catch and huffs a quiet, breathless laugh against his lips.

“You feel it too, don’t you?” Ricky asks. “Our wolves recognize each other?” 

Gyuvin doesn’t answer him in words, it’s hardly necessary when they both know the answer. Instead he growls, pinning Ricky harder to the wall, their hips brushing. Ricky’s breath stutters, hands sliding up Gyuvin’s arms, gripping, anchoring.

“Alpha,” Ricky whispers, the word like a plea from his lips. 

Gyuvin drops his forehead to Ricky’s neck, inhaling sharply as Ricky’s true honey scent lingers there—rich and unmistakably omega-sweet, now that the suppressants are wearing thin. It hits Gyuvin with devastating clarity, the truth he’s been running from slamming straight into his bloodstream.

“Do you like my scent alpha?”

Gyuvin takes a deep breath in filling his lungs with Ricky’s sweetness, “Of course I do. I just wish you hadn’t hidden it from me for so long.” 

“I had to,” Ricky’s voice is barely above a whisper as he presses a kiss to Gyuvin’s temple. “If I hadn’t, you would’ve known what I was the second we met, and you would have used that against me. I had to make sure I could trust you.” 

“I wouldn’t have used that against you,” Gyuvin insists.

He wouldn’t have, not against his fated mate, but he can’t say the same for if his family had found out the reason why Ricky wanted him so much more than his sister was because Ricky wasn’t an alpha at all. As frustrating as it had been at first, he can’t blame Ricky’s reasoning. 

Ricky pulls back just enough to meet his eyes, to let Gyuvin see the raw want in them.

“You’re my alpha now, that’s all that matters,” Ricky whispers. “Act like it.”

Something snaps.

Gyuvin grabs Ricky’s waist and lifts him off the ground in one fluid motion. Ricky gasps, but his legs wrap around Gyuvin’s hips instantly, instinctively, like his body has been waiting for this moment far longer than his mind has.

“Fuck me,” Ricky commands.

And who is Gyuvin to deny his omega what he wants. 

“Gyuvin,” Ricky whispers against his mouth, voice breaking. “Don’t stop.”

Gyuvin doesn’t.

He kisses Ricky until they’re both shaking, until Ricky’s thighs tremble around his hips, until Ricky drags him closer and closer, like he’s trying to fuse them together.

“Please.”

He presses one last kiss to the corner of Ricky’s mouth, and dips his forehead to Ricky’s shoulder, his eyes down as he works to free Ricky’s cock from his pants. The omega’s scent is even sweeter now than before, he’s so desperate for cock, whimpering all sweet and soft for Gyuvin. 

“You’re mine,” he whispers, as he rubs his thumb over the head of Ricky’s cock.

Ricky shudders in his hold, “Yours.” 

He sets Ricky down on the ground, spinning the omega around to face the wall before he tugs Ricky’s pants down just enough to get them around his thighs and expose his honey slick hole. 

“So desperate for me,” Gyuvin remarks, as he presses two fingers against Ricky’s hole, slipping inside all too easily. He doesn’t give him any time to adjust, pushing past the first knuckle, “I bet you got all wet watching your boys rough me up, didn’t you?” 

Ricky doesn’t answer him with words, but his hole clenches around Gyuvin’s fingers in answer enough. Ricky stutters out a broken moan, pushing his hips back, eager for more.

"Looks at you," Gyuvin says, leaning forward to kiss the mating gland at the base of Ricky’s neck, as he spreads his fingers apart inside of him, "All slick just for me."

The feeling of Ricky squeezing hot and tight, perfect around his fingers, nearly short-circuits Gyuvin’s brain, the thought of it around his cock has him panting against Ricky’s neck. He probably needs to slow down before he comes in his pants fingering Ricky, but before he even really thinks about it, he's nudging a third finger up against his rim, a teasing pressure every time he pushes his other fingers in and out.

“Enough,” Ricky insists as Gyuvin’s third finger stretches him wider, “I’m ready for you, alpha.” 

And who is Gyuvin to deny him? 

He doesn’t wait a second longer before pulling his fingers out of Ricky’s ass and tugging his own pants down just enough to free his cock. He spreads the slick on his hand along his shaft quickly, mixing it with the precum that’s already leaking from his tip, before lining his cock up against Ricky’s entrance, and not waiting another second before fucking in, up to the hilt in one thrust. 

Ricky whimpers again, arching his hips up, pressing closer and closer to Gyuvin, so desperate for more, and Gyuvin is mindless to it all, lost in the feeling of finally getting inside Ricky, inside of his omega. 

“Ahh—alpha—Gyuvin,” Ricky stutters, each word punched out of him by the movement of Gyuvin’s hips, fucking into him as Ricky squeezes, so tight and slight around him, trying to draw him just that little bit deeper. 

“You feel so perfect, so good, never want to let you off my cock,” he says, ducking to press against Ricky's mating gland. His jaw aches with the urge to sink his teeth into the omega and claim him as his own. 

His husband should be his mate. 

Wasn’t that the whole point of this arrangement?

As if sensing his thoughts, Ricky shivers in his hold, “Do it, bite me, alpha.” 

Gyuvin doesn’t though, not just yet, for now, he just pants against Ricky’s nape, and pulls out a little, just enough to thrust back in, again and again, listening for the little moans and whimpers that Ricky makes when he fucks him just right, so that his cock bumps against that sweet spot inside of the omega. 

Gyuvin rolls his hips, harsh and forceful, pushing Ricky up a little higher against the wall. He doesn’t expect to last very long, not as long as he would like. If Gyuvin had it his way, he would spend days fucking Ricky, bending him into every position possible, filling him, breeding him.

But they’ll have time for that, when his rut comes in a few weeks.

For now though, he rushes towards his release, fucking roughly in and out of Ricky, his hand slipping forward to wrap around Ricky’s leaking cock. Ricky turns his head just a little, begging for a kiss, and Gyuvin gives him what he wants, kissing him as he pulls nearly all the way out before slamming in rough and fast, so that Ricky can’t help but gasp into his mouth. 

Gyuvin sets a punishing pace as he gets closer and closer to coming, angling his hips so that his cock drags heavy inside of Ricky with every stroke, pulling those obscene noises from him that feed Gyuvin’s inner alpha. He can feel Ricky shaking when he fucks in just right, his head tilting back to rest against Gyuvin’s shoulder, moans breaking breathlessly in his throat, as Gyvuin’s knot begins to swell, making each thrust harder and harder.

“Come on, baby,” he urges, “Let me see you come for your alpha.” 

Ricky lets out another loud, ragged gasp, taking Gyuvin’s cock so pretty, and when Gyuvin hits the right angle, Ricky lets out a sound like a cry, so pretty and sweet, as he spills over Gyuvin’s fist and onto the wall of the interrogation room.  

Gyuvin doesn’t last much longer after that, the feeling of Ricky’s hole clenching down around him as he comes is enough to push Gyuvin over the edge. He presses his knot fulling inside Ricky, sealing them together just in time, and finally sinks his teeth into Ricky’s mating gland. 

Claiming his fated mate. 

It takes him a while to come back to himself, Gyuvin’s breathing gradually slows, the haze fading enough that he can actually process where they are. 

Which is still in the interrogation room, and they’re still very much connected. 

“Shit,” Gyuvin winces. “We’re in an interrogation room.”

“We are,” Ricky says, exhaling shakily beneath him, slumping his head forward against the wall, flushed and sweaty and very, very caught.

“If anyone walks in—"

“They won’t.” Ricky tilts his head, smug even now. “Hanbin stationed himself outside the door the moment he realized what was happening.”

“How would he—”

“I had a feeling tonight would either end with you knotting me, or dead,” Ricky replies, letting out a noise that could almost be a laugh. “I’m very glad it’s the first option, not the second.”

Gyuvin drops his face into Ricky’s shoulder. “Me too.” Gyuvin tries to shift—and immediately regrets it, his knot tugging against Ricky’s hole, the omega whining a little at the tug. “Fuck, we’re stuck like this until the knot goes down.”

“I’m not complaining.” 

Gyuvin growls under his breath. “Next time, we’re doing this on a bed.”

Ricky goes still.

Then very, very slowly, his lips curl into a smirk.

“Oh?” he says. “So there’s going to be a next time?”

“Yeah, I mean—” Gyuvin pauses, throat tight. “You’re my husband and my fated mate, so I thought—I mean, I’d like there to be a next time.” 

Ricky turns his head a little just enough to press a tiny kiss against Gyuvin’s cheek, “Good answer, puppy.” 

*

The sun is already high by the time Gyuvin finally steps out of the interrogation room.

His legs ache, his back aches, every part of him aches in a way he’s not trying to think too hard about. Hanbin is leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, looking like he’s been standing guard the entire night—which, knowing him, he has.

His eyes flick down to Gyuvin’s neck, which is marred with little bites, because of course, the second Gyuvin’s knot had gone down, all Ricky had down was spun around to kiss him and beg for him to fuck him again and again. It was almost as if he was in heat, then again, it’s fairly common for mating bites to lead to false heats. 

And Ricky had smelled so sweet, and begged so prettily, that Gyuvin just had to have him as many times as he physically could. 

He only feels a little bit embarrassed about it now, when Hanbin gives them a smug little look and says, “You two are lucky we cleared the whole floor, or the entire compound would’ve heard—”

“Hanbin,” Ricky says, cutting him off, “Clear my schedule for the rest of the week. I’m going to be too busy recovering to do anything else.” 

“You got it boss.”