The S+ Class Omega Takes Over Again [BL]-Chapter 41: Valentine’s special: I can make it up to you (2)

Cheon Areum smiled at him without saying anything, and brushing off the hand around his waist, he quickly got up from under Yoon Seoyul and ran away without a single glance back at him.

The place he fled to was the kitchen, because he was thirsty and wanted water. He was thinking of drinking a glass quickly before running away again around the house to mess with Yoon Seoyul, but as soon as he took a sip of the water, a warm, solid body slotted against his back without warning. Strong arms locked around his waist—firm, unyielding, no room for escape this time. Yoon Seoyul’s chest pressed flush to his spine; heat radiated through thin fabric like a furnace left open.

Then came the deliberate roll of hips: shameless, insistent hardness grinding slow and heavy against the cleft of Cheon Areum’s backside, the thick outline unmistakable even through layers of clothing.

Yoon Seoyul’s breath ghosted hot against the side of his neck. He dropped his chin onto Cheon Areum’s shoulder, lips brushing the sensitive skin just below the ear as he settled his weight more fully, caging him against the counter.

The glass trembled in Cheon Areum’s grip; water sloshed dangerously close to the rim. Yoon Seoyul’s hands splayed wide across Cheon Areum’s stomach, fingers flexing possessively, thumbs tracing lazy circles over the soft skin just above the waistband. Cheon Areum swallowed the half-sip still in his mouth, throat working visibly as he finished half the glass of water.

"Don’t run away again."

Yoon Seoyul’s voice came out low and rough, barely above a whisper, yet it landed like velvet dragged over bare skin—right against the shell of Cheon Areum’s ear. Cheon Areum tilted his head just enough to meet Yoon Seoyul’s eyes.

They were devastating up close.

Intense, glassy, wet at the edges—not from tears, but from the raw, barely leashed heat of rut still simmering beneath the surface. The look pinned him in place more effectively than the arms locked around his waist ever could. The impulse to twist free, to dart away laughing and make Yoon Seoyul chase him through dark hallways again—it died instantly. Instead, Cheon Areum exhaled softly and lifted the half-empty glass, pressing the cool rim gently against Yoon Seoyul’s parted lips.

"Aren’t you thirsty?"

The question came out quieter than he intended—almost tender, edged with something vulnerable he hadn’t meant to let slip. Yoon Seoyul didn’t respond and simply tilted his head forward, lips brushing the glass first, then closing around the rim. He drank slowly, throat working in long, measured swallows as Cheon Areum raised the glass. Water slid past his lips in faint silver trails that caught the light; one stray droplet escaped the corner of his mouth, rolling down the sharp line of his jaw before disappearing into the collar of his shirt.

All the while, his gaze never wavered.

Yoon Seoyul gazed intensely at him in a way that had nothing to do with thirst and everything to do with the man trapped against his chest. His arms tightened fractionally—not enough to hurt, just enough to remind Cheon Areum he wasn’t going anywhere. One large hand splayed wider across his stomach, fingers slipping just beneath the hem of his shirt to rest against bare skin. The touch was searing, thumb stroking slow arcs over the soft dip below his navel as he drank all the water in the glass.

Yoon Seoyul pulled back only far enough to let the rim leave his lips with a faint, wet sound. A final bead of water clung to his lower lip; his tongue flicked out, catching it while his eyes stayed glued to Cheon Areum’s face.

"More."

He said and leaned in again, this time bypassing the glass entirely. His mouth found the side of Cheon Areum’s neck instead—open-mouthed, hot, teeth grazing just shy of breaking skin. A low rumble vibrated against his throat, more growl alike than a groan. The empty glass clinked softly as Cheon Areum set it down on the counter—hands suddenly unsteady. He found himself a little breathless under Yoon Seoyul’s pheromones.

"Wait... didn’t you want more water?"

Cheon Areum’s voice came out soft, still laced with that teasing lilt he couldn’t quite shake even now. His fingers had already curled around the cool plastic of the water bottle on the counter when Yoon Seoyul’s arms locked around his waist, tightening abruptly with effortless strength. In one smooth motion, Yoon Seoyul lifted him clean off the floor.

"Wait!"

Cheon Areum’s feet left the tiles—dangling, weightless, toes brushing uselessly at nothing. The empty glass slipped from his nerveless fingers; it hit the counter with a sharp clink, then tipped and shattered on the floor in a bright spray of fragments and the last few drops of water. The sound cracked through the quiet kitchen like a gunshot. Cheon Areum’s eyes flew wide with startled surprise, breath catching high in his throat.

"What are you doing? You’re going to wake up Rian!"

His hands instinctively grabbed at Yoon Seoyul’s forearms for balance, fingers digging into warm muscle, feeling the flex and shift of tendons under skin as the older man held him suspended like he weighed nothing at all. Yoon Seoyul turned without a word, carrying Cheon Areum away from the counter, away from the broken glass. Cheon Areum could feel every inch of the hardness still pressed against his lower back, now grinding subtly with the motion of being carried, the friction maddening through thin layers of fabric.

It seemed like Yoon Seoyul wasn’t going to let him go for even a second tonight.

His legs kicked once—half instinct, half playful protest—before stilling again. Heat flooded his face, neck, chest; he could feel his own heartbeat slamming against his ribs, loud enough that he was sure Yoon Seoyul could feel it too, where their bodies were fused together.

Yoon Seoyul’s chin stayed tucked against the curve of Cheon Areum’s shoulder, lips brushing kisses just below his ear with every exhale. Hot and damp. He didn’t speak until they crossed the kitchen threshold, stepping into the darker hallway beyond.

"Why do you keep trying to run away from me? Don’t go..."

Yoon Seoyul’s voice cracked on the last word—almost pitiful in a way that should have been embarrassing, but instead landed like a spark directly on dry tinder. He buried his face deeper into the warm crook of Cheon Areum’s neck, nose pressing flush against the bare skin where his pulse hammered fastest. Lips parted on a shaky exhale; the heat of his breath washed over collarbone and shoulder in uneven waves. His arms squeezed tighter—desperate. Cheon Areum’s knees buckled for a split second at the scene.

How the hell was he supposed to run now?

Cheon Areum’s pheromones flooded the hallway in an instinctive, uncontrollable rush as he lifted Yoon Seoyul’s face and kissed him deeply and urgently. Yoon Seoyul’s palms were scorching across his bare stomach, thumbs hooking into the waistband of his pants just enough to tug, not pull, clearly having trouble holding back. He lifted Cheon Areum again—higher this time—as Cheon Areum shifted his body and wrapped his legs around his waist.

"Let’s continue upstairs..."

Cheon Areum said as he let his arms slide up and drape casually over Yoon Seoyul’s broad shoulders, fingers threading loosely into the short hairs at the nape of his neck. A small smile tugged at his lips as he met those still-wet, burning eyes, feeling satisfied with Yoon Seoyul’s pitiable appearance.

"Okay..."

Yoon Seoyul nodded before kissing his cheek. Holding onto his waist, he took Cheon Areum upstairs to their bedroom and threw him on the soft bedding. The mattress dipped deeply under the sudden weight; soft sheets and a thick comforter puffed up around him like a cloud. Cheon Areum bounced once, breath punched out in a surprised chuckle. Yoon Seoyul didn’t even bother to close the door and started taking off his clothes immediately in front of him.

Cheon Areum stared intently at Yoon Seoyul’s bare body and, recalling his energy, snatched a black marker from Rian’s bedroom downstairs. The black marker lifted from the cluttered desk, shot upward through the slightly open doorway, streaked through the hallway like a dark comet, then curved sharply into their room just as the heavy bedroom door slammed shut quietly. The lock clicked on its own—sealing them in. The marker landed perfectly in Cheon Areum’s waiting palm, cool plastic against fever-hot skin.

He set it carefully at his side—within easy reach—then pushed himself upright on the mattress. The sheets pooled around his hips as he knelt, knees sinking into the soft bedding, fingers moving to the top button of his black silk pajama shirt. Cheon Areum shrugged the black silk pajama shirt off his shoulders completely, letting it slide down his arms and sink behind him on the rumpled sheets like spilled ink. He uncapped the marker with a soft pop and brought the felt tip to the soft skin just below his navel.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Four clean, straight black lines—perfectly parallel, evenly spaced—drawn horizontally across the flat plane of his lower abdomen like tally marks carved into skin. Cheon Areum recapped the marker with a quiet click and set it aside on the nightstand. He leaned back on his elbows, legs parting just enough to draw Yoon Seoyul’s gaze downward to the four black lines framing the soft dip below his navel.

"To make it up to you for taking the contraceptive pill five times, I will let you knot me five times tonight."