L*st and Death

“Unbelievable. In all my life, I never thought I’d end up rinsing out Yoon Siron’s ass just to flush out another man’s cum.”

Baekgyeong sighed and shook his head. Siron’s anger boiled at the way Baekgyeong grumbled like he was the victim, and he tried to pull his hips away, shouting.

“Who— hhh— told you to? You— ngh— you could’ve just not— ahhh!”

Baekgyeong swatted his ass hard, as if to scold his defiance.

“Stay still.”

In a low voice, he warned him, then slid his fingers back inside. He deliberately pressed against the prostate, scraping outward from within. Siron’s body jolted upward, and strained groans slipped from his lips.

Catching the water from the showerhead, Baekgyeong shoved and scrubbed inside over and over. But even after flushing him out, the slickness wouldn’t go away—if anything, the more he rubbed and scraped, the more it seemed to build.

“How much did you grind together for cum to still be coming out no matter how much I scrape?”

“Ahhh— it’s not— ngh— not cum.”

“Haah, fuck, Siron. I can’t control my anger right now.”

Breathing like a firestorm into Siron’s ear, Baekgyeong kept scraping out the slick traces of Isaac. Yet the more he pressed, the more it felt like the moisture wasn’t semen at all, but lubrication seeping from Siron’s own mucosa. And above the prostate, his fingertips brushed against something like a tightly closed set of lips.

“I think you’ve got an injury in here...”

Leaping to the conclusion that Isaac had hurt him, Baekgyeong seethed—until sudden realization struck. He slid a finger carefully into the narrow gap between the folds. Siron flinched hard.

“Inner ring?”

“Don’t— hhh— don’t touch that!”

“...Ha.”

Baekgyeong stared at him in shock, then pushed his finger in deeper. The tight channel opened smoothly without obstruction.

“You really... became an omega.”

At his offhand murmur, Siron froze like he’d been struck in the back of the head. Baekgyeong was right. He was an omega now. The inner ring wasn’t some extra button for pleasure you could have or not—it was a structural change. He’d denied it all this time, but his body had already betrayed him.

“Lubrication’s coming from here.”

Moving his finger lightly inside the gap like scooping cream, Baekgyeong coaxed lubrication to swell from the narrow inner wall into the rectum. The slickness against his fingertips teased his nerves.

Maybe it was because he wanted to bury himself inside right then, but his pheromone output surged.

“Fascinating. It’s full of ridges in here.”

He whispered while brushing over the fine grooves and folds clinging to his finger.

“And the entrance expands even though it’s this small.”

Every word was a blow to Siron, stirring shock and humiliation. He’d avoided thinking seriously about the change in his body, comforting himself with the idea that if a normal man could turn into an omega, an omega could turn back into a beta. But Baekgyeong’s blunt words forced him to face the reality.

“The folds here are stretching.”

“Shut up.”

“Ha, you’re fucking something else.”

“I said shut up!”

Siron burst out, and suddenly tears poured like a flood. Baekgyeong could see the enormity of the shame he felt in his twisted expression. And disgustingly enough, he felt something like grief over Siron’s change.

“Why are you crying? You’re making me soft.”

“Hhh, bastard— you really— don’t know— why I’m crying?”

He didn’t pull out or thrust in deeper, just traced the rim of the gap with his fingertip. Even that had Siron trembling in fine spasms, sobbing hard.

Heat rushed from Baekgyeong’s nape to his crown, flushing his whole body. He wanted to make him cry more from pleasure, yet the pitiful sight kept braking his lust.

“Should I not thrust?”

“Hhh... mm.”

Siron’s damp eyes lowered, his reply little more than a moan.

“Would it hurt if I did?”

Sliding his finger in slowly, Baekgyeong bent it up and down. The stimulation hit not only the inner ring’s mucosa but the prostate and bladder in turn, and precum oozed from Siron’s sex.

“Hhh— ngh— it— hurts— feels like— it’s tearing.”

He shivered, but his body’s response was anything but pain, which only irked Baekgyeong. Curling his finger like a hook, he rubbed along the horizontal grain of the inner folds, making Siron gasp and clench tight.

“What? Did Bazelli knot in here?”

“Hhh— kno...tting?”

“When the thing swells up like a fist.”

“Oh.”

Siron made a small sound of recognition, then quickly looked away to avoid his eyes.

“He didn’t.”

“Hold on, Yoon Siron.”

With his bound hands, Siron shoved at Baekgyeong’s grim face.

“I said— hhh— we didn’t have sex.”

“You little—!”

“Haa, ngh— don’t you— feel sorry for me?”

Baekgyeong gave a short, bitter laugh. No matter what Siron said, his mind kept circling back to the certainty that Isaac had knotted him here. The thought of Isaac pushing his cockhead into this deep, hidden place made his vision go black with jealousy.

Had Siron enjoyed it? Or had it been forced?

Back then, Siron would spread his legs easily with just a little pressure—because Baekgyeong wanted it. Maybe he’d done the same for Isaac. It felt like a chain was wrapped tight around his heart, squeezing.

Baekgyeong lifted him and set him down in front of a mirror, stepping in close behind him, pressing their lower bodies flush together before Siron could resist.

“Nothing’s really changed. Just think of it as having one more path in your body.”

Staring into Siron’s wet face in the old mirror, he said,

“You can forget about it most of the time, just open it for me when you’re with me like now.”

“Bastard— ngh— you think that’s possible?”

Baekgyeong looked at their reflection, then gave a faint laugh. The flushed, tear-wet face glaring at him was suffocatingly beautiful. Under long, thick lashes, the black eyes glistened under a clear film, and the lips, parted from swallowing back sobs, trembled faintly in deep red.

By contrast, he himself looked bloodless, barely breathing. Yet their size difference made Siron’s body seem small and fragile in comparison—like holding a delicate little bird to his chest.

Feeling a pang of protectiveness, Baekgyeong kissed the tears from his cheek. Imagining Siron’s small frame straining to take him made him ache with both pity and unbearable lust.

“Siron, you’re hot.”

Just licking his ear had turned his face slack in the mirror. Baekgyeong realized he was being swept up in his pheromones—and that his own short lull in the rut cycle had ended, dragging him back into the maddening heat of arousal.

He undid Siron’s restraints, tossed the belt to the floor, and bit at his nape. For some reason, it felt like red-hot sweat was rising from his pores.

Was Yoon Siron’s scent always this strong?

Drunk on the sweetness, he sucked at the skin.

Suddenly, a heavy sweetness brushed Baekgyeong’s nose—the cloying scent of fruit just before it rots, thick and sticky. It spread slowly, intensifying, pulling him somewhere strange.

Layered into Siron’s scent was the tang of blood and the greasy musk of muscle torn fresh from slaughter—like the aroma that would make a predator sink its teeth into a helpless animal’s throat. It was so overwhelming it no longer felt like scent, but an atmosphere.

And there was something else—an itch, like an allergic reaction, swelling under his skin. It was like a meteor streaking across his body, leaving behind the hot afterglow of its passing.

What is this?

Baekgyeong was dazed. In that moment, Siron suddenly bent forward, bracing hard against the mirror.

“Hh?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Hhh, ngh.”

His unfocused eyes lost their target. Whitish drool slipped from between parted lips, dangling from his chin. It was like the face of someone just after retching.

“Haa— haa— ngh— haaa.”

Panting harshly, scraping at the mirror, Siron suddenly looked up. Staring dumbly at Baekgyeong’s reflection, he spread his ass wide with both hands.

“S-scratch it.”

“What?”

“With your cock— ngh— now!”

Baekgyeong was stunned by the sudden invitation, but he didn’t have time to think.

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