Answering a question with a question—dodging instead of answering—made his eyes light up; he wet his lower lip with his tongue. The question itself was as good as admitting the lewd side I’d just discovered in myself.
His hips working below grew even deeper. Squish, squish, squish. The wet, chopping thrusts into a channel drenched with precum were so blatant that even to the two people making the sound, it was embarrassing. Every time he drew back, it sounded like translucent mucous clung to his thick glans and stretched in sticky strings—like you could see it.
“Why? What do you think you are right now that you’re asking me like that?”
“U— it’s too...”
“Do you get it now—why I’m anxious?”
I looked at his flushed face, clearly hoping for a dirty answer, then looped my arms around his neck and pulled him in, stacking our lips. Ding. He tossed the phone onto the sheets and covered me. His broad, ridged chest met mine and weighed me down. As much as our upper bodies overlapped, the friction below went deeper. With every snap of his hips, his heavy balls swung and smacked beneath my anal; the elastic thud scrambled my head even more.
“Stuff like this... I can’t show it to anyone but you, CEO. So, don’t... worry... hnngh.”
Looking down at me like I’d betrayed him, blue eyes burning, he went for my nape. He bit and drew up skin, then pressed and squeezed it with the vacuum in his mouth, chewing. The hurt—sure to leave a mark—skewed into a sweet ache.
Hah, hah. Having boiled over past the limit, he wasn’t holding back any urge. The wide shoulders blanketing me ballooned and fell in my face.
“The only one who can make you like this, and the only one who gets to see you like this—is me.”
It wasn’t a swaggering boast. It sounded like an earnest wish: it has to be only me. He shifted and carved another mark in a new spot on my nape, then tore loose. Flattened over me, his huge, glossy body moved only from the waist—fast, fast—feral to the bone.
“Hh—h, hhn. Hh... ngh, ha—!”
Climax was right at the brink; my breathing went ragged, like I might tip over.
He braced both fists on the sheet and pushed himself up, then drove his hips rough and fast like he’d break me and the bed together. Not just his hips—his whole body curved in big waves from shoulders through back and waist, through ass and thighs, and he slammed that recoil into me. I spasmed in stuttering bursts, almost like a seizure.
“Seo Ihyeon... focus, look at me.”
“Hh—... ngh.”
He caught my wrist in a hot hand and dragged it down, made me feel something hotter than my hand—his cock. I palmed the base of the thick shaft ramming in and dragging out, sticky as it withdrew. The pulsing, hot column felt like it had a heartbeat of its own.
Blue-shining eyes looked down at me and said,
“I’m your alpha.”
“...”
In the soaring rush right before release, his words landed like a small declaration. For a second the furrow between his brows didn’t feel like lust. He emphasized it again.
“Yours. Your golden.”
The alpha he meant—mine—was what I felt pushing into my beta, widening me and driving in. Instinctively, I stroked the thick length going in and out through an entrance stretched to its max, the rim pulled tight.
He dipped his head; watching my hand move, he pulled in a long breath—siiiip, hhh—through his teeth.
He left just enough of the shaft above my hand for me to hold while he shook his hips fast; the wet inner wall throbbed.
“Hhhh—h... hnn... krh, hmp.”
“Your alpha... what’s he doing to Seo Ihyeon’s beta right now? Hm?”
Rubbing, grinding—tender flesh made over-sensitive begged to be pushed harder, right to the edge, and drove me to give the answer he wanted.
Clawing his arm where it braced over my shoulder, dragging the root of his cock inward from below, I trembled.
“Se—x... haah, ngh. We’re having sex... CEO’s alpha is, here, in this beta... f—”
He cursed, dropped his chest, and kissed me savagely until our lips mashed out of shape. For one of his kisses, it was clumsy, all wrong—but that’s why the raw, unfiltered want came through even clearer.
“Mmh—m. Mm... hhn. Ngh....”
“Let me hear it—Seo Ihyeon getting fucked. You don’t even know how I could come just listening to the sounds you make, do you? I’m crazy with it.”
His confession—mind torn down, filthy and fixated on sex—stacked stimulus on stimulus and drove me. I was already naked; he stripped me with words too. I was the one losing my mind.
“Ha—ngh, ngh! Krh, ngh.”
A throbbing deep in my belly told me the knot was coming. Like the Jaws theme crawling up your spine with primal fear, the sense of the knot approaching made me fist the sheets with both hands and buck my hips hard.
Watching my reaction, he grabbed the phone. Ding, the camera rolled again. But this time I didn’t have room to care about that voyeur third eye.
The rear camera framed my cock where fresh precum slid over the spots where the first smear had dried white. Then it dipped between my legs, toward where we were joined.
“Mmh—hnn, hh! Hhn....”
The knot’s forceful pulsing inside—an overwhelming pleasure so fierce it bordered on violent—never dulled no matter how many times it repeated. Thump, thump. It was like he’d planted a second heart in me.
The light in his eyes chopped and magnified every reaction I had to the knot in hand-span units on the six-inch screen. Lips, chest, lower belly; the wet, tangled groin slick with mixed fluids whose ownership was impossible to tell; my penis, swollen and twitching like it would burst—all of it was laid bare inches from his eyes by a lens that permitted no distortion.
Eyes wide, back and hips fluttering, I came without a single rub to the glans. The pulse inside me struck more vividly than my own heart; my jaw shook in open air.
“It’s okay... Breathe, Seo Ihyeon.”
“Hh—h, ngh... CEO... C—EO...”
High on the rapture that comes with coming on a knot, I reached for him like a madman. He laced his free hand with mine and pinned it to the sheets, while he ground our joined flesh slowly.
“Yeah, it’s okay. Your CEO’s right here. It’s okay—you know what this is. It’s knotting.”
While he soothed the inside of me with small shakes, recording every change the knot drew from me on the screen, he whispered for me to say his name.
Even after I’d come, he was still knotted. In the rhythm of contracting and swelling, the hot dump of semen spilling inside me was clear as day. He let go of our laced hands, lifted the back of my left thigh, and then, like a beast tearing into a run to surrender himself to the knot’s pleasure, he shook his hips.
It had gone dim without my noticing; artificial light leaked in from the window and reflected on his bare body. The light of the phone washed his face paler than usual, but the two eyes devouring my body burned a clear blue.
With wet eyes and parted lips, I called him.
“Awi.”
“...”
“Kun.”
“...”
As soon as I tried it, I knew. How much I’d wanted to call him by name, not title.
His names—the ones reserved for the people he cherished—had made me feel small, like they were a privilege I didn’t have. If he knew that, if I could, I’d claim all his many names and keep them for myself alone—how would he take that?
He stared, shoulders and chest heaving, like he’d shot me with his eyes.
“Seo Ihyeon.”
“...”
This time he said my name. The camera that had held the knot’s red shimmer wasn’t on us anymore. The only thing facing me was the blue flame sparking off him.
“Come to Chicago with me. Come with me.”
“...”
“Will you... come with me?”
Whether he feared my answer, or it was a pleasure of a knotting alpha I couldn’t know, I wavered looking up at his pained face, then nodded with a dry, cracked voice.
“I will... I’ll go. I want to be with you.”
Ding. With the sound of recording stopping for good, we were sealed off from everything else and focused only on each other.
He kept moving his hips—just enough to keep my arousal riding—until the knot shrank so his cock could barely slip free, then, without pulling out, he turned me onto my front.
I felt like the strength had already drained from every part of me, but I propped on the sheet and held on, relying on his arm hooked around from behind to lift my lower belly. Every time he mashed the anal inside me—where precum and semen mixed—the wet churn sounded like a fist digging in a pit of mud; my mouth kept going dry.
Amazingly, like he’d swapped in fresh batteries, he slipped straight back into a knot with no buildup at all. It was the first time a second knot had hit so soon after the first.
“Hhhh—h, h... no, I can’t... I’m going to die... ah— it’s weird. It’s weird... I’m melting...”
My belly felt like it would go soft and melt; like I’d lose my shape and liquefy—I tried to crawl away across the sheets from the frightening pleasure. I was crying. I told myself it was physiological tears, but I didn’t know the real meaning.
He covered me from behind and stroked my cock to scatter my focus. Kisses rained over ear and cheek. In my belly, his alpha—no, my alpha—rubbed until all my organs burned, swelling. With those tender organs, it felt like my self would explode and be destroyed.
“I’m sorry... just a little more. For me, go to the edge. Show me everything... don’t run.”
Don’t run, Seo Ihyeon. Please.
Mixed with sighs, his voice sounded desperate as he collapsed into the same plea, over and over. Not that he was letting me run. As if there were any way to run from a penis knotted inside me anyway. What was he so afraid of. Idiot.
Biting, sucking, chewing along different points on my nape and shoulders to leave mottled marks, he planted another new heart in me—before the heat and tremor of the last knot had even faded.
I don’t know how long it took to burn through every last want and impulse and ounce of energy, and to reach a completely quieted state. It was hazy how this draining sex even started.
No—truth is, I remember.
It was the craving to bind and own each other. A childish but urgent desire to be assured we had that right.
After stuffing ourselves full on that hunger for possession, five videos remained on the phone, but I didn’t have the courage to hit play. I didn’t delete them either.
Like someone who’s come home from hours of intense exercise, I had to lie face-down on the sheets for a long time. No—more like I’d been badly beaten than worked out. My insides shook; every inch of skin throbbed.
Even after the knot eased, he didn’t pull out right away. For a long time he lay over me, stroking slowly, combing my hair, kissing my face and chest for a long while. Only after he saw some focus return to my eyes and my breathing steady did he, with a languid sound, slide out a not-yet-fully soft cock and climb off me.
Unlike me, a puddle, he didn’t look tired. He went outside the bedroom and came back with towels and water. The bulge of his erection stood clear under the towel at his hips. Even after two knots back-to-back with only a short gap, sex still failed to settle his erection—like always.
We sat side by side on the bed edge, choking back the strong aftertaste of sex still flowing through every corner of our bodies, and downed the water he’d brought. We both definitely needed it. It felt like we’d wrung out every fluid inside us.
3:13. 5:37. One was 12:02.
While I silently counted the runtimes in the phone’s video album, he moved his mouth from one of the marks he’d left to another, kissing along them. He’d left a studio light on, so the bedroom lay in a light that was neither too bright nor too dark. It wasn’t pouring anymore, but the rain still misted down.
“This one came out too strong. Must’ve hurt while we were doing it.”
After staring a while at the thumbnails—scary to touch—I felt thirst press in, drank more water, then looked back at him.
Pointing at the kiss mark just above my collarbone—unusually dark, like a bruise—he sounded apologetic, but his face couldn’t hide a smile. Sometimes he left a mark or two in unseen places, but it was the first time he’d scattered so many across my nape, collarbone, shoulders, and chest.
Since this sex came after we’d shown each other unfiltered jealousy, maybe he wanted to stake a claim with the meager method of leaving traces on skin. Watching him kiss the marks he’d left made him look strangely cute. Not that it was cute at all while he was putting them there.
A weak little laugh slipped out. Looking down at my mottled torso, I tried a joke of my own.
“Do you like it?”
He had been kissing a mark above my nipple; he looked up at me, wrinkles creasing his brow. Then he leaned back, taking me in from a little distance, and looked over the red trails our sex had left on my body.
“Very much. I’m thinking of submitting it somewhere as a work of art.”
Because he was flawlessly handsome, his face looked serious even when he wasn’t. It was a face that never looked light. So when he made that face even more serious and told a joke like that, I still didn’t really know how to react.
