“I suppose…… that’s fair……”
He knew he should appeal right now — say that he could learn fast, that he’d do well — but afraid that his hands would only tremble again and he’d end up doing nothing, he couldn’t bring himself to try.
So that’s why he wanted to try it out before signing the contract.
Seohan sank into quiet dejection on his own. It must have meant testing their compatibility — and with that now out of reach, losing the contract was as good as done.
But ironically, once he let go of it, he felt lighter.
A caterpillar ought to live on pine needles — it was because he’d tried to do something that didn’t suit him that things had ended up like this.
When he got back, he’d have to start looking for part-time work again. Spending the remaining four months the way he’d always lived wouldn’t be so bad either.
Because he’d always been quick to accept and quick to give up, Seohan adapted to his situation rather well this time too. It stung to watch the image of a beautiful resort sailing far, far away — but there was nothing to be done about it.
“Haah.”
With the tension released, a faint sigh slipped out. Seohan let the strength drain from his body and went slack. As a result, his face inadvertently ended up buried against Cesare’s chest.
“Oh.”
He caught himself and tried to lift his head back up, but Cesare pressed it down again with his large hand.
For all his monstrous personality, Cesare’s chest was quite comfortable. His frame was large and solid, which made it feel stable. Even if he shifted a little more, he didn’t think he’d fall off.
When he slid his gaze upward, Cesare’s sharp jawline came into view. The heartbeat and warmth felt through a single layer of fabric were oddly vivid.
“……”
Each time that broad chest rose and fell, Seohan’s body resting on top of it moved along with it. Unlike his own slow, even breaths, Cesare’s chest was rising and falling quickly at an unsteady pace.
Am I too heavy? Having a person lying on top of his chest, it seemed he was uncomfortable. Then again, even for someone like Cesare Herald, the weight of a grown man was no small thing. Seohan lifted his head and asked.
“Am I not too heavy? Should I get off?”
“It’s fine.”
He’d asked out of genuine concern, and Cesare cut the offer down flat.
A glance at his face revealed no outward sign of strain — yet he didn’t look comfortable either. His dark skin looked flushed like it had been sitting under the sun, and the arm he’d let fall to the side was repeatedly clenching into a fist and releasing, as if fighting something.
“You look uncomfortable……”
“I said I’m not.”
“Okay……”
Seohan drew out his reply. He was fairly certain he was being too heavy — but when Cesare denied it with that much emphasis, there was nothing left to say.
“Tch.”
Still breathing in an unsteady rhythm, Cesare reached over to the bedside table and picked up a cigar. It was the same hand that had been clenching and unclenching in Seohan’s line of sight just moments before.
“For f——’s sake, what is wrong with me.”
Like a man being chased by something, Cesare pulled the lighter with impatient hands. After a few misfires, a short flame caught and the tip of the cigar lit.
Seohan stared blankly up at him as he smoked. He felt like he finally understood why he’d caught the scent of burning wood in Cesare’s natural smell.
Cesare had half his upper body propped at an angle against the headboard. Since Seohan was nearly lying down just below his chest, the slightest tilt of his head gave him a clear view of Cesare’s face.
“Phew.”
Cesare drew in a pull of the cigar and the tip glowed red, then settled. A pale haze of smoke curled upward — starting thin and slow, then drifting without direction.
People who smoked always looked like rough, careless types to him, but Cesare smoking a cigar was somehow different.
He wasn’t exactly the picture of composure, so Cesare still had a certain roughness to him — but the texture of it was different. His sharp edges stood out more prominently, casting everything in a decadent atmosphere.
He really is someone you’d want to just sit and stare at. Whatever his personality might be, no one could pick a fight with his looks.
To be precise, it was the kind of handsome that made you not want to go near him.
There was something about him that was completely unrefined, unrestrained. The raw quality of his presence gave off that particular dangerous energy. The exact type Seohan most avoided in his everyday life.
“……”
His gaze, which had been fixed on the burning cigar, dropped downward. When his eyes met Seohan’s, he drew even more deeply from the cigar.
For a moment, Seohan had the strange illusion that he was trying to swallow him, not the smoke. The instant those beautifully drawn lips parted slightly, a longer, paler ribbon of smoke than before spread through the air.
“Cough, cough——!”
Having been staring at Cesare, Seohan had inhaled a full lungful of cigar smoke and started coughing. Over the sound of the coughing, a short click of the tongue followed.
“Unbelievable.”
“Sorry, cough——!”
“What is there to fuss about?!”
When Seohan didn’t stop coughing, Cesare’s patience snapped and he stubbed the cigar out.
He tossed the extinguished cigar into the ashtray and pushed it away, then waved his arm back and forth over Seohan’s head. The haze of smoke began to scatter and disappear under the sweep of his hand.
Seohan burrowed deeper and deeper into Cesare’s chest to get away from the cigar smoke. With his face pressed into his shirt, the smoky warmth of Cesare’s natural scent enveloped him and the cigar smoke felt less. He could hear Cesare chewing on what sounded like some unintelligible curse.
“I— I’m sorry……”
Seohan’s shoulders drooped and curled inward despondently.
Because of him, Cesare hadn’t been able to be with an omega tonight, and couldn’t even finish his cigar. He hadn’t managed to give Cesare a single thing he wanted — he had nothing to say even if he was cursed out.
Seohan fidgeted anxiously, stealing glances at his expression. But Cesare didn’t particularly look offended. There was a loose, easy curve sitting on the line of his long lips.
“If you feel that bad about it, at least release some pheromone. You have to make up for wasting my time.”
Cesare tapped Seohan’s shoulder a couple of times and wrapped a thick arm around his narrow waist. Then he pulled Seohan’s body up a little higher. His chin settled on top of the round crown of his head.
It seemed he intended to get as much pheromone as he could through physical contact in place of going further. A flustered Seohan broke into a faint sweat.
“Ah, um……”
“Hah…… said you can’t, didn’t I.”
Watching the guy squirm uselessly without being able to do anything, Cesare pressed his fingers firmly against his own temple. If this wasn’t torture, nothing was.
“I’m sorry.”
A deflated Seohan mumbled an apology. Cesare tapped slowly, once, twice, on top of Seohan’s head as if turning something over in his mind.
“……”
The hand that had been wrapped around his waist moved slowly inward through the robe. Before long, a soft, full handful of flesh settled into his palm. The body heat transmitted through the robe was oddly distinct.
His frame was slight and lean, yet below the waist he was surprisingly plush. The feel of it against his hand wasn’t bad at all. From the outside he seemed like he’d be soft all over — personality and body both — but the resilience of his skin was better than expected.
“Ugh.”
As the hand cupping his backside tightened its grip, Seohan’s body gave a small jolt.
“Hmm.”
Cesare exhaled in a slow, languid rhythm and stroked the body in his arms as if to soothe it. The faint trace of pheromone at the nape of his neck grew slightly more pronounced.
A grassy scent layered itself over the smell of the cigar. Even though the rain had them with the windows shut, the illusion arose that a breeze was drifting in from somewhere. The scent of grass carried on that imagined wind settled the thirst that had been gnawing at him.
“I didn’t think I’d ever be doing something like this.”
Cesare let out a deflated laugh and murmured to himself with a note of self-deprecation.
It was the first time he’d held someone close, the first time he’d made an effort to breathe in more of someone’s pheromone. By nature, he was someone who avoided contact beyond what was necessary. And yet, strangely, it wasn’t easy to take his hand away.
In that sense, this guy was difficult — far too difficult. Having to coax and handle him like this just to draw out a pheromone. It was endlessly troublesome.
But the problem was that this way wasn’t so bad.
If anything, it felt better than being physical. The pheromone was so faint it would take quite a while to get enough — but it felt worth investing that much time.
To be honest, it wasn’t only the pheromone. There was something about the way the guy was sprawled against his chest, jolting and trembling, that he found quite agreeable.
The small hands desperately gripping the hem of his shirt, the cool body heat that transferred over each time he squirmed — he liked all of it.
Whether what he’d said about being inexperienced was actually true, the guy’s body reacted quite dramatically every time it came into contact with his. It seemed like he was naturally sensitive to begin with.
“Hnngh.”
His hand gradually climbed up along the curve of his back. When he dragged his fingertips down the length of his spine in a slow, deliberate stroke, a damp, unsteady breath slipped from Seohan’s lips. His breathing was beginning to come apart.
Seohan looked somehow precarious, like someone placed in a situation they had no experience navigating. Idly running his hands over the body that had gone pliant and was now leaning into him fully, Cesare let a faint thread of his own pheromone drift out.
“I released a little pheromone — can you tell?”
“Hm? No, I’m not very good at picking up pheromones…… Ngh!”
Seohan cut himself off mid-sentence with a sharp intake of breath. His lower lip fell slightly open and a flash of his red tongue darted out and back. Cesare wasn’t one to miss a reaction like that.
“You sure you can’t pick it up? For someone who can’t, you’re being awfully sensitive.”
“Hnng……”
Seohan pressed his forehead against Cesare’s chest as if pleading for him to stop. It was a faint movement, like a blade of grass swaying in the wind — but even that alone was quite stimulating.
The tips of his small ears had gone faintly pink. Around his eyes, a redness was beginning to bloom as though he’d been crying.
