TCBW C73

Chapter 73

Yet Dowoon, who had no way of knowing what Suhoe was feeling, felt a sharp pain radiate from his left arm and around his heart the moment his wife pushed him away. His expression twisted in irritation, and instead of withdrawing, he drove himself even deeper inside.

“Stay still.”

As Suhoe struggled to break free, Dowoon’s grip tightened around him, making it clear he had no intention of letting go.

When Suhoe turned his head to look at him, Dowoon still seemed completely unaware—his mind lost to the haze of rut. Suhoe thought that once he came to his senses, he should tell him to move to the bedroom or take a rut suppressant.

But what if he didn’t regain his senses midway…?

How many times would it take before he was finally released?

He knew, from what Unhyo had once explained, how an extreme Alpha could become insatiable during rut—but now, he couldn’t seem to recall the details.

He couldn’t think at all. Every attempt at thought was crushed under the weight of Dowoon’s body, the relentless pressure filling him to the brim, thrusting up into him over and over.

Even their first time together, Dowoon had gone on for three days without showing a hint of exhaustion.

And now—when he was in rut—there was no way of knowing when it would end.

In agony, Suhoe could only feel the way Dowoon’s length raked against his insides, driving him mercilessly.

Dowoon didn’t stop exploring him, pressing into every fold, every ridge inside, as if determined to feel all of him. The slickness of mixed fluids made each movement sticky and obscene.

Every time he withdrew, thick semen dripped wetly between Suhoe’s thighs.

Soon, even lifting his head became too much for Suhoe.

The tiresome rain went on for two more days.

Only when it stopped completely did Dowoon’s mind begin to clear enough for words to make sense again.

“D-Dowoon-ssi… let’s go to the bed now,” Suhoe had pleaded, voice trembling, his tongue barely working, his body covered in saliva and seed.

Whether Dowoon heard him or his rut had simply subsided on its own, Suhoe didn’t know. Either way, being able to speak to him again felt like a small mercy.

“Why am I here?”

When Dowoon finally came to, his face showed clear confusion. He didn’t even seem to recognize the person before him as Suhoe.

“D-don’t you remember? That night—you came to me.”

It seemed he had no memory of how he ended up at the house in Balhwa-dong.

Waking from the feverish madness caused by the rut-inducing drug, Dowoon pulled away from Suhoe’s heaving body.

“Mm…”

As he withdrew, his length was coated with their mixed fluids—and faintly, streaks of blood.

Blood?

His gaze darted to Suhoe’s face. The younger man’s complexion was ashen, his expression blank and lifeless.

Had he… been with me the entire time I was unconscious?

“Haah…”

Meanwhile, as Dowoon finally moved away, Suhoe collapsed limply onto the sofa, his body heavy but strangely relieved. It was the first true rest he had gotten in two days.

Dowoon looked over him carefully. Red handprints and bite marks dotted his skin. Some areas were bruised darkly.

They were marks of violent passion—but in all his previous ruts, he had never left wounds like these on anyone.

He must have been in so much pain. Why didn’t he resist?

But then he caught sight of the faint, dried tear tracks on Suhoe’s cheeks—and realized the truth. It wasn’t that Suhoe hadn’t resisted. He couldn’t.

The realization brought a dull, throbbing ache to Dowoon’s left hand.

Then, a more terrifying thought struck him—had he possibly marked him?

He hurriedly lifted Suhoe’s hair to check the back of his neck.

Fortunately, there were no permanent bite marks.

But the relief was fleeting. His gaze caught the vivid red prints left on Suhoe’s neck—hand-shaped and raw, as if he’d gripped too hard. The same marks appeared along his waist, where Dowoon had held him the tightest.

Dowoon jerked away as if burned, snatching up his discarded clothes and rummaging for his phone. He immediately called Haeon.

The call connected after only two rings.

—“Director! We heard from the security staff that you returned home, but after that, there was no contact. We were worried sick.”

Haeon’s voice trembled with both relief and unease. It was clear he had been waiting all this time.

“The drug,” Dowoon said curtly.

—“We’re still investigating, but it appears to be an illegal pheromone agent in Korea. Likely, one of its active components…”

‘Hmm~ you’re holding out better than I thought. That was hard to get, you know.’

As Haeon spoke, Sara’s teasing voice echoed in Dowoon’s head.

He had thought it was only a petty trick, but she had crossed a line—far beyond what he had imagined. His jaw clenched tightly. He had underestimated her.

And yet, more than Sara, it was himself he despised—for lowering his guard, for softening while living with Suhoe, despite knowing what kind of woman Sara was.

“Have you caught Han Sara?”

—“The police are still searching. She’s been missing since that night. We even informed Saeman Group, but they claimed they could do nothing. Apparently, she’s caused so many incidents that they’ve practically washed their hands of her.”

“We’ll find her ourselves.”

—“Sir?”

“Whatever it takes—find her first.”

The veins on his hand bulged as he gripped the phone.

Behind him, Suhoe sat dazed on the sofa, staring blankly at Dowoon’s back.

The man who, just moments ago, had been consumed by rut, now looked as composed and detached as ever.

“…Rut… Han Sara…”

Fragments of the conversation reached Suhoe’s ears, but he was too exhausted to make sense of them. His body was drenched in sweat; his hair clung messily to his chest and back. Every time he coughed weakly, semen spilled out from between his legs.

Even sitting upright was painful. Somehow, he managed to reach for a towel and wipe himself clean.

By then, the heavy pheromone scent that clung to Dowoon had finally begun to fade.

When Dowoon turned after ending the call, his eyes fell on Suhoe—lying there on the sofa, limp and unconscious.

Eyes closed, body slack.

That fragile frame had endured two full days of his rut in that narrow, uncomfortable space. It was a miracle it was still intact.

Dowoon strode over and gently lifted him into his arms.

A soft groan escaped from Suhoe’s parted lips, laced with pain.

That faint sound twisted something deep inside him—a tangled mix of anger toward Sara, disgust for himself, and burning remorse. He clicked his tongue sharply.

“Tch.”

Despite the fury roiling in his mind, Dowoon’s arms remained steady as he carried the unconscious Suhoe upstairs.

He quietly opened the bedroom door and laid him on the bed.

For a moment, he simply looked down at the pale, exhausted face before turning toward the bathroom.

He opened the familiar cabinet and took out a blue glass bottle.

[High-Grade Alpha Rut Suppressant]

The label, written in German, was clear and direct. Dowoon didn’t hesitate—he poured the pills into his mouth and swallowed them dry.

He believed the rut had already ended, but he couldn’t afford to risk any unforeseen variables. Control had to be absolute.

The suppressant usually took five minutes to work.

In that short time, he returned to Suhoe’s side and carefully brushed away the strands of hair that clung to his face.

Though anger still simmered beneath his calm expression, there was no trace of it in his touch.

When Suhoe finally regained consciousness, he felt something warm and viscous slipping out from deep within him. A milky fluid ran down his thighs and pooled upon the white sheets.

He stared blankly at it.

‘Be sure to use a condom.’

The voice of Professor Eun echoed vividly in his mind—so ordinary, so clear—that it brought tears to his eyes now, in such a cruel contrast.

Don’t cry.

He shook his head violently, as if to force the emotions back down.

Commanding himself to hold it together, he searched the room for Dowoon.

But he was gone.

…Had he left right after his rut ended?

That thought brought with it a hollow ache, a wave of humiliation.

Did he really come to me just to release himself?

The tears threatened to fall again.

He needed to stop thinking. Maybe a shower would help.

With trembling legs, Suhoe slowly rose from the bed. He steadied himself with a hand against the wall, moving painfully toward the bathroom upstairs.

Every step sent jolts of pain through his body—arms, legs, everything hurt—but he forced himself onward.

And as he did, half-heard fragments from earlier floated through his foggy mind—

Han Sara.

Rut.

He thought he remembered hearing those words.

But the details—about the rut-inducing drug, about what Dowoon truly thought of Sara—those, he hadn’t heard at all.