The one in control.
Time stopped making sense.
The sun rose.
It fell.
And rose again.
But inside Kim Woo Jin's apartment—within the heat-soaked walls of his bedroom—time had no hold. It was a different world entirely.
A world ruled by instinct.
By rut.
By him.
For Aaron, it all became a haze. He couldn't tell where one round ended and the next began. It was all blurred into one endless cycle—slick skin, feverish kisses, bruised lips, breathless whimpers, and hoarse, whispered pleas.
Just sensation.
Just Woo Jin.
They barely ate.
A few bites here and there—slices of fruit fed to Aaron's parted lips, water cupped in trembling hands and held to his mouth, and protein bars shared between kisses like a rushed offering to survival.
But real meals? Sleep? Even sanity?
Forgotten.
Sleep came in moments. Fleeting gasps of stillness. A collapse against sheets or walls when their bodies physically gave out. But even then, Woo Jin's hands never left him—touching, gripping, claiming.
And when he stirred… when the heat flared again?
So did he.
Woo Jin would wake with a low growl, already reaching for Aaron, lips seeking bare skin. His scent flared wild and uncontained, pulling Aaron under like a tide he never wanted to escape.
His rut wasn't fading.
If anything, it grew worse. Wilder. Desperate.
He couldn't stop.
Wouldn't stop.
He needed Aaron—like air, like fire needed fuel. And Aaron?
He gave in.
Again and again.
Bent over the headboard, clutching the sheets like lifelines as Woo Jin drove into him, whispering his name like a curse and a prayer. Straddling him on the living room couch, Aaron rode him through the haze, head thrown back, lips parted in helpless cries as Woo Jin's fingers left dark crescents on his hips.
In the shower, the water turned cold, but their bodies burned hotter—slick and tangled against fogged-up tiles, steam rising like smoke from the friction of skin on skin.
On the floor.
Against the bathroom mirror.
Pinned to the hallway wall.
Even once—blazingly unforgettable—pressed to the cold glass of the balcony door, city lights painting his reflection as Woo Jin marked him from behind, possessive and breathless.
And then—the mirror.
The full-length mirror in the hallway.
Aaron remembered that moment with a flush.
Woo Jin's teeth sank into his shoulder, his breath ragged against his ear.
"How beautiful you look… covered in my marks."
And Aaron looked.
Flushed skin. Hair damp with sweat.
From his neck to his thighs, his pale skin was bloomed with red—bite marks like wild roses on snow. Every one of them is Woo Jin's.
His scent.
His claim.
He's everything.
Woo Jin couldn't stop. Couldn't breathe unless Aaron was beneath him, around him, moaning his name.
And Aaron?
He let himself be ruined.
Again.
And again.
His thighs ached. His voice was gone—just a rasp. But he still parted his legs. Still wrapped his arms around Woo Jin's shoulders. Still pulled him in like he wanted more.
Two days passed.
Or maybe three.
They lost track of time.
Of the world.
Of everything but each other.
Until finally—finally—the flames began to cool.
Woo Jin's body slackened, the frenzy quieting as instinct slowly gave way to awareness. The air was still thick with pheromones. The sheets were soaked with sweat. Every surface in the apartment smelled like them.
Aaron lay limp, boneless, on the ruined bed. His mind floated, dazed. His lips were cracked and swollen, his body sore from head to toe—but there was a strange, full warmth blooming in his chest.
Woo Jin curled into him like a man who couldn't bear to let go.
His arm draped over Aaron's waist, a leg thrown over his thigh—possessive even now. His fingers traced gentle, slow circles on Aaron's wrist, reverent and tender.
His voice came rough. Guilt-stricken.
"I'm sorry."
He pressed a soft kiss to Aaron's temple, his breath shaky against his skin.
"I lost control… I didn't mean to go that far. It wasn't supposed to happen like that."
Aaron didn't respond right away.
He didn't need to.
He just exhaled—a deep, aching sound—and whispered hoarsely:
"You better be ready to carry me for the next three days."
Woo Jin gave a short, broken laugh. One arm draped protectively around Aaron's waist, he buried his nose into the crook of his neck—seeking grounding, comfort…
And froze.
The scent.
It was still there.
Sharp. Potent. Dominant.
Not his. Aaron's.
Even now—after three days of relentless, body-breaking rut—when Woo Jin had flooded the apartment with overpowering alpha pheromones, Aaron's scent still lingered. Not faded. Not overwhelmed.
It cut through everything. Crisp. Piercing. Unyielding.
Woo Jin's brows furrowed.
That wasn't right.
No matter how strong the alpha, omega pheromones were supposed to fade in the presence of rut. Omegas were biologically wired to respond—to submit. Especially when caught in an alpha's full-blown rut, they were meant to enter heat.
But Aaron?
Even after all this—being drenched in Woo Jin's pheromones, being claimed over and over again…
His heat never triggered.
He was fine.
Still. Calm. Clear-eyed.
No sign of hormonal collapse. No breakdown. No scent shift.
Still so stable. Still so unaffected.
A strange chill crept up Woo Jin's spine.
And then—through the fog of fading lust—his mind clicked back into focus.
Everything began replaying.
Not just this moment.
All of it.
From the very beginning.
He remembered the evening Aaron first stepped into his apartment.
Woo Jin had been mid-rut. His pheromones were everywhere—thick, wild, and territorial. The air was practically choking.
Any other omega would've collapsed.
Would've flushed red. Trembled and gone into heat on the spot.
But Aaron?
Walked in like nothing was wrong.
Didn't flinch.
Didn't hesitate.
Grabbed Woo Jin by the wrist and shoved him.
An alpha.
With enough force to make him stumble.
There had been no shame. No fear. Only that sharp, commanding fire in his eyes.
Like Aaron, he didn't just survive Woo Jin's presence—he dominated it.
And then came the memory of first time he met him in class.
Woo Jin had flooded the air with his scent. He'd been testing Aaron—baiting him, seeing how long he could keep his head up before he bent.
But Aaron hadn't blinked.
He hadn't looked away.
He'd glared straight back at him. Smirking.
That unshakable gaze.
It wasn't fear.
It was a challenge.
Even in the middle of a hallway full of alphas, Aaron's scent had remained steady. His posture—unflinching. His steps—measured.
His entire presence had always screamed control.
As if to say, "I don't answer to you."
Now, lying beside him in the messy tangle of ruined sheets and lingering desire, Woo Jin finally understood what he'd been denying all along.
Aaron hadn't just endured Woo Jin's rut.
He'd withstood it.
He hadn't been dragged under Woo Jin's pheromones.
Woo Jin had been dragged under Aaron's.
"…Aaron," Woo Jin whispered.
The omega stirred beside him, lashes fluttering, voice sleepy and husky. "Hm?"
Woo Jin shifted slightly, tightening his arm around Aaron's waist. His heart pounded. His eyes scanned his face—bruised, kissed, marked—but still regal. Proud. Untouchable.
"You're not affected," Woo Jin murmured. "Not once. Not even when I was in rut. How are you-?"
Aaron's lips curled into a smug, sleepy smirk.
"Took you long enough to figure it out," he rasped, calm as ever. "I may be an omega… but I'm in the same class as you."
He paused.
Then added with a knowing glint in his eye:
"A dominant one."
Woo Jin's breath caught.
It all clicked.
The scent.
The strength.
The refusal to submit.
The way Aaron walked like a king even while surrounded by wolves.
Aaron wasn't just strong.
He wasn't just defiant.
He was one of them.
A dominant omega.
A rare genetic anomaly. So rare it bordered on myth.
For every hundred dominant alphas, only one dominant omega is ever born.
Immune to most pheromone triggers.
Unaffected by heat manipulation.
Impossible to control.
And most dangerously of all—
Irresistibly attractive to dominant alphas.
Woo Jin swallowed, a knot of awe and want curling in his chest.
He looked again—really looked—at Aaron.
The bruises on his collarbone.
The wrecked voice.
The defiant smirk on his lips even now, after days of being ravaged.
And still…
He held himself like royalty.
While Woo Jin?
He was the one unraveling.
From the beginning, he'd thought he was the one chasing.
The one controlling. The one conquering.
But the truth?
He'd been caught from the start.