Pretending to Be an Alpha in an All-Alpha Boy Band - Chapter 8
Chapter 8 Empathy
[So handsome!!]
[So… seductive!!]
[Sorry… I couldn’t help doing something naughty.]
On the electronic screen, Ying Mingche’s heart rate only rose by “5” and then showed no upward trend. A very steady, very safe number.
The onlookers’ gazes were a mix of shock and curiosity, unsure how things would unfold next. At less than a centimeter apart, a slight downward lean would make their noses brush; if one bit down on the other end, their mouths would probably meet.
The director said, “The attackers may begin their attack.”
Yuan Shiyuan, who had been motionless, suddenly reached out with both hands and cupped Ying Mingche’s face.
Ying Mingche tilted his head up to look at him; he could clearly see Yuan Shiyuan’s slightly parted lips, a little red and a little moist. When his cheek was gently stroked, a few strands of pale pink hair softly swept across his brow and eyes, creating a subtle, tingling sensation.
He reflexively wanted to pinch Yuan Shiyuan’s waist, to stop him from moving.
But the director interrupted, “Defenders may only defend!”
Ying Mingche narrowed his eyes, looking somewhat displeased, but could only put his hands back at his sides.
Yuan Shiyuan still didn’t move. The director urged again, “Attackers, start your attack!”
Yuan Shiyuan seemed not to hear. Everyone assumed he was going to forfeit—because with that move coming, a kiss was highly likely. No Alpha could accept such intimate contact with another Alpha.
Ying Mingche sat there at ease; the next second his pupils suddenly dilated.
Yuan Shiyuan abruptly straddled Ying Mingche, the single chair creaking under the pressure. Under Ying Mingche’s stunned gaze, Yuan Shiyuan clamped one hand on the back of his head and, half forcing, grabbed his hair to make him tilt his head up.
“Mm—” the Alpha forced to look up let out a muffled sound from his throat.
On the screen, Ying Mingche’s heart rate shot past 120 instantly! And then began climbing at a terrifying speed!
The staff inhaled sharply.
Soft fingertips pressed into a soft scalp; although the touch was gentle, the breath sweeping over Ying Mingche’s senses was overwhelming.
Their eyes met. He could see Yuan Shiyuan’s focused expression, and in his eyes the same intense hunger for victory.
Ying Mingche felt like he’d been suddenly ignited; his whole body surged with excitement.
“Huh? That’s your limit?” he said, steadying his breathing. “I thought you’d just—”
Before he could finish, Yuan Shiyuan suddenly leaned in, their noses almost touching. Ying Mingche instinctively tried to dodge, but his hair was held tight.
“Don’t move.” Yuan Shiyuan purposely pressed his knuckle against Ying Mingche’s carotid, reminding him of the game rule, “Look up.”
“Look at me.”
Yuan Shiyuan had been thinking about how to adjust his angle; having observed carefully, he found the right, restrained angle. He gently bit one end of the pocky, lips and teeth not quite touching—only their tips of the noses brushed.
The faint sound of the pocky breaking was carried through the microphones to every corner.
Chocolate crumbs fell between their nearly kissing lips.
Ying Mingche, who had earlier arrogantly snapped the pocky and thrown out bold words, now froze like a tame dog.
They were that close, yet in Yuan Shiyuan’s gaze it was as if Ying Mingche didn’t exist at all—utterly ignored, treated as nothing.
Perhaps due to the lighting, Yuan Shiyuan’s lips looked unusually full and red; the thin pocky caught on his teeth, and his focused, serious expression was indescribably sexy.
A strand of pale pink hair brushed the corner of Ying Mingche’s eye; he felt warm and noticed a strangely pleasant scent.
How odd—both of them were Alphas, so why did Yuan Shiyuan’s scent make him feel this way?
Ying Mingche completely forgot this was a game. After his senses had been repeatedly provoked, his breathing trembled unnaturally. Even without extra physical contact, Yuan Shiyuan’s warm breath, like saliva, had wetted the seam of his lips.
Their breaths intertwined; they didn’t kiss, yet he felt dizzy.
“Ying Mingche heart rate 145, 146… Yuan Shiyuan heart rate 62!”
Compared to Ying Mingche’s loss of control, Yuan Shiyuan was unnervingly composed. He sat astride Ying Mingche, one slender hand pressing insistently on the back of his head, while his eyes calmly monitored the electronic screen behind them.
The heart-rate monitor blared its danger alarm—more than one tone. Apart from Ying Mingche, several watching Alphas, merely witnessing the scene, also showed rising heart rates.
The livestream chat exploded instantly.
“Holy—can this be broadcast???”
“What are these Alphas pretending for? Each looked as calm as a lake, but their heart rates all turned red. [cover face]”
“Thank goodness it’s only Weibo. [laughs] [pulls up pants]”
“The atmosphere’s kinda hot—front-stage n/t/r? [dog head emoji]”
“Yuan Shiyuan’s heart rate actually dropped?!”
“Help, this isn’t a pocky game—this is a flirting masterclass!!”
There was no suspense about who won the game.
While everyone else’s heart rates surged, Yuan Shiyuan’s not only didn’t rise but actually fell.
That showed just how mentally strong he was.
A heaven’s favored like Ying Mingche probably rarely lost; Yuan Shiyuan had expected him to loudly protest his defeat. Instead, Ying Mingche had been quiet the whole time, accepting the loss calmly.
Only the look in his eyes was a little strange.
Ying Mingche took a moment to go to the restroom.
Water ran continuously inside. He splashed cold water on his face, trying to calm himself. After doing it over and over, he suddenly lifted his dripping face and saw in the mirror his eyes flushed red from excitement.
“Bro.” Ying Mingche steadied his breathing, though his voice couldn’t hide a quiver. “He makes me so excited.”
An identical face appeared in the mirror.
Ying Mingxi was silent for a moment before saying, “I felt it.”
…
The group-variety show was scheduled to film for three days, but recordings were suddenly halted.
Yuan Shiyuan guessed someone on the team had an issue—most likely Bo Jin’s susceptible period.
Returning to the dorms, sure enough, he smelled a strong, choking tang of pheromones.
Yuan Shiyuan turned on the fresh-air system. “Dude, your susceptible periods are getting a bit frequent.”
An Alpha’s susceptible period generally lasts 3–7 days; there’s no exact number—once one is mentally lucid again, the period is over. Bo Jin had been injected with so many inhibitors and suppressants not long ago—how could this be happening already?
Bo Jin’s susceptible period had returned.
Bo Jin was breathing hard; a vein stood out along one side of his neck, and the red highlights in his hair were damp and clinging to his temple.
When the suppressants finally took effect and he cooled down slightly, he cast a sharp, confused look over.
“Why did you have no reaction at all?”
Bo Jin knew what had just happened to the other side. Even with Yuan Shiyuan’s high level, he shouldn’t have felt nothing.
“I’m not very sensitive to pheromones,” Yuan Shiyuan said.
That sounded imprecise, so he added, “I’m also not repelled by pheromones from my own kind.”
Alphas typically repel one another; smelling another Alpha’s pheromones can cause anything from mild disgust to vomiting or fainting.
Yuan Shiyuan was born with a dulled response to Alpha pheromones. He could detect the scent of A pheromones, but he couldn’t sense the aggressive surge that came with them. To him, Alpha pheromones were like different perfumes.
The dorm felt as if it had been set alight—oppressively hot. Yuan Shiyuan casually shrugged off his jacket, but his glands reacted unusually.
It itched a little.
He’d never felt this when smelling pheromones from his own kind before.
That had caused a lot of misunderstandings.
Back in school, many Alpha classmates didn’t believe he was an Alpha.
When he went to the restroom, he was often cornered by Alphas.
“Are you really an Alpha?”
“You’re faking, right? What Alpha looks like you?”
“…”
A bunch of Alphas in the throes of adolescence surrounded him, excited and curious, insisting on confirming whether he was actually an Omega pretending to be an Alpha.
In the end Yuan Shiyuan single-handedly handled the whole group, beating them thoroughly. He placed his foot on an Alpha’s chest, thinking force and pheromones would make everything clear.
Instead, they only got more excited.
S-rank Alphas are extremely rare; Yuan Shiyuan had hardly ever smelled S-rank pheromones before, let alone been nearly immersed in them at close range.
Maybe it was because Bo Jin’s pheromones were such a high rank that he reacted differently?
Although it didn’t feel unpleasant.
The gland’s location was private, so he found it hard to describe the sensation. If he had to, it was like a feather tickling the soft tissue inside his gland, as if something wanted to emerge.
The itch was almost negligible, and Yuan Shiyuan certainly wasn’t going to tell Bo Jin about it.
Telling a brother “my glands are itchy” is no different from telling a close friend “it’s kinda itchy,” after all.
“Not sensitive to Alpha pheromones, huh? No wonder you can ignore mine,” Bo Jin said.
Ordinary people couldn’t stay in the same room with Bo Jin, couldn’t endure his pheromonal onslaught.
Another Alpha’s scent still spread thickly, like a net enveloping Yuan Shiyuan. His glands itched more, but glands are delicate—he couldn’t scratch them.
He had to distract himself and, making small talk, said, “Your pheromones actually smell pretty good.”
“…”
Bo Jin propped himself up on one hand and sat up—one arm draped over a knee—and smiled without sound. “Do you know what it means to say that to an Alpha—especially an Alpha in his susceptible period?”
Yuan Shiyuan: “?”
Bo Jin swept his red-highlighted hair back, revealing a pair of dark, deep, predator eyes.
“It means you want to fuck.”
Yuan Shiyuan had only complimented him casually.
Only then did he realize praising someone’s pheromones was the same as praising a primary sexual characteristic. Translating what he had said into plain words: “Bro, you’re big.”
“Don’t say ‘fuck’ around bros—it hurts feelings.”
“Who said we’re bros.”
Maybe the inhibitors were finally working, because the restless agitation suddenly quieted. But Bo Jin sensed this episode of mania was different.
“Move somewhere else to sleep for a bit,” he said.
That wouldn’t do—he’d finally found a genuinely straight guy. Yuan Shiyuan replied, “You go into susceptible periods so often. If no one watches you, things can go wrong.”
“You afraid I’ll die?”
“I’m concerned about you.”
“How much concerned?” Bo Jin asked. “Prove it.”
Yuan Shiyuan countered, “How do you want me to prove it?”
Bo Jin said, “Let me smell your pheromones.”
He was curious about what Yuan Shiyuan’s pheromones might smell like, and also why an Alpha in his susceptible period felt no repulsion toward Yuan Shiyuan’s presence.
“My pheromones don’t smell,” Yuan Shiyuan said.
“No way,” Bo Jin replied.
“Why would I lie.” Yuan Shiyuan stepped forward two paces and, with no hesitation, pressed Bo Jin’s face against his gland area. “If you don’t believe me, smell.”
“…You!”
“What are you nervous about? We’re all straight guys.” Yuan Shiyuan laughed.
“…”
Bo Jin had been sexually harassed before; he was extremely A-phobic and had a strong aversion to handsome Alphas. He had never imagined he would one day bury his face in another Alpha’s gland.
He should have felt disgust—or at least repulsion—but the gland before him was exquisitely pale, like a handful of pure snow.
Finer and more delicate than ordinary skin, the gland was like softened cream—dense and velvety. The light made it look warm, and it gave off a faint, elusive sweetness.
Bo Jin could sense Yuan Shiyuan’s pheromones, but they weren’t the aggressive kind typical of Alphas; they were gentle, like warm sunlight, wrapping around him. He squinted and sniffed again. It smelled pleasant.
But it wasn’t the scent of pheromones.
“What does it smell like?” he asked.
If it wasn’t pheromones, then what was it? Perfume?
“Do you smell anything?” Yuan Shiyuan lifted a hand and sniffed but detected nothing. “Maybe it’s just sweat.”
“…”
“What did you get?” Yuan Shiyuan asked.
“Your pheromones don’t smell,” Bo Jin said.
“That’s not normal,” Bo Jin added.
How could an Alpha’s pheromones be odorless?
“What’s abnormal about it? Maybe I differentiated early,” Yuan Shiyuan said casually. “The doctor said it could also be because I didn’t get proper nutrition as a kid, so my glands didn’t develop very well.”
“Not developed well, and still an S-rank?” Bo Jin suspected Yuan Shiyuan was bragging, then muttered to himself, “They really don’t smell…”
Is that why he didn’t reject Yuan Shiyuan’s proximity? Is that why Yuan Shiyuan could resist the onslaught of his pheromones?
Bo Jin thought it over, as if Yuan Shiyuan were some unusual specimen, and bent down to sniff again.
To his credit, Yuan Shiyuan truly wasn’t trying to show off. The Alpha breath hovered over the gland, making it warm and a little itchy.
He suddenly realized their actions looked somewhat gay.
If it had been anyone else, Yuan Shiyuan would have suspected he was about to be fucked.
Yuan Shiyuan had actually encountered that before—Alphas who acted like his good brothers, kissing and cuddling and saying that was normal between bros, and then the next moment tried to lick his gland.
He was straight, not stupid; he could see the arousal flickering in their eyes.
When he complained about it to other friends, they didn’t take his side—they asked, in a faint tone, “So did they lick it?”
Yuan Shiyuan had actually seen that same excitement reflected in his so-called good buddies.
Bo Jin, on the other hand, was reassuring: there was no lust in his eyes, only the simple curiosity of a straight guy.
Straight guy friends were comforting.
Go ahead and sniff—there’s nothing to smell anyway.
Dense, gunpowder-like pheromones lingered in the air.
Yuan Shiyuan felt trapped in a hot, humid cave, surrounded on all sides by Alphas’ burning, muscular bodies.
His gland itched more. “You’re so hot, I’m sweating. I’m going to take a shower.”
He was unbearably hot and tried to wriggle free, but instead of pushing Bo Jin away, his fingers accidentally brushed Bo Jin’s gland.
Bo Jin’s gland, freshly injected with inhibitor, was hypersensitive; he let out a breath. He went ahead and bound Yuan Shiyuan’s hands above his head, his voice rough with warning, “Don’t move.”
The next second, he couldn’t look away.
Bo Jin suddenly realized he was pinning Yuan Shiyuan beneath him in a hunter’s posture. Yuan Shiyuan’s shirt had ridden up, revealing a strip of pale, slim waist.
He was wearing a black tank top; every muscle was sharply defined, the contrast between his skin tone and physique creating a powerful visual impact that made Yuan Shiyuan feel completely restrained.
A faint blush dusted Yuan Shiyuan’s body, and against his pale pink hair, his face was indescribably striking.
It didn’t quite feel right to call an Alpha “alluring,” but with Yuan Shiyuan’s gland slightly reddened, he did look decidedly tempting.
For a moment, Bo Jin actually felt the urge to bite.
He bent over on an impulse, only to be abruptly cut off by a cold voice.
“What are you guys doing?”
Beyond the arm with bulging veins, Yuan Shiyuan saw someone leaning in the doorway. The face looked innocent and harmless; tall and long-legged, he was smiling, but his eyes were jet-black, radiating endless chill.
It was Ying Mingche.
Even though this was an exceptional situation during the susceptible period, the scene before them was a little hard to look at. Yuan Shiyuan cleared his throat awkwardly. “Bo Jin tripped and accidentally fell on me.”
“Oh, that’s very careless. Did you fall on purpose?” Ying Mingche looked at the tangled figures and said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “I thought you two were secretly seeing each other.”
“…”
That’s not “bros,” that idiom doesn’t work like that, right?
Bo Jin was still in his susceptible period; the sudden appearance of another S-rank Alpha felt like a provocation to him. He turned Yuan Shiyuan’s face back and said coldly, “What does that have to do with you?”
Ying Mingche’s smile was somewhere between real and fake. “I’m just curious—since when have you two been this close?”
“I’m shipping you two so hard.”