TCBW C37(18+)

Chapter 37(18+)

“Suhoe doesn’t even seem to have a phone—so what do we do about that?”

“What? No phone?”

“You didn’t know? I asked him for his number — he said he didn’t have one. I asked if he used SNS, and he was like, ‘What’s that?’…”

Gyubeom was momentarily at a loss for words. No phone? He forced himself to consider another possibility.

“Could be he has one but just doesn’t want to give it out? Though yeah… his personality doesn’t really seem like the SNS type.”

“Whatever it is, it’s kind of weird. Oh — and you know who else? The one we saw this morning—”

“President Lee Dowoon? Why?”

“Yeah, that’s the one — Dowoon. He didn’t know him, either.”

“What?”

Now Gyubeom didn’t even bother hiding the look of disbelief.

“I mean, I didn’t actually say his name, but he didn’t seem to know any of the dirt on him, or why he got thrown out, nothing. Even seemed unaware that he’s the president of this company. How the hell did he get in here?”

Was that even possible?

Gyubeom couldn’t make sense of it — though there were more things not making sense than he could count. Couldn’t control his pheromones, no phone, didn’t know the president, and yet… got brought in to do janitorial work by the president’s own secretary?

He gave up trying to understand.

Hearing everything Seo‑jun had to say only made him more curious about this “Suhoe.”

In the end he couldn’t hold it back, blurting his frustration:

“Ah! Just what the hell is with that kid!”

Suhoe rode back to the Balhwa‑dong residence in the car sent to fetch him.

The whole way, he thought about what had happened today.

At the shrine, everyone he had ever lived with had been a beta; even if his pheromones accidentally leaked, it had never been a big deal. In fact, there had never once been a problem arising from his inability to control them.

That’s why today had left him so unsettled — a true cause for worry.

Even if today had partly been because he wasn’t feeling well, he now understood that if he was to live in this city, he’d have to learn to control his pheromones.

But he had no idea how to train for that. On top of that, he was puzzled why the suppressant he’d taken in the morning hadn’t worked.

Even after showering and settling on the sofa, the unanswered questions kept circling.

Ding‑dong—

The sound of the front door opening pulled him from his thoughts.

It wasn’t even 10 AM yet.

Not wanting to create an awkward scene like last time, he decided to wait silently and see who it was before calling out.

And he was glad he did. Standing there in a grey coat was Dowoon.

“You’re home?”

“Yeah.”

Hae‑eon wasn’t with him; he had come alone. Stepping inside, he fixed Suhoe with a sharp look, as though he’d spotted a problem.

“You look… off.”

“Sir?”

Fresh from the shower, Suhoe’s long hair hung damp to his waist. The pale skin visible under his thin nightclothes looked… flushed.

Dowoon raised a hand, brushing his thumb along the curve of Suhoe’s ear. And confirmed it:

“You’ve got a fever.”

“—Eep!”

At the sudden touch, the startled sound slipped from him — and with it, a rush of heady green‑grass scent bloomed into the air.

And in that instant, Dowoon thought again how much it matched the pheromone trace he’d detected earlier that day in his office.

Suhoe blinked blankly back at him.

“H‑how did you know?”

The hand playing at his ear slid down to the nape of his neck. Through the thin nightclothes, fingers brushed his collarbone, drawing a small gasp from him.

Watching him flinch, Dowoon asked in his usual flat tone:

“How could I not know? And are you like this when you’re out working, too?”

“What? L‑like what?”

Trying to decipher his meaning, Suhoe’s cheeks reddened further.

As Dowoon’s hand moved further down from his collarbone to the top of his chest, the feverish haze stole any answer from him.

Expression unreadable, Dowoon looked down at his wife, offering only soft noises in place of words.

Finding his nipple, he toyed with it until the once‑soft flesh was firming under his touch, then set his briefcase down.

Slipping an arm around the narrow waist, he pulled him in close. With no resistance, Suhoe seemed to simply yield into his arms.

Running his hand over that pliant body, Dowoon pressed his lips to his. Teasing the closed mouth with his tongue until it parted, he slid inside, and Suhoe accepted him with yielding lips and tongue.

He savored him as he lifted him by the thighs. Another wash of that grass scent.

When he’d caught that fragrance in the president’s office earlier, he hadn’t bothered to track down which employee had left it — because it had instantly reminded him of Suhoe.

That identical scent; the image of Suhoe’s untrained control overlapping in his mind. The thought of scolding a stranger for it had evaporated.

“This business of you just letting pheromones leak…”

Breaking the kiss, he murmured:

“You’ve been taking your medicine before going out? You didn’t go out with a fever like this, did you?”

“Y‑yeah.”

A twinge of guilt, but he nodded; the last thing he wanted was for Dowoon to find out something had happened outside and forbid him from going out at all.

Unsatisfied but accepting the reply, Dowoon was soon plundering his mouth again.

Lifting him easily, he headed up to the second‑floor bedroom. The dull ache in his left fingertips flared, but he ignored it.

He busied himself with his mouth at the other’s nape and collarbone, drawing shivers and broken noises.

His rough hands slid up under the thin nightclothes to pinch at a peaked nipple, then replaced fingers with his mouth to taste it.

Suhoe’s mind spun under the sensory assault, body reacting helplessly to wherever he was touched.

Still sucking on his nipple, Dowoon pulled down his pants; heat‑drunk, he could only moan.

Fingers wrapped around his flushed, hard shaft and worked it.

A… if I use my mouth first, I won’t pass out midway…

The thought flitted through the haze, but his cock was already twitching and leaking clear fluid under Dowoon’s hand.

Then Dowoon turned him, checked with his hand how wet he was — and the slickness of his thighs told the story.

Quickly unfastening his own pants, he pressed the broad head of his cock to the snug entrance.

“Ah…”

A thin gasp when the hot, dark length met him — then Dowoon pushed steadily inside.

Slowly he filled him to the hilt, the crown butting against his deepest point.

“…Hh.”

Within that tight, wet heat, the soft inner walls clung as if reluctant to let him withdraw.

Matching the other’s soft sounds, Dowoon began to move.

By late afternoon, with no word yet from his boss, Hae‑eon couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“Sir… has Madam said anything about how the job’s going?”

He’d expected Suhoe might say something, but judging from the lack of reaction — it seemed Dowoon still had no idea where or what his wife worked at all.

“Work…”

After all, Suhoe had only extracted permission in bed, without ever clarifying the nature or location of said work.

“I don’t know about that. But he was running a fever and coughing yesterday.”

Dowoon recalled the previous night: after finishing their first round and before he could even pull out — intending to start again — Suhoe had suddenly coughed dryly, panting. Moreover, the fever‑flush in his body had been slow to cool.

“What? You think he’s caught a cold?” Hae‑eon asked.

Dowoon remembered the excuse he’d given last night: ‘I‑I’m fine… guess I got cold when you suddenly backed away from me…’

The childish, delirious comment had sparked something in him.

Knock‑knock.

Just then, the other secretary knocked and entered.

“Sir, as I mentioned yesterday — the executive conference room’s projector is malfunctioning, so today’s meeting will be held in a regular room instead.”

Dowoon nodded in acknowledgment.