Chapter 28

“Hmm. It tore.”

Taegeon remarked on it with casual indifference, glancing down at his slightly swollen, thoroughly spent cock. Every time he spoke, his warm breath brushed against Jaeha’s tender, overstimulated flesh, making the lingering sensitivity almost unbearable.

He was talking about the condom.

Until that moment, Taegeon had not ejaculated once throughout the entire ordeal. Then he had locked both arms around Jaeha’s waist and sunk his teeth deep into the side of his neck. At the same instant, Jaeha had felt something burst sharply inside him. Slick heat flooded deeper into his body, an unsettling and visceral intrusion that sent his hips into an uncontrollable tremor.

Taegeon had worn a condom because they were inside a corporate office, but the precaution had proved completely useless.

“Why are you twitching so much?” Taegeon teased.

The Alpha was staring far too intently at Jaeha’s thoroughly wrecked backside. Profound embarrassment crashed over him, and he tried to shift away, only to freeze at the sharp, warning click of Taegeon’s tongue.

Unexpectedly, Taegeon took responsibility for cleaning him afterward. The gesture stirred a dizzying fragment of memory in Jaeha. When he had awakened after his rut, his body had been flawlessly clean then, too.

“Should we leave what’s pooled inside you for a little while?” Taegeon murmured, tracing a slow, taunting circle with his thumb. “Can you hold it in for me?”

Jaeha desperately wanted to beg him to pull it out, but the humiliating plea refused to pass his throat. His jaw throbbed from how tightly he had clenched it, every muscle straining to suppress the pathetic moans threatening to escape.

Taegeon leaned closer and pressed a soft kiss against the tense, spasming muscles of Jaeha’s jaw.

Even that impossibly tender contact was enough to provoke another reaction. The final drop of semen gathering at the opening of Jaeha’s urethra mingled with his pre-cum and trickled slowly down his shaft.

Although Taegeon had not penetrated him anywhere else, Jaeha’s own cock remained slick and drenched, reacting as though every part of him had been filled to the absolute brim. He felt like overripe fruit smothered in thick, cloying syrup.

Humming a quiet, rhythmic tune beneath his breath, Taegeon reached for the luxury tissue box resting at the edge of the mahogany desk and meticulously wiped him clean.

Had his anger faded, at least a little?

Taegeon had unquestionably been furious until the very moment he dragged Jaeha into the office. Even during their tense negotiation, cold and violent rage had radiated from him with such suffocating intensity that it had seemed absolute.

His expression, however, remained an impenetrable mask. Only his pheromones betrayed him.

Both Taegeon and Jaeha were elite, dominant Alphas. Under ordinary circumstances, neither of them would ever lose control over his biological output. Nevertheless, Jaeha could read the violent fluctuations in Taegeon’s emotions with startling clarity, solely because his innate sensitivity to the man’s pheromones had spiraled completely beyond reason.

Had the sex dissolved his anger?

A dangerous but pragmatic thought suddenly occurred to him. Jaeha failed to recognize that reducing their devastating intimacy to a mere instrument for managing Taegeon’s temper meant viewing Jang Taegeon exactly as society did: a primitive thug driven by violence and appetite.

As a man experiencing the terrifying freefall of love for the first time in his life, Lee Jaeha was naturally obtuse when confronted with emotions this complicated.

He rarely registered anger or disappointment toward other people, primarily because he expected absolutely nothing from them. If someone picked a fight with him, he generally allowed the offense to pass with detached elegance, provided their grievance contained even a fragment of logical merit.

His inner emotional landscape ran on the rigid rails of common sense. Unless an action violated basic logic or corporate morality, he saw no reason to waste his energy becoming angry.

Conversely, if a subordinate openly defied reason, Jaeha could imitate terrifying fury with flawless precision even when he felt no genuine anger at all. Maintaining the untouchable authority of a superior who distributed clear rewards and decisive punishments was simply part of his position.

He seldom experienced depression, either. Jaeha’s daily existence stood as a monument to calm, monotonous efficiency. The fact that he had grown up in a shattered, joyless household, or that he had survived a poisonous environment merely by enduring it, had always seemed like a trivial and irrelevant detail.

As a consequence, he was remarkably dull when it came to interpreting the emotional subtleties of others. His razor-sharp work ethic granted him frightening perception in the boardroom, yet whenever those interpersonal dynamics spilled into his private life, he routinely found himself lost.

It was not as though he had never dated. He had entertained several casual relationships in the past, but his partners often became furious for reasons he could not begin to understand. When his stoic detachment failed to produce the dramatic response they wanted, they would abruptly demand physical intimacy as compensation.

Whether they wanted a desperate embrace or an aggressive kiss, Jaeha never refused. He had simply cataloged physical contact as an easy and highly effective solution to emotional turbulence.

Did Jang Taegeon operate according to the same logic?

Jaeha was the one who derived a humiliating, intoxicating pleasure whenever their bodies collided. Compared with that joy, the intense physical pain and crushing exhaustion that followed their encounters seemed like a remarkably minor price to pay, particularly if the act succeeded in extinguishing Taegeon’s smoldering rage.

“Looks like you’re drifting into those useless corporate thoughts again,” Taegeon observed as he rose gracefully from between Jaeha’s trembling legs.

Jaeha watched him with a frantic, dizzying heart. Taegeon crushed the tissues he had used to wipe away the sticky remnants of their intimacy into a ball, then tossed them casually into the wastebasket.

Who exactly cleans this executive office, anyway?

Jaeha attempted to recall the custodial schedule but quickly abandoned the futile exercise. Reaching blindly for the suit trousers discarded beneath the sofa, he threaded his trembling legs through the fabric and dragged the slacks up from his ankles.

The weight of the designer belt made them cumbersome. Flustered and desperate to recover some semblance of dignity, he hurried to pull them over his hips. The Velcro tabs of his modified trousers clattered loudly in the oppressive silence of the room.

Taegeon smirked at the chaotic sight. Bending down, he plucked a stray scrap of black silk from the carpet.

Jaeha’s expensive boxer briefs.

“Not a single stray hair, and you aren’t even wearing underwear.” Taegeon dangled the fabric from one massive finger. “You’re quite the wanton little corporate director. Are you deliberately trying to seduce me into a second round?”

“…I am not.”

Jaeha squeezed his eyes shut for one mortifying second before reaching out to snatch back his underwear.

Taegeon relinquished it without argument, although his dark eyes remained brimming with wicked amusement. Frustrated, Jaeha kicked off his trousers again and hurriedly pulled on the briefs first.

As he bent slightly at the waist to snap the elastic band over his hips, Taegeon stared intently at the exposed skin and slowly licked his lower lip.

A crimson tongue swept deliberately across his mouth, leaving his lips glistening. The look in his dark eyes was equally ravenous, saturated with naked and unrestrained lust.

Jaeha was not remotely accustomed to being watched with such consuming intensity. Who in his right mind would dare look at an Alpha, particularly one more than 180 centimeters tall and inherently dominant, as though he were delicate prey waiting to be devoured?

Although Jaeha had pragmatically concluded that physical intimacy might be an effective means of resolving Taegeon’s anger, beginning a second round inside the office was presently impossible from a logistical standpoint.

He parted his swollen lips to establish a boundary.

“…No more today.”

“Did I say anything?”

Taegeon’s expression sharpened with calculation as he slipped effortlessly back into his familiar, nonchalant persona. He stepped into Jaeha’s space and wrapped his large arms around him from behind in a firm, protective embrace.

Reaching around Jaeha’s waist, Taegeon effortlessly gathered the trousers he had abandoned, drew them into place, fastened the belt, and secured the Velcro tabs with practiced ease.

The sheer breadth of the man’s reach was staggering. From behind, he could easily circle Jaeha’s body and adjust a belt over his thick, heavily muscled abdomen without the slightest difficulty.

“Thank you…”

Fascinating as the physical disparity was, the embarrassment remained unavoidable. Jaeha was not a helpless toddler, and having another dominant Alpha straighten his tailored clothing was profoundly mortifying.

Yet as he stood there, the solid heat of Taegeon’s broad rib cage and thick pectoral muscles pressed firmly against his back. Taegeon’s unmistakable pheromones surrounded him, a violent and intoxicating blend of biting sea salt and heavy rugosa rose, stirring a deep and strangely pleasant ache in his chest.

I thought it smelled incredibly sweet the first time I noticed it.

He had first detected the fragrance during that catastrophic ambush of a meeting with Sumin. At the time, he had decided that the scent was far too heavy to belong to an Omega, yet infinitely too sweet to emanate from the cold-blooded corporate hatchet man seated across the table.

And I still do…

His impression had not changed at all.

The rich fragrance of rugosa rose intertwined seamlessly with the harsh brine of the sea, filling his lungs and flooding his senses. How could an aura that assaulted him with such violent dominance leave behind a finish so impossibly sweet and addictive?

Utterly spent, Jaeha sagged backward. He did not even realize his heavy head had naturally settled into the hollow of Taegeon’s collarbone.

Taegeon immediately breathed a sharp reprimand into his ear.

“Just how old are you, losing control of your basic biological output like this? What the hell would you do if some random Omega were standing right outside that door?”

“Ah…”

Lost entirely in his lethargy, Jaeha had failed to notice that he was flooding the office with the scent of a blooming ash tree. The crisp, clean fragrance of fresh forsythia also lingered thickly in the air, betraying the profound contentment simmering inside him.

Realizing his critical error, Jaeha strained to pull away and suppress the pheromones leaking from his body. A sharp lance of pain pierced his temples, wrenching a soft groan from his throat.

“Tsk. Lean on me. Now.”

The sudden, vicious wave of vertigo was a physiological recoil, caused by the rapid suppression of his aura after such an unchecked eruption. Taegeon seemed to understand the crash immediately. His hold tightened, drawing Jaeha’s full weight securely against his chest.

The entire experience had left Jaeha disoriented on every conceivable level.

Quiet resignation washed over him. At last, he shed the rigid shell of his professional facade and surrendered his full weight to the man standing behind him.

The faint trembling still running through his legs, a physical frailty that utterly demolished his usual composure, certainly contributed to the decision.

I had no idea taking it would leave me this drained…

A dry and pragmatic thought surfaced. He clearly needed to incorporate more cardiovascular training into his weekly regimen.

Jang Taegeon possessed formidable stamina, and the heavy warmth they shared during their physical encounters was undeniably addictive. Therefore, increasing his own endurance enough to withstand Taegeon’s onslaught seemed like the only logical business strategy.

He craved that shared warmth with a depth that disturbed him.

Yet the sex offered far more than simple body heat. The raw and visceral pleasure Taegeon had dragged out of him resurfaced in his mind without warning.

Pleasure…

Jaeha could not honestly classify the immense, transcendent sensation as merely good. It resembled a piece of hard candy deliberately manufactured to be far too sweet, so chemically intense that it eventually scorched the tongue.

His relationship with Taegeon operated on precisely the same principle.

Jaeha had never known his body contained the capacity to experience pleasure through those submissive nerves. It was a sensation so violently intense that it pierced straight through the rigid identity he had spent his entire life constructing as a dominant Alpha.

The feeling was so immense, so utterly consuming, that Jaeha genuinely feared his entire psychological foundation might collapse if they continued along this path.

Despite that terrifying existential panic, he did not push the massive man away. Instead, Jaeha buried his burning face more deeply against Taegeon’s broad shoulder because the crushing warmth felt desperately, unbearably welcome.

Jang Taegeon’s flesh and skeletal structure seemed fundamentally different from his own. Both men were physically disciplined, but where Jaeha possessed the brittle, plasterlike rigidity of someone who constantly concealed his internal weaknesses, Taegeon appeared forged entirely from unyielding steel.

Clinging to him offered Jaeha an alien and profound sense of solace. He had never, throughout his entire miserable life, allowed himself to lean on another human being.

He possessed no long-term intention of relying on Taegeon. Even though Taegeon mockingly patted his shoulder as though daring him to try, Jaeha found an undeniable and terrifying comfort in the simple fact of the man’s existence.

“Stay still. You look pretty,” Taegeon murmured.

Heat blazed across Jaeha’s face, and he instinctively raised one hand to shield his eyes. The sheer vulnerability of standing there while another man calmly fastened his belt was excruciatingly humiliating.

Then Taegeon praised him as if gentling a well-behaved child before finally stepping away, and Jaeha’s flush deepened into a violent crimson.

To compound the indignity, Taegeon casually patted his backside.

It was an affectionate and distinctly patronizing gesture, one Jaeha had not received even from his own mother. For one fleeting second, the shock drained every trace of blood from his face.

Still, he swallowed his protest.

Jaeha stood awkwardly beside the sofa while an unfamiliar self-consciousness crept over him. Taegeon, entirely unbothered, began prowling around the executive office, surveying the corporate furniture with genuine, predatory curiosity.

He paused beside the enormous mahogany desk and brushed one calloused finger over its polished edge, scrutinizing the scattered objects with keen interest.

“What the hell is this?” Taegeon asked, picking something up. “Your taste is peculiarly old-fashioned.”

It was an intricately carved jade turtle paperweight, an heirloom passed down from Jaeha’s late grandfather. Taegeon prodded the turtle’s head with his long thumb, nudging the dark green orb clutched between its jaws.

Hearing the blunt appraisal, Jaeha realized that the object truly did embody the aesthetic of an elderly chairman. He kept the heavy artifact on his desk only because it was useful for pinning down the enormous architectural blueprints that occasionally arrived rolled into tight cylinders.

Flustered, he attempted to explain.

“It’s just for…”

Before Jaeha could assemble a proper defense, Taegeon lost interest in the turtle and turned toward his next target.

His dark gaze settled on the fountain pen resting in its tray, a custom-made piece with a solitary diamond embedded in the cap. Jaeha’s late mother had given it to him as a graduation present when he completed middle school.

Taegeon tapped the platinum barrel, sending the pen rolling smoothly across the polished wood.

“Why the hell is there a diamond on a pen?”

“Would you like to have it?”

Profound regret struck Jaeha the instant the offer escaped him.

It was not as though Jang Taegeon lacked money. Nor did the corporate thug seem like a man inclined to covet small, glittering trinkets.

Why had Jaeha offered it so impulsively?

There was no ulterior motive. The pen simply carried deep and aching sentimental value, and an irrational instinct had suddenly seized him, compelling him to entrust something his mother had given him to the man he loved.

Because the words had emerged so abruptly, Jaeha’s voice cracked humiliatingly at the end.

Embarrassment set the tips of his ears ablaze. Fortunately, Taegeon was not looking at him. His attention remained fixed entirely on the pen.

“Your name is explicitly engraved on the barrel, Director,” Taegeon observed, amusement threading through his voice.

“Yes… I suppose it is.”

“And yet you’re offering it to me?”

Diamond or not, the fountain pen was a heavily used possession. Jaeha had written with it for more than twelve years.

Assuming Taegeon must find the secondhand offer utterly absurd, Jaeha struggled to construct a coherent explanation. Realizing he had spoken completely out of turn, he prepared to withdraw the offer.

Before he could open his mouth, Taegeon turned toward him and flashed a crooked, wry smile.

“Fine. I’ll take it.”

“Pardon?”

“Was that only empty talk?” Taegeon stepped closer, his expression taunting. “Why do you look so shocked?”

“No, it wasn’t empty talk.”

Apparently satisfied, Taegeon picked up the fountain pen and tucked it securely into the inner breast pocket of his tailored jacket.

Jaeha bit his lower lip.

Now that the transaction was complete, giving his husband an old, scuffed item suddenly felt distinctly disrespectful.

“Actually, I’ll buy you a brand-new one,” Jaeha backtracked. “Please give that one back.”

Taegeon immediately slapped one hand over his breast pocket, shielding his new prize.

“Taking back a gift you just offered? Are you a street thug, Director?”

He glared at Jaeha as though facing a petty thief attempting to pick his pocket.

Momentarily robbed of speech by the sheer audacity of the accusation, Jaeha blinked.

“I am not a thug…”

“If you aren’t a thug, why are you demanding your tribute back?” Taegeon asked. “Extorting possessions from innocent people is a tactic reserved strictly for gangsters. Do you understand?”

He over-enunciated each syllable with crisp, painstaking precision, as though delivering a moral lecture to an exceptionally slow child.

Jaeha actually began to nod before violently catching himself.

A wave of profound pathos swept through him.

He had just engaged in brutal and uninhibited sex in the middle of the afternoon, bent over the corporate sofa inside the very office where he had worked diligently for years. Yet he appeared utterly unaware that he currently resembled a fragile crayfish freshly torn from its shell.

Instead, Jaeha stood fidgeting like a nervous elementary school student bringing a crush home for the first time.

Oblivious to Jaeha’s internal crisis, Taegeon casually brushed a speck of dust from the heavy crystal nameplate engraved with the words Executive Director Lee Jaeha.

“From today onward, don’t ever leave this building alone,” Taegeon ordered. “I’m permanently assigning Myeongsun to your detail. Even if you find the shadow irritating, you travel with him.”

“I won’t run away anymore,” Jaeha promised quietly. “I’ll go straight home.”

Taegeon smirked and perched his large frame on the edge of the mahogany desk, folding his arms across his chest.

For one bizarre and disorienting moment, Jaeha genuinely wondered whether he was the subordinate guest and Taegeon the true sovereign of the Yooshin executive office.

Taegeon slowly ran one index finger along the strong ridge of his brow and frowned, looking as though he had just been subjected to an utterly ridiculous joke.

“So you do possess enough self-awareness to admit that you ran away. And here I foolishly believed you were merely playing the role of a devoted corporate husband, laboring day and night to put food on my table.”

“…”

“So,” Taegeon continued, his voice dropping by an octave, “why the hell did you run?”

Jaeha startled at the truth he had surrendered without realizing it.

In his own mind, his desperate departure had been an act of avoidance rather than cowardice. He simply had not possessed the psychological strength to remain beside Taegeon and watch him suffer, his body wracked by pain and his eyes repeatedly losing focus.

Jaeha had needed to throw himself into the corporate battlefield and act.

Whether that meant hunting down the bastards responsible, exposing the conspiracy, or weaponizing his fury to obliterate Myeongwon Construction completely, he had required motion to survive the panic.

“Nothing to say in your defense?” Taegeon challenged. “Should I generously let this slide?”

Unable to formulate a lie, Jaeha remained silent.

Taegeon studied his stubborn refusal to answer, then released a low, amused hum.

“Well, fine. Keep your secrets. Just don’t ever ride in a vehicle without a guard from this point forward.”

“Why is that necessary…?”

“Why ask for my reasons when you refuse to give me yours?” Taegeon retorted as he pushed himself away from the desk. “I have absolutely nothing to say to you, either. You use that pretty face to extract exactly what you want from me, then ruthlessly refuse to answer my questions. The sheer, unadulterated nerve of you.”

Striding confidently past Jaeha, Taegeon headed for the heavy double doors.

Flustered, Jaeha hurriedly checked his luxury watch. Corporate hours had technically ended, but leaving at that precise moment felt oddly abrupt.

“Where are you going?”

“Where do you think we’re going?” Taegeon called over his shoulder without slowing his stride. “I gave you a direct order not to ride in a car alone. So stay by my side. We’re going home.”

Only then did Jaeha emerge from his daze. He quickened his pace to catch up with the massive man.

As Taegeon gripped the brass handle of the office door, he glanced back.

Seen from that oblique, shadowed angle, the ruthless brute appeared to be concealing a fond smile.

Though Jaeha could not be entirely certain.

***