L*st and Death

Isaac caught Siron’s hands as he tried to push him away, lacing their fingers and pinning them to the sofa back as if binding him there. Still buried inside him, he sat heavily on Siron’s hips. Short, forceful thrusts followed—blunt, like a wedge splitting open a tight seam, driven deep again and again without giving his body the slightest chance to lift away.

“Hhk, hhhuuhp, nghh, hhhht!”

In a light shock, Siron felt his insides loosening to accommodate the massive length pressing into him. Each time that thick column crushed his slackened flesh, something inside him cracked open, making him want more.

His breathing quickened in time with his racing heartbeat, the pheromones saturating the air sinking faster into his nerves. From deep within rose an unbearable hunger, a sexual craving so sharp it was dangerous. With his mind wiped blank, the only coherent thought left was how good Isaac’s cock felt as it crushed him from the inside.

Shifting into missionary, Isaac drove into Siron’s limp, pliant body with brutal force. The overwhelming sensation flooding through him sent heat rushing to his head, his vision swimming.

“Uuhhp, ah, aaah! Uuh, uhhhnngh!”

It was strange—his own reason had been stripped away, yet Isaac didn’t seem lost in the sex at all. Siron couldn’t even feel the pheromones of an aroused alpha from him. Instead, Isaac seemed to be parasitizing Baekgyeong’s pheromones, clinically observing Siron’s arousal.

In the middle of being pounded senseless, a chilling realization struck—Isaac was savoring his most degraded state, yet Siron had never once caught the scent of his pheromones. While his body climbed toward the edge of extreme pleasure, his mind was strangely, eerily still.

Through the narrow slats of the blinds, the deepening light of sunset poured into the office. They had returned to the safehouse around two in the afternoon, and now dusk was nearly upon them. Enough time had passed for Isaac’s repeated spills of semen, mixed with Siron’s slick, to have dried on the sofa in the lingering heat of late summer.

Face-down on the cushions, Siron drifted in and out of consciousness under Isaac’s thrusts. Hours of penetration and the dense cloud of pheromones had slackened the tight ring that once clamped around him, relaxing it as if a massive dose of muscle relaxant had been injected. The colon that once resisted each intrusion now parted like jelly to take him in.

Isaac looked down at his cock, wet and slick, disappearing into Siron’s unresisting hole. Even after prolonged sex, there was no trace of blood, no pained flinch when he drove in. Siron’s body, half-hard, even pulsed faintly around him, leaking a mix of semen and prostate fluid.

Compared to the fierce tightness at the start, his body had adapted far faster than expected. According to Yuri Berec’s research, alpha semen contained compounds similar to pheromones that induced physiological reactions in omegas.

In conditions like this—exposed to pheromones, fucked repeatedly, and regularly injected with an alpha’s semen—an omega’s heat cycle could be brought forward. And like the notes Yuri left behind, Siron’s body seemed unusually resilient to rough sex, like the evolved physique of the new human race built to endure alpha rut and knotting.

Isaac, after long shallow thrusts, pressed down on Siron’s shoulder and shoved in to the hilt in one motion. His inner walls rippled irregularly, shuddering in small spasms almost like a plea.

“Hhghk, haagh!”

Looking at Isaac with dreamy, unfocused eyes, Siron whispered.

“S... softer.”

“Softer?”

“Y-yeah... shhh... shallower.”

Isaac let out a low chuckle and withdrew from that root-deep penetration—though he gave up barely the length of a fingertip. Even so, the fog in Siron’s eyes began to clear.

What bloomed on his face then wasn’t relief or lingering pleasure. It was the confusion and fear of someone who’d barely broken the surface after flailing underwater.

Siron was terrified—terrified at how this all repeated as if it were natural, terrified that he was being trained to crave this pleasure.

Isaac remembered, suddenly, that he had created this situation—one where they could keep having sex under the guise of mutual release, while also testing the theory that he could accelerate Siron’s heat cycle. No one here would interfere, and Siron’s fear was worth savoring.

And ever since this had begun, the unpleasant headache that had followed Isaac since his seizures first started had dulled. Every kiss, every thrust, every breath Siron exhaled into him was pulling him back to normal.

It felt like more than just a change in nerve stimulation. It wasn’t a common hormonal reaction either—he wanted this feeling too badly. Life as an alpha without an omega felt like a curse.

Yuri. You made yourself an omega. Truly insane.

The image of Gezar Bazelli—his adoptive father—consumed by love for another man flickered in Isaac’s mind, leaving his face briefly empty.

He bent over to embrace Siron’s back, biting softly at the sweat-damp nape before adjusting his angle. Siron’s body had a developed intrarectal ridge between the prostate, bladder, and rectum—especially accessible from behind. It wasn’t so shallow that an average beta male could fully reach it, but Isaac’s length could press directly against it.

He guided his glans into that delicate, narrow place. The tiny muscles there flinched in rejection, a blocked sensation right at entry. Siron’s hips trembled in a light spasm.

Instead of forcing it, Isaac eased back out. Until Siron’s next heat cycle—maybe tomorrow, maybe later—he wouldn’t risk damaging him. He savored the soft resistance, keeping his thrusts shallow and slow.

An alpha imprints on an omega in heat by physically and chemically damaging the pheromone gland within that ridge.

If Yuri Berec’s notes were correct, knotting inside Siron during his heat and damaging the pheromone gland could bind them in imprinting—and free him from the curse of a limited lifespan. It was the clearest, most brutal, most alpha way to imprint.

But Manu Singh had said there were more records of Yuri’s—hinting that imprinting might involve something more than sex.

Isaac withdrew from the snug ridge and looked down at Siron, unconscious and voiceless. He had no desire to torment him further—he might rape and kill the men who chased him without hesitation, but necrophilia wasn’t among his vices.

After quenching his thirst with lukewarm water, he carried Siron into the shower. Once they were both clean, he laid a fresh blanket over the sofa soaked in every kind of bodily fluid, pulled Siron into his arms, and closed his eyes.

Siron awoke with a muddied mind. His memories flickered like a faulty light—having sex, blacking out, jerking awake to the sensation of being spread open, dozing off again, stuffing down cheap food to keep hunger at bay, washing the filth from his body, collapsing into deathlike sleep, waking to start all over again. Like a character trapped in a novel, he repeated this for days.

With the fourth floor’s door open where Baekgyeong lay unconscious, pheromones trickled down like water from high ground, filling the air on the third floor. Perhaps that was why it felt at times like the three of them were having sex together. Isaac was the one delivering the physical shocks, but it was Baekgyeong’s pheromones that kept Siron’s body loose and open for him.

Baekgyeong’s pheromones made him spread his legs for Isaac.

“Ah, haa, hhhuuhhp, ngh! Haa...”

Wanting to feel him more clearly, Siron tightened his muscles in pulses around Isaac’s cock. Behind him, Isaac let out a low sigh, slid his fingers into Siron’s mouth to rub his tongue, and sucked on his ear. Even that—just his ear—made it feel like his whole body was inside Isaac’s mouth.

Lying flat, knees bent wide like an amphibian, his pelvis open, he let Isaac’s cock in without resistance, feeling his gut churn with every deep stroke.

Whether it was tolerance or numbness, he no longer recoiled from the dense knot of pleasure twisting inside him. Now, he instinctively clenched and released in cycles, clinging to the whining aftershocks.

“Aah, goo... good...”

When Isaac hooked his glans against the rim of his colon and scraped it hard up and down, Siron let out a thin, broken cry as if his mind might burst. He had never felt such a particular kind of pleasure before—each stroke smeared sticky tremors through his whole body.

And somehow, his body was holding up against Isaac’s monstrous size. In the past, two rounds in a row would exhaust him, half a day of sex would leave him raw and torn. Now, after days—he didn’t even know how many—he was still holding together. Not fine, but not broken.

Just as alphas had monstrous healing, he, as an omega, clearly had a recovery rate of his own.

Shit... I hope it’s not just my genitals that heal well.

He exhaled hard and shook his head.

“Bored already, are we?”

The husky voice behind him made him flinch. The thick length slid out, leaving a long, heavy trail inside him. He shivered, goosebumps racing over his skin.

Flipping Siron onto his back, Isaac hooked his legs over his thighs.

“I’d like your attention.”

The cool air seeped into his gaping hole, making him clench instinctively—only for the head of Isaac’s cock to nudge right back in.

“Fhh... feels like we’ve been doing this for days, nnnhh, but how are you—hahh, ugh!”

His still-gaping entrance was suddenly filled to the hilt, so deep that the rough hair at the base scraped his oversensitized skin.

With his back to the floor, hips lifted over Isaac’s thighs, Siron could see his own belly. Every thrust made a low mound rise and fall around his navel.

For a moment he forgot to even moan, staring slack-jawed at the obscene sight with shock and a hint of disgust. Without realizing it, he was pushing against Isaac on the way in, gripping him on the way out.

It felt unbearably good, and unbearably foul. Every motion sent a more complex, sharper climax through him than anything jerking off could give. His altered body’s sensitivity was three, four times what it used to be, every touch amplified.

I’m going to be ruined.

It was like a drug—worse than a drug. The flood of pleasure across his whole body felt like it would melt his brain. If it went on like this, he’d be addicted, his mind pickled in lust.

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