L*st and Death

Alcohol addiction, carbohydrate addiction, drug addiction, nicotine addiction, sex addiction—countless other addictions besides.

Whenever the topic of addiction came up, Siron would inevitably recall the smoking-cessation episode of his former manager, Kim Hwangjung, the one who had once sold his private life to the press.

Kim Hwangjung had been a chronic heavy smoker, burning through two packs a day. Around the time he and his long-time girlfriend began talking about marriage, she suddenly gave him an ultimatum: no quitting, no wedding. The decision was made easier by his worsening cough and the darkening pallor of his face. He finally decided to put down the cigarettes for good.

Kim Hwangjung was a peculiar man—somehow exceptional, yet skewed. Even his way of quitting was unlike anyone else’s. His reckless plan was to smoke until he was utterly sick of it, to drive himself to the point of hating cigarettes.

Whenever he had a spare moment, he chain-smoked. He set endless timers, and, like a man forcing himself out of bed to his morning alarm, dragged himself up just to smoke. It got to the point where Siron worried he might die of nicotine poisoning, so extreme was his all-or-nothing approach. It lasted only four days, but even that was enough for Siron—overwhelmed by the stench of cigarette smoke—to take a taxi to the set alone.

In the end, Kim Hwangjung quit. After three days in the hospital, suffering through severe headaches, dizziness, and vomiting, he swore off cigarettes forever. He claimed the repeated forced smoking at unwanted times had burned him out completely.

Up until then, Siron had never heard of anyone quitting like that. Still, it worked. Perhaps it was possible only because he was the sort of man who, once fixated, wouldn’t stop until he saw it through to the end.

So then... was it possible to get sick of sex the same way?

“You’re so fucking precious.”

Baekgyeong pressed his lips hard against the sweat-beaded skin of Siron’s forehead, then pulled away. The sensation of skin against skin was so vivid it felt unreal. Even after being wrung out by relentless sex, Siron still found the warmth of another person’s body strange.

Baekgyeong sat on the bathroom floor with his back against the wall, and Siron leaned into him comfortably, still knotted. Buried in the mess of semen inside him, he was caught in a filthy haze of pleasure.

“Hhmp, hahk, hh, ...mmgh!”

“Even when you’re crying about how hard it is, you’re still rolling your hips.”

Baekgyeong reached from behind, tugging and twisting Siron’s swollen red nipples while biting down on the nape of his neck. The lips brushing his skin were rough, the body pressed against him burning hot. He looked like he might collapse at any moment, but still had enough strength to keep himself hard, lost in instinct.

“Hhup, ghh, stop coming.”

“Feels like I’m pissing inside you while I’m coming... haah.”

A wet squelch seeped from between them. It was the sound of Siron grinding his hips in short motions with Baekgyeong still buried deep inside. The crude rhythm made Baekgyeong shudder ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) and drop his voice into a husky whisper.

“Wanna do it facing each other?”

“Hhup, haa, n-no, hhup, ngh! J-just stay still.”

Siron shook his head violently, reaching back to push at Baekgyeong’s lower abdomen. He had learned that what Isaac had once told him—damage the pheromone gland in the nape to form an Imprint—was a lie. Baekgyeong had explained it differently: you had to damage the pheromone gland deep inside an omega’s inner wall during their heat cycle for an Imprint to take hold.

Deceived by Isaac’s lie, Siron had treated the Imprint lightly. After his first knotting, he became trapped in an endlessly repeating cycle. The pressure and pain whenever Baekgyeong’s cock jammed deep inside him no longer felt new. Even what had once been unbearable size now met with instinctive acceptance; his body remembered, tightening and loosening in rhythm, sucking on that massive cock all on its own.

“Ah, that—hahhh...!”

The sex went on and on. Each time Baekgyeong alternated between his inner passage and his rectum, knotting again and again, fire surged along Siron’s peripheral nerves. The destructive pleasure of his cervix and colon being lifted and his body forced into unnatural shapes made his sensitivity climb higher and higher.

Surely this was enough to get sick of it. But pleasure was an endless mire, and there was no way out.

Like Kim Hwangjung quitting cigarettes, Siron wished this constant craving would vanish. Maybe he had surpassed the threshold; the once-relentless desire was losing strength over time. Hormonal regulation was damping his arousal.

Ten hours had passed since the first knotting. Through interaction with an alpha, an omega’s body signaled that reproductive goals had been met—a physiological mechanism to prevent unnecessary further mating by releasing hormones that suppressed it.

So when Isaac kicked the door open into their hideout, they were already entering a lull, their libido slowly descending.

Eyes closed, savoring the cock inside him, Siron lifted his heavy lids at the loud thud of the door. He was half out of it, not even thinking to close his spread legs or realizing just how obscene he looked, panting, when he met Isaac’s gaze.

Isaac didn’t move for a long moment, as though he needed time to process the sight of Siron draped limply against Baekgyeong, their bodies locked together. Then, under his skin, something like fury stirred.

Shaking off his paralysis, he took in the sight of Siron’s body, now marked with more bite wounds and bruises than in all their sex during the past three days. His eyes lingered especially on the convulsing thighs spread wide, the hole stretched taut around the base of Baekgyeong’s cock with not a wrinkle in sight, before finally shifting to Siron’s face.

At last he let out a low sigh. Even in his daze, Siron felt the weight of an impending explosion in that silence. It was only then that he realized, like being struck by lightning, just how filthy he looked.

“Th-that’s—ah! Aahh!”

“You’ll tear. Sit.”

Forgetting he was still knotted, Siron tried to bolt upright. The pain of his inner walls dragging against Baekgyeong’s cock forced him back down. Baekgyeong, making a show of it, wrapped an arm around his lower belly and pulled him close, greeting Isaac with an aggressive flood of pheromones.

“Welcome. As you can see, we’re knotted right now, so this is the only way to say hello.”

Baekgyeong kissed the crown of Siron’s head, his cheek, the curve of his ear in showy little pecks. Siron’s heart pounded as if it would burst. Isaac still said nothing. Standing in the darkened living room behind him, he smelled faintly of wet blood. When Siron realized he was watching them with an animal’s gaze, there was no room left for shame.

Three days of torment just for sucking Baekgyeong’s cock—this time, they might both die at his hands. Feeling the real threat to his life, Siron whispered in a pleading tone:

“I-it’s because of the heat cycle, hh, we c-couldn’t, hhh, help it—”

“Haa, Yoon Siron.”

Baekgyeong took Siron’s face and turned it toward him.

“You’re the one who wanted the Imprint. Remember?”

A wet sheen glimmered in Baekgyeong’s pitch-black eyes. Siron froze at the wounded look there. It felt like kicking a half-tamed stray dog that had finally given him its trust. But he had no choice.

Beneath the flush of arousal, pallor lurked in Baekgyeong’s skin—a sickly, exhausted look that made it unsurprising he might stop breathing at any moment. If Isaac hit him a few times in anger, he’d be unconscious for days again, if not worse.

This time we really might die.

Isaac stepped forward from the doorway. He looked down at the two of them for a moment, and Siron instinctively tried to press his legs together to hide his half-hard cock.

“...So this is your pheromone.”

He reached out. Cold, hard fingers gripped Siron’s face roughly, turning his head left and right as if inspecting a broken toy. Despite the roughness, his expression was detached, as though none of this concerned him.

...He’s not angry?

Just as Siron began to cling to that thread of hope, Isaac reached toward the wall. His hand closed around the showerhead hanging there. The stainless steel hose whipped through the air and looped around Baekgyeong’s neck.

“...Khh!”

Baekgyeong jolted violently. He tried to tear the hose away, but there wasn’t nearly enough air getting in. Each ragged breath rasped with metal.

“Don’t! Stop! Please, stop!”

Panicking, Siron shoved and clawed at Isaac to separate them, but he didn’t budge. Even when Baekgyeong’s desperate breaths halted and his arms dropped limply to the floor, Isaac still kept choking him. Siron’s fear spiked.

“Enough!”

Siron’s whole body shook as he let out something close to a scream. Only then did Isaac release the pressure on Baekgyeong’s throat. He flung the showerhead to the floor, knelt down on one knee in front of Siron, and met his eyes. As his black trousers touched the wet tiles, a bloom of bright red spread across them.

Instinctively inhaling, Siron gagged at the rush of blood scent. He could feel Baekgyeong’s slow breathing behind him, but it brought no relief. Isaac could still change his mind and kill him at any moment.

“Hh-hhh, d-don’t kill Gyeong, p-please.”

“Shh.”

Isaac’s patience-worn expression sharpened. The icy blue of his gaze skewered Siron like a spike. Overwhelmed by the killing intent in the air, Siron clamped his mouth shut.

“You’ve fully manifested as an omega.”

Isaac spoke.

“Accepting your nature completely... that’s something to be congratulated for.”

But despite the calm tone, his eyes still burned with unrelenting rage.

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