Work Text:
Not a sound in the waiting room.
Except for his thoughts.
I'm here because I recently got together with my first boyfriend and I'd like to have a check-up to see if everything is okay, a carefully prepared PowerPoint-style presentation that Heeseung rehearses over and over again in his head.
Until...
“Can you stop tapping your foot on the floor?”
Heeseung's leg stops its incessant vibrations after his mother's question, although spoken in a soft voice, reaches his ears. He replaces the activity with his old habit of biting his nails.
Until...
“Hey,” Jiyeon grabs his wrist and lowers his hand. “You can’t be that stressed, can you? It's just a regular exam, try to relax.”
Heeseung looks at her, quite unconvinced. “It's just a little embarrassing...”
“You young people, really, that's all you ever talk about. Embarrassing. There's nothing embarrassing about going to the gynecologist.”
He crosses his arms over his chest and slumps back in his seat, getting rid of the nonexistent dirt under his clean nails. “Is it really necessary, though?”
His teeth take his bottom lip hostage.
“Of course, it is. We shouldn’t neglect our health. I'll come with you if you want,”
He turns in her direction. “No. No, definitely not,” he declines, his cheeks rosy as the scene plays in his head.
“Then stop complaining. Everyone's been there at some point,”
Silence ensues. An older woman eyes him from the chair across, her gaze insistent, judgmental too, checking him out from head to toe through a pair of glasses that are sliding further and further down the bridge of her nose.
If the gynecologist looks at him like that too, it's going to be hell.
Heeseung wants to disappear—to blend into the white wall against which his back rests only briefly and become one with the hands of the clock, whose oppressing ticking buzzes in his ears.
Pick up a magazine. That's what Heeseung decides to do. To supposedly think about something else, but the lines scroll past his eyes without his brain understanding their meaning.
He is about to give up on the fruitless attempt when a voice echoes through the cabin. “Mister Lee?”
His heart jumps in his ribcage as fast as his two legs on the floor. “Yes?”
Facing him is a man in his forties. Heeseung can tell by his hair—dark with a few gray strands in the front. Also, the slight bags under his sharp, hypnotic eyes. Some wrinkles there and then but not numerous. He’s wearing a white coat. And he’s tall too, really tall, at least a good forehead taller than him.
He looks charismatic. Worse, even. He looks so charming, it makes his aura intimidating. And, to be fair, Heeseung would even admit he's insanely hot if he weren’t already taken by someone he respects above all else.
Great.
“Hello, nice to meet you. I'm Dr. Nishimura,” the man introduces himself, offering a hand that Heeseung hesitates to take, given how clammy his own are, but ends up taking anyway. “Please follow me,”
“Nice to meet you too,” is all Heeseung succeeds to say without stuttering.
After the handshake, he begins to follow him, but his mother stops him in his tracks just to whisper one last time. “Sure you don't want me to come?”
Heeseung shakes his head. Then, he pads through the corridors to the doctor's office, whose name is engraved in a golden plaque on the white door.
Dr Nishimura Riki. Gynecologist.
A foreboding feeling forms a pit in his stomach but he ignores it. Just as he ignored his mom a few minutes earlier, when she reassured him that “everything will be fine,” and the suspicious distance from the waiting room to the office. Just like that, the door closes behind them.
___
“First consultation?” asks Riki as he’s already busy noting something down on what looks like a medical record.
No response and he looks up. When Heeseung only nods, his eyes return to his sheet of paper with a coldness somewhere between professionalism and severity. One thing or the other, it covers Heeseung’s skin in goosebumps.
“Lee Heeseung. Omega. 18 years old. Is that right?”
Second nod of the afternoon. It's as if he has just lost the power of speech. And to make matters worse, his cherry pheromones are slowly emanating from every pore, stinking the room with a scent that betrays his anxiety.
He's glad, at least, that the gynecologist profession is reserved only for betas, so it's not like Riki can smell him, meaning he can keep on playing pretend.
Or not.
Judging by Riki's next sentence, maybe the words stuck in his throat are enough to put his emotions on display.
“You don't need to be stressed,” he switches to the computer, brows knitted together. “First consultations aren't generally long, I'll ask you questions and check your perineum. It's just a routine exam, nothing to worry about,”
Heeseung's fingers fiddle with the hem of his skirt as one question pops into his mind. Like a patch. The faster he snatches it off, the faster it's over. The thought pushes him to gather his courage, speaking above the loud noise of his heart hammering. “Do I need to be naked for that...?”
“Yes,” The tone sounds strict in its calmness, perhaps reassuring in its neutrality but, here again, it’s hard to define whether to freak out or not.
It’s ridiculous. Riki had been a doctor for what? At least ten good years, ten years of seeing pussies on the daily. It shouldn’t. It shouldn't deepen his shyness to imagine that pair of eyes on his bare—
Think of something else, he reasons as he skims the office. But the posters of omega genitalia, the straight shelves and the objects arranged with millimeter precision all create an atmosphere that does not help him in his quest for distraction.
So he finds himself, thighs squeezed together, staring at Riki instead. At the sleeves of his white shirt beneath the matching lab coat, rolled to the elbows, the fabric hugging his forearms just enough to trace every raised vein. His hair pulled back, somewhat tousled. The way his mature features amplify the masculinity of his face.
He scratches his eyebrow and Heeseung notices a slight scar at the tip of his left, giving it the look of an eyebrow slit.
It’s sexy.
He means it would be sexy if it weren’t for another detail because, indeed, a wedding ring gleams on Riki’s finger, picked out by the light from the nearby window.
Jesus.
Why is he looking at a married man?
“Is there anything else you would want to know?”
Heeseung widens his eyes, as if his thoughts have been laid bare. He’s speechless.
“You don't need to be stressed,” Riki repeats, straightening from his seat and searching for Heeseung’s gaze and once he’s got his attention, he seizes it, monopolizing it even, darkened eyes staring straight into soul. “But you do need to use your words, Heeseung,”
His voice. It carries the kind of gravelly texture characteristic of heavy smokers; it vibrates with a corrective dominance that makes Heeseung wonder how…
How is this man not an alpha?
“Oh y-yes, Doctor. I'm sorry,” Heeseung rushes to answer, his inner omega in distress. The words stumble over his tongue again and again. “I have a b-boyfriend now and I'd like to be put on birth control,”
“Sure,” Riki replies, expression still rigid. “Is your heat regular?”
Heeseung darts his eyes. “Almost. I mean it happened once maybe that I had them late but generally yes,”
“Keeping track? There are good apps nowadays for this. When was the last time?”
“Oh yes... Last month on the 15th,”
They talk afterward. The doctor keeps questioning him about how long his heats last, whether they’re painful, whether he takes his suppressants properly and he does, more or less. Let’s say he does, since they’ve drastically dropped in price at the pharmacy but at no point does Riki remind him of the precautions to take, nor of how unreasonable he had been, then—
“Do you touch yourself?”
“W-What?”
“When you're in heat,” Riki takes back, voice low, too low. “Do you touch yourself or does someone help you out?”
Somehow, Heeseung knows it’s normal, he's just doing his job, but something about the way he looks at him... feels overwhelming. As though he's able to expose Heeseung as a whole — his vulnerability, insecurities, and everything that comes with them, how easy of a prey he makes.
“I have a knotting dildo...” Heeseung admits, cheeks matching the pink of his skirt.
Fortunately, no comment is made on that. Needless to say, the ensuing silence eats Heeseung alive. One that, in hindsight, should have lasted longer because now Riki orders:
“Take your clothes off,”
So direct, it gets Heeseung gulping loudly against his will. “Here?” He points at God knows what. Riki replies positively as he gets up from his seat and Heeseung does the same, following his every step around the room.
Okay, he's not looking in his direction, he tells himself, as if that would change anything.
Riki has his back to him, busy disinfecting his hands and putting on gloves. Heeseung takes the opportunity to remove the easiest part first: his shoes, then the hardest with his bottoms. His skirt falls to the floor, followed by his t-shirt and soon, he hears it.
“Come over here,”
He doesn't waste a minute. Folds his clothes. Puts them on the chair. Walks over where Riki is standing. Yet his last steps before facing the man slow down.
The moment Riki looks at his nude body, it's over. His hands cross behind his back, feet fidget.
He's practically sure to be red all over.
“What's your boyfriend's name?”
With one question, he reduces him to immobility. Nothing strange, though. It's common, after all, to ask patients questions regarding their personal lives. Nurses would do that whenever he had a blood test, a method made to distract them from what they might be scared of.
It doesn't work on Heeseung.
Quite the contrary.
“Jake,”
“Jake,” Riki repeats. “Is he an alpha?”
“Yes,”
Riki nods. But when his gaze drops to Heeseung’s panties, panic hits. He’d been so rattled by the earlier order that he’d forgotten to take them off. He wants to die.
“Well, the strawberry patterns sure are cute...” the doctor comments, as if it's the most natural thing in the world.
Heeseung can't tell if it's humor or something else, but he's pretty sure he's never felt this small before. And he knows their height and build difference aren’t the only reason for this. Perhaps their age gap is. The power imbalance.
Or the fact Riki’s brushing his index alongside the outline of his sensitive bud, muttering:
“...It goes adorably well with how puffy your clit is,”
From head to toes.
An electric shock runs through his entire body.
Riki. Riki, too. Scans him…
From head to toes.
“But I'm pretty sure he'd like something bolder,” His tongue swipes across his lip. “Maybe dark lingerie,”
“With all due respect, doctor, why are you telling me this…?” Heeseung trails, a bit lost. It feels too personal. Like crossing the line.
“You said you wanted to be on birth control,” Riki explains, back to a stern voice. “In other words, you want to be touched more,”
Heeseung's breath hitches as the older man pursues.
“Trust me, just a thong over this,” his index finger now traces the curve of his ass. Not even a proper touch and yet it burns Heeseung to the very core. “And he won't be able to get his hands off you,”
He pushes his tongue against his inner cheek like he’s got it in mind—the roundness of Heeseung’s butt in a string.
Heeseung reels. Still forces a sentence out. “I’ll think about it…”
Keeping his head lowered, he discovers with horror there’s a wet patch that covers his panties. A hand then adds to his vision field.
Riki’s.
Riki’s finger plays with the tiny bow decorating the thin piece of fabric, then slides under the elastic. Smack. That’s the sound it makes after he lets it slap against his belly. He leans over and instructs. “Off,”
More slick gathers inside Heeseung’s panties. As he begins to strip, it’s so sticky, a long filament connects his hole to the damp cotton and suddenly even undressing is becoming more complex than his high school lessons. He loses his balance for good before Riki grabs him by the waist with one hand.
“Careful,”
Heeseung chews on the inside of his cheek. Underwear halfway down through his thighs. Blood roaring in his ears.
Without removing his hand, Riki scrutinizes his slit again and Heeseung, who’s always hated the prominent shape of his nub, can’t help the shame traveling through his limbs.
“Shaving, that’s good,” Riki points out. “Skinny too,”
His thumb draws circles on the hipbone and it’s like, slowly, Heeseung is morphing into a doll.
“Are you on a diet?”
“Not really… But I know I should eat more, my mom already told—”
“No need,” Riki abruptly cuts him off. “Men prefer it that way,”
Light.
Easy to manhandle.
Heeseung reads between the lines.
“Get on the table and spread your legs,” Riki commands like he hadn’t just advised him to shave and starve himself for men.
Miraculously, Heeseung finds the strength to let his panties join the tiles and drags his body to said table.
It makes him weak.
Not the brightness searing his eyes. Nor the hard surface under his spine. But being in the spotlight in every sense as his legs slowly begin to fall apart, pussy lips following the movement.
He’s shaking, so focused on completing the task, it doesn’t hit him right away… that the two stirrups with straps on either side — like the equipment in movies used to restrain crazed patients before an injection — serve that purpose.
Riki is here to remind him, hooking a hand around one of his thighs. “Up,”
There's no doubt, with the strength he had displayed earlier, he could do it himself, but he doesn't, guiding Heeseung instead.
“Next one,” he prompts once he’s finished, fingers digging into the soft flesh of his opposite thigh.
Heeseung lifts it and Riki settles it onto the disproportionately large matching stirrup before his wrists tense, their tendons standing out as he cinches the straps tight.
More than his vision, it's the air whipping over Heeseung entrance that indicates the boy the lewd position he's in. Immobilized. Offered on a silver platter if the context weren't medical. He doesn't understand why he's associating his doctor with so many sexual things. Can't even bring himself to look at him.
“What are you so shy about, hm?” Riki tilts his head. “Is your boyfriend not often between those legs?”
He checks out his cunt again, its pink color and smooth aspect, before adding:
“That would be his shame,”
The flush on Heeseung's face migrates to his cheeks. “It's not this...”
A grin appears on Riki's face but disappears as soon, bringing back the seriousness of his expression.
“I'll proceed with the examination,” he informs. Then, a succession of sounds follow. Metallic clicks. The tension rises; Heeseung's stomach contracts. “Breathe in and out, it's important you don't move, alright? Stay still.”
Head turned to the side, Heeseung is almost certain he will have cramps tomorrow, considering how every muscle in his body locks. He keeps his eyes shut. He doesn't dare look. He only feels.
Something cold, thick and viscous lingers just above his entrance, close enough that he can sense its weight without being touched yet.
The moment he is though, his hips jerk upward in an involuntary twitch, lifting off the table. Riki pins him back down, one large hand splayed over his hip but perhaps because Heeseung is so thin, or Riki's palm is too big, his thumb easily spans far enough to reach his labia.
A whimper slips out when Riki begins to stroke his outer folds, spreading the cream that Heeseung finally registers as lube. He bites his lip to stifle the next even more choked-off moan but he can’t. Not with Riki now going for his inner folds.
“You have a sensitive clit,” he remarks in the same lazy, nonchalant tone that never stops contrasting with his professional one. “And you react so well to my touch,”
His finger bears down on that raw cluster of nerves.
“Mphm doc—”
“Like a virgin,”
Seconds away from nodding, the omega remembers: he has to use his words. “I... it's because...”
A break. Heavy. It weighs on his chest.
“I've never gone all the way in...” he manages to breathe out. But no relief follows. Intoxicating, it still weighs on his chest...
The hunger flaring in Riki’s stare.
“How about fingering, hm? Did he stretch you with his fingers?”
Intimate. Beyond intimate.
“No, we... I mean yes, just frotting. Two fingers. I don't know how to explain that…”
“You're an adult now, Heeseung,” he grits out, jaw a bit clenched. “You should be able to complete sentences.”
A quavering sound close to what an omega would make after disappointing his alpha breaks free from Heeseung's throat. What is wrong with him? Before he lets the question gain momentum, another memory surfaces without warning.
Jake beside him, them making out, his big hands on Heeseung’s flanks, hips, waist, groping everywhere through the clothes. The temperature grows hotter and hotter until his boyfriend mounts him, cups his cunt, You’re driving me insane, he grunts as he plants open-mouthed kisses along the column of his neck and, pushing his panties to the side, he—
“He pushed two fingers in,”
“In where?” Riki cradles his chin in his hand.
Their eyes meet. And he looms there, shoulders squared, oh so massive, the light behind him carving his silhouette into something dark whilst Heeseung, Heeseung is already losing his mind.
“In my pussy...”
“And then?”
“Then he,” Heeseung clears his throat; more indecent images flash through his mind. “He took himself in hand and lined it up with my entrance, told me he would just put the tip in and take it slow but it hurt me too much, and I—”
“You didn't let him fuck you?”
Heeseung stiffens. “No...”
“Why?”
“I was scared, Doctor. He’s...” Heeseung peers up at Riki, oblivious to the way his eyes have gone half-lidded and glassy, long lashes batting without cease. Then he ducks his head to the side as he recalls the girth. “He’s really big down... down there...”
“Pussy too tight? Scared he might have torn it apart?”
Heeseung gasps. “D-Doctor...”
“Answer me,”
Each syllable chills the omega, left with no other choice but complying. “Yes...”
“You're such a tease,” quips Riki. “How do you even know how tight you are?”
“I don't... I just... I guess I am 'cause he kept telling me to relax for him and I couldn't, I...”
“Then I should check,” he states, adjusting his white coat. “See if there's too much resistance. It's best to diagnose vaginismus early.”
Brows come together in a troubled line. “What's vaginismus?”
“A condition where the muscles around the vagina contract involuntarily,” he explains. “It’s often linked to anxiety or past pain, can make penetration painful or even impossible, and the good news is, it's very treatable.”
Heeseung’s mouth forms a tiny ‘o’ that reveals how alien it all sounds to him but Riki can still tell he finds the mansplaining attractive, typical of the behavior omegas his daughter’s age would have.
They would gush the same way: eyes glistening over details, sometimes even the most basic things, be it a driver’s license, a car, the sexiness of an older man who knows things. And would end up between his sheets a few hours after the first meet up.
The kind that’s malleable physically and spiritually, ideal for brainwashing, dressing up and parading at galas or cocktail parties, for passing around among friends on a whim when the day has dragged too long and routine needs spice.
But above all, the kind with responsive pussies.
Riki peels off one glove, making up an excuse about needing to ‘feel more,’ he’s sure the naive princess will eat off his hand. That’s the stethoscope resting around his neck, if you ask him; it never fails to blind the most guileless creatures and confirms itself as the symbol of power he wields so effortlessly over them.
And indeed.
He brings his bare hand closer till it’s unmoved just in front of Heeseung’s entrance, yet Heeseung doesn’t even doubt his intentions. Sweet. Both are: behavior and cunt since, even after Riki tugs the pussy lips apart, the view stays obscured by globes of body fluids tangled in a spider web, veiling the small hole beneath.
He's seen tons of cunts but rarely anything so fat and juicy — so raw and swollen, it already seems mistreated. God. He's got the pussy of someone who's taken dick after dick all while being as pure as a nun; must be his destiny to end up ruined like that. Riki finds it quite the sight.
When he slowly slides a first finger in, Heeseung wails and his pussy walls heat it up instantly, a real convection oven. He'd have melted that glove in seconds.
Riki holds still for now to test the give. Just seeing how many this greedy one can take before it breaks.
Then, right beside the first, he eases a second inside. Heeseung slaps a hand over his mouth to muffle the shrill squeal ready to echo off the walls.
So much drama over so little, knowing that slit gobbles the third up just fine, velvet heat wrapping tight around the intrusion, clenching in that obscene, irresistible ‘please give me thick cock’ kind of way.
“I see,” Riki murmurs.
But he doesn’t grant Heeseung anything else. He withdraws instead, and Heeseung lets out a fractured keen that dies in his throat, carrying way too much disappointment to not be pathetic.
It’s without a word Riki waits for his most honeyed tone, for Heeseung to subconsciously beg, as he plucks a tissue from the trolley beside him.
“Is it that bad, Doctor...?”
Here they go.
His face radiates an innocence Riki wants to rip apart. Unlike his own weathered features, Heeseung's are unblemished—lips rosy, skin flawless, eyes large and bright with lightheartedness; he's in the prime of his youth.
“It's not,” he says, voice flat, cleaning his hand. “It's got the perfect grip,”
“Then why...”
Why did you stop? can be read on his lips. These are trembling in sync with his vulgar slit whose hole keeps pulsing around nothing.
“Are you sure?” he asks next, trying to make himself look like something else than a fresh piece of meat for predators like Riki to dive into.
Riki’s blood rushes in his veins as he lifts the speculum from the tray. Cold steel, intended for this very moment regardless.
Heeseung’s lips part in pure confusion the instant Riki drives the instrument deep in one merciless plunge, expression blank.
“Ah—Doctor, what are you—ah...!” The yelp bursts from Heeseung whose fingers claw at the padded stirrup edges.
A lone tear trails down his face from the abrupt stretch, yet his body only reacts by producing more slick to accommodate the foreign object. Mortifyingly filthy, it gushes in a gross puddle under his ass.
With something else.
One after the other, many tears are making their great entrance on his cheeks now. All flushed. Riki doesn’t even hit the back yet and catharsis already paints his features.
“Notice anything?” Riki questions rhetorically. “Devours whatever you feed it.” He rams the speculum deeper to emphasize the point, metal ratcheting open with a click that maintains the walls apart.
Vagina locked.
Heeseung can’t speak past his sobs. Chest heaves nonstop. Snot collects under his nose.
“It’s a shame you didn’t let Jake have his fun,”
Unlocked.
A toe-curling thrust follows. Then another. Riki establishes a punishing tempo — one, two, three. Each scraps sensitive tissue before the tool seats fully this time, no stopping despite Heeseung wriggling in every direction, bashing tiny fists on the table.
Sweat beads down his forehead at some point. Bangs stick to the skin, tanned complexion shimmers.
But Doctor Nishimura… he exudes a cold control that is enough to knock down his protests. Studies everything from the way slick coats the steel in glossy strands each time he bottoms out, the involuntary spasm of inner muscles fighting the invasion, the lust Heeseung oozes off the moment he extends him from within again.
A chastity cage would suit, Riki thinks as he twists the ratchet wider, click. Heeseung quakes in the stirrups, crying freely now, but his body keeps welcoming the assault, aching for something thicker, hotter, alive.
Getting numb to the feeling of corrupting omegas tear by tear, breath by shattered breath, that’s something Riki is sure will happen but not today.
Because he’s going to savor Heeseung.
Already does through the relentless rhythm he maintains. “With behavior like yours, one day he’ll bury his cock in other pussies. Is that what you want? Pushing your alpha to cheat?”
Heeseung's face pales a bit as the cruel remark strikes a chord. “No, no, no,” he croaks, unable to hide the sorrow in his voice. “I don't want that—”
The sentence halts just like the object stimulating him. A moment of respite during which Heeseung realizes that when Riki waits, it’s worse than when he moves.
The motion brings pain, yes, but the stillness forces his subconscious to look at itself in the mirror, to confront the humiliating truth that he misses it.
“Then, you should satisfy him.”
Riki, in reality, isn’t suggesting…
“He’s an alpha with needs,”
…it’s mandate. Law. His rules.
“And here you are, flaunting this pretty, fertile cunt between your legs,” he's the definition of contrast, caressing his cunt as Heeseung melts into the touch. “Built to swallow cocks, to cradle it deep and still denying his. Don’t be selfish.”
Heeseung sniffs, eyes bloodshot and stinging. “I didn't mean to refuse, I promise...”
His nipple tweaked between Riki’s deft fingers tears a sinful shriek from his throat.
“My mom just always told me I have to…” A hiccup kills the pace of his words. “...save myself for the good one.”
“Your mother lied,” Riki opposes, eyes falling to the speculum still stuffed inside Heeseung. He raises a forearm, humid with the product of arousal, in front of his face. “See how much you’ve rained on me? You crave this.”
Sticking his tongue out, he licks his own forearm, collects everything to the last drop. Those plump lips that drag over the skin… Heeseung can’t stop picturing them wrapped elsewhere, tasting directly from the source. The simple thought of his flavor on the older man’s budtastes sends flutters rioting through his chest.
“That’s—”
“Skipping suppressants to save a few coins, yet whining over a cock,” Riki continues, tone reproachful, as he starts to toy with the clamps. Heeseung’s upper body trashes around at the strange sensation of being stretched from within.
“He should’ve raped you.”
It’s so crude. More than the words themselves, the way his slit gapes wide around the metal each time Riki presses on the clamps, the pearly scent of sex that thickens the air the sweeter his cherry pheromones turn — riper, almost overripe without Heeseung ever having experienced the real sensation of an alpha.
Riki barely touches him beyond what he’s using to turn Heeseung into a puppet, yet his presence alone makes the boy feel like he could throw himself at his feet in the snap of a finger.
“Like this, should’ve pinned you to the mattress,” Riki leans over his body, strong frame crowding him as Heeseung’s head spins.
Because he swears he’s hallucinating a scent that alerts his omega it’s time to kneel in the most blow-minding way. Bow. Bend over, the little voice in his head insists.
In no time, he’s inhaling it in gulps, addicted, thrilled, desperate to drown in the scent, to cover himself with it like it’s perfume. It sinks into his skin. The smell of dark roasted coffee and a razor edge of aged whiskey, mature and paternalistic, far from a Beta’s.
Impossible.
“And you’d have squirted from it. You’d have come just from him splitting you open against your will.”
It should disgust him. That would have been the only sane response. But instead he fights, struggling against the need, the urge for those vile words to become truth, for a cock (Riki’s) violating his insides until he can’t stand on his own legs, hole impossibly large, destroyed beyond repair.
“Too much,” Heeseung manages, voice cracking. “That–” (then low, ridiculously lower, unconvincing even) “is illegal…” (higher, a tiny bit higher) “It’s wrong…”
A threatening hand seizes his jugular but doesn’t apply any pressure, just rests there as a reminder of what could happen if Riki chose to. “Wrong? We’re wolves driven by instinct. Wrong is our normalcy,”
We?
Betas aren't wolves. Betas are humans. No scent, no primal instinct. They can't radiate pheromones and submit omegas through their simple power like Riki is doing right now, as Heeseung doesn't move an inch even after he has straightened up to unbuckle his belt.
“And have you even seen yourself, Heeseung?” He takes his time unzipping his pants despite the steel color his eyes have turned. “You’re such a beauty, I bet all the alphas at your school are dying for a taste of you,”
And when his cock springs off his boxers, slapping on his navel, Heeseung boils inwardly and externally, temperature increasing to dangerous degrees at the mouth-watering sight. It's a weapon, not a dick, Heeseung thinks humorlessly because he wouldn’t have imagined bigger than Jake’s to be possible.
Everything then makes sense. The glowing eyes. The... scent. It's evidence.
He's—
“Alpha…” Heeseung exhales through the haze of his fever, the arrival of oxygen down his trachea stalling, as if something is perforating his lungs. He loses his breath. “Feels weird… like… my heat… my heat… came earlier…”
“I’m not your alpha, Heeseung. I’m your doctor.”
“As a doctor, can’t you…” he pauses. His vision blurs as the despair leads more tears to well up in his eyes. “E-Ease me?”
“Ease you, princess? Tell me how.”
The teasing, the animalistic groan Riki releases as he wraps his fist around his own length — it drives Heeseung's omega insane, his head emptying itself.
Every cell in his body needs Riki to be his first. And yet he's faced with an unshakable man fucking his fist, but not his needy vagina, nostrils full of the tangy smell of his cock.
“You — nghh — the one with the diplomas,” Heeseung dares, all bratty words and not enough backing for that bold mouth while his eyes plead in silence.
Map of tan skin lays there, out of reach, one Riki is soon to fix the unbruised state of as his hand lands across Heeseung’s cheek. It feels educational. Fuses with Heeseung's head first, snapped to the side ; whines next, cut short by a second slap on the other side of his face.
Then, a third.
It hits with such strength Heeseung swears his brain crashes against the corner of his skull.
“I'm the one who knows,” Riki confirms. “And you're the one who needs.”
Heeseung's nose drips. Blood.
His pussy too. Not blood…
“So tell me, is that your cheap virginity you want me to take?” he snares his jaw in his palm, the gesture requiring a response as if he hadn't ripped Heeseung’s hymen clean off with that speculum he’s removing in one go.
Heeseung needs a moment to process everything; the question, emptiness, unpleasant sensation that his cheekbones have been traded for rocks under his skin.
He opens his teary eyes, but when he does, only pitiful pleas leave his lips, made bloody by the strikes.
“Yes, please, your cock is so...”
Dots swing above his vision, but it doesn't stop him from foaming at the mouth. “I want it so bad, please, alpha, fuck me.”
Fuck me.
It detonates in the sterile room. And doesn’t get answered by words but action, one that tells him he’s indeed going to get what his pussy throbs for as he distinguishes Riki taking condoms from the medical tray. Wait. Condoms in the tray…? Planned. His guts turn inside out as Riki undoes the top buttons of his shirt.
A scent patch under the tissue presents itself to Heeseung’s eyes as the ultimate proof the alpha has indeed been hiding his second gender. Explains a lot.
“Maybe it’s time for you to learn how to put a condom on,” Riki rips the package of the condom with his teeth but hands it to Heeseung. “You might need it with your boyfriend.”
Heeseung straightens and takes the lubricated condom with hesitation, eyes unfocused toward Riki’s cock.
Riki removes the saliva at the corner of his lips. “Don’t be disgusting.”
“Sorry…” Heeseung apologizes. He’s a stupid mess to say the least, clumsily pinching the top of the condom and placing it over Riki’s cockhead. But the slippery texture of the length makes it hard.
His inexperience shows, probably the type who never even had the curiosity to watch porn since he can’t even take the initiative to hold the cock in his hand; Riki has to grab his wrist and direct it where he wants him.
“Around the base,” Riki instructs. “Unroll it.”
Adrenaline shoots right through Riki’s balls at the way Heeseung obeys so willingly, fitting on the barrier that will let the alpha ruin him at will.
“It’s gonna hurt…” Heeseung says, anticipating.
“Hurt?” A dry laugh escapes Riki. “With the way you’re dirtying everything?”
Heeseung jolts afterward since Riki’s palm cracks against the surface of his cunt, the impact flinging a spray of excess wetness that splatters everywhere — warm droplets all across Heeseung’s thighs, the table edge, even flecking Riki’s shirt, proof of just how ready that once-neglected slit truly is.
“Let me teach you something else,” Riki begins. “Your alpha should always be the one taking the most pleasure. And this,” he cups his pussy. “This should only be useful for him to come, so quit making a mess now.”
The contempt he has for his pleasure makes Heeseung cry a little more. “I’m sorry, I swear I didn’t do it on purpose, I’m just... your scent...”
“Brainless, aren’t you? Only thinking with that pathetic thing,” he pinches his clit before capturing it in a vice-like grip between index and middle finger.
“Nghhh—” is the nonsensical response he ignores as he lifts a scalpel and brings it close to where Heeseung’s clit is drowning in its juice. “Should I…?”
Mortification distorts Heeseung’s features while Riki imagines how much more of a reaction he could get if he really snatched that bud off his cunt and sewed it with needles. The best way to train. And the paralyzed lamb under him is proof of it.
Riki presses. Makes him feel. Once.
From the threat alone, Heeseung’s scent fills with palpable fear he can taste on his tongue.
Sick is to find it fascinating.
Hovering the pointy end of the scalpel over his clit with calculated sadism, there’s no doubt about that, but if there’s one thing, though, that makes him more unhinged, it’s pretty little Heeseung crying a river over the possible risk of his cute clit being mutilated.
“No... I’m sorry, sir. I’m really sorry, I’ll do anything but please don’t cut me there— ahhhh—”
Riki covers Heeseung’s mouth with his palm before sliding a hand over his waist and his cock into him, penetrating him slowly, languidly, then stilling as the absolute bliss of finally sheathing himself in Heeseung hits him right away.
His nails dig into the waist, nose breathes in his scent glands. “Shhh, don’t be so loud, sweetheart,” lips ghost over the skin and, in one swift motion, he positions the blade on his belly, a warning.
“Your mother would know exactly where you are right now, getting deflowered by a mated alpha twice your age.”
He cuts and blood escapes the fresh wound in one line, staining Heeseung’s skin, but Heeseung barely feels anything except Riki’s cock that drags along the walls of his vagina. It’s new. Delicious. And all he can possibly do is mewl as, inch by agonizing inch, Riki starts to thrust in and out of him.
It ravages him. That he’s letting the older man enjoy his young body like he’s just a fleshlight to take advantage of, how he relishes in the way Riki gently uses him.
“I... I love your cock inside me… feels… f-feels good…” He should know the nice treatment isn’t for his sake, either an egoistical feeling or another malicious tactic, but he’s too cockdrunk to think. Especially after he had expected Riki to be aggressive like earlier, but he isn’t, making him convulse through the hits on that sweet spot found without trouble.
So he could have sent Heeseung to heaven earlier. Just chose hell for him instead so he would know who decides.
Now, he’s got Heeseung at his mercy and thinking, thinking about the ones in Riki’s hold before him, his wife at the front row of his expertise and it ignites an irrational possessiveness within the omega, driving him to the brink of madness.
“Do you... mhpm— Do you do that to every patient?” he pouts as Riki rolls his hips sensually, cock molding his once puckered hole to its massive shape, but all Riki does is chuckle.
“Only to pretty omegas who walk in here reeking of untouched heat and pretend they don’t want to be wrecked.”
Holding onto his shoulders, Heeseung deflates in his arms before Riki delves into the crook of his neck. Strands of salt-and-pepper hair tickle his earlobe. A pair of plump lips brands his skin from collarbone to pulse points, insistent kisses dangerously bordering on hickeys.
“Only to the ones who make my cock ache the second they spread their legs.”
Heeseung whimpers, consumed by the desire held in those words, legs straining against the ties as Riki sets a rhythm made of long, deep strokes that feel like worship but carry the weight of manipulation.
Each withdrawal leaves him empty and yearning; each return works him open again, fuller, deeper, until his pussy longs with the need for more.
“Tighter than my wife ever was,” Riki coos, feigning care with a pat on his hair and praise alone. “She loosened up after three kids — this paradise still fights me like it’s starving,”
Pride hits Heeseung first, then shame washes over him. His brain, foggy with heat, forgets what he always knew—omegas should stick together. Yet here he is, preening at being compared favorably to Riki’s wife, as if mothers' bodies are something to judge. What is he becoming?
“What do you say when an alpha compliments your cunt, gorgeous?” Riki’s question erases his inner one.
And there Heeseung wishes he could have wrapped his legs around Riki’s pelvis the second the alpha’s shaft begins to hammer home hard; harder, harder and harder.
“Ahhh thank...” he huffs for a breath at one particularly savage thrust before he anchors himself to Riki, clinging to his coat. “Thank you!”
“Again.”
With one hand, Riki traps his wrists, caging them above Heeseung’s head, the other on his waist. The table scrapes along the floor to the fast rhythmic pace, punctuated by “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” between each moment Riki’s cock abuses Heeseung’s G-spot like it has already memorized the location and makes the omega chant his gratitude out.
And Heeseung, all pliant even through the ecstasy, takes it; he takes Riki all the way to the back of his slit until a “... wanna c-come—” slips out, stronger than him.
“P-Pretty plea—”
Riki's lips meet his, soft at first, then demanding, tongue pushing past Heeseung's teeth to claim his mouth while his cock does the same to his other hole below.
Mint and coffee flavors meld as their lips unite but not only. It’s got the taste of a cheap love at first sight romance and the illusion that comes with it. Heeseung still closes his eyes, letting himself be lulled by this gentle authority that feels exquisite against the intensity of their bodies connecting.
Riki's stubble scrapes his chin raw as he angles deeper into the kiss, swallowing Heeseung's moans while his hips never stop working.
But then Riki breaks away, a string of saliva linking their spit-shined mouths until it ruptures, ignoring the way Heeseung chases after his lips.
“Since you’ve been good, go on,” Riki concedes; butterflies whirl in the omega’s stomach. “Show me how grateful this insatiable pussy is.”
That’s all it takes Heeseung to explode. A surreal pleasure racks through his cells like a static shock firing along the nerves, limbs threatening to lock with the spasms. Fuck, fuck, fuck. It’s too much but it’s so damn good he wants to stop time right there while he squirts in a clear jet, swamping Riki’s shirt and their surroundings.
He’s made a mess.
And Riki's gaze drops to where his lower abdomen distends while he’s split him open within an inch of his life, the outline of his shaft visible beneath taut skin. He traces the subtle ridge with his fingertips, pressing down to feel himself from both sides.
“God,” Riki murmurs as he picks up speed. “You should let every alpha ruin you like this. Become their favorite glory hole. Bend over and make them spill in minutes. Let them cream you full until you leak for days.”
Still fragile from the aftershocks of his orgasm, Heeseung trembles, every fiber of his omega instincts screaming that no alpha but the one who claimed him should ever touch him but he’s learned his lesson: he can’t say no so he favors instead: “Knot me, please, sir... I want a knot...”
It doesn’t have the desired effect since Riki’s thrusts slow down until only half of his cock remains inside. Heeseung’s heart thuds with confusion.
“Alpha, p-pups. I wanna be all round and pregnant. Wanna have y-your babies,” He wills his mind to hatch a new plan, something, anything because the truth is he’s way more scared of not having Riki’s dick smothered all the way back than being beaten up or tortured and it kills him to witness how distant Riki stays, one teasing hand down his own bulge.
“Let’s use that head of yours,” The doctor belittles, tapping a finger on Heeseung’s temple. “And don’t ask for too much, princess.”
“I won’t tell anyone, I promise,” he begs. “I just need your knot, alpha please don’t stop, raw, fuck me raw.”
Hell, if Yui, his teen daughter, ever behaved like that for a man, Riki thinks, he’d drag her to the nearest church himself.
“Do you know what I call omegas like you?” Riki’s fingers thread through Heeseung’s damp hair, tugging hard to remind him of his place. “Greedy enough to seduce older men behind their boyfriend’s back, begging for their pussy bred and knotted up?”
At the sting on his scalp, Heeseung parts his lips, offering the perfect hole for Riki to aim at.
“Sluts,” Riki supplies before he does. He spits into his mouth. “You’re a filthy little slut, Heeseung.”
But the omega doesn’t wince. “Your slut,” he whispers. Mesmerized by Riki’s time-worn features, his pupils dilate, he swallows.
“Please, tell me I am. Call me yours.”
“Mine?” Riki scoffs. “Thought you had a boyfriend,”
Heeseung shakes his head so violently his shoulders quiver. “No, no, I-I’m for you,” he wheezes, ribs rising and falling. “I’m Doctor Nishimura’s slut only.”
“Prove it,” Riki challenges, sliding his cock free on purpose.
“But…” He hesitates as Riki rubs his entrance with the slick tip of his length just enough that Heeseung’s hips gyrate in protest.
“But what? I told you, make that mouth useful,” Riki sneers, taking half a step back, and Heeseung bucks against nothing, complaining, sniveling, over and over again grinding his hips into empty air.
When that fails, his heat-induced brain shatters all caution. He bares his tempting neck to Riki and breathes:
“You…”
The Earth seems to stop turning on its axis.
“You can mark me,”
His surrender is complete. And Riki’s dark plan comes to fruition. He’s murdered omegas like this before. Sent the rest all spiraling into psychiatric wards after abandoning them, a whispered rumor among those who survived.
Nothing could have predicted Riki to become both a doctor and a killer, a degenerate leaving behind a litter of clingy omegas at the verge of death while he returns home to his wife, unbothered.
But society's rules work in his favor: omegas bond for life while alphas remain free to roam so how could he not take advantage of this system?
Too satisfying. When men his age marvel at his young conquests and he just shrugs, says it's easy because it is. Sometimes he wonders how long he can continue before consequences catch up to him. And that thrill? That’s the real beauty of life.
“You know what it means, right?” he hisses, unleashing pheromones that cloud Heeseung’s judgment.
“If you mark me, I’ll belong to—” Heeseung starts.
“If I mark you, you’d burn alive without me,” Riki corrects. “Imagine your next heat. He drags his teeth over the untouched gland at Heeseung’s neck, tasting the violent flutter of his pulse. “Every alpha that enters you, I’ll choose. No other will touch you without my permission, your body would reject them. You’d be on your knees somewhere, begging for a cock that might never come back. I get bored easily, Heeseung. I’d ruin you then forget about you.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Heeseung speaks right away.
He’s out of it, matching Riki's own brand of crazy but not afraid; he grew up without an alpha figure in his life, learned to handle himself.
His eyes burn with determination as he strips the latex away from Riki’s cock, tosses it aside, then looks up. “Let me die for that cock, I’ll be happy,”
That’s the ultimate line before Riki frees his thighs and flips him over like a ragdoll so that he’s laying there, head down, ass and pussy tilted up, helpless.
Nosing at his nape, he drops a feather light kiss on the skin (surely an apology for what he's about to put him through).
Because Riki doesn’t bother with finesse this time.
He spits once on his cock — thick, reddened, veins standing out — and lines up. One rough shove and he’s buried balls deep within the scalding heat clamping around him like a fist.
And Heeseung screams. Out of instinct, his hands reach back to push Riki out but the alpha traps both of his wrists right above his ass and go straight to the point — pounding into him in such an animalistic way, Heeseung’s eyes roll back in reaction to the evil slams that brutalizes his overused little cunt.
“You better take it, whore,” Riki snarls, yanking on the trapped arms for leverage. His balls batter Heeseung’s pussy while the fat of ass ripples in sync with the pulverizing force of hips that don’t roll anymore but snap, their angle vicious.
“O-Oh my god— yes…!” Heeseung cries out, air punched out of his lungs as Riki fucks him senseless from behind, eyes down to where his cock is disappearing into the omega. More slick gushes out in filthy squelches from that blessing of a cunt and it inflates Riki’s ego to no end.
“Argh— sir mghpmm—am I going to make you come?” he asks through his dizziness, above the ‘serve your alpha’ voice looping in his head.
Cunt reduced to mush or not, everything for his alpha.
“You want it that bad, huh? Being filled.” Riki hauls him off the table by the nape, rasping against the shell of ear. “Keep strangling my cock like that and you’ll get exactly what you want.”
When Riki releases both wrists and hair, Heeseung doesn't even try to hold himself up on his elbows; he knows it's useless and lets his limp body drop, hiking to Riki's feral cadence on the table.
Riki sees a broken toy, but not broken enough. He rips his tie off, balls it up and jams it into Heeseung's mouth. Can't have those screams alerting anyone. His fangs throb when he lowers himself to the gland, takes sniff of that tantalizing aroma, then he acts fast and mean, teeth sinking through skin.
Even with the makeshift gag between his lips, Heeseung makes a sound no omega should make. It comes out piercing, holds the pain and realization his future has been sealed, no way back.
The metallic taste of blood soon invades Riki’s mouth, hot against his palate. He drinks it in while his cock keeps ravaging that sloppy cunt raw. Then he straightens, admiring his work.
There are hot spikes of excitement curling within his core at the show — the blood down the teeth mark on the shoulder, the tears plopping on the table, the way Heeseung's omega crumbles to the darkest side of his wolf, devastated and flinching when Riki’s cock is taking enough space into him to make it feel like it's going to pierce his cervix.
This omega is linked to him now. His jaw clenches. He fucking owns him.
“I’m risking a lot over that teen cunt of yours,” Riki pants, covered in sweat, chest swelling and dropping. “But fuck, it’s worth it,”
A curse from that control freak and Heeseung’s emotions topple over onto him. Because nothing is on the surface with Riki since the start, everything hidden below, but not right this moment.
Here, he lets out his frustration until Heeseung is wincing from the strange sensation of his knot progressively forming. It asks Heeseung a lot. His body has to adapt for the alpha, to accept the misery he has been formatted to love, body seizing at the precipice of his peak until he reaches his climax dry.
Riki follows seconds later with a guttural growl, grabbing a fistful of Heeseung’s asscheeks before his knot swells fast, locking them together and he pumps rope after rope of hot cum straight into Heeseung’s waiting womb.
Heeseung has never felt more depraved in his life but he sees stars regardless. Tongue lolls out and mouth slacks, the results of feeling the burn, every droplet of seed, and his body milks it greedily, instinctively, like that’s his only purpose.
Riki leans over him, stethoscope still dangling around his neck, breath ragged against Heeseung’s ear. “Good little slut,”
Fingers find their ways through sweaty hair as he licks the mating mark almost tenderly now. “All mine,”
Heeseung can only nod, weak and floating, already craving the next time Doctor Nishimura decides to have him.
For now, the latter withdraws, soothing him with compliments left and right. And Heeseung’s cunt shamelessly gapes before a copious amount of load runs out of his loosened hole down to his thighs.
Is he going to collapse? Wake up to his mom scolding him over the big mistake he’s just made? He can’t tell but for sure, he’s at a level of exhaustion that makes him unable to do anything if Riki doesn’t toss him into position.
Fortunately, the doctor does, then everything happens too fast for Heeseung’s brain to keep up. He remembers wishing Riki would plug him to keep his seed inside, or make him walk past people with it dripping down his thighs. Instead, Riki simply disinfects him. Places a patch over the mark.
Rational Heeseung knows this is for the best, but watching Riki clean everything with bleach feels extreme like covering up a crime scene. And perhaps it's during this moment that Heeseung realizes he hadn't thought about Jake while getting his cherry popped, while getting bred, knotted and marked. He’s never acted so irrational, immoral, in his 18 years of living.
Minutes later, he’s here, dressed up, not sitting straight on the chair he’s been on. The room smells antiseptic rather than aftersex debauchery and he’s been briefed already on what to say when his mother is going to ask why it took so long.
The truth.
At least, a part of it.
He went into heat and had to be pricked to calm down, explaining the patch, but Heeseung knows it’s just for now; they live under the same roof, she’s going to discover it one day or the other.
“I prescribed you emergency contraception. You have to take it by tonight,”
His ears pick up Riki’s instructions to which he can only nod.
“And for the next appointment, is there anything else I need?”
Riki grins. “Who's telling you there's going to be a next appointment?”
Heeseung’s heart, still damaged by the absence of aftercare, breaks. The need to be in Riki's arms is visceral, more alarming than he thought. But Riki had warned him, hadn’t he? Mating marks are no jokes and he must face the consequences of his poor choices. He’s survived terrible things before anyway. It’s not like he can’t do this.
After taking the prescription, he rises on legs that feel like jello, and damn his back hurts so much, he might as well lose a vertebra on the spot.
Despite the limping, he somehow makes it to the door, almost, until Riki, one hand on his waist, blocks the door with his free one. His pheromones envelop Heeseung in a warm blanket he never wants to leave.
“Let him take your throat tonight, alright?”
Riki kisses the juncture of his neck and shoulder right over the patch where his bite mark is itching.
“I want him to train it for me,” he says, letting space for Heeseung’s imagination to work and travel to an evil place in which Jake, clueless of anything, teaches him how to blow, growing Heeseung’s skills that would benefit the alpha he cheats him on with.
It’s horrible.
Not the scenario itself.
The fact Heeseung deep down understands the appeal in that fantasy. Because his pussy twitches in interest between his legs. Yet he’ll never admit it out loud.
“Why do you want to share me so badly?”
“Because unlike you I’m not selfish,”
Lie. A big one.
Riki turns Heeseung around and pins him on the door by the throat, slides a finger along his neck.
“Where is he going to reach?” The alpha points toward his Adam apple. “Here?” Then under. “Maybe there?”
He holds his breath as Heeseung loses his.
“God he’s gonna have a field night with you,”
“I can record…” Heeseung chews on his lip. “If you want to watch, I mean…”
Riki’s eyebrow raises.
“Feigning shyness a lot.” he states, directing his hand higher.
“You’re exactly Jay’s type,”
He caresses his cheek.
“He always says the shy ones make the naughtiest hoes,”
Heeseung knows where this conversation is going… Riki probably has a bunch of friends who would need a helping hole to empty themselves into and the terror gnaws at his bones but he deals with it. It’s the only option, after all, to eat the crumbs of care Riki can potentially feed him.
“Who’s Jay?”
“A friend,” Riki replies, voice flat. His thumb traces the shape of Heeseung's bottom lip.
“Are you going to give me to him?”
The doctor shrugs. “I don’t know, maybe,” His eyes sharpen. “When you’ll be good enough,” he empathizes, making it known his reputation is at stake, and Heeseung already wonders what he should do to be better for Riki, the ideal trophy to brag about. His thoughts scatter, however, when a thumb pushes past his lips, forcing him to suck.
Eyes closed, Heeseung wraps both of his hands around Riki’s wrist, obsessed, until Riki taps his left hip, a silent indication for him to let go.
Heeseung does and seconds later, Riki spins him around against the hard wood again, a hand under his skirt with one intent: to grope these peaches that caught his attention earlier as he was having his way with him. “Save this hole right here for me, though,”
His thumb presses on Heeseung’s asshole through his panties. It electrifies the omega from head to toes.
“I love dirtying virgin things,”
And with this, Heeseung’s found the answer to his question as he remembers Riki judging his panties as too childish, the hunger in his voice when mentioning feminine lingerie. His anal virginity and not only.
It follows naturally in his mind.
Maybe if he comes with lace panties and bra, stockings attached to a garter belt the next time, Riki will like him more. If he cockwarms him between patients, waits for him to come off work like a Christmas gift ready to be unwrapped then maybe he’ll cuddle him, a little bit, a tiny bit.
Just like his father does every few years when it gets to him on a random, boring Sunday his other children exist, the ones not born to his new wife, the ones he never thought worth loving.
“Your wishes are my commands, sir.” Heeseung says because, after all, it’s hope that keeps us alive.