Jeon Jiwoon returns to the counter. He says nothing, looks at no one.
Pier and Joonha keep talking to each other.
The music is loud, the lights bounce off the glasses and sweat-slicked cheeks, but he hears nothing.
Only Hanjae, out there on the dance floor, hands on someone else’s shoulders. His body pressed tight, face flushed, shirt hanging open.
Lips parted, breath heavy, but those eyes—those eyes aren’t looking for him.

Jiwoon waits.
He waits for it to end.
He waits for him to get tired.
He waits for him to come back.

When Hanjae finally approaches, he’s laughing.
His eyes are shining, but not with joy. His scent hits Jiwoon instantly—jasmine, sweat, alcohol, and buried rage. Jiwoon grits his teeth. His heart pounds too fast.
Lavender against jasmine.
Their scents clash in the air like two beasts locked in a cage.

Hanjae looks at him, eyes glassy—maybe he’d been about to cry, maybe not.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” he rasps, stepping away unsteadily.

“He’s wasted, I’ll go check—” Seojoon starts, but Jiwoon slams his palm on the counter.
His eyes are red, feral.
“Thanks. I’ll handle it.”
He shoots to his feet. “I’ll take him home.”

He leaves, dragging with him only his scent and a cutting silence.

Hanjae is in front of the mirror. His chest rises and falls too fast. He’s splashed cold water on his neck, but it isn’t enough. His heartbeat won’t slow—he knows Jiwoon is coming.
The door swings open and shuts with a dull thud. Jiwoon leans his back against it, eyes locked on him.

“I was gone ten minutes,” he says, his voice thin and sharp as steel. “And look at you.”

Hanjae laughs. Bitter, trembling.
“Wow. Ten minutes. Were you counting?”
He turns toward him, eyes glassy, lips tight. “What did you two even say in ten minutes, hm?”

“Nothing important. He was crying and—”

“And you comforted him?!” Hanjae yells. “After what he did? After he cheated? After humiliating you on national TV?!”

Jiwoon’s fists clench. He steps forward.
“We were together three years, Hanjae. You think that’s simple for me?”

Hanjae’s chest swells, a knot choking him. He looks away and starts to leave.
Jiwoon blocks him.
Back against the door.
“Why don’t you tell me what the hell’s going on in your head? You said you and Seojoon were over, but it sure doesn’t look like it.”

Hanjae glares. “Now I have to justify myself to you?”

“You wanted me to. Now it’s your turn. Since we started sleeping together, have you been screwing him too?”

Everything stops.
Hanjae laughs—harsh, hysterical. He rakes his hands through his hair.
“Christ. Seojoon and I are friends. What we had was never important.”

“Why?”

“Because you—” He freezes. The words die in his throat.

“Because me what?!”

“Move. Let me out.”

“No. Finish what you started.”

“Jiwoon, get the fuck out of my way!” His voice rises. His hormones spike, sharp and aggressive. His eyes blaze like twin molten blades.

Jiwoon looks at him. Then, he accepts the challenge.
“You really think you can intimidate me with your hormones?”

He steps closer.
Lavender, once subtle, turns dominant.
It floods the air. Floods him.

Hanjae stumbles, breath catching. Too much.
Too close. Too powerful.
Any normal alpha would crumble, but not him. He trembles, but not from fear.

He’s never seen Jiwoon like this. Muscles taut, eyes glowing red with fury.
Fury he himself had lit.

Hanjae smiles.
A dangerous smile.
“Oh, that was just a little grind, you know?” He licks his lips. “Nothing compared to how he used to slam me against these sinks.”

He sees it—
The flicker in Jiwoon’s eyes.
The fuse sparking.

Jiwoon grabs him.
Shoves him hard against the sink.
Yanks his shirt down below his nipples, tears at his pants until they give.

Hanjae doesn’t resist. He lets him.

Jiwoon bends him over the marble. Grabs his underwear, yanking until there’s space, right there, where his hidden spot lies. Then, with one hand clamped on the side of his neck, he holds him down, keeps him there. His other hand slides down his back, over his ass.

He licks him.
His tongue teases the muscle and Hanjae cries out, startled, embarrassed.
No one had ever done that to him before.

The tongue pushes in, ignoring his half-voiced protests.
It opens him, wets him, works him.
Only after long minutes does Jiwoon stop.

With his foot, he kicks Hanjae’s legs apart. Wide.
Hanjae collapses over the counter, breath gone as he feels Jiwoon’s cock press against his now slick, reddened rim.

Jiwoon takes him. Rough, graceless.

Hanjae’s body arches, realizing he’s never been taken this deep before.
“F-fuck…!” he gasps, knuckles white on the sink’s edge.

Jiwoon groans with him.
He thrusts. He owns him.
Each push is deep, powerful.
Hanjae pants with every drive, craving each one.
Jiwoon’s hands clamp his hips, already red, already marked.
The slap of their bodies echoes through the empty bathroom, paired with wet, obscene sounds.

“Like this…” Jiwoon whispers against his back. “Is this how he fucked you, hm?”

Hanjae doesn’t answer. He bites his lip.
Jiwoon fists his hair, yanks his head back, forces him to look in the mirror.

“Say it, Hanjae.”

“N-no! Christ, no!” Hanjae moans. Eyes glassy. Mouth open.
“N-no one… no one’s ever fucked me like this!” he admits, between broken cries.

Jiwoon stares. Watches his sensual body tremble beneath his thrusts.
“As I thought,” he breathes, before slamming back into him.
Harder.

“F-FUCK!” Hanjae screams, voice shattered by pleasure.

Jiwoon keeps driving in, out.
Harder. Deeper.

Jasmine turns sharp, tangles with lavender. The air thickens, scorching.
Hanjae feels him everywhere.

Feels the knot. The swelling.
Feels it growing inside him, burying deep.
And he loves it. Hates it. Wants it more.

“Are you coming for me?” Jiwoon growls.
“I want you to come while you take my knot, understand?”

Hanjae gasps. His mouth open, drool slipping from his lips.
He doesn’t need to reply. Jiwoon knows he will.

Jiwoon comes with a deep, animalistic moan.
He bites down on Hanjae’s neck, drags him close, floods him.
The knot swells, locking them together.
Burning them.

Hanjae follows at the same time. His body convulses beneath him.
Only with Jiwoon’s thrusts, his scent, his voice, his knot.
Like the omega he longs to be.

They collapse together against the sink, breaths ragged.

Then silence.

Only water dripping from the faucet. Only blood on bitten lips. Only hearts racing too fast.

Jiwoon kisses the back of his neck. Once, twice. Possessive, claiming him as only an alpha could.

And Hanjae closes his eyes, surrendering to his lips.

Neither understands the other. Neither can grasp what’s happening.
But one thing is clear—something between them shouldn’t exist.
Jealousy.

Jiwoon leans against his back, breathing still uneven.
Neither says a word.
Because neither would know where to start.
Hanjae squeezes his eyes shut, pressed to the cold marble, and for a moment, nothing else matters.

Only them.
Only this.