Byun Baekhyun is allergic to C. The god damn letter C. At least that's what he thinks. 

He is not great with Cats. Those frisky felines and their furs are certainly not his favourite, ever since his life frightening encounters trying to bathe a Munchkin. 

He is not fond of Cakes either; he kind of admits those chocolate ones honestly look and taste like trash. 

And of course, he definitely disagrees with the three Cs of Americans’ dreams. 

Why?

Simple, he has none of these. 

Growing up in your everyday family being the worse middle child any parents can ever handle, Byun Baekhyun grows up to hate the letter C. 

Barely faring with his mediocre grades of C5 and C6 every semester, he learns to it up. 

He, no doubt, dislikes how his parents will nag and brag at him on how much of a genius his older brother is, how much of a prodigy his younger sister is. And of course, reminding him how much of a failure he is. 

They say he is worse than ordinary; he kind of figures out how much his parents love him that day.

He is average, both in terms of personality and brains. School is never his thing. Café doesn't work out for an outcast like him. There goes another C. 

Chemistry, he bets anyone can guess that, is never his forte. All the chemical formulae churn in his brain, spinning round and round till he feels like puking. He never really gets around to digest them, not as much as like Cranberries. 

Now out of school majoring in Music, Byun Baekhyun curses his bad luck when his parents drop the atomic news of kicking him out of the house. 

The worst part of the deal comes with a penniless bank account. Both grown ups think he can grab a job and earn a decent income straightaway once he gets his out of the house.

“It's for your own good. You got to take up independence once in a while.” His father’s nonchalant statement makes him want to flip the roof, yell at their insouciant behaviour and chop them into pieces to claim the entirety of his inheritance. 

Screw his mum and dad. Literally, as in he badly wants to drill them into the wall and nail their little airheads into place.

Byun Baekhyun never begs; he pegs it as an immature act. Therefore, he sticks up to his pride and dignity and foolishly agrees. 

Regrets are no doubt raging in but he is too bitter and angry to care. He knows his impulsiveness will get him nowhere but he still has to start somewhere.

Hence, at the budding age of youth, the young lad moves out of the Byun’s humble abode and drag his luggage along the deserted streets. 

With his meagre savings stashed away in dusty piggy banks which he discreetly hides from the prying eyes and pesky nosing of his family, he rents himself a small apartment in the heart of Seoul. 

It isn't much but at least it's a complete start over. Then again, in recent entries of his barely-getting-by life, his ‘allergy’ begins to act up once more. No doubt it's another annoying C. 

This time, it's a person. Non-fictional and pretty much alive in one fine piece kind of person. To this, poor Baekhyun can't help but get miffed about his existence on this planet. 

The earth is already polluted with ty s and now, it just has to add itself a new creation. Disgusting.

Park Chanyeol. 

The one and only Chanyeol.

Big ears, bug eyes and towering height, Byun Baekhyun has to bear the torture of seeing his god damn face on every billboard downtown city. 

Among the ostentatious corporate buildings stand the looming skyscraper of Park Enterprises. 

It's not just an ordinary multinational pit of conglomerate serving its business related purposes, it's also the most frequented and opulent mall in Korea itself. 

Exo Duty Free is launched quite a few years back and rumours have it that its CEO, another taboo word for someone, is working as a part-time poster model for the company. 

It's confirmed to be true when the Park Senior announces his retirement and inaugurates the Exodus fashion line along with the introduction of new model recruitments. 

CSK: an interdict in Baekhyun's laws of allergy and an abbreviation for the top three rising cover page stealers.

Picking up as a mere part-timer in Hongdae merchandise shop and a club boy serving drinks in Gangnam, he has to face the dread of the named man being constantly mentioned in a never ending loop. 

Just the first syllable is enough to make his blood boil and stomach roiled up. It's sickening how those smirks are sprawled out in magazine spreads at the front window of the store. 

“A little birdy told me that Chanyeol Oppa is engaged to some Empire heirs.” He glares at the group of girls donned in skimpy dresses up to their flat backside cushioned with what he calls pads. “I know. To think I'm still fantasising about being his wife. Damn frustrating!” 

Shameless s. Baekhyun silently scorns, shaking his head in distaste as they flirt their way through with Kris: a tall blonde bartender shipped straight out of Guangzhou China, a creepy giant who likes talking to his soft toy Ace back in the lockers room.

“Boss, I have some urgency.” The caramel-haired male scurries towards the bar manager as he points down at his own crotch. 

Joonmyun shoots him a suspicious gander but waves him off when he starts making puppy eyes. Being innately adorable is probably the only thing Byun Baekhyun will thank his parents. 

To think of it, the old man and the nagging hag have stopped breathing down his neck ever since he moves his out of the house. It won't be surprising if they removed him from the register. 

Besides, he knows there is no going back once he gets out. And it's not like he wants to cry and run back home either. Pleading is not in his dictionary. Independent is.

Splashing himself awake with the cold contact of water lathering across his haggard face albeit the caked layers of makeup: a touch of eyeliner dabbed hard and thick on his lids, Baekhyun takes a good look back on himself. 

He has kind of aged despite the lack of ugly wrinkles marring his face. Work has definitely grown on him and perhaps, maturity has caught him unaware too. 

Just as his slender fingers crawl their way up his moist face, Byun Baekhyun notices a burning smirk of mockery reflected in the misty mirror dotted with condensation. 

The lopsided grin captured under the dingy lightning approaches closer to him with each harassing steps of intrusion. 

It isn't long before he finds himself pressed close up against a hard chest and bulging biceps of arms encasing his svelte frame. 

“Hey, pretty young thing.” The stranger drawls as his deep husky baritone leaves frosted breaths resting on the smoothness of the mirror. His plump juicy lips trails along the shell of the shorter male’s left ear, leaving the other’s skin to burn in patches of red. 

Baekhyun squirms under the touch but ironically at the same time, he is frozen in his tracks. The other has so much hold on him that he is left immobile and vulnerable. 

Dancing and skimming his fingers down the narrow shoulders and along the sleeved arms where hairs are raised on ends, the unmistakably familiar male leaves playful and suggestive nibbles on the ears and lines his lips against the soft flesh, memorising every nook and cranny of the smaller male’s addictive scent. 

He pecks the skin before giving it a long stripe of with the wet muscle its tenderness. “What's your name, princess?”

Baekhyun's breath hitches with each assail lashed out from the other who is sending electrifying jolts within his reactive body, hating how pliant he is under those lingering touches. 

Red blotches claim their marks on his ivory neck as the skilful tongue assaults his sanity into a mess of unconscious delirium. 

“B-B-Baekhyun.” He stutters when the other hums along proceeding with his artwork. Too weak to defy against his predator, he lets himself fall back into the cage of the other as he tilts his head to give more access and exposure. 

In the haze of lust and desire, he catches the faint outline of the smirk gloating at his submissiveness. “Good. I suppose you know who I am.”

When he is finally manhandled to confront the assailant, his eyes widen albeit the blurred recognition of the face back in the foggy mirror. 

Park Chanyeol. 

He gasps when something sharp sinks into the side of his throat. The tall male bites and laps at his delicate flesh, feasting on his alabaster beauty. 

“God, I want you so bad.” The man in Armani dips his nose deep into the caving curves of his neck, breathing in the fading vanilla emitting from him. “Can I?”

As if hypnotised under the incantation of spell, Baekhyun relishes greatly in the the other is proffering as he mewls out his stifled moans. 

“Well beauty, I’ll take that as a yes.” Having enough said, Park Chanyeol heaves the raven-haired male up atop the marble counter before letting the latter's legs hook around his waist.

Without warning, the businessman latches his lips desperately onto Baekhyun's, indulging the taste of cherry soda imprinted in the warm cavern, soon before detaching the pair to leave open-mouthed kisses down the porcelain skin of creamy silk. 

Baekhyun shudders at the guttural moans induced from the other’s throat as nimble teeth nip teasingly at his skin, leaving feverish burn. He needs him. He wants him. He has to have Park Chanyeol. Right there and then.

When the taller reaches up once again to satisfy the needs of his savoury lips, Baekhyun finds himself tugging at the former’s tie and tangling his hands in the lustrous dirty blonde. 

The kiss is rougher than the first and Baekhyun is inwardly relieved to be trapped in the embrace of the other as otherwise, his wobbly legs are on the brink of collapsing any moment.

 A strand of saliva connects them before his vision gets cut off by the wrapping of tie blindfolding him. 

“Let's take this somewhere, shall we?” 

He is hoisted up into bridal style before making their way out of the filthy bathroom and onto the streets. 

The last things he remembers are the rum-tainted taste of alcohol chapped onto lips of the other and the deafening roar of revved engine accelerating them into the tunnel of darkness. He is done.

Sunlight filters through the gaps of the glass panes, pouring itself over the tangled limbs draped by layers of blankets. 

The warmth seeps through the covers, surging through the skins just enough to evoke shuffling movements beneath them. A head peeks out of the duvet with disheveled strands matted onto his forehead.

7.15am. Baekhyun stares at the glaring red numbers groggily. The clock is ticking, counting down his presence as seconds drift by. 

Whipping his head around, he drinks in his surroundings: a warm body splayed on his left and an unfamiliar interior décor to his right. This is definitely not his home. 

His breath slows down immediately as he tries to digest the facial features of the other. The snoring male’s ears are really big, like dumbo, but it doesn't deter him from gaining good genes consist of a chiselled jaw, defined nose and rosy thick lips. 

Those lips, Baekhyun recalls the texture of them pressed up against every patch of skin on his body: his own lips, neck, navel and somewhere intimate and private.

He is well aware of the toned arms winded around his petite waist, secured and tight as if the other is guarding what is his all night long, when he tries to get up. 

Untangling himself out of the long muscular limbs, Baekhyun feels a sharp pain penetrate through the cores of his thighs when he fails to sit up. 

He bites down on his lips to muffle his hisses of pain, afraid he will wake the other up before limping his way over to the pile of clothes strewn on the carpeted tiles.

The pain surges through once more, sharp and scalding, when he bends down halfway to reach for his crumpled pants and wrinkled shirt. 

He glances back at the male deep in slumber and winces in disgust; he is beyond appalled to have slept with a man he loathes the most. His allergy. The bad taboo. 

He feels filthy for being no different from those offering their bodies for the temporary pleasure of a one night stand.

Aghast at the sin he has committed, Baekhyun stumbles his way out of the penthouse. He hails a cab, not bothering to hide the black and purple blooming along his necks. He needs to escape. 

He may have flee from reality through this little escapade, hedonistic debauchery of transience, but he isn't certain if he can confront this nightmare of screwing a man way above his status. 

For god’s sake, he hates the other. He detests him. Just his name is revolting. 

Upon arriving back in his own nest, Byun Baekhyun breaks down for the first time since the day of birth. He furiously wipes away his rivulets of hot tears, reproaching himself for his naivety. 

For the first time, he does get laid. But the downside of how he loses his ity to a man he abhors is rather terrifying with each fragment of last night activity haunting his numb mind, pulling him into depths of the abyss and keeping him drowned in there for as long as he can remember.

At the age of nineteen, Byun Baekhyun has corrupted his innocence and purity. He has lost his chastity. 

“Mother, I don't like what those tabloids are hinting.” The blonde pinches the bridge of his nose; he can feel a headache impending. “I know. You told me many times. But this isn't just right.” 

He loosens his tie and massages his temples as he slumps back into the velvet cushion of his seat. “Well, what if I can give you an heir? This year? Would you break off the engagement?”

The other on the line grows abruptly quiet, as if trying to consider his deal. “Mother, let's just put it that way. I’ll bring you a grandson by the end of this year. I won't take no for an answer.” 

He knows he is babbling crap and compromising empty promises but he isn't ready to settle down. In his circle of friends, being twenty-seven is still quite manageable to be single. “Bye, Mother. Love you.” 

His mother snorts on the phone but she appears to take his words for real. Chanyeol heaves a huge sigh of relief when he hangs up. He will do anything to shake his nosy mother off his tail. 

Sure, he adores his mother but there is a limit to his tolerance of affection. Hence, when Mrs Park begins to invade his personal life, he knows he has to do something.

The old woman has gone her way out to bribe the gossip-deprived reporters on his private life, announcing how she has set up an engagement with the Lee’s heir. 

Dara has been a nice girl on countless occasions both parties meet: company dinners, business functions and so on, but he simply doesn't swing that way. 

His parents know but they try to convince themselves that he is still young and lost and that they should meddle in and carve the right path of marriage for their only son.

His secretary notices the caprice in his mood. He keeps requesting for shots of Espresso all day long, burying his head in paperwork and conference calls. 

The CEO seems infected with a mild migraine but only he himself knows of the bad hangover experienced the previous night. He admits he is quite disappointed to be greeted with an empty side of the bed; he usually gets up before they do.

Thus, when his COO barged into his room around lunch, he realises how his recent one-night-stand is a bit tad special. “Heard that you are pretty much knocked out last night?” 

He badly wants to wipe off that smirk plastered to the tanned male’s face. Kim Jongin is an epitome of ; he still wonders why Kyungsoo is very much infatuated with this devil.

 “Too bad I can't hang out with you anymore. Soo might break off the Cartier ring, if I do, and I love him too much for that to happen.”

That's right, his close colleagues are married. Both Kim Jongin and Oh Sehun. They have been hitched to their childhood sweethearts a few years back despite being younger than him. 

And it's probably the one of those reasons why his parents are bugging him to settle down and bless them with a chubby grandchild. 

God, he wants to kill his friends for being such model husbands.

What's wrong with being single in his late twenties anyway? He has the affluence and influence. He has gotten great looks and into good books of many ladies. 

He has his fair share of partners here and there though they never seem to end right. He abominates how those materialistic women easily agree to crawl into bed with him just to snatch a taste of his opulence. 

“So, how was the bang? Good enough for you?” Having fed up with Jongin’s teasing and mocking, he aims his obnoxiously handsome face with his Oxford classics. 

Too bad the other manages to dodge the flying pair of shoes. The blonde needs to work on his shooting skills.

“Shouldn't you be out lunch with Kyungsoo?” Chanyeol suggests dryly, leaning back into his armchair as he watches Jongin flop onto the sofa with a flamboyant air. 

He cards his fingers through his roots of sandy strands, revelling in their soft texture but somewhere in his mind knows, the touch itself can't be compared to the honey locks of the pretty young thing. Such a fond memory it is.

He senses the risqué side look the other is sporting; Jongin's crude and racy remarks are the only thing he hasn't spill the beans to his spouse. 

Kim Kyungsoo still thinks his husband is childish baby with a sinless mind. Poor guy. “Thinking about last night, aren't we? And nope, Kyungsoo went out with Luhan. Some housewives course, I think?” 

The CEO groans inwardly, cupping his head in his hand. It's an act caught in humiliation but his mind just can't help but instinctively wander off to the pretty lips, swaying hips and voluptuous curves of the lithe body. 

“Man, I’ve got a weird one for you.” He pauses to see the lopsided grin etched onto the sun-kissed man, his dry lips. “I told Mother I can bring her a baby by this year end, crazy or not?”

A series of cackles ensue, erupting into the hollow glass walls of his office. Jongin is down in the floor, rolling his arse around all while clutching his stomach. 

Chanyeol glares at the laughing maniac as he rolls up his sleeves to fight the sudden rise of temperature in the room. His cheeks are burning from embarrassment. “T-That's a good one. You’ve got me, idiot.”

However, when Jongin catches those bored and dull eyes with specks of seriousness, he executes his frolic. “Wait. You're serious?” He chokes on his spit with words stuck in his parched throat.

“Really? Well if that so, my man, you've gone nuts!” He states as a matter of fact before gradually sinking back onto the leather couch. “So, you got a plan?”

Basically, this's Park Chanyeol. A twenty-seven-year old man who has his fingers wrapped around the Park Enterprises. 

He is the same man who is pestered by the photographer one day during a visit down the studio room with his COO and HED* to pose for their monthly issue.

They're promoting the new line of tailored Western suits back then. The EXO line has finally makes its start on the global fashion industry and Chanyeol thinks he need to oversee its development when he arrives unannounced on field that day. 

Oh Sehun, with his stoic mien and Jongin, with his charming demeanour, are dragged along with a grumpy CEO to the changing room for their outfits tryouts. Ever since then, it has become a tradition for them to feature a section on the magazine. 

And practically, this's Park Chanyeol who simply will do anything to avoid the topic of marriage. Sure, he loves the frequent visits paid by his godsons but he isn't just ready to have one of his own. 

Kim Tae-Oh and Oh Ziyu just prove to be a mischievous duo behind their mothers’ back. Kyungsoo and Luhan spoil them too much.

Half an hour later, both grown men settle down on the office floor, not caring if they're not looking professional at all. “Jongin, I don't think Miranda Kerr is a good choice.” 

Chanyeol looks up from the screen, munching on a bowl of chips noisily. “Sehun will kill me and then Luhan will dig both of our graves.” 

The younger male snaps his hands away from his share of snacks; he is still preoccupied, ogling at the model’s provocative photos. “Great she got there, but Soo’s thighs are the best. They're thick and---”

“Hey, I don't invite you here for the updates on your ual life.” Chanyeol plugs his ears nimbly, glaring irritatedly at the other man. “Anyway, why are we looking up on women? You know I’m straight, straight as cooked spaghetti?” He laughs at his cold joke and suddenly it becomes Jongin's turn to judge him.

 “I don't know? I just want some bachelor session. Man, you're ruining the mood.” Chanyeol thinks Jongin is secretly biual.

“Hold up!”

The bowl of chips of flipped over before spilling miserably as a mess.

“Chill, bro. You're too loud.”

“You say you need an heir.”

“Yeah, I guess?”

“How about the pretty young thing from before?”

“You mean the guy I hooked up last night?”

“It's a he? Anyway, hunt him down and get your baby.”

“Umm, I'm not so sure about him being an omega.”

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