Chapter 9: Wet Claiming
The water from the shower had long since dried on their skin, replaced by the humid, salt-tinged air of the balcony. They sat wrapped in identical robes, picking at a platter of fruit, the charged energy from their coupling settling into a warm, satisfied hum. Donghae watched the moon’s path on the ocean, a silver highway to nowhere. Hyukjae’s hand was a constant, warm weight on his thigh.
“We should go in the pool,” Hyukjae said, his voice quiet. “The moon’s perfect.”
“It’s late.”
“Since when do we care about time?” Hyukjae stood, shrugging off his robe. Naked, he looked like a statue carved from something both fragile and enduring, the scars on his shoulder and torso pale in the milky light. He held out a hand.
Donghae took it, letting his own robe fall. His body felt different—heavy, ripe, profoundly used in the best way. He followed Hyukjae down the wide stone steps into the pool. The water was cooler than the air, a shock that became a embrace. Submerged lights made their skin glow blue-white.
They floated for a while, silent. Then Hyukjae swam close, his legs brushing Donghae’s under the surface. “Turn around,” he murmured. “Hold onto the edge.”
A shiver that had nothing to do with temperature went through Donghae. He obeyed, gripping the rough stone coping of the infinity edge, looking out at the black void of the ocean merging with the sky. Hyukjae’s body pressed close behind him. He felt his alpha’s erection, hard again, nestling against the cleft of his ass.
But Hyukjae didn’t push inside. Instead, his hands spread Donghae’s cheeks apart under the water. The night air kissed his exposed hole. Then he felt Hyukjae’s mouth, not on his neck or shoulders, but there. A hot, wet, devastatingly intimate kiss against his most private skin.
Donghae jolted, a choked gasp escaping him. “Hyukjae—what are you—“
The words dissolved into a moan as Hyukjae’s tongue laved a firm, slow stripe over his entrance. It was obscene. It was reverent. The water lapped at their waists, the contrast of cool liquid and searing heat making Donghae’s head spin. Hyukjae ate at him with a focused hunger, his tongue pressing inside, fucking him with it, his nose nudging against his balls.
“Fuck, your taste,” Hyukjae growled against his skin, his voice vibrating through Donghae’s very core. He sucked at the rim, pulling the sensitive flesh into his mouth, then speared him again with his tongue. “Clean and salty and all fucking mine.” He added a finger, circling the tight furl, now slick with spit. He pushed it in alongside his tongue, stretching him open.
Donghae was panting, his forehead pressed to his arms on the pool edge. Pleasure, sharp and electric, radiated from that central point. His cock, hard and neglected, bobbed in the water. “More,” he begged, the word ripped from him.
Hyukjae added a second finger, scissoring them carefully, his mouth never leaving him, sucking and licking at the stretched rim. The stretch burned, a delicious, consuming fire. Water sloshed around them with every movement. “Gonna get you so open for me,” Hyukjae muttered, his breath hot. “Gonna make this pretty hole beg for my cock.” He crooked his fingers, searching.
When he found the spot, Donghae screamed. The sound tore across the silent garden, raw and unfiltered. His legs trembled, his knuckles white on the stone. Hyukjae worked his fingers relentlessly against that bundle of nerves, his mouth a wet, sucking brand on his skin.
“Please,” Donghae sobbed, mindless with need. “Please, alpha, now. Need you in me. Fuck me, please.”
Hyukjae withdrew his fingers and mouth. He positioned himself, the broad head of his cock nudging against the loosened, wet entrance. He wrapped one arm around Donghae’s chest, pinning him back against his body, his other hand gripping his hip. “You want it? Take it.”
He sheathed himself in one brutal, deep thrust. The water displaced around them in a wave. Donghae cried out again, the fullness beyond anything, the stretch perfected by Hyukjae’s meticulous preparation. Hyukjae didn’t wait. He set a punishing pace immediately, each slam of his hips driving Donghae forward against the stone edge. The force was animalistic, a claiming that went beyond skin, seeking bone.
“This is what you needed,” Hyukjae snarled in his ear, his teeth grazing the mating mark. “Not gentle. This. To be fucking used. To know I can still wreck you.” His hand slid from Donghae’s hip to wrap around his dripping cock, stroking him in a rough, punishing rhythm that matched his thrusts.
The combination was devastating. Donghae was split open, speared, pistoned into. The slick, wet slap of skin on skin, amplified by the water, was a filthy soundtrack. Hyukjae’s grip on his cock was tight, almost painful. “Gonna come,” Donghae babbled. “Hyukjae, I’m gonna—“
“Do it,” Hyukjae commanded, his thrusts becoming erratic, frantic. “Come all over my hand. Show me.”
Donghae’s orgasm erupted like a supernova, blinding and violent. His release shot into the pool water, his body seizing around Hyukjae’s invading length, milking him. The intense clenching was the final trigger. Hyukjae shouted, a raw, broken sound, as he buried himself to the hilt and emptied inside him, his hot spend flooding Donghae’s depths in pulsing waves.
They collapsed against the edge, a tangle of heaving limbs, only Hyukjae’s arm keeping Donghae from sinking. The water slowly stilled around them. Hyukjae’s softened cock slipped out, followed by a trickle of their mixed release. He turned Donghae in his arms, holding him close, kissing his temple, his eyelids, his mouth.
“Okay?” Hyukjae breathed, his own chest still heaving.
Donghae could only nod, his face buried in Hyukjae’s neck. He felt boneless, utterly spent, hollowed out and remade.
They eventually climbed out, drying off with slow, tired movements. Back in the vast bed, the moonlight streaming across them, Donghae lay on his side, Hyukjae’s body curled around his back, a hand resting on the dome of his stomach. One of the pups kicked, a strong, insistent thump against Hyukjae’s palm.
“They’re feisty tonight,” Hyukjae murmured.
“They felt it,” Donghae said quietly. “All of it. The energy.”
Hyukjae was silent for a long moment. His fingers traced the twin platinum bands on Donghae’s left hand. “Do you think that’s bad?”
Donghae considered it. He thought of the scream he’d let into the night, a sound of pure, unadulterated feeling. He thought of the devotion in Hyukjae’s rough touch, a devotion that had waited through rejection and injury. “No,” he said finally. “I think they felt loved. In the most real, messy way possible. I think that’s all that matters.”
Hyukjae’s arms tightened around him. “When we get back,” he said, his voice thick with impending sleep, “we need to finalize the nursery. The carpenter is waiting.”
“We will.”
“And the doctor’s appointment. The last big scan.”
“I know.”
A longer pause. “I’m scared,” Hyukjae whispered, the admission so soft it was almost lost in the whisper of the ceiling fan.
Donghae turned within the circle of his arms to face him. In the dim light, Hyukjae’s eyes were wide, the confidence of the pool gone, replaced by the vulnerable man from the hospital bed. “Of what?”
“Of it happening again. Of something taking me away from you when you need me. When they need me.” His right hand, the one that had held him down, gripped Donghae’s hip. “I’m not at full strength. What if—”
Donghae cut him off with a kiss. It was soft, lingering. “Listen to me,” he said, pulling back just enough to speak. “You are here. Your heart is beating against mine. That’s the only guarantee any of us ever get. The rest is just noise.” He took Hyukjae’s hand and placed it back on his stomach. Another kick, a firm nudge. “They’re not waiting for you to be perfect. They’re just waiting for you. Their alpha. The one who waited. The one who fights.”
Hyukjae’s breath hitched. He pulled Donghae closer, tucking his head under his chin. They lay like that until Hyukjae’s breathing evened out into sleep.
Donghae stayed awake a while longer, listening to the ocean and the rhythm of the two hearts he carried—one beating against his back, steady and sure, the others tumbling inside him, eager for the world. The fear was there, a cold thread in his own blood. But it was woven through with something stronger, something forged in platinum and sealed in salt water. It was enough. For now, in the Bali dark, it was more than enough.
For now, in the Bali dark, it was more than enough. The deep, satiated sleep that followed was a blank canvas. Something primal stirred in its depths, an ancient chemical switch flipping deep in Hyukjae’s glands. It began as a restless shift in his limbs, a tightening in his gut. Then, a scent, thick and cloying as burnt sugar, began to seep from his pores, cutting through the jasmine and salt air. It coated the back of Donghae’s throat even in sleep.
Donghae woke to a furnace at his back and a desperate, grinding pressure against his ass. Hyukjae’s skin was damp and fever-hot. A low, continuous growl vibrated through the mattress. “Hyukjae?” Donghae’s voice was fuzzy with sleep. He tried to turn, but the arm locked around his waist was iron. “Hey. You’re burning up.”
“Can’t… help it.” The words were slurred, guttural. Hyukjae’s nose pressed into the juncture of Donghae’s neck and shoulder, inhaling in ragged, shaky pulls. “You smell… God, you smell like heaven and milk.” His hand slid from Donghae’s stomach to his chest, palming a pectoral muscle with rough need. A jolt, sharp and surprising, went through Donghae. A damp, cool spot bloomed on the thin cotton of his sleep shirt.
Lactation. It had started last week, faint and incidental. Now, under the onslaught of Hyukjae’s rut pheromones, his body responded in earnest. Hyukjae moaned, the sound tortured. He rubbed his palm over the damp cloth, his hips giving an involuntary, jerky thrust. “Taste,” he begged, the Alpha command utterly stripped away, replaced by pure, needy instinct. “Please, Hae. Let me taste.”
The rut had him. It was a biological storm, triggered by their frantic coupling, by the deep claim reaffirmed in the pool. Donghae’s own pulse kicked into a thick, heavy rhythm. He nodded, his breath catching. “Okay. Just… let me turn over. Be careful.”
The iron arm loosened enough for Donghae to roll onto his back. Hyukjae loomed over him, his eyes black and wild in the dim light, his expression a heartbreaking mix of animal hunger and dazed recognition. He was fighting it, fighting himself for Donghae’s sake. He fumbled with the hem of Donghae’s shirt, his movements clumsy. Donghae helped him, pulling the soft fabric up and off.
The cool air pebbled his skin. Hyukjae stared, transfixed, at his chest. A bead of pearly fluid welled and slid from one nipple. Hyukjae made a punched-out sound. He lowered his head, not with force, but with a shuddering, exquisite slowness. His tongue, hot and broad, swept over the droplet, collecting it.
A violent shiver racked him. “So sweet,” he mumbled against Donghae’s skin, his lips closing around the nub. He suckled gently, a pulling, rhythmic pressure that sent lightning straight to Donghae’s groin. His other hand came up to cradle the other side, his thumb stroking the untouched nipple until it beaded and leaked for him too. Donghae arched off the bed, a moan torn from him. The sensation was obscenely intimate, a direct line from his nurturing core to his cock, which hardened achingly against his stomach.
“Need you,” Hyukjae chanted between pulls, his mouth wet and desperate. “Need to be inside. Need to knot you. Please. My omega. My pregnant omega.” He said it like a prayer and a curse, his hands running over the huge curve of Donghae’s belly as if memorizing its contours, reassuring himself of its safety. The contradiction was staggering: the rut-driven Alpha desperate to claim, his hands trembling with the effort to be gentle.
“You are,” Donghae gasped, his own fingers tangling in Hyukjae’s sweat-damp hair. “Do it. Just… go slow. We’re okay.” He reached for the bottle of oil on the nightstand, slicking his own fingers before reaching between his legs. He worked himself open quickly, the memory of the pool’s stretching still vivid in his body. He was slick and ready, his body thrumming in response to Hyukjae’s need.
Hyukjae watched, his breathing ragged. When Donghae guided him to his entrance, he pushed in with a slow, trembling exhalation. It was an agony of control. Every muscle in Hyukjae’s body was corded tight, shaking with the effort to not simply slam home. He filled Donghae inch by torturous inch, until their bodies were flush, his hips nestled against Donghae’s ass.
“Fuck,” Hyukjae sobbed, dropping his forehead to Donghae’s shoulder. He didn’t move. He just trembled, fully sheathed, tears of frustration or relief mixing with the sweat on his skin. “So deep. You feel… I can’t… I need to…”
“Move,” Donghae commanded softly, wrapping his legs around Hyukjae’s waist. “It’s okay. Move for me.”
Hyukjae broke. His thrusts were not the brutal, driving pace from the pool, but a deep, rolling piston motion, each one grinding his pelvis against Donghae’s ass, each one measured to avoid jarring his stomach. It was relentless, but it was careful. His mouth returned to Donghae’s chest, suckling in time with his hips, the wet, filthy sounds of his mouth and his cock filling the room.
“You’re taking me so good,” Hyukjae rasped, his voice shattered. “This perfect cunt, milking my cock, feeding me… fuck, I’m gonna come so deep in you.” His rhythm began to stutter, his knot swelling at the base, a familiar, insistent pressure beginning to catch with each thrust. Donghae felt his own orgasm rising, a tide pulled by the rhythmic tug on his nipple and the relentless, perfect friction inside him.
Hyukjae’s hand slid between them, finding Donghae’s cock, stroking him in a slick, tight fist. “Come with me,” he pleaded. “Fill my hand. Let me feel it.”
That was all it took. Donghae shattered, his release painting hot stripes across his own stomach and Hyukjae’s fist. The intense, clenching pulses around Hyukjae’s cock dragged his own climax from him. He pushed deep, his knot locking them together as he pulsed, his spend flooding Donghae’s depths in hot, endless waves. He cried out, a raw, broken sound of release and devotion, collapsing carefully to the side to keep his weight off Donghae’s stomach, his mouth still lazily suckling as the aftershocks trembled through them both.
A long time later, the knot subsided. The feverish heat of Hyukjae’s skin began to slowly ebb. He lay spent, half over Donghae, his face nuzzled into his chest, his breathing gradually deepening into something like normal sleep. Donghae traced the scars on his back, the planes of his shoulders, sticky with sweat and spend. A soft, incredulous laugh bubbled out of him.
Hyukjae stirred, nuzzling closer. “What?” he mumbled, his voice shot and sleepy.
Donghae looked down at the satisfied Alpha draped over him, then at the mess on his stomach, then at the profound, aching fullness between his legs. He smiled into the dark. “At the rate you’re going,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with use, “I’m going to be pregnant again.”
Hyukjae’s sleepy grunt vibrated against Donghae’s chest. “Good.” His fingers, still lax from exhaustion, traced the dried streaks on Donghae’s stomach. “Wouldn’t mind a dozen more.”
“A dozen?” Donghae shoved him lightly, but Hyukjae only burrowed deeper, his breath hot on the sensitive, damp skin of his pectoral. A faint, new droplet welled. Hyukjae’s tongue darted out instinctively, catching it.
The simple, needy action sparked something in Donghae’s gut. A deep, possessive ache. Hyukjae had been the supplicant in his rut, the one brought low by biology, pleading for taste and entry. Now, in the softened quiet, Donghae felt the inverse pull. The need to render service. To give. To control the giving.
He carded his fingers through Hyukjae’s hair. “Your rut’s fading.”
“Mmm. Thirsty. And my shoulders feel like someone parked a car on them.”
Donghae smiled in the dark. He’d been the car. The welcome, crushing weight. He waited until Hyukjae’s breathing deepened again into true sleep, then slipped out from under him. The room was a mess of shed clothes and used sheets. Donghae padded to the bathroom, his body feeling loose and used in a way that was profoundly satisfying. He washed quickly, the cool water a shock. He studied his reflection in the steamy glass. His chest was pink, the nipples still noticeably erect. He gave one an experimental press with his thumb. A clear, pearly bead appeared. He shivered.
He returned to the bedroom with a purpose. From his suitcase, he extracted four long silk scarves, a pale dove grey he’d packed on a whim. He approached the bed where Hyukjae lay sprawled on his stomach, one arm flung out, utterly vulnerable.
“Hyukjae.” Donghae’s voice was quiet but firm. He watched the Alpha’s shoulders tense for a second, then relax as he recognized the tone. Not a threat. An invitation.
“Yeah?” Hyukjae didn’t open his eyes.
“Roll onto your back. Arms above your head.”
Hyukjae’s eyes opened then. He blinked up at Donghae, a slow comprehension dawning. He didn’t speak. A smile, lazy and intrigued, touched his lips. He did as he was told, shifting his heavy body, raising his arms to grasp the ornate wooden slats of the headboard. He didn’t ask why. He simply offered his wrists.
The trust was absolute. It stitched another piece of Donghae’s fractured past back together. He looped one scarf around Hyukjae’s left wrist, tying it securely but not cruelly to the headboard. He repeated the process with the right, leaning over Hyukjae’s body, his swollen stomach brushing Hyukjae’s side. Hyukjae tested the bonds once, a slight tug. He smiled wider.
“Good?”
“Yeah.”
Next, Donghae moved to his ankles. He pushed Hyukjae’s legs apart, tying each ankle to a corresponding leg of the heavy bed frame. Hyukjae was now spread open before him, utterly bound, completely at his mercy. His cock, soft and spent, lay against his thigh. Donghae stood at the foot of the bed, surveying his work. His Alpha, rendered immobile. The protector, protected only by Donghae’s whim.
The power was a thick, sweet syrup in his veins.
He climbed onto the bed, crawling between Hyukjae’s spread legs. He started at his feet, pressing his thumbs into the arches, massaging the tension from them. He worked his way up Hyukjae’s calves, the thick muscle yielding under his touch, then his thighs. He avoided the obvious, the center of him. He focused on the service, the worship through touch.
Hyukjae watched him, his breath hitching when Donghae’s hands slid high up his inner thighs, his thumbs grazing his balls. But Donghae moved past them, up over his hips, his stomach, the scattered scars, his chest. He leaned down and licked a stripe over one flat nipple, then the other. Hyukjae jumped, a soft gasp escaping him. His cock twitched against his thigh, beginning to fill.
“You’re in charge,” Hyukjae whispered, his voice rough.
“I know.” Donghae finally looked at his face. He kissed him, deep and slow, pouring all the unspoken gratitude into it. For waiting. For fighting his way back. For letting himself be bound.
Then Donghae moved lower again. He positioned himself between Hyukjae’s legs, his face level with his hardening cock. He didn’t take it into his mouth immediately. He nuzzled the thatch of dark hair at its base, inhaled his scent—clean sweat, sex, and the fading bitter-sweetness of rut. He kissed the soft skin of his inner thigh, licked a vein that ran along the shaft.
“Hae…” Hyukjae’s hips lifted a fraction, a helpless thrust into the air.
“Be still,” Donghae murmured, his breath hot on the tip. A pearly bead of pre-come had formed. He lapped it away, savoring the salt and musk. Only then did he take the head into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the crown.
Hyukjae groaned, a deep, resonant sound that seemed to come from the center of the earth. His head thrashed against the pillow, but his limbs stayed obediently where Donghae had placed them. The surrender was more intoxicating than any dominance.
Donghae began to work him in earnest. He took him deeper, his throat relaxing, his nose pressed to the dark curls. He bobbed his head in a steady, leisurely rhythm, one hand wrapped around the base, the other gently cupping and rolling his balls. The wet, slick sounds of his mouth filled the silent room. He added suction, hollowing his cheeks, pulling hard on the upstroke.
“God, your mouth,” Hyukjae panted, his chest heaving. “So fucking good. So perfect.” His hands clenched and unclenched around the headboard slats, the silk scarves tightening. “I wanna… fuck, I wanna touch you.”
“You can’t.” Donghae pulled off with a wet pop, smiling up at him. “You just get to take what I give you.” He leaned forward, presenting his chest to Hyukjae’s mouth. “Taste.”
Hyukjae lunged forward as much as his bonds allowed, his mouth closing hungrily over the offered nipple. He suckled hard, a greedy, pulling pressure that sent a jolt of pure pleasure-pain straight to Donghae’s groin. A sweet, thin stream of milk filled Hyukjae’s mouth. He moaned around the flesh, swallowing, his eyes rolling back in bliss.
The dual sensations—Hyukjae’s hot mouth on his chest, his hard cock in his hand—drove Donghae wild. He was slick between his own legs, dripping without a single touch there. He guided Hyukjae’s weeping cock to his entrance. He positioned himself above it, with his one hand on Hyukjae’s stomach for balance.
“Watch,” Donghae commanded, his voice trembling with need.
Hyukjae’s eyes, glazed with pleasure, snapped open. He watched as Donghae sank down, taking every inch of him in one slow, continuous slide. The stretch was immense, breathtaking. Donghae’s head fell back, a broken cry escaping him as he was filled to the brim. He bottomed out, his ass meeting Hyukjae’s hips.
For a moment, he just sat there, impaled, letting his body adjust. He could feel the hard length of Hyukjae inside him, a living claim. He began to move. He set a grinding, circular rhythm, riding him deep, using his thighs to lift and sink, lift and sink. His hands braced on Hyukjae’s chest, his fingers digging into the muscle.
“You feel that?” Donghae gasped, riding him harder, the wet slap of their skin echoing. “Your cock in my cunt. I’m in control of it. I’m milking you with it.” He leaned forward, changing the angle, and Hyukjae shouted, his body arching against the restraints.
“Fuck!Right there! Don’t stop!” Hyukjae was babbling, undone, the veins in his neck standing out. His hips bucked upwards, fighting the ties, trying to meet Donghae’s drives.
Donghae rode him like a man possessed. His breasts brushed Hyukjae’s face with each bounce, offering, and Hyukjae turned his head, capturing a nipple again, sucking frantically as Donghae fucked himself on his cock. The pleasure was a tightening coil, winding unbearably tight from both ends—from the relentless friction inside him and the pull on his sensitive nipple.
“I’m gonna come,” Hyukjae warned, his voice a shattered growl. “Hae, I can’t… I’m gonna knot you. I swear to god I’m gonna knot you.”
“Do it.” Donghae slammed down, grinding hard as he felt the base of Hyukjae’s cock begin to swell, the thick knot catching against his stretched rim. “Knot me. Fill me up. Give me everything.”
The command broke Hyukjae. He roared, his body seizing as the knot locked them together. His release was a torrent, pulsing hot and deep, flooding Donghae’s core. The sensation of being so utterly claimed, so completely filled, triggered Donghae’s own climax. He came with a silent scream, his body clenching in vicious spasms around the throbbing knot, his own release spurting between their stomachs.
He collapsed forward, his sweaty forehead resting on Hyukjae’s heaving chest. They were tied together, inside and out. The scarves held Hyukjae fast. His knot held Donghae fast. For long minutes, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing and the faint, distant hum of the ocean.
Eventually, the knot began to soften. Donghae carefully lifted off, wincing at the oversensitive drag. He moved stiffly, his thighs burning, to untie the scarves from Hyukjae’s ankles, then his wrists. He rubbed the faint red marks left on the skin.
Hyukjae’s arms fell to the bed like dead weights. He looked utterly wrecked, debauched. His lips were slick from Donghae’s milk, his eyes unfocused. He reached for Donghae with a trembling hand, pulling him down beside him, spooning around his swollen body.
“You…,” Hyukjae tried, his voice completely gone. He cleared his throat. “You’ve destroyed me.”
Donghae smiled, a tired, sated curve of his lips. He guided Hyukjae’s hand to his stomach, where a pup was turning slow, lazy somersaults. “You liked it.”
Hyukjae’s laughter was a hoarse puff of air against his neck. “That’s the understatement of the fucking century.” He nuzzled closer. “We have to go back tomorrow.”
The real world waited: the nursery, the final scan, the careful vigilance of doctors. The fear that had whispered in the dark.
“I know,” Donghae said. He closed his eyes, feeling the solid warmth at his back, the life kicking within, the cool platinum bands on his finger. The island had done its work. It had given them the moonlit pool, the rut, the silk scarves. It had given them a story beyond the hospital. “We’re ready.”