Eat Me Up If You Can

“Ah, aah, eugh… haaah!”

Unpleasant moans and groans echoed throughout the space. Dominic Miller slightly furrowed his handsome brow as he inhaled cigar smoke. Between his thighs, a naked Omega was desperately trying to draw out his semen, forcing his genitals deep into his throat.
Haa, haa—the Omega breathed through his nose, paused, then resumed moving his tongue. Even then, Dominic didn’t move. He didn’t press the Omega’s head down in irritation, nor did he thrust his hips impatiently. He simply sat there, motionless—as if he were a statue.
It was clear he wasn’t easily aroused. Predictably, the Omega drooled down his chin, his shoulders twitching. He was clearly struggling, but he didn’t stop. You could even see the sheer will in his eyes—the determination to make this man come, no matter what.

Just as Dominic, visibly bored, frowned and grabbed the Omega’s head, someone spoke up behind him.
“You still look bored, Dominic Miller.”
He glanced over and saw a familiar grinning face. Someone he occasionally chatted with at Pheromone Parties. This was another such night. After confirming it was just another like-minded fool making useless conversation, Dominic turned back with a disinterested expression.

“Isn’t everyone here?”
“I suppose so.”
The man agreed easily. Surveying the bodies sprawled out, soaked in drugs and alcohol, he stifled a yawn.

“I heard you’re changing firms?”
The man asked casually. He’s here for something, Dominic thought. Another one fishing for gossip? But this time it # Nоvеlight # felt different. As the man raised a wine glass still dusted with undissolved powder to his lips, Dominic answered,
“I’m considering it.”

“What? Seriously?”
The man’s eyes widened in surprise. Dominic had always brushed off such talk before—so this was practically an admission.
“What happened? Problems at your current firm?”

“No. Nothing at all.”
Dominic’s tone was flat, indifferent. But the man seemed unconvinced. He narrowed his eyes, half-mocking.
“Then there must be something tempting in the offer. What is it? Some incredible Omega, maybe?”

Dominic didn’t bother to answer—he just gave him a withering look. As if to say, that’s the best you’ve got?
“It’s nothing much. Chess.”
“Chess?”
The man blinked, clearly thrown. Dominic took a long drag from his cigar and exhaled slowly.

“He’s good. I said I’d accept the offer if he beats me.”
“Woah.”
The man let out a theatrical sound of surprise, though it was clear he didn’t believe him.

“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
Dominic echoed him and took two short inhales of smoke. Hoo. The man watched him lean back against the sofa, exhaling the smoke upward, and then spoke again.

“You seem… entertained.”
“Me?”
“Yeah.”

The man nodded easily.
“You’re smiling, you know.”
Dominic frowned and looked at him. Smiling? Me? He brought the cigar to his fingers and brushed his lips—but couldn’t feel it. Of course he couldn’t. Why would he be smiling?

Seeing Dominic’s sour expression, the man pressed further.
“So it’s not just chess, huh? Is he that good in bed? Got some wild technique or something? Seriously, why didn’t you bring him here so I could try him too?”

“He’s not for that.”

Dominic shut it down immediately. In their circle, sharing partners was routine—so this response was unexpected. Ignoring the man’s surprised look, Dominic continued.
“He’s a Gamma. You can’t use him like that.”
“Come on, you can still use a Gamma… We’ve got plenty of stuff here. Just drop a little something in his wine, and everyone here could take a turn. He wouldn’t even know.”

The man chuckled. But Dominic’s expression didn’t change.
“Why go through all that hassle?”
Seeing his annoyed face, the man replied smoothly.

“His h**e’ll stretch out this big in under an hour. Even a Gamma can take it. With enough Pheromones and a belly full of cum, even a Gamma starts to mutate. Three days, maybe? He’ll start getting wet on his own. No—he’ll die. So that’s no good.”
The man laughed, though it was unclear what he found so funny. Dominic said nothing. He finished his cigar in silence and stubbed it out in the ashtray. A thin stream of white smoke curled up, only to vanish into haze.
Then he grabbed the Omega’s head—still moaning with his mouth full—and began to thrust violently. The thick, long p***s slammed into his esophagus, roughly in and out, while the Omega groaned in pain, frantically flailing his arms. Dominic paid him no mind and kept going.

He repeated the same motion several times before suddenly stopping. The wrinkle between his brows deepened for a moment, and his large, veiny fingers pressed down hard on the Omega’s skull. A wet, rhythmic gulp came from below—his throat contracting as he swallowed semen.
Dominic stayed still for a moment, then let go of the hair in his hand like trash. The naked body slumped to the floor, convulsing faintly. Clearly addicted to Pheromones.
As Dominic stood and adjusted his clothes, the nearby guards rushed in, lifting the collapsed Omega off the floor. The limp body swayed uselessly in their grip while hands worked quickly around him. Dominic turned to the man still lounging on the sofa.

“I’m not going to all that trouble just to squeeze out some Pheromones.”
“Okay, okay. I get it.”
The man repeated himself like someone who had already given up. Dominic’s face made it clear he was bored, and that alone kept the man from pushing further. Only after those words did Dominic finally move. As he headed for the exit, the manager—appearing from somewhere—quickly followed behind him.

“Mr. Miller, leaving already? Was something not to your liking…?”
Dominic didn’t even glance his way.
“Not really,” he replied shortly to the anxious inquiry.

The manager hastily turned to issue instructions to staff. Nearby, an employee whipped out his phone and rushed to alert the valet to bring around the car for the departing guest. Only after hearing confirmation did the manager’s shoulders relax. Behind him, one of the bodyguards approached and reported in a low voice:
“Pheromone shock. We administered emergency treatment and moved him to the infirmary.”
“Haaa…”

The manager let out a long sigh, as if he’d been expecting that outcome. An employee who had been watching from nearby approached once the bodyguard had left and asked,
“Pheromone shock? All of a sudden? That only happens when there’s too much exposure, doesn’t it? He didn’t seem that rough…”
“There are Pheromones in semen too, you know.”

The employee nodded at the manager’s reply.
“Yeah, it’s concentrated, so you can extract a lot when you ejaculate. That’s why Supreme Alphas extract Pheromones through sex.”
The manager replied bluntly, unimpressed by the recitation of textbook knowledge.

“Yes. But even among them, there are rare cases where the Pheromone density is extreme.”
As if to say “like that guy,” the manager subtly gestured in the direction Dominic had disappeared. Only then did the employee—blank-faced until now—seem to understand. His eyes widened.
“Still, just a couple of ejaculations caused shock? And he’s an Omega?”

Omegas and Alphas were sensitive to each other’s Pheromones, but they also had some natural resistance. For Pheromones to cause that level of addiction and an emergency response—it was rare.
Even for a Supreme Alpha.
“If the Pheromone level’s that high, it starts affecting the brain even with regular extraction…?”

Which implied something else—something wrong with the man himself. The manager didn’t hesitate to answer.
“Of course.”
Then he frowned slightly.

“You seriously don’t know who that man is? That’s Dominic Miller.”

“What? That lawyer?”
The employee tilted his head in vague recognition, then his eyes went wide. The manager confirmed curtly:

“Yes.”
“He’s the undefeated one, right? They say he’s the best. But I also heard… he’s merciless. He doesn’t care about the other side at all. No matter what crime his client commits, he twists the facts with flawless logic until they walk free. In the end, it’s always the victims—the powerless, the poor—who lose everything.”
He sighed, almost to himself.

“But that man… he won’t feel a thing.”
Haa. A breath escaped Dominic’s lips as he tilted his head back. Slumping deep into the driver’s seat, a wave of fatigue washed over him.
He always felt drained after releasing Pheromones, but after a Pheromone Party, the exhaustion doubled. All he wanted now was to go home and sleep. He pressed down on the accelerator.

The streets were empty this late at night, shrouded in silence and darkness. Ignoring the speedometer as the numbers climbed, he felt something familiar creep over him. At times like this, he always felt like a fish drifting in the deep sea.
They say deep-sea fish lose their sight over time—their eyes go blind. And suddenly, a thought crossed his mind. Aren’t we all the same? Just fish, wandering in a black abyss, blind and suspended in endless dark. Until some predator in the shadows tears into their soft flesh, rips through their fins—and ends them.
But Dominic Miller had no intention of dying such a meaningless death. He would continue living as he always had: as a predator. As one reporter had called him—a “great white shark”—he would rule over the weak and ordinary.

…Haa.
A breathless sigh escaped him without thinking. The reason was obvious.
His rut was starting.

As always, the feverish heat crept through his body. No matter how regularly he attended Pheromone Parties, it didn’t stop the cycle. Just because he expelled Pheromones didn’t mean he could avoid rut.
It wasn’t a big deal. When the time came, the company would send someone. He’d rest afterward, just like always.
As another sigh slipped out, a ray of light split the darkness. Instinctively, he squinted—light pierced through his half-closed eyes, forcing a furrow between his brows.

When he opened them, he saw a car hurtling toward him from the opposite lane. He jerked the wheel—but it was too late to avoid it entirely.
The vehicle crossed the center line and slammed into the side of his sedan.
A mess.

Leaving the hospital, Dominic reached up to push his hair back—but stopped. His hand met something foreign. Thick gauze across his forehead.
A car crash, out of nowhere.
His forehead had been gashed in a ridiculous accident caused by a drunk driver. Compared to the other driver—unconscious, barely alive—Dominic had gotten off easy. A torn brow. Bruises. Nothing life-threatening.

Still, that didn’t mean he felt any better.
He hadn’t needed to come to the ER, technically—but the bleeding had been severe. He’d confirmed it wasn’t serious. Now, he just wanted to go home. The rest, the Secretary could handle.
“Ah…”

Only now did he realize: he had no car.
Annoyed, he ran a hand through his hair again—then realized something else. Not even a cheap cigarette on him. No cigar, either. His face twisted as he thought of the cigar box, destroyed in the wreck.
Nothing was going right.

Should he call the Secretary? Or hail a taxi? He stood there, stuck between two unappealing choices, when—
“Mr. Miller?”
The sudden voice made him freeze, hand still resting near his brow.

It couldn’t be.
He instinctively wanted to check the time. This voice—here, at this hour—it had to be a mistake.
But then it came again, closer now. Crisp. Certain.

“Mr. Miller! Oh wow, it is you. What are you doing here?”
That voice recognized him first—warm, even excited.
Dominic turned.

“…Dawson.”
He murmured low, almost like a breath.
At the end of his gaze stood Juliet, smiling as brightly as ever.

A gust of cool night air swept past Dominic’s back. But he didn’t feel it. He simply stood there, staring at Juliet in silence.
As if the whole world had come to a stop.