Kaiseng woke burning.

Not the sharp heat of illness, but the slow, coiling warmth that settled low in his body and refused to move. His skin felt too tight, too sensitive—every brush of fabric registering as friction. The sheets were tangled around his legs, clinging where he didn’t want them to.

His hips rolled instinctively against the mattress before he caught himself. His breath stuttered, chest rising too fast, the air thick in his lungs. He dragged a hand over his stomach, grounding, then froze.

Scent.

Bellamy.

It lingered faintly in the sheets—subtle, softened by time but unmistakable. Clean warmth, the quiet sweetness beneath suppressants, the memory of skin and closeness and hands roamed with devotion. Kaiseng inhaled despite himself, a slow pull of breath that made his toes curl and his pulse spike.

His body answered immediately.

Heat pooled low, insistent, awareness sharpening until it bordered on painful. For a moment—just a dangerous, breathless moment—he could almost feel Bellamy there. The weight of him. The press of thighs. 

Kaiseng groaned softly and rolled onto his side, pressing his face into the pillow like it might smother the need clawing its way up his spine. His hand tightened in the sheets, knuckles whitening as he fought the instinct to chase the sensation.

Blockers.

The thought came hazy but persistent. The bathroom wasn’t far. One dose and this would dull, blur back into something manageable. That was what they were for. He didn’t move. His body throbbed with the familiar, infuriating certainty that he could handle this. That he always had. That he didn’t need help. Didn’t need a scent to anchor to. Didn’t need—

His hips shifted again, slow and unconscious, friction sparking heat straight through him. A sharp breath left him before he could stop it.

He clenched his jaw, forcing himself still.

He could do this alone.

He had before.

The room felt too quiet, too empty, his senses stretched thin and searching. The warmth only built, coiling tighter with every second, like something waiting to snap.

The doorbell rang.

Kaiseng flinched, a sharp irritation cutting through the haze of heat coiled in his gut. The sound felt too loud, too intrusive, like it scraped against his nerves.

He ignored it.

His jaw clenched as he rolled onto his side, dragging the sheets tighter around his hips, forcing his breathing to slow. Whoever it was could wait. Everyone could wait.

The bell rang again.

And again.

A low sound left his throat—something between a growl and a curse—as he shoved himself upright. The sheet fisted around his middle, held at his waist as his bare feet hit the floor. His skin felt oversensitive to the air, every step grounding him just enough to keep moving. By the time he reached the entryway, irritation burned hot and sharp in his chest.

Then he stopped.

It hit him like a hand to the sternum—warm, familiar, unmistakable. Rian. His breath caught hard, shallow. The smell of him flooded the space through the door, rich and wrapping around Kaiseng’s senses, stirring his cock to full, painful hardness beneath the thin fabric. He swallowed hard, throat clicking dryly, the simple aroma igniting fresh waves of rut-lust that made his vision blur at the edges. Stepping back instinctively, he pressed a hand to the wall for support, inhaling deeper. 

The doorbell fell silent, no more chimes to demand attention. Then, a soft click echoed—the lock turning from the outside. The door swung open, and there stood Rian, face flushed a deep crimson, his chest heaving with shallow breaths under a simple t-shirt and pants. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his dark hair disheveled, eyes glassy with the fever of need. Rian’s heat flooded the space now, thick and cloying, making Kaiseng’s cock twitch and leak pre-cum against his thigh.

Neither spoke. Words were irrelevant in the face of this pull, the bond thrumming between them like a live wire. Rian’s fingers caught the hem of his shirt, bunching the fabric before yanking it up and over his head in one fluid motion. His muscled torso bared, nipples already peaked from the heat raging through him, a faint sheen of slick visible.

Kaiseng didn’t have time to process the sight before instinct took over. He lunged forward, pressing Rian back against the wall with a thud that rattled a nearby picture frame. The sheet pooled at his feet, forgotten, as his hands moved with efficiency—fingers popping the button on Rian’s pants, yanking the zipper down. Rian’s cock sprang free, hard and leaking, and Kaiseng wrapped his palm around it without hesitation, stroking from base to tip in firm, twisting pulls that drew a choked gasp from the omega’s lips.

Kaiseng ground his own erection against Rian’s hip, the hot length sliding over fabric and skin, smearing pre-cum in its wake. Their mouths crashed together, aggressive and devouring—Kaiseng’s tongue thrusting deep, claiming every inch of Rian’s heat-sweetened mouth. He tasted the desperation there, felt Rian’s body arch into him, hips bucking into Kaiseng’s grip.

Pain throbbed through Kaiseng’s lower lip as Rian’s teeth clamped down, the sharp sting blooming into a metallic tang on his tongue. He jerked back just enough to break the hold, a thin trickle of blood welling up where the skin had split. “Fuck, Rian,” he rasped, voice rough with the edge. His thumb pressed against the wound, smearing the crimson streak across his skin, the warmth of it grounding him amid the haze of pheromones thickening the air.

“You smell wrong,” Rian murmured, his head thudding softly against the wall behind him, breath hot and uneven. “You reek of another omega.” Rian’s expression was an indiscernible mask before his eyes drifted away, scanning the apartment. They flicked past the kitchen counters over his shoulder, then slid sideways to the living room, where the couch sat in the dim light filtering through the curtains.

Kaiseng forced a swallow, his throat tight. “If there was someone else, do you really think I’d be rutting against you like this?” The lie slipped out smooth, but it stuck in his chest, heavy with the ghost of Bellamy’s scent still clinging to his apartment.

Rian let out a short, disbelieving huff, his gaze snapping back to lock onto Kaiseng’s. Silence stretched between them with the unspoken accusation. Then, without warning, Rian’s hand shot up, fingers digging into the nape of Kaiseng’s neck with firm strength. He steered Kaiseng toward the couch, shoving him down onto the cushions with a force that made the alpha’s back hit the fabric hard.

“Are you lying to me, Park?” Rian’s voice was low, laced with a dangerous calm as he loomed over him, palms planting on the couch backrest on either side of Kaiseng’s head, caging him in. A faint smile curved his lips, sweet as honey, but his brown eyes were empty voids, drinking in Kaiseng’s every twitch and flinch.

Rian’s mouth ghosted down the line of Kaiseng’s jaw, inhaling deeply, nostrils flaring to pull in the alpha’s scent—musk and sweat and that faint, betraying trace of foreign omega. Kaiseng swallowed again, harder this time, as Rian’s teeth grazed his throat, a teasing scrape that sent sparks racing down his spine. The omega’s body descended with him, face dipping lower, the bridge of his nose dragging over Kaiseng’s collarbone, then across the planes of his chest, cataloging every inch with deliberate sniffs.

Kaiseng’s cock jerked, the tip glistening with fresh pre-cum as Rian’s heat radiated closer, the proximity alone making his balls draw up tight. The air hummed with their mingled scents—Kaiseng’s edge sharpening against Rian’s sweet, heated allure, now spiked with jealousy that made it almost acrid.

“Did you miss me while he helped you forget who you belong to?” Rian whispered, voice vibrating against Kaiseng’s skin. “Did it feel good?” He dropped fully to his knees now, the carpet muffling the sound, his hands sliding up Kaiseng’s thighs—fingers splaying wide, nails digging in just enough to prickle. Rian’s eyes held Kaiseng’s from below, dark and piercing, as his lips brushed the taut skin of Kaiseng’s lower abdomen, teeth nipping sharply.

Kaiseng’s hand moved on instinct, threading into Rian’s hair, gripping the soft strands. “Rian, I’m not doing this right now,” he growled, breath coming in short pants, his cock throbbing visibly inches from Rian’s face.

“I can smell him on you,” Rian continued, undeterred, his lips trailing upward along the thick vein pulsing on the underside of Kaiseng’s shaft. “Your scent’s all fucked up... especially here.” The words hung heavy, Rian’s breath fanning hot over the sensitive length, making it twitch and leak more. “You alphas get to fuck around with no fallout, while an omega like me starves without his bonded.”

Pressure bloomed on Kaiseng’s inner thigh—a sudden, searing bite that tore a hiss from his lungs. His fingers clenched in Rian’s hair, yanking to pull him away, but the omega only sank his teeth deeper, the burn intensifying into a white-hot sting as skin gave way. Blood welled, warm and sticky, trickling down toward the cushion.

Rian released him then, lifting his head slowly, lips stained red with Kaiseng’s blood. He tilted his chin, that slight curve of a smile returning, predatory and unyielding. Kaiseng’s eyes dropped to the mark—jagged and deep.

Before Kaiseng could form a protest, Rian’s mouth descended on his cock, engulfing the head in slick, wet heat. Kaiseng’s hips bucked involuntarily, a guttural moan ripping free as Rian’s tongue swirled around the crown, sucking with firm pulls that hollowed his cheeks. The omega’s head bobbed, taking him deeper with each descent, throat relaxing to swallow around the girth stretching his lips.

“Rian, you can’t just—” Kaiseng’s words cut off as Rian’s fingers jammed into his mouth, pressing against his tongue, silencing him mid-sentence. He groaned around them, as the omega's throat constricted, milking Kaiseng’s cock with rhythmic swallows that sent jolts of pleasure straight to his balls. 

Kaiseng’s rut roared back to life despite the sting on his thigh. His body betraying him with ruthless efficiency, lust flaring where it always did, drowning out the part of him that had wanted answers. Wanted accountability.

He hated that it still worked.

Hated that something in him loosened the moment Rian was here, like tension he’d learned to live with had finally been acknowledged. You came back. The relief was immediate—and humiliating.

Then the other feeling crept in. Quieter. Meaner.

Is this all I am to you?

A solution. A body. Something convenient to burn the biology out of before he disappeared again.

His hands tightened reflexively around Rian’s wrist before he pushed him away. Rian withdrew, mouth and fingers glistening, expression unreadable—flushed with heat, intent locked firmly in place.

Kaiseng swallowed hard. When he spoke, his voice came out rough, edged with something brittle. “Is this,” he asked, forcing a lightness that didn’t reach his eyes, “is this what we are now? Just using each other for our cycles?” A beat. “Will you disappear once you get what you need again?”

The question echoed back at him, unwanted.

Because guilt surfaced just as fast—old and familiar. He had left first. He’d been the one to disappear. Part of him had believed this was the price for being brought back together—that he didn’t get to be angry now. That wanting more meant he was asking for something he’d already forfeited.

He shouldn’t want more.

“I guess you’ll just have to wait and find out,” Rian said, voice low, unreadable.

Kaiseng’s pulse skidded. He searched Rian’s face for warmth and found only intent.

Wanting him had always been easy.

Trusting him had never been.

“What do you want from me?” Kaiseng’s words tumbled out, rough and edged with frustration. “Why aren’t you pissed? Why don’t you just end it—kill me and be done?”

“Is that what you want?” Rian drawled, his grin stretching slow and lazy as he held Kaiseng’s gaze from his knees. “It’d fit you, wouldn’t it? Always bailing when shit gets too messy to handle.” The flat of his tongue dragged up the underside of Kaiseng’s cock in one deliberate stroke, tracing the throbbing vein from base to tip, slicking it with saliva that cooled in the room’s stale air.

Rian’s pheromones surged purposely, flooding the space around them—thick, heady waves of omega heat laced with that jealous spike, wrapping around Kaiseng like invisible chains. It hit him hard, amplifying the rut’s fire until his head tipped back against the couch, eyes half-lidded as he inhaled deeply. The scent mingled with the wet drag of Rian’s mouth, pleasure spiking sharp and electric through his nerves.

Rian’s lips parted, and he took Kaiseng’s cock back into his mouth, swallowing him down with a practiced ease that made Kaiseng’s eyelids flutter shut. The sounds filled the room—obscene, rhythmic slurps of suction and spit, Rian’s throat working around the intrusion as he bobbed steadily. Kaiseng’s hand clamped onto the back of the couch, knuckles whitening against the fabric, while his other tangled deeper into Rian’s hair, guiding the pace. His hips jerked forward on instinct, thrusting shallowly into the tight, wet heat, fucking Rian’s throat with growing urgency.

Pressure built low in his balls, a heavy ache that spread upward, his shaft thickening impossibly as the knot began to swell at the base—a sensation he barely registered in the heat of it. It tugged at him, demanding release, urging him to drive deeper, to lock in and claim. It felt too damn good, the rut roaring in his blood, pushing him toward that edge where control frayed.

But then Rian gagged—a wet, choking sound that vibrated around Kaiseng’s length—his eyes watering as he pulled back abruptly, lips sliding free with a pop just as the knot threatened to catch. 

Kaiseng came with a strangled moan, ropes of thick, sticky cum erupting from the tip. It splattered hot across Rian’s mouth and cheek, streaking white against his flushed skin, a few strands catching in his dark hair. 

Rian froze, surprise flashing wide in his eyes as he stared up at Kaiseng, lips parted and shiny with the mess. Kaiseng met his gaze, chest heaving, equally stunned.

Cum trickled down the side of Kaiseng’s shaft in lazy rivulets, warm and viscous, pooling at the base where his knot still throbbed, half-swollen and sensitive from the aborted lock. He let out a ragged sigh, the sound escaping despite his best efforts to clamp it down, his hands instinctively dropping to cup his cock, shielding the slick mess from Rian’s wide-eyed stare. “I don’t want to hear it,” he muttered, voice rough and edged with dismissal, already bracing for whatever cutting remark Rian might sling his way.