Chapter 31: The Rut Begins
The surrender in Hyukjae’s voice was the last coherent thing before the world dissolved into heat and want.
He didn’t take Donghae’s offered hand. He crossed the distance in one fluid, predatory stride, his arms banding around Donghae’s body, lifting him clear off the floor. It wasn’t the careful, loving lift of before. This was possession, a raw declaration of need. Donghae gasped, his own arms locking around Hyukjae’s neck, holding on as he was carried not to the bedroom, but into the master bathroom.
The cool tiles met his back. Hyukjae pinned him there, one broad hand splayed across his belly, the other gripping his hip hard enough to bruise. Hyukjae’s face was buried in his neck, inhaling raggedly, teeth scraping the sensitive skin over his gland.
“Mine,” Hyukjae growled, the word vibrating into Donghae’s very bones. It wasn’t a question. It was a fact being seared into the air between them. “Say it.”
“Yours,” Donghae breathed, tipping his head back, baring his throat. “Always yours.”
Hyukjae made a shattered sound. His mouth crashed down on Donghae’s, a kiss that was all consuming fire and desperate taste. There was no patience, no gentle exploration. His tongue plunged deep, claiming, and Donghae opened for him, letting the alpha’s fevered scent, the brutal need, wash over him. His own body answered, a slick, hot rush of wetness between his thighs, his omega instincts roaring to life in the face of his alpha’s rut.
Clothes were a mad, tearing obstacle. Hyukjae’s shirt buttons pinged against the tiles. Donghae’s soft sweater was dragged over his head, catching on his ears. Fabric ripped. The sound was obscene and thrilling. Hyukjae’s hands were everywhere, mapping the heavy swell of Donghae’s stomach, the fuller curve of his chest, the wide arch of his hips that now accommodated life.
“Look what you’ve done,” Hyukjae rasped, kneeling before him, his dark eyes blazing up Donghae’s body. He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the tight, round dome of his belly, his tongue leaving a wet trail. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful like this. So full of me. Of us.” His hands slid down, gripping the backs of Donghae’s thighs, pulling him forward to the edge of the counter.
The cool air hit Donghae’s wet folds. He was exposed, completely vulnerable, achingly ready. Hyukjae stared, his breath hot on Donghae’s inner thigh. “Dripping for me,” he muttered, a low, possessive rumble. “Even now. Your body knows its alpha.”
Then his mouth was on him.
It was not the tender, teasing worship of before. This was devouring. Hyukjae licked into him with a singular, focused hunger, his tongue flat and demanding, lapping up the slick that flowed freely. He sucked his swollen clit into his mouth, applying a pressure that made Donghae cry out, his hands fisting in Hyukjae’s disheveled hair. Hyukjae groaned against him, the vibration shooting white-hot sparks up Donghae’s spine.
“Taste like home,” Hyukjae snarled, coming up for air, his chin glistening. “Taste like mine.” He dove back in, driving Donghae swiftly, mercilessly toward the edge. His fingers joined the onslaught, two thrusting deep, crooking inside him, finding that spot that made Donghae’s vision bleach white.
Orgasm ripped through him, a tidal wave that left him shaking, sagging against the cabinet. Hyukjae drank it all, licking him through the convulsions until Donghae whimpered from overstimulation.
Before the last tremor had faded, Hyukjae was up, his own trousers shoved down, his cock springing free, thick and violently erect, the head dark and flushed. He was enormous, more so than Donghae remembered, the rut amplifying every alpha trait. Pre-cum beaded at the slit. He nudged the head against Donghae’s soaked entrance, both of them panting.
“Gonna fill you up,” Hyukjae growled, his forehead damp against Donghae’s. His control was a thin, frayed wire. “Gonna fuck my come so deep into you, you’ll feel it for days. Gonna remind everyone inside you who you belong to.”
“Do it,” Donghae begged, his voice shattered. “Please, Hyuk. Need you.”
With a single, powerful thrust, he sheathed himself to the hilt.
Donghae screamed. It was a stretch bordering on pain, a glorious, burning fullness that stole the air from his lungs. He was impossibly tight around him, the twins a heavy, intimate pressure between them. Hyukjae threw his head back, cords standing out in his neck, a guttural roar tearing from his throat.
“Fuck! Fuck, Hae… so goddamn tight. So perfect.” He didn’t wait, didn’t gentile. He pulled back and slammed home again.
And again.
The rhythm was punishing, deep, and utterly relentless. The counter rattled against the wall with every drive. Hyukjae’s hips pistoned, his balls slapping against Donghae’s ass. Each thrust jolted through him, a visceral connection that went beyond flesh. Donghae clung to him, legs locked around his waist, taking everything he gave, meeting each brutal stroke with a gasp.
“Yes! Right there… alpha, right there!” Donghae chanted, lost in the raw, carnal grind. His cock, trapped between their sweat-slick bodies, leaked and throbbed. Hyukjae’s mouth found his again, biting at his lips, swallowing his cries.
“My omega,” Hyukjae chanted into his skin, a fevered mantra. “Mine. Carrying my sons. Taking my cock so well. Such a good fucking omega. Gonna knot you. Gonna lock you on me and pump you full until you’re dripping.”
The promise, filthy and profound, pushed Donghae toward another climax. He could feel the base of Hyukjae’s cock beginning to swell, the knot forming, promising an even more intense connection. The pressure built, coiling tighter and tighter in his gut.
Hyukjae’s thrusts became shorter, harder, more erratic. His breathing was ragged sobs. “Hae… I can’t… I’m gonna—”
“Do it,” Donghae sobbed. “Knot me. Claim me. Now!”
With a final, seismic drive, Hyukjae buried himself as deep as he could go. The thick bulge of his knot pressed against Donghae’s stretched rim, and then, with a pop and a stretch that burned exquisitely, it slid inside, locking them together.
Hyukjae shouted, a raw, broken sound of release. Donghae felt the hot, pulsing jets of his come flooding him, deep and endless. The sensation, the utter physical claim, triggered his own orgasm. He came silently, his body clamping down on Hyukjae’s in rhythmic waves, milking the knot as he saw stars behind his clenched eyelids.
For long minutes, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing and the frantic beat of their hearts. Hyukjae, his strength spent, slumped forward, catching his weight on his arms against the cabinet, his body draped over Donghae’s. They were a tangled, sweaty, joined mess. The knot held them fast, Hyukjae’s cock still twitching inside him, pumping the last of his release.
Slowly, the frantic heat in Hyukjae’s scent began to recede, like a fever breaking. The animalistic tension bled from his muscles. He turned his head, his lips finding Donghae’s shoulder, not with teeth, but with a soft, exhausted kiss.
“Donghae,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and utterly spent. “My Donghae.”
He began to cry. Silent, heaving sobs that shook his entire frame. It wasn’t sadness. It was the massive, overwhelming release of biological pressure, of fear, of a love so ferocious it had momentarily terrified him.
Donghae held him, stroking his damp hair, pressing kisses to his temple. “I’m here,” he murmured. “I’m right here. You’re okay. We’re okay.”
They stayed like that until the knot softened enough for Hyukjae to slip out, both of them wincing at the sensation. Hyukjae, moving with a tenderness that was the exact opposite of his earlier ferocity, lifted Donghae carefully and carried him to their bed. He fetched a warm, wet cloth and cleaned him with meticulous care, his hands trembling now with aftershocks and emotion. He fetched water, holding the glass to Donghae’s lips.
He collapsed beside him, pulling the duvet over them both, and gathered Donghae into his arms, arranging his body so Donghae’s back was against his chest, his hands cupping the heavy curve of his stomach. The twins were quiet, lulled perhaps by the intense hormonal storm.
“I’m sorry,” Hyukjae whispered into his hair, his voice thick.
“Don’t,” Donghae said, entwining their fingers over his belly. “Don’t you dare apologize. That was… us. All of us. You didn’t hurt me. You didn’t scare me.”
“I scared me.”
“I know.” Donghae shifted to look at him over his shoulder. Hyukjae’s eyes were red-rimmed, exhausted, but clear. The glazed fever was gone. “But you didn’t lose yourself. I never stopped seeing you in there.”
Hyukjae kissed his shoulder again, a pledge. They lay in silence as the afternoon light faded into evening. The room held the potent, musky scent of their joining, a scent that spoke of primal need and profound safety.
A tiny, firm kick landed against Hyukjae’s palm.
He chuckled, a wet, shaky sound. “They’re commenting on the accommodations.”
Donghae smiled, his body sore in the best way, his heart full to bursting. “They’re saying hello to their Appa.”
The front door downstairs clicked open. Distant, cheerful chatter floated up—Donghwa’s voice, and Jisung’s higher, excited pitch about his day. The ordinary world was returning, wrapping around the extraordinary cocoon they had just inhabited.
Hyukjae took a deep, steadying breath. The alpha was calm, sated, protective. The man was home. “We should get up,” he said, not moving an inch.
“In a minute,” Donghae murmured, sinking back against him. He listened to the sounds of their family below, felt the solid warmth of his mate at his back, and the lively movement within. The white room down the hall waited, silent and ready. For now, this was enough. This was everything.