Chapter Text
Beomseok had been twenty-four when he died and, despite a year passing since then, he was still twenty-four. Not aging was nothing to complain about really. He had been in the prime of his life: well-sculpted and envied. Years of physical labor and later military training had led to a physique that kept eyes on him, gleaming with lust or jealousy. From sharp facial features to a toned body, there was a lot to admire and his height only made it so that there was more of him to be appreciated.
It wasn’t until he died that he met someone taller than him. His mother had been average in height and one hundred and forty-eight centimeters on a good day, so his father must have been some sort of gigantic freak. Beomseok wouldn’t know. It wasn’t like he had ever met the man. All he had were his mother’s faint recollections and height wasn’t exactly the size that she had been concerned with at the time. She had been a lower rank gisaeng back then and there were very few ways for her to provide for herself. It was meant to be nothing more than a brief transaction. Although, she had mentioned him hitting his head against the doorway as he entered her quarters. Either way, Beomseok was used to looking over people, staring down at even those who were above him in power and status.
If anything, he was thankful that the shame didn’t sink in until years after he had made his deal. Being stuck at thirteen didn’t seem particularly enticing. That age was marked by his body going through changes that left him leaning against mother’s side for comfort while he wondered why. He had been a gangly and short and awkward kid that was so used to a life of consistency and discipline. All his training and education felt pointless as he realized the weight of what the future entailed for him. It had never seemed so daunting before. The path he would go down in life seemed almost inviting whenever he watched the genuine smile on his mother’s face as she performed for nobles. He remembered the awe he felt seeing her perform a sword dance, jinju geommu, for the first time. The precision with which she controlled the twin blades and the flow of her hanbok as she moved made him want to be able to replicate it one day. His mother seemed so carefree when she danced. It drew him to that particular art over all the others he was taught, practically ignoring the others. Playing an instrument, singing, calligraphy, and painting seemed so boring in comparison. His teachers certainly hadn’t appreciated his indifference to those subject matters, but he excelled in what he did like so they couldn’t complain much. Unlike his mother, he had never been of the lowest rank and was able to dance as he wished for who he wished.
He was fine with gritting his teeth and pushing through the discomfort deep under his skin if it meant keeping the life he desired. It may not truly be his life, but it was enough. His mother was going to age out of performing soon – hopefully becoming a teacher for the younger gisaeng so she would be allowed to stay in the courtesan house – and he wanted to stay by her side. She would be alone without him and he would be alone without her.
You are never what people need from you and they will never allow you to be what you want, but I can change that. I can give you what you want. I will make you more than you were ever meant to be.
Those were the first words he heard as he stared into a mirror of polished bronze, running a fine comb through ebony hair that reached the floor. He thought he was hearing things. He believed his mortification towards himself was getting the better of him. He didn’t think it was real, but a part of him wished it was. A part of him saw another face in the mirror with sharp and defined features instead of soft.
That hidden part of his conscience set in motion the events that led to him dying over a decade later.
It was what led to him now standing at the edge of a forest in the demon realm, waiting for the start of what the locals called a mating run.
Not aging he could handle. Being purple was something he could get used to. The patterns that burned whenever his shame rose to the surface? Sure. Whatever. But demons and such having more sexes than humans did plus their own intricate hierarchy system? It was a bit more difficult to wrap his head around. A year into being a reaper, a year of guiding souls to the afterlife, and he had only experienced two ruts, but it was two too many.
Don’t get him wrong. Beomseok enjoyed being an alpha. He liked the aroma of sage that trailed behind him and was tinted by his emotions. He savored catching the attention of passerbys. Reapers were not something demons saw every day, especially good-looking ones. Beomseok had seen a few of his fellow reapers before and he hadn’t exactly been impressed. He wondered at times if the gats were a part of the uniform because it could easily cover their faces.
However, he didn’t like the ruts.
Beomseok didn’t like losing control of his instincts and being filled with a lust that was willing to tear him apart to escape. He was no stranger to sex and pleasure. He had spent a fair amount of time warming the bed of his master’s wife and spending nights with fellow nobi. Women typically flocked to him because he prioritized their pleasure over his own. He was a simple man. He liked eating a woman out and having her come on his face, relishing in how their thighs squeezed against his head as they orgasmed. Also, he was known for his confidentiality.
He understood what could happen if a woman was viewed as damaged goods. Remaining chaste was important when marriage was their main opportunity to escape their cheonmin status and become a commoner.
Intimacy was to be cherished when it was between two consenting individuals, but his alpha didn’t care much about permission. It wanted him to dig his teeth into the nearest demon’s throat while he filled them with his seed, breeding and bonding them against their will. That wasn’t him, so he tried to push it down when he first presented mere moments after being killed. He stumbled out of Gwi-Ma’s court, defiant and uncaring to the raucous laughter that followed him. His body changing in ways he never expected was not a new phenomenon for him, but this was something else entirely.
It hadn’t hurt before. He wasn’t completely rewritten as everything that made up him was shredded to its fundamental components. Days were spent writhing in agony in a desert of the realm he was now trapped in all because he refused to give in. His alpha pushed and broke his mind until he had no choice. He awoke a week later to find himself completely lost, naked, covered in sand, and with friction burn on his hands from jerking off. His memories were hazy, but he could recall the third leg he had been endowed with.
That was nothing to complain about either. However, the massive dick of his dreams didn’t take away all the negatives. The entire experience reminded him of how he died: sedated yet aware while he was cut into pieces. Somehow his first rut was more painful than that.
The second hadn’t been as bad. He found a nice cave to hunker down into, riding out the rut in isolation without a shred of lucidity left.
No control.
No coherency.
Beomseok had spent his entire life as property, moving from one owner to the next, but he always had a choice in his own private actions and thoughts. Being an alpha took that away, even if briefly. It made him a monster.
He hated his ruts for this, but he heard from other demons that there was a way to gain back control.
A mate.
Sharing a cycle with someone bonded to him apparently made the entire process much more enjoyable. The main problem was finding another demon. Mating wasn’t just a finite transaction. A bond would last for eternity if neither party was erased from existence. It would even last through reincarnation. Because of this, demonic instincts were necessary to guide people to those they were compatible with through scent.
Beomseok hadn’t been drawn to anyone yet. Between reaping in the mortal realm and traveling through the demon realm, no one had caught his alpha’s attention. His next rut was quickly approaching and he was days away from another futile attempt at keeping sentience when he heard about a demonic custom.
Every year the larger trading hubs would conduct what was called a mating run, one event at different times of the year for each area. Any demon who had presented and was unmated was able to participate. From what Beomseok had gathered as he was ushered to the forestline, the thrill of the chase was meant to amp up instinct and make it easier for demons to detect those they were compatible with. Hopefully, by having such a large amount of demons in close proximity, it would be easier to find a mate. Beomseok supposed his clothes being taken from him helped with that too.
It certainly made a few demons ogle his abdomen.
If he was any less confident, he would’ve undone his top knot to keep some of his decency by hiding behind his hair. He saw some of those around him doing that very thing. Although, he supposed what most were shielding was already covered by a different type of hair. Demons of all backgrounds, temperament, species, and sex stood beside him at the edge of the forest. Even with all of their differences, one thing united all of them: desperation.
They wouldn’t have been here if not for a desperate need or want for a mate.
Mating runs had been happening for thousands of years on a smaller scale in communities of the same species. Typically, it was species that had never been human and were born of the demon or celestial realm. It wasn’t until Yeomra’s reign, the demon lord before Gwi-Ma, that these events became more widespread. The story went that the death god had tricked two human lovers into giving him their souls by promising them their love would no longer be forbidden. He separated them in the demon realm, forcing the alpha to track down the omega through scent alone over the course of months. They were both stuck in their cycles until they were reunited and Yeomra would’ve kept them in constant want for eternity if they had not found each other. It showed the lengths the demon lord was willing to go to entertain himself and many were terrified by the possibility of the attention of Yeomra turning to them. Fear of being forced to mate another on the whim of a god was what resulted in the mating runs becoming more common. It was one of the few ways the demons could gain back control of their lives. After Gwi-Ma took the throne and after the Honmoon was created, it was one of the few joys left. A mutual mating was to be celebrated.
It was the only way to satiate instinct and the shame Gwi-Ma used to control them.
Beomseok wasn’t expecting much from this experience. He was already plotting out the exact cave he was going to crawl into when his rut finally struck again. While many were attracted to him and his body, he had never actually had anyone like him. In fact, he was used to people hating and spitting at him if he ever stepped out of the box they put him in.
You’ve always been a disappointment. If only your mother had smothered you when you were born, it would’ve saved her the heartbreak of raising you.
He squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his palms into them until his vision exploded with color and his head hurt. He tried to push back the voice of Gwi-Ma, but nothing ever worked. He opened his eyes to the patterns on his hands shimmering, scars glowing as a reminder of all that he was.
Burden.
People stared at him, lust turning into pity at seeing his marks shine. He loathed their sympathy.
Failure.
Beomseok hugged himself slightly, crossing his arms against his chest. He ignored the shame. He ignored the burning of his patterns as his confidence waned.
No one will ever love you as you are.
This was a mistake. He was an idiot to think he would be able to find a mate through a game of chance, but he had always tried to drag himself through impossible odds and it had landed him here. He was a slave who managed to catch the attention of a local military officer, climbing through the ranks in a way a cheonmin shouldn’t have been able to. His newfound status caught the attention of those who never thought they would have less power than him. His rise made no sense to them and whispered rumors began to circle him wherever he went. The shame finally began to sink in then and the rumors went from him blackmailing superiors to something far more sinister. Someone saw the patterns on his hands and the back of his neck before he noticed them. It got out that he was communing with a demon. He found himself drugged as the patterns spread to the horror of onlookers. Claws, fangs, and a purple tint erased his human features. They cut him into pieces and threw his remains into a river.
Despite all that, he was thankful they had never disrobed him. He didn’t want to imagine what they would have done if they discovered he had been born a woman.
He had been thankful to finally be able to see his mother again – where life had torn them apart, maybe death would reunite them – but then he ended up in the demon realm.
One performance to the next it seemed.
Give up.
His jaw clenched for a moment, blinking away the taunts the best he could, before something drew his mind away from the persistent voice of Gwi-Ma. There was a warm aroma surrounding him, causing his nose to lift up to search it out. It was a sweet smell that he could almost taste on his tongue.
Honey.
Without even seeing the origin, he could already tell it was an omega. His instinct was sure of it. His alpha was pleased. He looked over past the other demons in the crowd to a man, the source of the scent. Beomseok’s pulse quickened, pupils sharpening the longer he stared at this other demon. This stranger was more humanoid than the majority of demons he had encountered. Dark brown hair fell down soft lilac skin to the small of his back, drawing Beomseok’s gaze to the curve of his waist and lithe figure. A few seconds of appreciation were followed by Beomseok returning his stare to the stranger’s face, to a defined jawline and sharp nose. Two fangs peeked out from plush lips, but he was most taken by the omega’s eyes.
The irises were a familiar gold, yet the emotion in them was one Beomseok had never had aimed towards him before. The omega was staring at him too with brows furrowed. There was no pity or lust or hatred in his gaze. There was a fire. The omega had the eyes of someone willing to do anything.
It intrigued Beomseok and his alpha. He wanted to feel the other’s neck under his mouth as he itched to bite and devour this stranger. His fangs stung as he thought about the man’s legs wrapped around his hips while he fucked the omega.
Of course, he knew he was attracted to men. He had known that since he was a child. It wasn’t until he was older that he was surprised to find that he was also attracted to women. However, he had never been with a man before, but this didn’t stop the fantasy of the omega moaning in his ear as Beomseok pounded into him.
He wanted to know what stoked the flames in his gaze.
And when the mating run started, when he saw the omega sprint into the forest, a grin etched into his face.
His alpha had a target after all.