“Sorry, I… I’m really sorry.”
Haon blurted out an apology before anything else. There was no other choice—it was that kind of situation.
“I… I truly am sorry….”
He had reached out to wipe Inho’s soiled hand, but couldn’t bear to raise his head. Instead, he fled under the covers. If there had been a mouse hole nearby, he would’ve emptied his savings just to crawl into it.
“…….”
Inho said nothing.
Haon clenched his eyes shut, utterly overwhelmed by the suffocating silence. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what kind of expression Inho had on his face as he looked at him.
Part of him hoped Inho would just walk out without a word, but another part dreaded that exact outcome. What if he really did leave? He wished—desperately—that this was all just a bad dream.
To have his very first time touching himself be witnessed by someone he liked—Haon’s mind had gone completely blank.
Inho, who usually took the lead in their conversations, was utterly silent now, and that only made things worse. Haon’s thoughts came to a grinding halt.
Ah… maybe he already left.
Haon figured that maybe, in his panic, he’d missed the sound of Inho’s footsteps. After all, there was no way Inho would stay silent for this long.
That thought made his nose sting. He felt like his insides were twisting up at the idea of not being able to face Inho anymore.
“Ah!”
Just as Haon gave a tiny, tearful sniff, completely sunk into his gloom, his body was suddenly lifted off the floor.
Inho had picked him up—blanket and all.
Carefully, he moved Haon from where he was sprawled out on the floor and laid him gently onto the bed. Inho supported his body until his back and hips were fully resting on the sheets. Then he added an apology of his own.
“Sorry for walking in so suddenly.”
There was something like a faint smile in his voice. Maybe Haon was just imagining it.
“You’re not feeling sick or anything, right?”
Even after laying Haon down, Inho didn’t leave the bed. He gently patted him as if coaxing him to uncurl from his fetal position, pulling over a pillow that had been flung aside and tucking it under Haon’s head.
“If you’re even a little hungry, just let me know.”
He tapped lightly on Haon’s stomach, where food would usually go.
“There’s fruit… and I’m here too.”
Inho settled into a spot on the bed, waiting for Haon to respond.
But Haon, still frozen in the same position Inho had laid him in, said nothing.
The silence stretched on. Haon lay perfectly still under the blanket, like someone who had fainted.
“I’m starting to worry. Say something. Anything.”
Inho lightly poked the crown of Haon’s head, the only part of him sticking out from under the covers.
Finally, Haon let out a couple of quiet coughs to clear his throat.
“I’m not hungry….”
Well, that’s a relief.
Relieved, Inho scooted a little closer to Haon. As he fiddled with the wrinkled blanket, he was reminded of the slippery fluid that had stained his hand earlier.
“Haon-ssi.”
“Yes…”
Maybe it was because Inho had said he was worried, but this time Haon responded immediately. That gentle nature of his made Inho press his lips together to stifle a smile.
It wasn’t just amusement that made him want to laugh—it was funny, sure, but also endearing, and… more than that. Wearing a smile laced with many meanings, Inho stared at the lumpy mound under the blanket.
“Are you crying?”
“No, I’m not crying.”
“Then show me your face.”
When he’d first walked in the door, he had only meant to help Haon fall asleep peacefully. But now, that plan had all but vanished. After spending the whole day with him, only for Haon to do something so lewd the moment they were apart… Inho couldn’t just let him sleep and pretend nothing happened.
“I’m just worried about you.”
If he was going to do it, they should’ve done it together.
Haon swallowed hard and finally mustered the courage to lower the blanket. He felt guilty—not only had he dirtied Inho’s hand, but now he was making him worry, too.
“I didn’t cry…”
He figured if he kept apologizing any more, Inho wouldn’t like it, so he just showed his face. His nose stung a little, but no tears had fallen.
Still, Inho really ought to wash his hands. Haon’s gaze flicked nervously not to Inho’s eyes but to his hands. Though his face was exposed now, he couldn’t bring himself to look Inho in the eye.
As his eyes darted to Inho’s hand, then to the bedsheet where Inho was leaning, Haon bit down on his lip. Of all places, Inho had braced his hand exactly there—the very spot Haon had been grinding against in a frenzy earlier.
To hide the pounding of his heart, Haon tried to retreat under the covers again, but Inho held the blanket in place.
“Don’t bite your lip.”
Inho leaned in beside his head and gently touched his flushed lips. The skin, already healed from a previous bite, was soft and tender.
If only bruises healed as fast as lips did. That thought drifted through his mind as he lightly pressed on Haon’s plush lips.
“Can I touch you?”
He was already touching him.
Haon’s face turned as red as an apple as he lowered his gaze. He didn’t say yes or no—he just quietly parted his lips. A silent answer, but one that couldn’t be mistaken.
“Aren’t you tired?”
Inho continued tracing the curve of Haon’s lower lip and the corner of his mouth as he asked. When Haon gave a faint shake of the head, Inho let out a soft chuckle and leaned in lower.
That made Haon’s scent reach him more vividly.
It wasn’t the smell of an omega—it was the distinct softness of bare skin. A gentle, comforting scent, like that of a newborn.
It was almost like soap. That scent of Haon’s skin tickled the tip of Inho’s nose. Having gone through Haon’s heat twice, the smell had become somewhat familiar to him.
Inho, intoxicated by that scent, had once buried his face into every inch of Haon’s delicate skin—kissing, licking, savoring it. That’s how addictive it was.
And it wasn’t even pheromones. Strange, wasn’t it?
The thought that the scent had likely lingered on the clothes Haon had worn earlier made something stir down below. His lower half started to stiffen. Inho leaned forward fully, making sure to keep his hips from pressing against Haon.
He brought his face down until their noses almost touched, then naturally brushed their lips together. He took a gentle bite of Haon’s parted, breathy mouth before releasing it—only to run his tongue along it again.
“Can I keep going?”
Again, he asked only after he’d already acted.
No matter how long he waited, Haon wouldn’t speak first—so Inho couldn’t help but take the lead. If Haon would just say he wanted it, Inho could give him anything. But Haon rarely opened his mouth to ask.
“If you don’t answer, I’m not stopping.”
He gave Haon’s lower jaw a soft nibble in warning. He wanted Haon to say it—to tell him he wanted to be kissed. Not just cast side glances, but say the words aloud, with that beautiful voice of his.
But it seemed like even that was too much for Haon. Or maybe… he wanted Inho to keep going.
So, as he’d warned, Inho captured those soft lips again. Spreading his arms around Haon’s slender frame, he devoured him with just his mouth.
The warmth inside Haon’s mouth was narrow and wet—so evocative it reminded Inho of even deeper, tighter places. He clenched his fist, then looked down at Haon.
Just from kissing, Haon was already breathless. His eyes squeezed shut, his pulse—once pounding in his neck—had now plunged low into his abdomen, making it impossible to think straight.
His underwear was already soaked through, eroding what little reason he had left. Every time Inho’s tongue swept and pressed against his sensitive mucosa, Haon’s hips twitched and sweet, broken moans slipped out.
“Haa…!”
Whenever Haon let out a sound, Inho targeted that same spot even more intently—his eyes fixed on the flush spreading across Haon’s face.
He slipped a hand under the blanket that lay between them, reaching for Haon’s quivering waist.
“Ah…”
His fingers first met soft, bare skin—Haon’s clothes had ridden up. Inho peeled off the rustling jacket and pulled the blanket away entirely before Haon had a chance to stop him.
“I-Inho-ssi…”
When Inho finally let go of Haon’s entwined tongue so he could breathe, the name escaped in a voice laced with moans.
“Yes, Haon-ssi.”
Inho immediately pulled his hand back from where it had started trailing down Haon’s thigh, instead bracing himself on the bedsheet.
Haon, catching his breath, looked like he had something to say. He hesitated, then looked up at Inho.
Afraid that looking down from above might come off as too dominant, Inho started to lean back, but Haon suddenly grabbed his shoulder.
It was instinctive, as if his body had moved before he realized it. His face turned startled at his own action.
“Say it. I’m listening.”
Inho, wearing a gentle smile, clasped Haon’s hand in his and pressed a kiss to the back of it.
The kiss, which began at the hand, trailed upward—past the wrist and all the way to the elbow. As he waited patiently for Haon to speak, Inho touched his lips to the smooth skin as if leaving a seal with every press.
“I…”
Haon exhaled a shaky breath as he watched Inho nibble lightly on his elbow. Those deep black eyes were looking at him like they wanted to swallow him whole.
Inho’s expression was calm, composed, but in those eyes shimmered a heat that bordered on blazing. Haon recognized that gaze. The look of an Alpha who wanted to be inside him.
All Alphas had looked at him that way. When he cried out in pain, they’d say it meant he liked it—and push even harder. When he gasped for breath, they’d relish the sight of him struggling beneath them.
But Inho… was nothing like them.
Even the desire in his eyes felt different.
To Haon, Inho was more special than anyone else had ever been—from the very first moment they met until now. And he knew, deep down, that he always would be.
“I… I’m not hungry….”
But what about Inho? What did he feel?
Haon tensed his thighs and looked straight into Inho’s eyes. His cheeks were burning, but he didn’t look away.
“I know.”
Inho, who had been gently biting at Haon’s soft skin, answered in a low voice. His gaze was calm, trying to read the meaning behind Haon’s sudden words.
Haon’s lips, now as red as a ripened pomegranate, opened and closed without sound. He was clearly turning something over in his mind.
“It’s okay. Just say it all.”
Inho waited patiently, running his fingers through Haon’s hair. The soft texture was addictive—too pleasant to resist.
“Inho-ssi…”
Haon finally broke the silence. Even after speaking, his eyes flickered with hesitation, as if wondering whether he was allowed to ask this kind of thing.
“Do you… do you always…”
Even so, he pushed the words out. Because Inho had told him it was okay.
“…kiss people like this, even when you’re not dating them?”
