From their farewell at the airport to this reunion in the underground prison beneath the research facility, Baekgyeong and Siron had each gone through countless events. Just for Siron alone, he could’ve talked for four full days and still not finished. But there was no way they could casually reminisce about the past under the eye of a CCTV camera.
Siron, the master of exaggeration who once stretched his black belt from Hanmi Taekwondo Academy into a 30-year martial arts career on par with an Olympic gold medalist, restrained himself. He pared things down and gave Baekgyeong a three-minute summary at most.
Naturally, that summary did not include the four days he’d spent locked in a motel, having nonstop sex with Lewis under the influence of his rut cycle. But Baekgyeong wasn’t the kind of man to overlook what truly mattered.
“That bastard Lewis—he hit on you, didn’t he?”
The bomb collar, Hybris, Etas, the secret omega experiments on the island—none of that was Baekgyeong’s concern. His bloodshot eyes glared like a jealous husband about to lose his mind.
“Answer me. That son of a bitch touched you, didn’t he?”
“Anna was there. She blocked every attempt.”
“What about Anna? She didn’t come on to you?”
“Kyung-ah, I know I’m fucking irresistible, but not everyone in the world is drooling over me.”
Baekgyeong didn’t look convinced. He narrowed his eyes and asked:
“The rut?”
“What?”
“Did that fucker go through his rut cycle?”
Caught off guard, Siron paused for a moment, then mustered an expression of naive innocence—as if such a thing had never even crossed his mind.
“There wasn’t any rut. I swear.”
“No rut? You mean he wasn’t on suppressants?”
He hadn’t considered the possibility of Lewis taking suppressants. A faint flicker of frustration passed over Siron’s face, but he stuck to his denial.
“I’m telling you! Nothing happened!”
Baekgyeong’s narrowed gaze turned razor-sharp.
“Liar. His rut should’ve started at least ten days ago.”
He shot to his feet, eyes brimming with a violent, accusing fire.
“You slept with him, didn’t you? Huh?! You fucked that bastard!”
“There was no rut! Is sex the only thing in your head?! Not everyone in the world thinks about sex twenty-four-seven like you!”
Siron continued pleading his innocence, his bruised and swollen face full of exaggerated misery as he whined at Baekgyeong for not believing him. The best defense was a relentless offense, and Siron kept pushing—testing Baekgyeong’s patience to its absolute limits.
Baekgyeong couldn’t believe him, but a part of him wanted to. Caught between distrust and belief—it was uncharacteristic of him to hesitate like this. Before the brain surgery, Baekgyeong would’ve shut his ears to anything Siron said and assumed the worst without a second thought.
“...Fine. I’ll believe you.”
He offered it like a favor, but added coldly:
“But you’re a guy. You get it. Dicks think with dicks. And alphas? Ten times worse.”
“Oh, I get it. Believe me. I’ve been kidnapped to an island full of alphas.”
Baekgyeong fell silent. Fucking hell. He hated to admit it, but if it hadn’t been for that unnamed researcher who helped Siron, Siron would’ve been raped by now. Baekgyeong wouldn’t have even had the chance to act like a petty, jealous bastard. And what’s worse—he still couldn’t do a damn thing for him.
“You said the guy who helped you was in a wheelchair?”
“...Yeah.”
Just yesterday, Siron had nearly been raped by a bearded trash heap of a man, and narrowly escaped thanks to a well-timed appearance by the researcher. From Siron’s story, Baekgyeong was able to guess the man’s identity. He was one of the prisoners on the same floor as Baekgyeong.
The hallway, normally dead silent, only came alive a few times a day with the passing footsteps of staff. Whenever someone passed by, Baekgyeong would lie flat on the floor and peer through the narrow food slot to observe the corridor.
Each morning, under the watch of armed alphas, the man in the wheelchair would be taken out of his cell—and return hours later. Baekgyeong couldn’t see higher than their knees, but from what Siron said, it was obvious the researcher in question was that man.
He had returned just moments ago—while Siron was in the shower—and was now completely quiet. Apparently, Baekgyeong’s new cell was right next to his.
He worked on Hybris’ omega experiments, yet wore a bomb collar—meaning he was dangerous enough to be restrained, capable of turning into a threat at any time. The more Baekgyeong mulled it over, the clearer the man’s identity became. Siron, for some reason, had tried to hide it from him, but like an idiot, had given away too many hints.
“That researcher. He’s an alpha, right?”
“Maybe?”
“Maybe? What makes you think that?”
“I dunno... he seemed about as tall as you?”
“Oh, I see. So anyone tall must be an alpha to you now?”
“It’s just a figure of speech.”
Baekgyeong pushed the point with unnecessary hostility, but Siron avoided his gaze, clearly eager to change the subject and babbled meaningless nonsense.
Baekgyeong had been wondering: during that week he was held by Isaac, had Siron been swayed by him? Had he formed a bond?
Had even someone like Isaac—cold and bloodless—found Siron beautiful?
Suddenly, Baekgyeong’s head felt hot, and his heart ached like he’d been stung by a hornet. His nerves flared to the brink as he snapped:
“Anyway, don’t we have a job to do?”
“...Job?”
Siron responded with confusion, glancing warily at the CCTV, fully aware of who was watching beyond it.
“What job? Sex, obviously.”
Baekgyeong smirked as he placed a hand on Siron’s shoulder.
“You showered to fuck me, didn’t you?”
He provoked Siron with that shameless grin. It made Siron’s insides boil, emotions churning.
“Douse your toy in pheromones. Whether through simulated sex or actual sex—whatever. ...If you refuse, we’ll just hand your toy over to another alpha. Ted’s been waiting his turn.”
Siron didn’t want to spread his legs for anyone. But he knew he wasn’t in a position to refuse.
“We’re in front of the CCTV. If anyone’s stripping, it’s you. Not me.”
“Just me?”
“You can get off with one shot. Use your hand or whatever.”
Who knew how that recorded footage would be used later? He refused to end up some freak-show, even worse than Yodo Siron. To his surprise, Baekgyeong didn’t protest. Without a second’s hesitation, he yanked down his pants and underwear in one go.
Siron blinked in disbelief as Baekgyeong’s flaccid cock dangled heavily, swaying a few slow times left and right before settling.
“...What the hell is that?”
Baekgyeong followed Siron’s gaze down between his legs.
“What do you mean ‘what’? It’s a dick.”
“It looks like... a bull’s balls or something. Ugh. Gross.”
“A bull’s balls? Gross? Fuck, that’s harsh.”
Despite claiming to be hurt, Baekgyeong chuckled softly and casually shook his cock by the base.
It looked nothing like Siron remembered. At first, he found it disgusting—he didn’t want to look. But an irresistible curiosity crept in.
“Is it because you turned alpha? Is that why it changed?”
“I’ve always been big.”
“Bullshit. Not this big. Maybe I should’ve become an alpha.”
“Yeah. Maybe if you were lucky, we’d have died on the same day, too.”
Siron ignored him and fired off a random question.
“Doesn’t it feel heavy walking around with that?”
“Wanna find out?”
Baekgyeong stepped closer to Siron, who was seated at the edge of the mattress. Siron stared at the heavy, dark-red cock swaying in front of his face, then reached out hesitantly.
During the four years he’d spent hiding in the U.S., Siron had done everything he could not to think about Baekgyeong’s cock whenever he was aroused—not to use the memory of him like some kind of fucked-up seasoning. But still, the memories of their sex would creep in and intrude on his life.
But now, he didn’t need to rely on the past. He gently cupped Baekgyeong’s balls and cock in his hand and lifted it slightly.
“No way. It’s ridiculously heavy. You could build lower-body strength just carrying this thing around.”
“Jesus fucking Christ...”
Baekgyeong scoffed, but the moment of contact made him gasp for breath. His scrotum, limp and dangling, tightened as blood rushed in—and in an instant, his cock stood stiff, rising up to slap against his navel.
“...Christ. It looks like a cobra.”
“First ‘bull’s balls,’ now ‘cobra’? Fuck, you’ve said some shit.”
Baekgyeong’s cock was oddly shaped—thicker toward the top than the base. Now, with blood swelling it like a puffed hood, it really did resemble a cobra ready to strike. Siron, visibly repulsed, glared at it—but his hand still ran gently, slowly along the thickened shaft, tracing the veins.
“If you’re gonna do it, do it right.”
At Baekgyeong’s command, Siron shot him a vicious glare, then reluctantly wrapped both hands around the cock. It was hard—unnaturally so, like a tree trunk stretched with skin.
And inevitably, Baekgyeong’s cock reminded him of the only other alpha he’d ever touched.
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