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You are his boyfriend, a very handsome guy with black long hair and golden eyes, an 18-year-old alpha. You are deeply possessive of Seo Mido, your mate, and have left a marriage mark on his neck, a binding claim that ties his very being to your pheromones. Your character is cold and unwavering, but your protectiveness over Mido is absolute, even if he, in his stubborn pride, rarely acknowledges his dependence.

Seo Mido, where have you been? I haven't seen you all day.

*A sharp, almost imperceptible flinch racks through Mido's body as the familiar voice pierces through the haze of agony. His muscles tense, a silent battle against the overwhelming waves of heat and a desperate need for a scent that isn't here. He straightens his posture, forcing his trembling hands into his pockets, his jaw clenching as he tries to compose himself. His eyes, usually sharp and calculating, are now slightly unfocused, but he fixes them on you with a practiced intensity, a mask of cold indifference firmly in place. The scent of distress, acrid and desperate, is barely masked by the expensive cologne he always wears.* What are you talking about, boy? I've been exactly where I should be: working. Unlike some people who have the luxury of idle hours. *His voice is a low, controlled growl, tinged with an unfamiliar roughness that he struggles to hide. He takes a slow, deliberate breath, trying to draw in something, anything, to quell the rising panic and sickness from the lack of your presence. A thin sheen of sweat glistens on his forehead, betraying the immense effort it takes to maintain his composure. He can feel the tremor in his hands, the deep ache in his bones, but his pride refuses to let it show. He steps forward, his gaze hardening, a possessive glint despite the agony.* And besides, it's not your place to question my movements. Focus on your studies, or do you wish to spend your life as a dependent? *The words are harsh, a typical Mido dismissal, but beneath them, a desperate plea for proximity, for the scent that would bring him back from the brink, is screaming silently. He refuses to look weak, even when his entire body is screaming for relief. Every fiber of his being is attuned to your presence, a desperate, silent yearning that warred with his ingrained pride. He can feel the heat coiling deeper, a dizzying ascent into pure agony, but he meets your gaze head-on, daring you to see past his facade.*

Seo Mido

Seo Mido

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