Chapter Text
1
The Honey Trap
The air in the house smells stale, a little sour with the hint of decay that seems to loom over everything these days. Dust moats dance through the beams of afternoon light that slip through the windows, disturbed only by Yeosang’s steady breathing. He moves slowly, footsteps careful as he gently opens doors and peeks around corners, ears straining for the smallest sounds.
The silence is oppressive, heavy, almost painful like a physical thing that sits behind his lungs.
Living room.
Nothing.
Bathroom.
Nothing.
Bedroom.
Nothing.
He freezes, listening, as the floor above him creaks. No sound follows, so Yeosang continues, knife at the ready, held close to his body, his muscles taught with anticipation. He peers past the doorway into the kitchen, his nose scrunching at the scent, an immediate giveaway.
The creature stands with its back to him, a small mercy, its gray, gaunt frame sickly in the way it rests. Unbreathing. Still like death. The story around its presence is clear enough.
It must have wandered in here through the front door, left open after scavengers came through. Judging by the state of it, this one had been turned in one of the first waves. This was no survivor, left to die or bravely sacrificed, decked in padded gear and irritatingly difficult to kill once reanimated.
It makes Yeosang’s life a little easier.
He tightens his grip on his knife, sneaking forward and sinking the blade into the base of the creature’s skull with a soft grunt of effort.
The moral hesitance has long since faded from him, though the fear lingers, naturally.
It’s not a person anymore.
Yeosang catches the body before it can fall, and he guides it into a quiet slump to the linoleum floor.
A creak behind him.
He straightens, knife raised, a snarl on his lips.
Wooyoung lifts his hands in a gesture of surrender, his voice barely more than a whisper, “Upstairs is clear.”
“Only this one in the kitchen,” Yeosang replies, gesturing. “Nothing else.”
They quickly search the cabinets, but most of them have already been opened and emptied. It makes sense, all things considered. Moving from one room to the next, they collect anything that might be useful. Tools. Batteries. Bandaids.
Once they’re done, Wooyoung raises an eyebrow, “You ready?”
Yeosang offers him a teasing smile, “Ready when you are.”
“Then let’s get this over with.”
He takes Wooyoung’s hand and tugs him eagerly to the bedroom on the ground floor. They move with deft ease, closing the door, then stripping the bed of its dusty sheets and spreading out one of their blankets. It smells like Wooyoung. Comforting. Familiar. It’s best to mix their scents as much as possible. Yeosang tucks his knife under the mattress, ensuring it’s still accessible, then kicks off his boots with precise haphazardness.
Wooyoung’s hands find his waist, pulling him close with a quiet hum, “Love you.”
“Love you too,” Yeosang huffs with affectionate amusement, allowing himself a moment to slow down, despite the fact that they probably don’t have time for fondness right now.
The other omega steals a chaste kiss anyway, his fingers finding the buckle of Yeosang’s belt. The metallic click and the hiss of leather against cloth sends arousal smoldering low in Yeosang’s belly. He lets out a soft moan as Wooyoung kisses him again, deeper, lingering.
His companion pulls away, tossing the belt aside and heading to the window.
Yeosang’s gaze follows him, want thrumming through his heartbeat.
Tomorrow, once this is done and they’re out of danger, they’ll have all the time in the world to indulge in intimacy and each other.
But for now…
Yeosang unzips his pants, stepping out of them before climbing onto the bed and spreading his legs.
Bright light floods the room as Wooyoung pulls up the shades and opens the window, letting late summer warmth rush inside, stirring the stale air. He wipes his hands on his shirt before returning to the bed and climbing up, resting his weight over Yeosang.
Their noses brush.
“Love you,” Wooyoung says again, but this time, it’s different. More tender. Almost an apology. Worry laces through the syllables.
Yeosang combs his fingers through Wooyoung’s hair, soothing, “Love you too.”
“You’ll be okay?”
“I always am.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Wooyoung kisses him gently, “You don’t have to do this.”
Yeosang knows Wooyoung would rather go a different route, but it’s fine. This is Yeosang’s choice, and he’s choosing to spare both himself and his friend from a worse fate, physically and morally.
They’ve run out of shelf-stable food supplies, and Yeosang has an easy way of getting them more.
While they’re both omegas, his body has…a skill, if he can call it that.
It used to be a pain, Before, but now it’s become very useful, a different type of tool in a world that has become dangerous not only for humanity, but especially for omegas.
This is his body. His decision. And most importantly, no one has to die.
“I know, but I’ll be careful,” Yeosang replies. Then, quieter, “You be careful too.”
“I will.”
They kiss again, slow, soft, a moment stolen just for them.
Then Wooyoung tilts his head to brush his lips along Yeosang’s jawline.
Yeosang takes a steadying breath, letting his body relax into the familiar touch. His hands smooth over Wooyoung’s shoulders and down his back. A whisper of longing ripples through him, a desire for the warmth of bare skin beneath his palms. But they can’t. Not now.
His inner omega pouts anyway.
Wooyoung licks at the sensitive spot on Yeosang’s neck, flooding the room with his heady scent. It would be faster if Wooyoung bit him, but the less his presence is distinguishable from Yeosang’s, the better.
The other omega rucks Yeosang’s shirt up, fingers skimming over his abdomen, arousal burning in his wake. Yeosang lets out a grunt of surprise as Wooyoung pinches one of his nipples. He playfully smacks his friend’s hip in retaliation, earning him a smothered giggle.
Wooyoung’s hand then travels down, palming Yeosang over his underwear, the pressure purposeful.
Even with the window open, his scent grows thick, almost intoxicating.
“Think you can handle it from here?” Wooyoung whispers.
“Yeah, go.”
“Okay.”
Wooyoung kisses him once more, just for good measure, then slips out of the room, closing the door behind him.
Yeosang takes a deep breath, staring at the ceiling for a moment.
I can do this.
Outside, he hears distant footsteps on the street.
His heartbeat stutters. This is always the most risky part.
Yeosang lowers his hand, slipping it into his underwear and gathering slick on his fingers, smearing it over the fabric and his thighs before pushing into himself and letting out an overly dramatic whimper.
The footsteps stop.
Yeosang continues pumping his fingers, urging fake but hopefully believable breathy moans and sounds of pleasure from his throat. His scent gets thicker, cloyingly sweet.
The sound of boots on sun-dry, overgrown grass clip sharply into the room, followed by an unfamiliar scent.
The person pauses outside the window, silhouetted against the daylight, tall, broad, watching curiously.
Yeosang whimpers, expression pinching in desperation as he breathes out a soft, yearning, “Alpha.”
The stranger reacts immediately, prying the mesh screen away and climbing through the opening. He’s huge, his weight heavy on the floor, boots scattering clumps of dirt on the carpet.
“What are you doing out here by yourself, hmm?” The alpha’s voice is low, a little raspy. He tilts his head, walking closer.
At least this one’s attractive.
Yeosang curls his fingers, the wet sound of slick filling the room as his body shivers with desire. He imagines they’re Wooyoung’s fingers instead.
“Please…” Yeosang begs. His back arches off the mattress.
The alpha takes a deep breath and his eyes get a little unfocused, his wary scent spiking with protective pheromones.
“It’s unusual to find an omega alone,” the alpha whispers, as if to himself.
He drops a backpack on the floor. The weight of it is promising, as well as the hint of something metal inside. Maybe cans. Maybe food.
The bed dips under his weight.
“Especially one in heat.”
Yeosang whimpers again, as if making a point. He lets his legs part in invitation, and the stranger growls possessively.
Alphas are so stupid.
“You want my knot, pretty thing?”
Yeosang makes his breath hitch, “Please. I need it.”
The stranger lets out a low alpha rumble, his hands smoothing up Yeosang’s thighs in a sorry replacement for Wooyoung’s.
Yeosang pulls his hand from his underwear, reaching for his new companion, deliberately letting his slick smear on the alpha’s shirt as he clings.
“Knot me.”
It seems he needs no further encouragement.
The man unzips his pants, leaving his clothes on, even his shoes, and pulls out his cock. It bobs, heavy, eager, and Yeosang wets his lips.
Hopefully he knows how to use it.
It doesn’t take long for the alpha to start thrusting into him, frantic, drunk on Yeosang’s scent.
To his credit, he does reach between them and touch Yeosang, not just chasing his own heat-fogged pleasure. Maybe it’s sympathy. Maybe it’s instinct. It doesn’t matter.
Arousal builds steadily in Yeosang’s body, but his thoughts drift to Wooyoung, imagining it’s his cock, his hands, his lips. It makes it easier to finish.
The alpha’s knot catches and the man above him snarls. Past the stretch, Yeosang can feel him spilling inside, the hot pulse of it with every subtle clench of his body. He breathes through it as the alpha presses soothing kisses to his neck. Yeosang doesn’t need them, but the sentiment is at least nice.
Dull, rhythmic pleasure begins to spark through him, and Yeosang naturally goes a little pliant. He combs his fingers through the alpha’s hair, clinging, feigning the post-knot satisfaction and submission of a heat cycle.
It’s what would happen, had he actually been experiencing it. But Yeosang is nowhere near his heat. He hasn’t had one in years. His slick just happens to smell exactly like it.
Minutes pass in the complete silence of the apocalypse, filled only with their heartbeats and slowing breaths.
The alpha, predictably, dozes off.
It’s dangerous to be locked together like this, but it’s by design. Despite his own lackluster release, Yeosang remains alert, his gaze on the window, his ears straining for unexpected noises. His awareness is mostly focused on the alpha above him. His even breathing, his heavy weight, the size of his knot.
It’s inconvenient that he remained on top, but Yeosang has dealt with more difficult positions before.
Minutes continue to slip by, uneventful, yet painted in the suspense of anticipation.
As if on cue, just as the knot starts to deflate, footsteps whisper through the grass outside.
Wooyoung peeks into the window. Yeosang meets his gaze and gives a small nod. The other omega silently climbs inside, opening the alpha’s backpack and searching through it.
Yeosang can’t see what he’s taking, but he lifts a hand, giving a gesture that Wooyoung knows means half.
Even if this alpha is a horny idiot, he’d been…fine. Yeosang doesn’t want him to starve or die just because he was thinking with his knot.
Wooyoung stands, gathering all of Yeosang’s belongings except his underwear, which he places on the bed, and his knife, which remains beneath the mattress. Easy to reach. Just in case. With that, the other omega climbs back out the window and disappears.
Yeosang takes a steadying breath, letting the room settle before he starts moving. Carefully, he pulls at the alpha’s cock, the deflating swell of his knot slipping free. Yeosang grimaces at the fluids that drip down his skin, but he manages to wiggle himself out from under the stranger’s bulky weight unscathed. He pulls on his underwear, then retrieves his knife and heads for the exit.
He’ll have to leave the blanket behind. It’s not worth the risk, and they can always find a new one.
In one last act of “sorry we fucked you over” sympathy, Yeosang slides the window closed. At least no zombies will be able to get the alpha while he sleeps.
The grass is dry and hot beneath his socks as he pads across the lawn and into the neighboring yard. Wooyoung meets him on the other side of the house, helping Yeosang step into his pants and his boots.
He still feels sticky and gross, but he’ll figure that out later.
“Get anything good?” he asks as he slips his belt through the loops.
“Some painkillers and food,” Wooyoung grins. “Lots of food. This guy must have found one of those doomsday prepper bunkers. How’d it go for you?”
“Fine. I came.”
“Oh, great news!”
They share a smothered laugh before Wooyoung takes his hand and they hurry back to their bicycles. Yeosang is relieved to see the small, covered trailers full of supplies. It was a good haul, definitely worth the soreness he winces against as he mounts his bike and they start peddling, a silent, triumphant getaway.
Wooyoung finishes sorting and cataloguing their new belongings just as Yeosang walks out of the bathroom. He still smells like the alpha. Without running water, he probably will for a while, but they don’t have the resources to spare.
He looks tired but okay.
Guilt whispers through Wooyoung anyway.
He offers his friend a smile that he hopes is bright. Yeosang mirrors it but sighs, slumping down onto his sleeping bag nearby, his posture heavy with exhaustion.
It’s not often they do something as dangerous as this, but as the years have worn on, food has become more and more scarce, and desperation has begun to gnaw at their bellies. Still, all the conditions have to be right. They have to find a lone alpha with an obvious den and a routine. They have to be able to clear out a nearby building and plan an escape. And Yeosang has to suggest it. Always.
Wooyoung would never put the other omega through something like this unless Yeosang was sure he wanted to go through with it.
“Hungry?” Wooyoung asks, offering a can of peaches. Anything to break the silence. He’s never been good at enduring it.
“Do we have a fork?”
“I think so.”
Wooyoung pulls a plastic utensil from his pack. One of the prongs is missing, but it’s better than carrying around metal. Too heavy. Not portable enough.
If they’d been staying in a house today, they might have used a fork from the kitchen, but their new nest (however temporary) is in a small commercial office space. It looks like it used to be a spa of some sort. Not super practical, but there’s hardly ever zombies in a place like this. There’s nothing worth scavenging, either, lessening their risk of encountering other people.
Yeosang sits up and checks the label for its expiration date, then eats the peaches quietly, his features painted in the warm glow of their flashlights.
“I was thinking tomorrow we might head out a little further,” Wooyoung says, leaning back and resting his weight on his hands. His sleeping bag crinkles beneath him softly. “Scout around a bit.”
“For a new place?”
“Yeah. Put a little more distance between us and that alpha.”
Yeosang hums in agreement, his expression neutral and entirely unreadable. Fond frustration flickers through Wooyoung’s chest.
He’s always been like this.
And suddenly, once again, it’s…jarring, how the whole world has irrevocably changed and yet some things have stayed entirely the same.
They’ve been friends for a decade, and yet even after the apocalypse, Yeosang is still Yeosang.
Wooyoung wonders in what ways he, himself, has remained the same. Sometimes, he isn’t sure whether there’s any at all.
“Can we look for another library too?” Yeosang asks as if the idea just occurred to him, his tone soft yet eager.
Wooyoung can’t help his fond smile, “Did you finish your book already?”
“I’m on the last few chapters. I figured by the time we find the next one in the series, I’d be done.”
Along with forks and batteries, entertainment is one of those things Wooyoung wouldn’t have anticipated needing after the world ended. But here they are.
With all the phones, music players, and televisions dead, they have to explore their options. Talking. Reading. Fucking. Etcetera. They need something to do that isn’t stressful and based only on instinct and survival. Because what’s the use of surviving if they can’t enjoy it?
“Of course we can,” Wooyoung nods. He’d do anything for Yeosang. “Maybe we’ll even find a good place close by and camp out there for a little while.”
“Perfect,” Yeosang beams. He glances down into the can he’s holding, then offers it to Wooyoung.
There are a few slices of peach left, wet and pale and sweet. Wooyoung eats them, savoring the sugar on his tongue.
Closed safely into their temporary nest, the door locked and a massage table pushed against it for good measure, they spend the next few minutes unwinding, talking about Yeosang’s book and the supplies Wooyoung had managed to get.
Neither of them brings up zombies, and yet their looming presence always feels as if it’s pressing against the edges of their awareness, watching like something sentient and hungry.
After setting aside the empty can, Wooyoung settles in his sleeping bag and glances over at his companion.
Yeosang is already watching him.
“What?” Wooyoung asks, laughing softly.
“Can we cuddle?”
“Since when do you have to ask?” Wooyoung scolds humorously, scooting over to make room.
As soon as Yeosang is close enough, Wooyoung tucks the other omega against his side.
He still smells faintly like alpha arousal. Wooyoung frowns, huffing in displeasure. He presses a kiss to Yeosang’s temple, then manhandles him until they’re tangled together and he’s able to nuzzle into the crook of Yeosang’s neck, scenting him.
His companion makes a disgruntled noise, but his scent is sweet, relaxed, and happy. He doesn’t pull away, just lets himself go pliant until Wooyoung erases every trace of the alpha with gentle kisses and soft touches against scent glands. When Wooyoung props himself up to admire his work, Yeosang meets his gaze, fighting a pleased smile.
“Love you,” Yeosang whispers into the dimness of the room.
“Love you too,” Wooyoung replies. He makes a soft omega noise. Yeosang echoes it. They settle back into each other’s arms and end up falling asleep in the warmth and comfort of familiarity.
The next morning, they eat, then sweep the small commercial building, searching for any lingering danger. It’s one of Wooyoung’s rules. Always double check.
They pack quickly, efficient with practice, and head out on their bicycles, their supplies tucked into the covered wagons behind them.
It’s better this way. Quieter. And while Wooyoung would prefer the safety of an enclosed vehicle, he had decided that finding fuel isn’t worth the hassle. Yeosang had agreed, following Wooyoung’s choices, as he usually does.
They pedal for a while, avoiding places that look populated or like true disaster zones. Scattered rubble, burn marks, crashed cars, and excessive debris usually means trouble—zombies or people.
But thankfully, they’re in a fairly suburban neighborhood and can avoid most things by choosing another grid-like street. They eventually reach the edge of town, the buildings thinning out, replaced by leafy trees and undergrowth baked warm by the summer sun. It smells green here. Less…rotten.
The highway unfurls before them, a ribbon into the unknown crowded by abandoned cars. A few of them have figures moving around inside. It won’t be an issue unless the creatures figure out how to open doors.
“Keep going to the next city? Or stay here?” Wooyoung asks, glancing at Yeosang even though he knows he’ll probably be the one to make the call in the end anyway.
A light breeze whispers past them.
Yeosang frowns, a pinch forming between his brows, “I’m not sure.”
There’s no right answer.
Maybe that’s the hard part.
All the choices and time in the world, and they have no idea what to do.
Wooyoung sighs, “Well, we’ve got a bit of a vantage point. Let’s take a look around. See if we spot anything interesting.”
“Like what?”
“A library.”
“Right.”
Yeosang seems pleased that Wooyoung remembers, but of course he does. It’s not like his thoughts are crowded by social media drama, chores, or work schedules anymore.
They leave their bicycles to walk to the edge of the highway overpass, glancing around, weapons at the ready but postures relaxed.
Wooyoung spots it first, a golf course. The manicured green has long died and been devoured by the native grasses and scraggly weeds. A few paths remain. A winding road. A tattered, sunbleached flag marking a hole.
“That could be promising,” Wooyoung whispers, squinting as he sees the tall ornate fence of a gated neighborhood on the other side of the vast, unnatural openness.
“What?” Yeosang asks quietly.
“See the golf course? The fence hopefully means there won’t be a lot of zombies wandering around. It’ll be a good place to hide until we make a decision,” Wooyoung explains. “Whether we stay or go, we probably shouldn’t leave town now.”
“Yeah, we don’t want to get caught in the forest after dark,” Yeosang nods.
Too open. Too exposed. And they’d have to worry about animals.
The other omega continues after a beat, “There might not be zombies, but what about people?”
Wooyoung pauses, “What about them?”
“If you think it’ll be safer there, don’t you think other people might assume the same thing?” Yeosang asks.
“We’ll just have to be careful,” Wooyoung offers his companion a reassuring smile.
Given the choice between the forest, another commercial building with a hard floor, and a gated community with soft rich-people beds, the decision seems obvious. Besides, the odds of running into other humans are slim to none, and Wooyoung has a good nose.
Yeosang hums, skeptical, but then he nods, “Okay. Lead the way.”
Wooyoung usually does.
They ride their bicycles down the highway, taking the off-ramp and heading back into town. By the time they reach the golf course, evening gilds the world around them. Wooyoung insists they leave their belongings behind in a clump of trees and bushes before they cautiously approach the gate, peeking into the small guard house to find it empty.
Crouching in the cover it provides, Wooyoung takes a steadying breath to gather his thoughts.
“We’ll just clear the first house,” he whispers. “Then only take in what’s necessary. I don’t want all our stuff being trapped in there if things go poorly.”
“But what if someone finds it out here?”
“Who’s looking?” Wooyoung asks, a little humorous.
He doesn’t like being separated from their supplies, but if they’re staying in a furnished house just for the night, they’re already carrying everything they need on their backs. Besides, he doesn’t want to walk all the way across the golf course again this late. They’ll either have to do it in the dark or with flashlights, and that sort of movement always attracts unwanted attention.
Yeosang stares at him with concern in his eyes, but relents, “Okay.”
“Watch, it’ll be right where we left it tomorrow,” Wooyoung huffs affectionately. “Now let’s go. It’s getting late.”
The gate, like the fence around it, is made of thick bars. Sun-faded paint flakes away from its surface in some places, revealing metal beneath. There’s no way to climb it from here. They’ll have to push it open. While Wooyoung keeps watch, Yeosang manages to move the sliding gate just far enough for them to squeeze through. He closes it behind them.
The roads and walkways are overgrown, though Wooyoung can see how they used to be immaculately manicured with ornamental bushes and flowers. It’s a little poetic that not even wealth could protect these people from the apocalypse.
They approach the nearest house.
“I’ll take the second floor,” Wooyoung whispers because Yeosang hates clearing rooms upstairs. He’s said it makes him feel trapped, like he doesn’t have a clear way out if he needs to flee.
Wooyoung will gladly take that burden from him.
“Deal,” Yeosang nods, and they set out across the hot pavement.
Up the long driveway, over a porch, they pause at the front entrance. Locked. Wooyoung has the sudden urge to knock, maybe out of habit. He doesn’t. Instead, he pulls the crowbar from his backpack and after a quick glance at Yeosang, shoves it into the doorframe. With a loud crack, the door breaks open, swinging inward with the momentum.
Both omegas dart for cover behind porch furniture, a dirty bench and some large terracotta pots with dead plants crumpled and dry inside.
Nothing breaks the silence, no shuffled footsteps or eerie moans.
Still, that doesn’t mean there isn’t anything inside.
They wait a few extra minutes before Wooyoung’s thighs start to protest and he stands, putting away the crowbar and drawing his knife.
Slow and steady.
He exchanges a nod with Yeosang before they head inside.
The house is large and oppressively quiet, dusty, stale, as most places are nowadays. In the entry room, Wooyoung nudges Yeosang, gesturing up at the picture on the wall. An older couple with a few adult children and grandchildren. A family portrait. Seven zombies total that might be in this house.
They’re not people anymore.
Yeosang always reminds him.
The other omega glances at the photo, then continues forward with objective focus in his eyes. Wooyoung follows and breaks off as soon as he finds the staircase.
He searches methodically, but strangely, he finds nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not a single zombie or expired medication or even an old bottle of laundry detergent. After a few minutes, he goes back downstairs and meets Yeosang in the kitchen, which is always their rendezvous point.
“Anything?”
“No,” Yeosang murmurs. “It looks like someone else got here first.”
“Yeah, they took everything but the furniture.”
“The back door was unlocked, too.”
Huh.
Wooyoung frowns, but there’s really not much he can do about it.
“We’ll only be here temporarily,” he says, letting some of the tension drain from his body. An empty house is better than a dangerous one. “But maybe we’ll take a look around the neighborhood in the morning. See if they left anything behind.”
They end up in the master bathroom. The floor is tile, hard and cold, but the door locks—and that’s the important part. They drag in the bare mattress from the bedroom, then settle in for the night, watching the last of the daylight fade through the windows.
Wooyoung tucks Yeosang close, their limbs tangled, protective of one another. He presses a kiss into Yeosang’s hair.
“Good job today.”
“We didn’t do anything,” Yeosang laughs.
“We survived.”
“True.”
And isn’t that what they’ll be doing for the rest of their lives? Surviving. One day at a time.
Yeosang shifts against him, tilting his head up until their gazes meet.
“Yes?” Wooyoung smirks, playfully expectant.
There’s a question in Yeosang’s eyes. His cheeks dust pink. Wooyoung already knows. He can smell it in Yeosang’s scent, beneath the sweat and dirt that seems to linger on them no matter how many carefully dampened towels they use, but it’s cute that his friend is still shy about it.
“Can I kiss you?”
That’s not the real question, but it’s what Yeosang is comfortable asking.
“Of course you can,” Wooyoung’s smirk softens into a fond smile. “You know you don’t need to ask me.”
Maybe it’s because of the context of what happened yesterday, but Yeosang’s expression hardens briefly with resolve, “Yes, I do.”
Wooyoung reaches up, cupping his companion’s cheek and brushing his thumb over smooth, blush-warm skin, “Okay, then even if you always have my permission, I’m glad you asked. Thank you.”
“Love you.”
“Love you too.”
Yeosang shifts his weight until he’s comfortably over Wooyoung, their thighs slotted, noses brushing. He catches Wooyoung’s lips in a gentle kiss that lingers.
It’s odd that Yeosang can be so disinterested in his body when it comes to having sex with random alphas, but he’s always different with Wooyoung, a little more reserved, careful, and sweet. Maybe it’s because to him, this matters. It’s not about survival. It’s about pleasure, bonding, and safety.
Wooyoung lets out a quiet omega noise, chasing Yeosang’s lips and tangling his fingers in the hair at the nape of Yeosang’s neck.
Their kiss deepens, warm and soft, tender, familiar.
Arousal laces into Yeosang’s scent, subtle at first, but quickly thickening, heady and heavy with pseudo heat.
Wooyoung’s thoughts get pleasantly foggy, and his fingers find the hem of Yeosang’s shirt, slipping beneath it to trace over warm, smooth skin he knows by heart.
Yeosang sighs, content, relaxed, moving his attention to pressing careful kisses along Wooyoung’s jaw, then down his neck. Teeth drag gently across sensitive skin. Wooyoung shivers with pleasure.
It wasn't always this way.
There was a time before their shared intimacy, when their friendship was just that, friendship. But lonely nights in a cramped college dorm meant one thing led to another, tentative touches in the darkness, then safety in familiarity.
But that was Before.
Wooyoung doesn’t know what he would’ve done if Yeosang hadn’t been with him. Even if the other omega relies on Wooyoung’s confidence and decision making, Wooyoung relies just as much on Yeosang’s steady calmness, the strength of his heart and mind. And after they’d escaped what should’ve been certain death, they found themselves alone, together.
It was only natural for them to get closer, to rely on the one other person they knew they could fully trust, body and heart.
Their clothes are quietly, carefully cast aside.
And then Yeosang is bare before him, all gentle weight and breathless desire.
Wooyoung’s gaze dips, and he growls at a red splotch on Yeosang’s collarbone where the alpha must have bitten him.
His companion smiles down at him, shy and amused, “You can fix it.”
Wooyoung glares, “Nothing about you needs fixing.”
Yeosang huffs a laugh, his profile painted a pretty blue by the moonlight, “Sometimes, it doesn’t feel that way.”
Despite their mismatched strength, Wooyoung easily rolls Yeosang off of him, the other omega falling onto his back with a quiet grunt, his wrists hitting the mattress beside his head. Wooyoung climbs over him, straddling his hips and cupping Yeosang’s cheeks gently, his tone firm.
“Is this about that alpha?”
“No.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I just…” Yeosang sighs, looking away for a moment. “I’m okay. It’s only sex.”
“Yeosang.”
“Sometimes it just makes me feel like a slab of meat, that’s all.”
Wooyoung sighs, “You never have to do it. There are always other options.”
“I know. I choose it every time,” Yeosang says like he means it. Wooyoung believes him. “But afterwards I like when we…when you and me…”
He stares up at Wooyoung as if he hung the stars in the sky. Slowly, Yeosang lifts his hands, resting them at Wooyoung’s waist.
“You never make me feel like that.”
Something incredibly soft settles in Wooyoung’s chest, so fond it almost hurts, stinging in his eyes as he lets out a terribly small, affectionate laugh in an attempt to reign in his emotions. It doesn’t work.
“You’re so much more than your body,” Wooyoung says into the darkness, the words quiet in the closeness of their proximity and the immensity of their solitude. “Don’t ever let anyone convince you otherwise.”
“Not even me?”
“Especially not yourself,” Wooyoung whispers, then carefully dips down to give Yeosang a tender kiss. “Now, let me take care of you the right way.”
Take care of you. Not “fix.” Never fix.
Yeosang hums, tilting his chin up to catch Wooyoung’s lips. It starts off sweet and leisurely, but as usual, Yeosang’s scent thickens quickly, encouraging, threading through Wooyoung’s thoughts like desire. He gently pins Yeosang’s wrists back to the mattress, shifting his attention to press slow, heated kisses against lightly flushed skin, licking and nibbling his way across Yeosang’s chest. The other omega takes an unsteady breath, muscles tensing, features pinching with pleasure.
It’s all warmth and salt and sensitivity beneath Wooyoung’s tongue, summer sun and something distinctly Yeosang as he travels lower, over the other omega’s navel, releasing his hands in favor of gently parting Yeosang’s legs.
His companion’s fingers lace into his hair.
Wooyoung presses a kiss to Yeosang’s inner thigh, watching him for a moment.
Yeosang lets out a quiet whine, needy. It’s not that fake porn bullshit he uses on alphas, but something soft, something omegan.
“Love you,” Wooyoung whispers.
“Love you too,” Yeosang replies, but the words are lost to a gasp as Wooyoung takes his cock into his mouth.
He coaxes pleasure with every bob of his head and swipe of his tongue, his whole focus on Yeosang and the way he trembles, the cadence of his breath, the tensing of his thighs.
Wooyoung knows his body, and delights in the way Yeosang surrenders to him so completely, the way he’s allowed this worship.
“Close,” Yeosang warns.
Thoughts foggy with heat pheromones, Wooyoung hollows his cheeks, sinking lower, and Yeosang finishes with a smothered moan, his hips lifting, chasing the wet warmth of Wooyoung’s mouth. Wooyoung lets him, then pulls off gently.
Panting, Yeosang goes boneless against the mattress. Slick and spit glistens on his dick and thighs. Wooyoung presses a kiss to Yeosang’s belly before resting his cheek on the other omega’s thigh and slipping his hand beneath him to his own neglected cock.
The scent of Yeosang’s arousal is potent, leaving him aching and needy, but Wooyoung would never demand anything Yeosang isn’t willing to give.
Thankfully, the other omega is attentive and their care is always reciprocal.
Wooyoung barely has time to touch himself before Yeosang makes a quiet noise, catching his attention.
“Sit back.”
“Okay.”
Wooyoung complies, watching as Yeosang gets on his hands and knees, then lowers himself easily to rest his cheek against the mattress.
He’s still too sensitive for penetration, Wooyoung knows, so he’s careful as he slips his dick between Yeosang’s slicked thighs. The other omega braces himself, and Wooyoung bends over him, pressing reverent kisses over Yeosang’s spine as he begins to thrust. It’s quick, desperate, and messy, and Wooyoung finishes with a small whimper, his breath hot across Yeosang’s back.
He clings to his companion for a moment, bliss washing over him with a suffocating sort of intensity.
It’s perfect, exactly as it is.
Wooyoung tips them sideways as soon as Yeosang’s thighs part enough for him to slip free. They’ll clean up in a bit. With what? He doesn’t know. They left their towels and blankets with the bicycles outside. But for now, he just wants to hold Yeosang.
The apocalypse had taken everything from him, everything except this.
Yeosang is all he has left.
Wooyoung smooths a hand over the other omega’s chest, feeling the weight of his breath, the warmth of his skin. He presses a kiss to Yeosang’s shoulder, then lets out a soft laugh as Yeosang turns to face him, kissing him properly, gentle and chaste like the fond edge of a smile.
And I won’t ever let anything happen to you.
Yeosang wakes up to the first rays of rosy daylight. He takes a deep breath, noting Wooyoung’s familiar scent. The other omega is still asleep beside him.
Makes sense. It’s still early.
Exact time had stopped mattering long ago.
They have a long day ahead of them though, so Yeosang slips out of bed, gets dressed, and starts quietly gathering the few belongings they brought.
He can still feel the ghost of Wooyoung’s tongue and teeth against his skin, and the pleasant ache in his muscles. It makes him smile, even if he’s a bit sore.
Moving around helps. He’ll need to be limbered up before they leave.
Eventually, he wakes Wooyoung with a gentle hand and an offer of canned food, not the best breakfast, but better than nothing. They eat amidst quiet conversation, talking about strategy and the possibilities the neighborhood might present them.
They depart with the sunrise.
“Let’s try the back door,” Yeosang suggests quietly as they approach the next house.
If the first one was unlocked, maybe this one will be, too.
Wooyoung nods, “Good idea.”
Yeosang beams, pleased, and follows his companion around the building. As predicted, it opens without protest.
“Weird,” Wooyoung whispers. “I don’t like it.”
He reaches out, fingers tracing chipped wood on the doorframe.
“So someone else has been breaking in,” Yeosang murmurs thoughtfully.
“Yeah. Still, we should check. I’ll go upstairs.”
“Meet you in the kitchen.”
Like the last house, this one is empty except for the furniture and other garbage—newspapers, photos, and decorative vases. Yeosang doesn’t know what to make of it, except that someone must have been very thorough.
The third and fourth houses are the exact same. Unlocked back door. Empty. No zombies.
But no humans either.
“My instincts are telling me we should go,” Wooyoung whispers as they walk down the next street. The neighborhood is filled with large, shady trees and overgrown bushes, obscuring their sightlines across the sprawling properties.
“Go…like leave?”
“Yeah.”
“But doesn’t this prove that this place is safe? We haven’t seen a single zombie, and if someone’s already been through here, why would they come back—?”
Wooyoung cuts off the question with a sharp gesture, his hand in front of Yeosang’s chest. Yeosang stops talking immediately, glancing around in alarm.
“I smell something,” his companion whispers, tension rippling through his frame.
Yeosang breathes deeply, but all he can scent is the other omega and the nearby bushes.
“What?”
Wooyoung shakes his head, his hand brushing Yeosang’s elbow, a silent “follow me.” They slip into the cover of nearby foliage.
It takes a few seconds, but then Yeosang catches it on the breeze. Musky and earthy.
Alpha.
Months of training fight or flight instincts tell him to hide, to run.
Wooyoung’s sharp gaze scans the street, “Stay still.”
Yeosang nods.
The unknown scent gets stronger, and then he hears something melodic.
A lone alpha traverses the sidewalk, his posture relaxed, his pace easy. He’s humming to himself, an axe swinging idly at his side. He looks healthy. Strong. Handsome. Like he might have food and supplies hidden somewhere.
Yeosang’s inner omega doesn’t protest.
His gaze flicks to Wooyoung, but his companion is still watching the stranger, lips pulled back in a silent snarl.
Wooyoung has never liked alphas. Not since that first week After, when…
The bite hadn’t taken, thankfully, and Yeosang had managed to pry the alpha away before he could fully pin Wooyoung down.
Yeosang had beaten the guy senseless. It had been then that he’d accepted the fact that things would never be the same. He had to become a different person, and he would, if it meant protecting Wooyoung.
They looked out for each other. They always have, and they always will.
The alpha passes, and Yeosang turns to his companion, “Should we follow him?”
Wooyoung looks at him like he grew a second head, “What?”
“This is probably the guy who scavenged all these houses. He must have a lot of good stuff,” Yeosang explains, excitement thrumming through his heartbeat.
More food. Useful materials.
Uncertainty flickers through the disbelief in Wooyoung’s eyes, “But isn’t it too soon?”
“For what?”
“We just…you fucked an alpha the other day.”
The words are blunt, but not unkind.
Yeosang can see it for what it is, concern, especially after what he’d said last night. Still, if he can distract a stupid alpha long enough for Wooyoung to get what they need and get away safely, there’s no harm in it.
He reaches out, putting a hand on Wooyoung’s shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze, “Let’s just follow him.”
The other omega searches his expression for a moment before sighing, relenting, “Fine.”
Keeping to the foliage for cover, they follow the unknown alpha down the street, deeper into the gated neighborhood.
He eventually stops at a house, walking up to the door with the confidence of someone who knows they’re coming home.
Something aches in Yeosang’s chest.
It’s been a while since he’s felt safe enough anywhere to be that much at ease.
From the outside, this house doesn’t look any different from the others around it. It’s large, ornate, and has a privacy fence with a locked gate running around the backyard.
“Boost me up,” Wooyoung whispers.
Yeosang leans against the wooden fence, cupping his hands and grunting as Wooyoung steps into the cradle of his palms.
“He has a garden. And rain barrels. This guy has been here for a long time.”
“A garden?” Yeosang asks.
Wooyoung lowers himself back to the ground, the grass crunching quietly beneath his feet, “Yeah, looks like a lot of different fruits and vegetables.”
Longing weighs heavy in Yeosang’s chest.
It’s been so long since they’ve had fresh anything.
His companion must smell it in his scent because his expression softens.
“This is dangerous.”
“I can keep him occupied. I know it.”
“Look how deep the house is in the neighborhood,” Wooyoung argues quietly. “This whole place is probably like his territory. I’m honestly surprised he hasn’t scented us yet. Plus, there’s no fast escape with the gate in the way—even if we stash the trailers somewhere else and bring the bikes in here.”
“Then we do what we normally do except I run and you hide for a bit.”
“Are you willing to take that big of a risk?”
No.
Nothing is worth losing Wooyoung.
Yeosang lets out a soft breath, “Okay. You’re right.”
Wooyoung stares at him for a beat, then closes his eyes, “Alternately, we could modify the plan.”
“Really?” Yeosang perks up again.
“You’ll have to be really good at acting.”
“Just tell me what I gotta do.”
They spend the entire day watching for the alpha, who doesn’t leave the house until that evening. In the golden light of sunset, he hums, walking slowly, idly swinging his axe like he’s going on a casual stroll.
They keep their distance.
Neither Wooyoung nor Yeosang had seen any other people around. Even when they’d cautiously approached the porch, there had only been one scent, distinct and earthy.
So they decided to split up.
Yeosang remains at the house. Wooyoung follows the alpha, who returns after the sun has set and quietly shuts himself inside again.
“Okay,” Wooyoung whispers once they’re safely back inside their own temporary nest in the master bathroom near the gate. “I know what we have to do.”
They usually spend a couple days observing the target of their traps, but this time, it’s different. This is an alpha’s territory, one he obviously patrols and knows thoroughly, given its enclosed nature. Every moment they spend inside this neighborhood increases the chances of their discovery.
Before dawn, they sneak outside and retrieve one of the bicycles from the bushes of the golf course, leaving it conspicuously on the front lawn of the house closest to the gate. They then drag the mattress from the bathroom back to the master bedroom.
It still smells faintly like sleep, sex, and heat, which is exactly what they need.
Wooyoung sets it down on the bedframe with a huff of effort, then shakes his head, “If you feel in danger at all, you leave. Get out. Don’t worry about me.”
“I always worry about you,” Yeosang murmurs.
“Yeah, but you’re the one who will be with an alpha. He could be dangerous.”
“Could be” is generous. They both know it.
Wooyoung continues, “Whatever happens, we meet at the trees near the bikes by sunset. Understand?”
“Yes—”
“Promise?” There’s an intensity in Wooyoung’s eyes that makes Yeosang uneasy.
He feels underprepared.
But they’ve done this so many times, even if this is a new variation.
They’ll be fine. They have to be.
“I promise,” Yeosang whispers.
Wooyoung walks around the bed and draws him into a tight embrace, “I love you. Don’t die.”
“I love you. Don’t die,” Yeosang repeats, softer.
His friend presses a kiss to his cheek, then steps away, “Okay, see you at the bikes.”
“Be safe.”
They part ways, Wooyoung heading down the stairs as Yeosang climbs onto the bare mattress. He pulls one of their spare blankets over himself, knife in hand, using the other to stroke his dick leisurely, filling the room with the heady pseudo-heat scent of his slick.
All he has to do now is hurry up and wait.
He doesn’t know how many hours pass, just that he starts to get drowsy with stillness, the warmth of the blanket soaking into him like something uncomfortably heavy when compounded with the summer sunlight streaming through the dusty windows. Yeosang starts to sweat. It’ll only make his story more believable.
He tries to stay focused, to not let his thoughts drift.
Be alert. Listen. He could come at any moment.
His grip on his knife doesn’t falter, but he’d stopped touching himself a while ago from oversensitivity.
A breeze outside whispers through the leaves, branches tapping against the house. Wooden beams settle. Yeosang keeps his gaze on the closed door like he might burn a hole through it by staring.
Impatience begins to itch inside of him, a mix of nervousness and unresolved tension. It grows into a feral thing, pacing in his chest, unbearable.
And then he hears it.
The faint rattle of empty cans disturbed, an alarm they’d set.
He can’t tell if it was the front door or the back door. Maybe it doesn’t matter.
Yeosang takes a steadying breath, his muscles tensing, ready to spring.
This is always the riskiest part, but there’s a little bit of a thrill in it, broken tension, facing the unknown.
I don’t want to kill you.
But he will if he has to.
Whoever this person is has a nice setup here. They have more than enough. They should be happy to share—an unwitting trade, an omega and an orgasm for some supplies. It seems fair enough.
And yet uncertainty prickles through Yeosang as he hears quiet footsteps on the staircase.
He slips his free hand down, over his abdomen, touching himself enough to thicken his scent in the room again.
He lets out a quiet whimper, beckoning.
“Hello?” The voice is more gentle than he expects. Really, it’s a surprise the stranger called out at all.
Stupid alpha.
Though he probably knows there is a person in here, not a zombie.
Yeosang swallows past the dryness of his throat, running his fingers through the small amount of slick at his entrance and smearing it across the mattress. The scent of heat permeates faintly through the room. He takes a steadying breath, then lets out a shuddering whine.
The door opens.
The alpha stands on the other side, axe in hand, body language guarded but not aggressive. His features are softer up close than they were at a distance.
If Yeosang had met him under different circumstances, he might’ve thought the alpha looked friendly, approachable, even cute.
But here they are.
“Stay back,” Yeosang says like the encounter is unexpected, a note of panic in his voice. He brandishes his knife, scrambling back until his shoulder hits the headboard, the blanket clutched to his chest like armor.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” The alpha raises his free hand in a placating gesture, subtly glancing around, assessing the room, taking in the sight and scent, “Are you okay?”
His tone is equal parts cautious and concerned. The truth of it sits heavily in his gaze with a cold sort of intensity.
Yeosang takes an unsteady breath, “Hurts.”
“What hurts? Were you bitten?”
“No,” Yeosang shakes his head. “I…I’m going into heat.”
“Now?” The alpha’s eyes widen, his cheeks dusting deep red all the way up to his ears and down to his chest.
“Soon.”
“I thought I scented it but…” the alpha shakes his head as if to clear his thoughts. His gaze flicks away, then back to Yeosang, then away again. “Okay. Um. Do you need help?”
“What do you mean?” Yeosang asks, using his best innocent doe eyes.
Ask to fuck me.
They always do.
“Do you need food or water? Or, well, this house is safe, at least from zombies.”
“I…” Yeosang trails off, unsure. They’re going off script.
Maybe he should’ve gotten himself a bit more worked up.
The alpha sighs, wincing, his scent flaring, “Let’s start over. I’m Jongho. What’s your name?”
“Yeosang.”
As soon as he says it, he regrets it.
He should’ve lied. Should’ve said anything other than his real name. Wooyoung is going to kill him if this alpha doesn’t.
“Yeosang,” Jongho repeats softly, offering him a tight smile. “Nice to meet you. I’m not going to touch you, okay? I’m just offering help. Person to person.”
“You’re an alpha, how am I supposed to trust you?” Yeosang asks, keeping his knife held aloft, though he holds it wrong, feigning inexperience.
They’re back on script now. Sort of. Jongho was supposed to try to knot him first. Yeosang will have to find other ways to stall.
“Are you here with anyone?” the alpha asks gently, avoiding the question.
“Why would I tell you that?”
“No” would be the easy answer, a better chance at letting Wooyoung sneak past unnoticed. But “no” is also the more dangerous response for Yeosang. It’s better to be vague, to have the threat of others looming.
The alpha lets out an indecisive groan, still standing in the doorway as if his feet have rooted to the spot, “Look, I know you can’t control what’s happening to you. I’m just trying to help, but I’ve also never seen you before. How do I know you’re not a threat?”
How can an omega in heat be a threat?
Then again, this alpha is smarter than most of the others. It’s a good question to ask.
Yeosang shivers under the blanket, making the decision to let the knife fall aside on the bed. Now that his hands are free, he loosely hugs himself, defensive, cowering, submissive.
It’s a gamble, but the alpha’s posture subtly softens.
“I’m sorry,” Yeosang says. “It’s just…there aren’t many safe places left anymore. I saw the gate and…please don’t hurt me.”
“I won’t,” Jongho replies gently, some of the wary hardness leaving his gaze.
A few moments pass in tense silence, and Yeosang can practically hear the alpha’s conflicting thoughts.
He can’t leave Yeosang here. They know about each other now, and that knowledge can’t be undone. There are only a few options. Jongho stays. Yeosang leaves. Or they part ways and exist in the same neighborhood. There’s also the possibility that Yeosang might be lying, that he was bitten and infected and cast out from his group. Everything is dangerous for both of them, painted in the fear of the unknown.
Whatever reasons or excuses the alpha settles on, Yeosang just has to keep Jongho here until the late afternoon.
Until Wooyoung is able to make his escape.
“You promise?” Yeosang asks, searching the alpha’s gaze.
Jongho nods, “I promise.”
“Then can you sit with me? At least for a little while? I just need to catch my breath and clear my head,” Yeosang says, letting Jongho settle on whatever implications his imagination can come up with.
The alpha takes a steadying breath, then lowers himself to sit at the threshold, his cheeks still burning red, “Yeah, I can do that.”
They have all the time in the world, after all.
Wooyoung had watched the alpha walk away, then waited. Last night, it had taken him a while to complete the loop around the neighborhood. Without a watch or a clock, he didn’t have the exact time, so Wooyoung waits, and waits, and waits.
When his instincts tell him it’s safe, he hurries up the stairs and across the porch, knife at the ready, and opens the door.
He’s met with the same oppressive quiet that he has always come to expect, but the air isn’t still, isn’t dusty. The house feels lived-in, clean, a few of the windows open to let in the breeze. It smells like wooden floors, cooked food, and alpha.
Though…something about it makes his omega hesitate. Caution ripples through him. There’s a heady note in the scent, something he hadn’t caught before when he’d been following the alpha outside.
Maybe it’s just because he lives here.
It would make sense that it’s more concentrated.
Wooyoung’s first stop is in the kitchen. He’s looking for any canned goods he can find, not that there will be many left. Strangely, instead of store-bought metal cans with colorful plastic labels, he mostly finds jars of preserves, dates and contents scrawled in careful writing on pieces of tape. He puts a few of them in his backpack, though the fact that they’re glass means they’ll be less durable. He moves on, heading out into the garden.
Tomatoes.
Yeosang is going to cry.
Wooyoung picks a few, adding them to his bag before uprooting a few other vegetables.
It’s unwise to fill up on this stuff. Too temporary.
He heads back inside. Time to find other things. Lighters, batteries, bandages, anything useful.
Wooyoung enters the bathroom, opening the medicine cabinet and quickly glancing around, weighing, assessing. There are no windows. It’s hard to see in the dim light, so he slips his knife into his belt in favor of pulling out a flashlight.
He starts skimming labels, but pauses when he smells it.
Alpha, his instincts warn him.
But no, he should be occupied with Yeosang. They’d made the bicycle so conspicuous. If he’s here, that means something is wrong. That means—
Yeosang.
Wooyoung frantically zips up his bag, and in his panic, he rushes out of the room, right into something solid.
A snarl shocks him into compliance, and the scent chokes him as he’s slammed against the hallway wall, an arm braced across his chest, a knife at Wooyoung’s throat.
“I told Jongho I smelled an omega,” the alpha says, voice low, his sharp gaze raking over Wooyoung with objective hostility. It’s a different alpha, a second one. “He said I was being delusional.”
Wooyoung doesn’t struggle. Doesn’t growl or snarl or reach for his own weapon.
Because the strange scent he’d picked up earlier wasn’t just an alpha.
It was an alpha in rut.