L*st and Death

Siron, afraid the man would see his stubbornness as mere inconvenience, reluctantly parted his legs a little. Thinking how utterly degrading it was to be squatting like this, he avoided Isaac’s gaze.

“...Just get it over with.”

“Of course.”

Isaac pushed one of Siron’s legs outward, adjusting the angle so they were spread even wider, then slid his hand underneath his groin. The moment Isaac’s fingers brushed near the hole, all sensation in Siron’s body narrowed down to that single point of contact.

“Hh...!”

Each time the fingers moved slowly over his underwear, a sticky wetness trailed between the fabric and his skin, the slick sensation impossible to ignore.

“Quite slippery.”

Rubbing his fingers together, Isaac checked the viscosity of the arousal soaking through the fabric. Siron, face flushed red with humiliation, lowered his head and muttered.

“You satisfied now? Then stop...”

“We’re not done yet.”

Isaac pulled Siron’s underwear down to his thighs, exposing his bare ass. Holding one hand firmly on Siron’s hip to stop him from instinctively trying to back away, he used his index finger to trace slow, circular motions around the wrinkles of his hole. Then, as if to test how much slick had already leaked out, he began inserting his fingers—one at a time—into the tightly clenched entrance.

“Hhhhk!”

Siron, struggling to keep his balance in the unstable squat with his heels lifted off the floor, eventually collapsed forward into Isaac’s chest, his torso leaning helplessly against him. The pheromones rising off Isaac like steam seemed to hum inside his body, vibrating through his nerves, making it impossible to stop the choked, whimpering noises slipping out from his throat.

As Isaac pushed inside—deeper, deeper—his thick, calloused fingers drove all the way in, spreading Siron open. The walls that had at first resisted tightly began to yield, becoming more elastic each time Isaac pulled out and thrust back in. When his fingertips deliberately brushed against the sensitive gland near Siron’s prostate, Siron couldn’t hold back his ragged moans as a heavy pressure built up in his lower abdomen.

“Even getting hard wasn’t enough—now you’re leaking.”

“Ahh—!”

“And still not releasing any pheromones.”

A maddening pulse began to throb near his tailbone, and from somewhere unknown—he couldn’t even tell when it started—slick arousal dripped thickly down his inner walls.

This isn’t normal. This isn’t supposed to be happening.

Siron remembered the pheromones that had overwhelmed him in the darkness before he escaped the island. The dining hall had been sealed, the food drugged with sleeping pills. Dozens of idiotic alphas had collapsed in their chairs as pheromones flooded the room, and Siron, drowning in a haze of unnatural stimulation, had—done something. Lost control of his body.

He’d first thought it was a disgusting accident. But later, when he checked his underwear, it was only stained with something clear—sticky, viscous like boiled sugar syrup or starch gel. It had mostly washed away in the rain, so he hadn’t thought much of it since.

“Hhha! Nnngh!”

Isaac scraped along the mucous membrane, scooping out the pooled slick as he slowly pulled his fingers out. He brought the wet digits to his nose, sniffed deeply, then popped them in his mouth and sucked.

“Ah—ahhhk!”

Whether Siron reeled in shock or not, Isaac continued his goddamn inspection.

“Colorless, tasteless, scentless. No pheromones. ...Why?”

His fingers returned, spreading open the once-shut entrance, pushing in again. Every time he scraped along the edge of Siron’s prostate and bladder, more of the slippery fluid oozed out, trickling down his fingers, across his palm, and pooling on the bathroom floor.

Determined to test his reactions even more specifically—and thoroughly—Isaac grabbed Siron by the back of the head and pulled, forcing his neck to stretch back. Locking eyes with him, Isaac pressed down hard on the exact spot of his inner gland.

“Haa—please... don’t.”

A soft moan escaped through Siron’s clenched teeth. The delicate muscles inside his gland recoiled at the overwhelming stimulus. Isaac’s fingers pushed past the tightened entrance, pressing up along the vaginal wall, grazing the sensitive lining with light strokes. The sensation was so intense and unfamiliar that Siron shuddered, staring up at Isaac.

“Hnngh...!”

Each time his fingers scraped along the inner walls, the muscles loosened slightly, and fluid pulsed and dripped along the slick, rippling passage.

A disturbing realization took root.

Siron liked being fingered by Isaac.

Even as he remained fully aware that something grotesque and alien was steadily forming inside him—some new anatomical structure that made him neither man nor woman—he still craved greater stimulation.

Some part of him was whispering: take it. Let Isaac drown you in pleasure. The stimulus his body received, steeped in alpha pheromones, was like oxygen through a respirator. Siron could only breathe through the sensations Isaac forced into him.

I want it. I want it so badly I’m losing my mind.

Moaning, Siron reached up and cupped Isaac’s head, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He bit gently at the skin, licked along his jaw, then sucked at the thick, veined length of his neck. The desire hit him all at once—sharp, consuming, desperate.

“Aah, harder....”

Surely, once this moment passed, he’d want to sew his own mouth shut—but right now, nothing else mattered. As Siron trailed kisses toward the source of Isaac’s scent and pheromones, his senses picked up something else: a shift in Isaac’s breathing—deeper, rougher, darker.

“Deeper... scratch it... haah.”

He mumbled in a daze. And then—suddenly—the motion inside him stopped.

Fuuuuh. Isaac exhaled a long, shaking breath as he withdrew his fingers from Siron’s hole. Cupping the slick, trembling flesh of his ass with a hand soaked in arousal, he whispered:

“That’s enough.”

“No... I don’t want it to stop... Just a little more...”

Isaac’s breathing turned ragged. His ice-blue eyes, locked on Siron, now burned with wild heat. The sight of Siron flushed and aroused by his own pheromones—responding so shamelessly to the stimulation—sent a jolt through him. He drank in every reaction, every tremble.

“No,” Isaac whispered, as if forcing the word out through clenched teeth.

Siron clung to him like a child, arms wrapped around his shoulders. He reached up with one hand, tangling his fingers in Isaac’s hair, trying to close the gap between them. But Isaac caught his shoulder and pushed him back. Then, as Siron looked up at him—eyes wide, pleading with frustration—Isaac pressed a brief kiss to his cheek, as if to calm him.

“Not right now.”

“...Why...?”

“Because now’s not exactly the time to be leisurely having sex.”

But to Siron’s eyes, Isaac’s tension was obvious. It looked like it took every ounce of restraint for him to pull away. Just knowing that cold bastard had gotten aroused was enough to make a fresh rush of slick pour out of Siron’s body.

Still, once he’d regained his composure, Isaac looked down at Siron with detached eyes, completely devoid of emotion. Then, with a ruthlessly firm demeanor, he stepped out of the bathroom. The exhaust fan kicked on—he must’ve flipped the switch outside. As the air began to circulate and the pheromones dissipated, Siron’s reason gradually returned as well.

“Have you lost your mind, Yoon Siron?”

He buried his face in his hands, wishing he could die from shame. Just moments ago, he’d begged—begged—for Isaac to go deeper. Sure, he’d always been weak to pleasure, but to whine and arch his ass for that bastard of all people, pleading for him to scratch the deepest part? The sound of his own desperate voice still echoed in his skull, impossible to forget.

It’s the pheromones. That’s all it is.

But some part of him knew exactly what this meant.

You can’t resist pheromones.

Which meant... his reaction had been natural.

“This is insane.”

Even after Isaac left, a low throbbing lingered deep inside him, nerves still faintly sparking. That soft, vulnerable spot within pulsed, as if remembering the intrusion.

Siron tentatively touched the slick skin around his entrance and was startled by the shiver that jolted through him. He yanked his hand away. As much as he used to be called “Urethra Siron” and mocked as the poster child of perverted gay sluts, his current body had crossed into a territory no one had prepared him for.

Gland? Slick? Are you fucking kidding me?

It felt like he’d become the punchline of a grotesque joke. And the worst part was, even now—his body still wanted more.

Siron dropped to his knees on the floor and wrapped a hand around his cock, focusing on release. It wasn’t enough—but after jerking himself off and finally managing to come, he staggered into the cold shower and rinsed off as fast as he could.

But the hypersensitivity refused to fade. Even the brush of fabric against his bare skin seemed to replay the sensation of Isaac’s fingers. With a dull ache and foreign fullness still lingering inside, Siron finally stepped out of the bathroom and let out a breath of relief—Isaac was gone from the break room.

A wave of exhaustion hit him all at once. Siron climbed into the bunk, taking the top bed above where Baekgyeong had claimed the lower one. He didn’t even need to try falling asleep. The moment he lay ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) down, he was swallowed whole by sleep, like a tidal wave crashing over him.

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