Chapter Text
His vision blurs at the edges, but he still forces himself out of the bed. The suppressants haven’t worked. His body feels like a heated, slippery mess. Breathing shakily, Gao Tu places his glasses on his face and tries to clean himself up as best he can before making it to the shower, where he hopes to rinse away the shame of what he has become.
Shen Wenlang is still here.
The S-class alpha’s words were sharp last night, cutting deep where it hurts. The omega in Gao Tu shriveled under them like a once fragrant rose left too long in the sun. Beautiful once, perhaps even exotic, but now wilted and pathetic. He should be used to this. Still, in his fragile, heat-ridden state, Shen Wenlang’s disapproval feels heavier than usual.
After dressing, he selects a fresh T-shirt and loose-fitting pants. His only hope is to slip by unnoticed, to reach the shower before Shen Wenlang can look too closely at him. Hot water, he thinks. He needs the hottest water he can stand. Maybe it will burn away his secret.
He opens the bedroom door, weakly stepping into the cold air of the apartment. It shouldn’t be this cold, not with the sun shining so brightly outside. But it isn’t the weather. It’s the heat building inside of him, and it’s getting worse. He has a few hours at most before it crashes over him completely. Less, if he stays near Shen Wenlang for too long.
“You’re awake,” Shen Wenlang says, glancing up from where he’s adjusting fresh sheets on the bed.
Gao Tu freezes. A bed? His eyes widen in disbelief.
Shen Wenlang notices. “I see you’re surprised. The bed finally arrived. Your sorry excuse of a sofa was unacceptable,” he says with a slight grimace. “When I’m gone, you’ll sleep here instead.”
Gao Tu stares at the bed like it’s a threat. It reeks of Shen Wenlang already. There’s no way he can sleep in it. Not when he’s barely holding himself together with the man being right there, yet unreachable, like a star dazzling in the night sky. Not when his scent alone might send him spiraling into a full-blown heat.
“Mr. Shen,” he says, steadying his voice with effort. “My current bed is more than sufficient.”
Shen Wenlang scoffs. “You’ve had that bed for almost ten years. It’s time for a change.” His voice softens, almost unexpectedly. “How are you feeling?”
That hurts more than it should.
Shen Wenlang had gifted him that bed a decade ago when he first moved in. He even helped him unpack. The man has never been heartless, Gao Tu knows that. But each time he throws those words around, each careless dismissal, it confirms what Gao Tu already fears: he will never be anything more than something to be tolerated. Never seen and never wanted.
“No. I’ll keep my bed,” Gao Tu says quietly. “I’m much better now. I’m sorry if my restlessness disturbed your sleep last night.”
“It’s fine,” Shen Wenlang replies. “It was that omega’s fault.”
“Right,” Gao Tu murmurs, brushing past it. “Have you eaten? I’ll take a shower, and then I can prepare breakfast.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Shen Wenlang says, waving a hand. “I already ordered food for us. It should be here any minute now.”
Gao Tu nods stiffly and turns toward the bathroom. Every step hurts so damn much; all he wants is to drop right into his bed, and wait till his body becomes normal again. Was it ever normal to begin with? No, it wasn’t, the thought hits him like a speeding train.
The pressure in his lower belly builds, urgent and unrelenting, while his chest aches with the effort to appear normal. Just a little longer. Just enough time to clean up. Then maybe he can survive the day without breaking, being an omega who will sleep with anything that walks, as long as they offer him comfort.
Behind him, Shen Wenlang calls out casually, “Don’t lock the door. In case something happens.”
Gao Tu stops in his tracks.
For a moment, he doesn’t trust himself to speak.
“…Understood,” he says quietly, and slips into the bathroom before his body betrays him further.
Shen Wenlang’s eyes are locked on the bathroom door, drawn to it like a moth to flame.
Stubbornly, he folds his arms across his chest. That omega’s scent is still thick in the air, clinging to the walls, the floor, and worst of all, Gao Tu. It comes in waves, warm and potent, crawling under his skin. A part of him burns with rage. Did that omega smear their heat scent all over Gao Tu’s bed like some wild animal? His lips curl in disgust at the thought, nausea twisting in his stomach.
Spray bottle in hand, he glances again at the bathroom. The water’s still running. He doesn’t know how long Gao Tu will be in there, but this is his only chance.
His fingers hesitate on the doorframe.
Wenlang, what the hell are you doing? This is wrong… Gao Tu isn’t yours. You can’t do this.
He ignores the thought and steps inside anyway, crossing a line he may never come back from. The reckless stubbornness trait is both a cruse and a blessing of his, always sending him into a fucking mess, as if the logic part of his brain is no more than pea-sized at this point. As if it doesn’t exist. Isn’t real at all.
His eyes immediately fall on a small inhaler lying under the bed. Gao Tu’s, no doubt. It must be his asthma medication, or so it should be.
The scent hits him harder inside the room: sage, musky and rich, thickened by heat. It’s overpowering. Smells like sex. Like an omega in heat—one who has been in heat for a while now.
But no one else is here. That omega isn’t lurking, hiding in that closet, are they? Flinging the closet door open, there’s no one hiding there, just Gao Tu’s clothes.
Confused, Shen Wenlang kneels down next to the bed and picks up the inhaler from under there, his hand touching something wet and slippery. That omega’s slick? His mind says to gag, but he doesn’t. Instead, he frowns, wipes his hands on his pants, and picks up the bottle. He notices the label plastered over the bottle, barely noticeable, but Shen Wenlang catches it. Call it having strong vision. Peeling open the bottle, his eyes scan the words on the bottle.
His stomach drops. That’s not asthma medication. That’s a scent blocker: one designed to give off the scent of a beta.
“What the fuck…” His voice dies in his throat.
Someone’s pretending to be a beta. Someone is hiding…. That’s dangerous, lethal even. He remembers how deadly Hua Young’s blockers had been. It has to be worse for this person, whoever is dousing themselves with this artificial beta scent.
For one sharp, horrifying second, his brain races through a hundred conclusions. Did this goddamn omega trick Gao Tu, fool him into helping with their heats? Did they lie to him, trap him, leave their scent all over his body till he’s weak and unable to resist it?
No. That doesn’t make sense. None of this adds up.
Then the thought hits him, slow and heavy. Gao Tu has been pretending… Pretending to be a beta.
“No,” he mutters aloud, brushing the thought away. “He wouldn’t lie. Not Gao Tu.”
They’ve known each other for years. School, work, hell, they are even friends. Shen Wenlang would’ve noticed something that big. Wouldn’t he?
Still, the scent is real. It’s everywhere. His body reacts before his mind can stop it. His alpha instincts rear up, angry and possessive, pushing against his control. His pheromones spike, and for one wild second, all he wants is to drown this room in his own scent, to cover up the omega-sweet sage with incense and dominance. Not because he wants it to be gone, but he wants that omega to know that they belong to him.
He grits his teeth and swallows it down. Don’t think crazy thoughts, Wenlang!
His pants become too tight against his will, of course. Damn biology. His skin feels flushed. His eyes sting with the effort to stay calm, and not dash out of the door, because his alpha senses that omega is nearby and he wants him.
Shut up, he screams into his head. Shoving the bottle into his pocket, he storms out of the room. This is nothing. A scent can’t throw him into rut. He’s not some hormone-driven pup who can’t control himself. His inner alpha can control himself, like he has always done. Hell, the alpha always vomits at the scent of an omega, and now, it’s acting like this omega’s scent is the very air it needs to breathe in order to survive.
He’s halfway into the hall when he crashes into something warm. A warm, hard body, muscular but soft around the edges. They both go down hard, causing him to fall right on top of the person, their limbs become tangled together, like two pairs of mismatched puzzle pieces that fit together just right. The impact knocks the breath out of his lungs. After he catches his breath, he looks down, and what he sees causes his heart to slam against his chest hard like a drummer gone wild.
Gao Tu.
A Gao Tu that’s fresh from the shower, his hair dripping wet, making him appear like a painting meant to be kissed. His skin is flushed with water that hasn’t dried off yet, but underneath that, there’s something even more fierce. A strong scent of earthly yet sweet-smelling slick. The same scent he has smelled in Gao Tu’s room, but it’s even more intoxicating now, like a drop of sweet nectar his tongue wants to catch desperately. And Gao Tu’s clothes cling to his slightly damp skin. His body is covered by a white t-shirt and black pants, but Shen Wenlang has never seen a sexier sight.
What the hell! What’s wrong with his brain? Shen Wenlang isn’t a perverted lovesick bastard like Hua Young, yet his mind runs amok with these wild, tantalizing thoughts.
Gao Tu’s eyes meet his, and they are wide with alarm and panic. They’re chest to chest; Shen Wenlang’s thigh wedged between Gao Tu’s legs.
Fuck.
“I—” His voice breaks.
Their eyes lock once more. Gao Tu looks terrified. His lips are parted, trembling. His skin glistens with droplets of water, neck arched slightly back, eyes soft and vulnerable.
A red flush crawls up Shen Wenlang’s throat. His body burns. Gao Tu looks like sin. Like temptation he has no business wanting, no, shouldn’t want. Like something only an alpha should ever touch. An alpha like him.
Shen Wenlang, stop! But the voice sounds weak, so weak, in his head. God, Shen Wenlang wants to act like the thing he’s fought so hard not to be. He wants to taste him. Bite him. Claim him.
Mark him.
Fuck—
He jerks back, hands shaking. No. No, Wenlang, don’t lose it. Don’t you dare, you asshole!
Gao Tu isn’t his. And he doesn’t deserve to be treated like a prize to be claimed. It finally dawns on him that he has no right to pretend otherwise. He has never showered Gao Tu with the care and love he deserves. Instead, he invites himself in, knowing damn well that Gao Tu is taken by that omega wrench, and god… His chest heaves with a heavy pain. I’m no better than my omega father, he thinks. He used my alpha father to get his own way.
Still, his body screams at him to make his mark, to make a move, but he won’t let it. He’s in control of his own body.
He tries to pull away from Gao Tu—or at least, he means to—but lips crash onto his, hot and frantic to the point of desperation.
“Gao Tu,” he breathes out, voice strained, “we shouldn’t. This is wrong.”
He fights to break free, but Gao Tu’s mouth stays firm against his, stealing his breath away. Gao Tu’s kisses are wild and inexperienced, sometimes even kissing him with teeth involved. But his lips are velvety soft and they feel just right against his even if Gao Tu kisses him with an urgency meant to sastify the need in his body.
His mind clouds—half lost, half alert—until the scent hits him: sage, warm and unmistakable, coming from Gao Tu.
It finally clicks. Gao Tu has been hiding his true nature all along. He’s an omega.
Fuck. Shen Wenlang closes his eyes, letting Gao Tu’s desperate kisses wash over him again and again, but deep down, he knows this can’t last. Gao Tu isn’t thinking clearly. This isn’t right.