when your city broke my skin and bones (say don't go) | WOOSAN

5

San jolts awake, not quite asleep, at the feel of a hand on his cheek. He peels his eyes open, exhaustion weighing on him like all his life's mistakes that led him here sitting heavy on his shoulders.

Hanbin smiles at him, pretty and soft, and San knows if Hanbin had fucked him instead of Dawson, he wouldn't feel like this. The numbing effect of Dawson's come is wearing off rapidly, the burning soreness of his cervix flaring up like a lit match, pussy throbbing with pain.

'Hey San, I'm Hanbin.' He pushes San's hair off his sweaty forehead, speaking in quiet Korean, his vowels sounding wavy in that distict way of the Gyeonggi dialect. Hanbin's voice is nice, and San is so grateful he doesn't have to try and speak English when his brain feels like sludge. But Hanbin automatically speaking Korean means he's clocked San's accent. San's been in London for not even a year yet, and his English is still heavily accented.

'Hey,' San says. He knows he needs to get up, but Hanbin's fingers stroking his face are putting him back to sleep, his scent enveloping him in calming, earthy waves, the scent strong with Hanbin's wrist gland so close to San's face. He smells like outside, like a forest but not quite. It's a million times nicer than Dawson's scent.

'Do you feel okay?'

'No.' No point sugar coating it. Sandra can't understand them anyway, and San's starting to feel quite ill, a deep aching in his abdomen like heat cramps. 'I don't think I can get up.'

'That's okay, I've got you. Let's try and get to the bathroom, okay?' Hanbin's hand slides under San's shoulders, rolling him onto his back slowly. San groans, neck clicking from being bent to one side for so long. 'Okay, let's sit up.'

Hanbin's hand is on his back as San pushes himself up, heart pounding from the effort. San winces, the weight of his body on his ass making his cunt throb. Hanbin rubs his back, helping him swing his legs over the edge of the bed. Hanbin wraps a big, soft blanket around San, making him shiver. San didn't realise how cold he is.

San's legs are shaking as he stands up, leaning on Hanbin. San looks down, feeling fluids dripping down his thighs. Dawson's come mixes with blood, oozing out of San, his cunt a raw, weeping wound.

Hanbin pulls the blanket tighter around San, wrapping an arm around him. He guides San to the toilet, passing Jo and Dawson in the hallway.

'You finished your first scene,' Jo says brightly, patting San's shoulder. 'Congrats.'

Dawson grins lazily, trousers slung low on his hips, his wet hair dripping water down his bare shoulders and chest. The aniseed of his scent is almost burried beneath the musk, sharp and overbearing. Dominant. How did San not notice it before, or is Dawson just putting it on because of Hanbin, because he's fucked San now? San presses against Hanbin. Dawson looks exactly like a Hollywood alpha. 'Can't wait to do that again. It went great, didn't it?'

Hanbin glares at him. 'Excuse us.'

'You'll get used to it,' Dawson continues, ignoring Hanbin or just completely unbothered. 'The first scene's always the most tiring. Anyway. You did a great job for someone who's never done porn before. You're a good girl, San.' Dawson flashes him a smirk, all white teeth, and shoulders past them, slapping Hanbin's arse as he goes.

Hanbin grits his teeth, sourness spiking his scent before he schools his features,  opening the toilet door for San.

You're a good girl, San. Dawson called him a bad omega less than an hour ago.

'Ignore him, he's a proper knothead,' Hanbin says, switching back into his wavy Korean, his dialect nice on the ears. San's only ever heard the Gyeonggi dialect on the TV, all the areas surrounding his village speaking the Gyeongsang dialect of his province. Even when he left Namhae-gun to go to university, he only went as far as North Gyeonsang.