Archive of Our Own

Jeongguk can still feel it: his temples buzzing from the high, the wet traces on his inner thighs, his legs heavy and numb. He twitches even now that Jimin has slipped out, quiet and fast as always. They have months of experience behind this: quiet and fast. Even if the alpha lives alone, it doesn't mean that the apartment walls in Bangbae-dong aren’t made of paper. Jeongguk can’t relate.

“Ah, I gotta go.” He groans loudly, stretching his arms over his head. “Got Japanese social history at eight thirty tomorrow and I don’t wanna make a run for the packed train.”

“I don’t know how you can listen to English so early in the morning… and I still don’t understand why you just don’t take the car.” Jimin slips on his underwear, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Not like you gotta save money for gas.”

“Not like the streets aren’t jammed.”

“Still…” Jimin runs a hand through his black hair, fixing it over his undercut. It’s dirty and kind of messy, but they still feel like silk. “You drove half an hour to stay forty-five minutes.”

“Maybe if I didn’t have to douche I wouldn’t have taken so long but the Gods didn’t bless me with a pussy.”

“You’d be hot.”

Jeongguk gives him a dirty look, rolling his eyes subtly.

Jimin raises his hands in defense. “Just sayin’...”

Tongue in his cheek, Jeongguk gives his back to the alpha and searches for his shirt on the floor, in line with the mattress. “You can bottom next time if you wanna spend more time with me.”

Next to him, Jimin shrugs. “Deal.”

With a few buttons still undone, long brown strands in his eyes, Jeongguk turns around. “What?”

Jimin checks for notifications on the cracked screen of his phone. “I said deal.”

“Seriously?”

Turning off the device, Jimin eyes him with a light frown. “Yeah? I mean… I’m not opposed to it. You never said anything so I just thought it wasn’t your thing.”

“It’s not,” Jeongguk is quick to answer. “Well… I never tried.”

Jimin sends him a smile, the ring around his bottom lip between his teeth, leaning back on the mattress with his hands. He’s still only in his underwear — his go-to outfit when he’s at home. Jeongguk thinks he’s seen him more times naked than with clothes on. “We can try sometimes, then. If you wanna give it a go.”

Jeongguk nods, his eyes trailing along the thick black lines covering Jimin’s skin. Both of his arms are completely tattooed, his thighs too. He has a few designs on his ankles and calves, some on his chest, and he’s currently planning the big piece for his back. Even after seven months, Jeongguk is sure he could still find new details in the ink. “You…” he meets Jimin’s gaze, dancing over his exposed clavicles. “You ever tried before? Bottoming?”

“Yeah, a few years ago…” He seems to reminisce, his dark brown eyes lost somewhere on the white wall. “There was this alpha around… we took turns. He couldn’t handle me for too long.” Which—fair, Jeongguk thinks. His own body was made for it, yet Jimin was a lot even for him sometimes. “It was nice, I guess… not my personal favorite, but a good way to change things up. Oh, I tried it with two girls once, too.”

“Two girls?”

“Yeah… found them in a club or something. They were both alphas and we… tried a bit of everything. One of the best one-night-stands I ever had.”

“So… what, they had dicks?”

“No… well, one of them I guess, she was trans. But she was already taking hormones I think, so it wasn’t like my dick. The other had a strap.”

Jeongguk raises his eyebrows, stunned. If same-sex relationships still made many noses turn up, especially the older generation’s, same-subgender ones were very heavily stigmatized in their country. “That’s.... that’s cool,” he whispers, gaze lost in the creases of the sheets. There’s something he’s been wondering about for a long time on his mind. “Can I ask you something stupid?”

“I’m sure you could never ask a stupid question.”

The corner of Jeongguk’s mouth smiles. “Well…” His fingers are fidgeting, his hands and arms still bare, no jewelry. “I heard lots of myths about it, but I never got to experience it first hand because… well, you know why. So… is it true that alpha girls have… no slick? No fluids at all? How… how does that work?”

Jimin chuckles softly, a hand covering his smile. “Who told you all these urban legends?”

“My parents not giving me access to the Internet until I was nineteen and my shame to search for stuff I should already know about after coming of age.”

Jimin shakes his head slowly, “Ah, Jeongguk-ah…” He glances up at the ceiling, sighing. “Alpha girls have slick… it’s just not as much as omega ones. I’d say like betas. But it’s not thick, it’s just… bodily fluids. It doesn’t smell of their scent.”

“So you used lube with them?”

“I use lube with everybody, regardless of their genitals…” He’s quick to continue his sentence when he sees Jeongguk trying to object. “...apart from you because you’re a slick central.”

Jeongguk’s jaw drops and he looks at the alpha with fake indignation. “I am not a slick central!”

“You are literally wetting my sheets as we speak and we finished fucking ten minutes ago.”

Jeongguk clenches and a few drops of slick fall down his skin. “That’s just the aftermath.”

“Whatever,” Jimin smiles, standing up from the bed. “You should go or Mrs. Kim will see it on your face tomorrow.”

“She’ll already see the piece of art you made on my neck… I can feel it throb and I still haven’t seen it.”

“It’s darkening right now…” Jimin says as he helps Jeongguk collect his clothes. “Sorry, I… got carried away.”

“It’s fine…” Jeongguk sighs, slipping on his gold bracelets. He’s used to Jimin’s marks on his body, from rope or his teeth. Although they’re usually in more hidden places, Jeongguk perfected his makeup skills with the passing of time. “You know I like them.”

Jimin hums, standing in the middle of the room with his hands empty. Jeongguk has dressed back up: a light blue shirt and dark navy trousers, white socks and earrings. He’s in stark contrast with the rest of Jimin’s bedroom: a small lamp over a cluttered drawer, his mattress laying with the sheets undone on the floor, one of the tiles coming off in the corner, an old TV over a small low desk, a box of tissues near the bed with a used one near. Jimin’s sketches are scattered all over the floor and the window opens onto the street, quiet at eleven p.m.

Pocketing his phone and picking up his bag, Jeongguk pushes a curl away from his face. “I’ll be on my way, then.”

Nodding, Jimin walks to the entrance with his feet bare and goes for the door, right out of the bedroom. The kitchen and the bathroom are on the right, and the whole house is left in the darkness, as always. Night has always been their time.

“Text me if you’re free next week,” Jimin says as Jeongguk slips on his black leather boots.

“I should be on Wednesday,” Jeongguk replies, closing the buckle.

This is always the strangest moment. When Jeongguk walks away, by now shamelessly, leaving Jimin behind in that little world of their own. When time seems to stop sometimes, as their legs tangle and their daily lives are forgotten. When Jimin doesn’t have to hear the beeping of the printer and the complaints of customers, and Jeongguk doesn’t stay hunched over a book about Republican China, or doesn’t have to reply in the most polite manner to middle-aged rich men whose opinions he pretends to care about.

Jimin slips his arm around Jeongguk’s waist for a moment, the palm of his hand on the small of his back. He leans forward, leaving a kiss to the corner of Jeongguk’s mouth. “Drive safe.”

Jeongguk smiles softly, taking in the familiar scent of coffee from the gland on the alpha’s neck, as if it was freshly brewed. “As always.”

He says his farewell with one last glance and a closing door.

Out in the street, lit up by a flashing sign from the ‘90s and high street lamps, Jeongguk finds his Mercedes at the end of the road and gets inside. His phone connects automatically when he pushes the power switch, and he rolls down one of the windows. Opting for an alt-rock playlist Jimin shared with him a few weeks ago, he shifts the gear into drive and starts the car. The hybrid engine barely makes any sound, and apart from the soft music playing, it’s quiet around. Jeongguk’s mind stops overthinking only when he drives, so he’s not bothered by the distance between his house and Jimin’s.

Knowing the drive by heart, without a thought, Jeongguk slips into the comfort of Seongbuk-dong.

Jeongguk walks into the building of the Asian History department with a steady step, the heels of his boots clacking on the floor. His next class starts in eight minutes, and he’s not sure he’s ready to hear the voice of his soporific Intellectual History professor for an hour and a half.

The only positive thing is that it’s the class he shares with his best friend.

He spots Taehyung from a distance, his golden framed glasses perched on his nose, the bottom hem of his wide legged pants touching the floor. “Hyung!”

Taehyung turns his head and smiles at him, taking a few steps in his direction. “Jeongguk-ah! I didn’t see you at lunch.”

“Ah, sorry,” he apologises, scratching the back of his neck. “Me and Chaoxing had to talk about our presentation. We ate something on the way.”

Chaoxing The Project Partner was a girl Jeongguk had met during the first week of his master’s. Born and raised in Marseille, she’d come to Seoul to meet up and move in with her long distance boyfriend. She hadn’t known a word of Korean besides the basics, I love you and how to order herself a drink. Fortunately, Jeongguk spoke both French and Mandarin fluently, and hearing her mother tongues made Chaoxing feel at ease from the start around him. Since then, they’d become the ultimate duo for every project they shared.

“It’s been a while since I saw her around… tell her we could go drink something during the weekend, I miss her terrible sarcasm.”

“I think her boyfriend’s parents are planning their wedding or something… she was stressed because they want a Christian ceremony but her parents are Buddhists.”

“Isn’t his family in the Hanwha group? Can’t they do both?”

Jeongguk twists his lips, shrugging.

“Changing topic…” Taehyung says as they walk down the corridor, up to their classroom. “What’s with the big ass I-bumped-into-a-cabinet bruise on your neck?”

“God, this thing again, hyung… I was sixteen when I told you that!”

“Still the funniest lie I’ve ever heard from someone covering up a hickey.”

Jeongguk rolls his eyes, fixing the straps of his tote bag on his shoulder. “I was studying in the garden all Sunday and got tanned. I know my skin tone is darker than the concealer, okay?”

“Oh, the makeup shade is not your problem here, honey. That guy vored you.”

Jeongguk pouts. “Don’t talk about him like that.”

“About who? That guy?” Taehyung smirks, keeping his voice low now that they’re blending with the crowds of students. “What should I call him? The super fucking hot alpha that’s been fucking you for a year? Sounds long.”

“First of all, it’s been seven months. And second… you know his name.”

“Oh, goddamn if I know it.” He turns to Jeongguk with bedroom eyes, moaning, “Ah, Jimin-ah—”

“For fuck’s sake, hyung, we’re in the middle of the corridor—”

“Fuck me with your knot, Jimin-ah—”

“Goodbye!”

Red to the tips of his ears, Jeongguk storms into his Intellectual History of Asia’s classroom with a shameful look on his face and a revoked-friendship card pictured in his mind.

But he loves Kim Taehyung too much to ever be serious about it.

A minute later, his professor starts talking about post-colonial India and Jeongguk tunes the whole world out.

Jeongguk always made an effort to seek out the things he appreciated the most. Like pretty chains around his neck, golden with natural stones. Or cozy rooms where he could study in peace, away from the noises of the city, the ones that always distracted him when he tried to concentrate and let his brain absorb all those new concepts. But most of all, attractive men smelling of coffee beans, fucking him while their wrists were tied over their head.

He’d looped the bamboo rope around Jimin’s hands and made single and double column ties on him, the pastel rainbow colors fitting perfectly with his golden skin. Jeongguk loves to see the desire in Jimin’s eyes: to wrap his arm around the omega’s neck and bring him down from where he stands, straddling his lap, or to grip the meat of his ass and thrust harder, fuck him better.

Sometimes, Jeongguk just wants for Jimin to lay back and enjoy. The alpha can’t touch him, his fingers crossing, hands bound together in prayer. And Jeongguk does all the work; stretches himself in front of him, preps with a dildo because Jimin goes deep when the omega rides him. It was almost uncomfortable at first, hurt like a bitch even with all the slick. By now, Jeongguk feels like his body adapts itself to Jimin every time he slips inside him.

The muscles of his thighs are aching a little, but he takes these times as a challenge with himself. To see how much he can last; who will be the first one to snap. If Jimin will try to untie his own hands, pulling the running end of the rope with the same swift movement he performs when he loosens the knots he creates around Jeongguk’s ankles. Or if he’ll be the one to beg, to free Jimin of the restraints and ask him to switch positions to give his legs a break.

Jeongguk wants to last a bit more. Jimin isn’t just pretty, he’s beautiful like this: the cherry blossom tree around his chest extending to his left arm is in full display, along with all his other tattoos, and his black hair is long enough to fall over his eyes. He could tie it in a ponytail if he wanted, like the first time they met.

Jimin bites down on his own bottom lip and Jeongguk stares at the way the metal ring hugs it, knowing how it tastes on his tongue. On his cock. God, he’s so riled up already.

“Whatcha thinking about, baby?” Jimin asks, looking at him with his eyes half-closed.

Jeongguk speeds up his rhythm, moving in waves when he sinks down to the base. “You remember the second time we fucked? You still had your tongue pierced.”

“A week before it got infected.”

Jeongguk closes his eyes when he finds the perfect position, the head of Jimin’s dick rubbing against his prostate. “It was just once but… fuck, I still remember how it felt when you rimmed me.”

Jimin smirks, but his mouth falls open when Jeongguk clenches repeatedly around him, like he always does when his orgasm is near. “I could get it done again.” He moans, and Jeongguk can feel the beginning of his knot swelling. “Go to a better piercer.”

“Didn’t Yoongi-hyung do it for you?”

“He was dead drunk.” Jeongguk feels his legs starting to shake. “And he’s better with tattoos.”

His mind is getting cloudy, and the sound of his wet cheeks slapping against Jimin’s thighs fills his head until it’s the only thing he can hear. “Jimin-ah—”

“Yeah, baby?”

Jeongguk feels Jimin pulling on his restraints; maybe wanting to wrap his hand around Jeongguk’s dick, or his neck, like he always does when Jeongguk gets like this.

“Fuck—”

Leaning forward with his chest, Jeongguk unties the main knots around Jimin’s wrists with clammy hands, collapsing over the alpha the second he’s done.

He feels Jimin plant his feet on the bed, his hands, still partially wrapped in the rope, spreading his cheeks and thrusting harder. The sudden stimulation after half an hour of teasing and slow rhythm and the head of his cock rubbing against Jimin’s warm skin bring Jeongguk to the edge, until he only has to wrap his fingers around himself and thrust a few times before he comes all over his fist.

Slick squirts out of him as his ears ring, and the wetness helps Jimin’s knot slip inside a little bit more, until it’s almost halfway in.

“Push it in,” he whispers in the alpha’s ear, his voice rough and used up.

Jimin lifts the omega’s hips without much effort and grips the meat of his thighs, so hard Jeongguk is sure he’ll leave bruises.

“Come on, alpha. Wanna get knocked up.”

It’s Jimin’s weakness, and Jeongguk knows. His scent sweetens instantly, mixing together perfectly with Jeongguk’s cinnamon one. Jimin is protective of him—has been ever since they met. Maybe that’s why the concept of breeding him always makes him come the hardest.

“Shit—”

Jimin crushes him against his chest and fucks his knot into him until it catches, filling Jeongguk up in a way nothing else does. Before Jimin, he never thought there could be something that made his body feel like this; so focused on the pleasure he felt that every other touch depended on that sensation. Now Jimin’s come fills him up slowly, adding itself to the mess between his legs.

He clenches just for the sake of it, wanting to take every single drop the alpha can offer. Maybe Jimin is right, they could switch sometimes; Jeongguk wonders how it would feel, to come inside something so warm and soft. Like your whole body was being hugged.

Jimin wraps his arms around Jeongguk’s waist, laying on the mattress with his eyes closed. His lips are parted, slightly chapped, and his black hair is ruffled. Jeongguk feels like he could sleep like this, held by Jimin’s strong arms in an embrace, but he knows he can’t give himself that privilege. They don’t do things like that; unless they’re buzzed, or drunk. Knotting is already intimate, and Jimin’s ones take at least ten minutes to come down. So Jeongguk straightens his legs, trying not to jostle them too much, and rests his cheek on Jimin’s chest, right over his heart.

Jimin’s fingers run up his spine, tangling with his hair, and the pads rub his scalp softly, where every touch makes Jeongguk shiver. His head has always been sensitive: the roots of his hair, his skin, some pats on his crown, a hand on the back of his neck.

With slow movements, Jeongguk brings Jimin’s hands in his and starts untying the single columns around his wrists. Jimin squeezes his nape gently, the hint of a smile on his lips.

Now that they’ve come down from their high, it’s completely quiet in the room. Silence always comes easy between them; Jeongguk never feels forced to talk if he doesn’t have anything to say, or to keep the conversation going, like he always has to when he meets other people. It’s expected of him, and he’s worked hard throughout the years to get out of his introverted shell; mostly out of necessity.

But this kind of peace always remains his safe place.

Jimin’s knot is starting to come down and the alpha stirs in his short slumber, his eyelashes fluttering. Jeongguk leaves a kiss on his bottom lip, right around the ring.

Groaning, Jimin searches for Jeongguk’s eyes. “I fell asleep?” he asks, voice deep and a little scratchy.

Jeongguk nods, his palm finding the soft skin of Jimin’s cheek. “For a couple of minutes.”

“Sorry…” The alpha yawns, stretching his arms over his head. “Got up at five a.m. ‘cause we got shit clients.”

Frowning, Jeongguk asks, “What happened?”

Jimin sighs, drawing circles with his thumb over the small of Jeongguk’s back. “Y’know how we sell those computers already formatted? Like, I do all the initialization, Office package, that shit?”

Jeongguk nods, his head tilting to the right and resting on his palm.

“We’re used to overconfident alphas, but this one… another level. His laptop had fried because of a hardware problem and he couldn’t do shit about it, so he came to us because he had to leave for a business trip to Canada or something. He came to the store like two days ago, and I asked him if he wanted me to set up the computer for him, but he said he knew how to do it, that he’d done it dozens of times, yada yada, so I let it go even if he looked like he had no fucking clue. Turns out my boss calls me at 04:39 in the morning because this fucking moron didn’t backup his data folders and blamed it on me saying I gave him a defective PC.

“I tried so fucking hard to stay calm and just guide him through the steps but it took him two and a half hours to understand how to copy a document and transfer everything he needed, and by the end I just wanted to tell him to shove the external memory up his asshole.” He groans, and Jeongguk feels him slipping out slowly, but the sheets are already a mess; a few drops of come won’t change anything. “And obviously, all of this unpaid! Because I work for free, right? I could have done everything alone in five minutes tops, but people always gotta prove something.”

Exhaustion radiates from Jimin’s body, and Jeongguk shifts on his side slowly, laying down next to Jimin so as not to add more weight over his chest. There’s a mess of come between his thighs, on their bellies, inside him. Even Jimin’s scent smells drained. Coffee forgotten in a mug for three days.

“You know…” he whispers, arms still wrapped around Jeongguk’s shoulders. “I’m happy you’ll never have to go through this.”

“Why do you say so?”

“I mean…” Jimin smiles, “You’ll probably be your own boss most of your life. With research or family business… you’ll never have to take many orders. You’ll… do what you think is best. And maybe I envy you a little but… I’m mostly just happy for you.”

Jeongguk shakes his head, sighing, “My parents control my life much more than you think, hyung.”

“But you don’t always listen, right?” he smirks. “Otherwise, we wouldn’t be here.”

Jeongguk nibbles his bottom lip, blushing lightly, “Yeah… yeah, you’re right.”

After a long exhale, Jimin stretches his right arm out and picks up a tissue from the box on the floor, by the edge of the mattress. “They love you too much to ever let you go. Even if you did something bad… they’d never burn bridges.”

“You say so ‘cause you never met them.”

“I say so…” Jimin replies as he cleans up the omega’s belly, “Because they’d be stupid to do so. You’re too good to let go. And because I know shitty parents.”

With the come wiped off, Jeongguk sits up on the mattress, his back to the wall. He watches Jimin move in his space, picking up the dirty sheets and throwing them on the floor, leaving the mattress bare. Even if his home is small and cluttered, Jimin manages to have a place just for himself, after twenty-nine years on this earth. “Sometimes… sometimes I wish I was more like you.”

Jimin chuckles as he pushes the sheets in the corner with all his dirty stuff. Jeongguk wonders how often he does his laundry. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” he replies with certainty. “You’re… independent. And yeah, maybe you don’t have the job of your dreams, but you have a home you can come back to every day and be yourself in it. You got a best friend who loves you, you… you built yourself. You’re educated even if you stopped going to school early, you’re intelligent. You got tattoos, and piercings, and you look like you don’t care about what people think when they see you. I… I care so much. About other people’s opinions, and… sometimes, I just wish I was a little more like you.”

With his lips pressed together, Jimin looks up at the ceiling, walking back to the bed. “Jeongguk-ah…” He sits down on the edge, watching the omega slipping back into his briefs. “I’ve never had a clue about what I’ve been doing all my life. I… I don’t have a dream job because I didn’t think I would even make it to twenty. I’ve been working since I was sixteen, and let me tell you… you wouldn’t wanna be more like me if you were inside my brain. You are… one of the most amazing people I ever met. You’re still young, you still have to understand a lot of things about yourself… hell, I do too. I just mean… you’re perfect as you are. You are independent, you have your own personality… you just have a lot more growing up to do, still. You just gotta give yourself time.” Jimin’s fingers graze his thigh, and the touch is warm. “Plus… you got a tattoo.”

At those words, Jeongguk grins, tilting his head down to look at his ribs and the flowers wrapping around his side. “By the best tattoo artist in Seoul.”

“Aish, stop it,” Jimin smiles as he shoves Jeongguk’s shoulder.

“It’s true, though.” He draws the edges of the artwork with the tip of his finger, the lettering and the tiger lily. He looks up, meeting Jimin’s eyes. “I remember it as if it was yesterday.”

The warmest smile spreads on Jimin’s face, his hand brushing against Jeongguk’s hip. Sometimes, when they’re together, Jeongguk feels his heart swell all of a sudden. Be it a small detail Jimin remembers about him, or a laugh they share together, he feels so full of warmth for this man who came into his life so unexpectedly, never leaving for too long after the first time they met.

“It’s getting late…” Jimin whispers, their shoulders almost touching. “You got class tomorrow.”

Jimin is still naked, his tan skin and ink glowing even under the shitty light of his lamp. Jeongguk hums but doesn’t move. He can’t find his own blouse, probably ended up somewhere under Jimin’s sketches.

“I’ll go now…”

He brushes his nose against Jimin’s scent gland, where it smells like warm coffee, with added sugar. He leaves a kiss there — knows he’s not allowed to scent him, but still wants to feel him on his lips.

As soon as he’s out in the street, espresso is replaced by air pollution and overly fried chicken, and Jeongguk feels a little less full.

Ever since he was a kid, Jeongguk always loved reading in the garden. It’s one of his favorite places to study when the weather is good, especially under the transparent cover of the patio; the sun helps him, and he doesn’t feel like he’s spending his whole life between four walls. One of his favorite things was the wisteria growing along the window. It arched over the fence when he was little, but that plant died when he was still in middle school.

A time when he loves the garden a little less is when his mother decides to drink tea with him in the morning, completely subverting his study plan.

“Did you book yourself a spot at the facility, yet?” she asks, her lips grazing the rim of the cup.

“Not yet,” Jeongguk replies, gripping his pen. “I’m still deciding.”

“Deciding? What would you have to decide?” Jeongguk looks away and she clicks her tongue. “You know your heat always comes with a few days—”

“I know, mother. I know my cycle.”

“Well, then it’s about time. Less than a month away. You do not want to end up in Incheon only because you forgot.” She sips on her tea quietly for a minute, while Jeongguk tries to go back to his manual about the Chinese Communist Movement. “You know…” she continues, her fingernails lightly tapping on the table, “soon spending your heats alone will not suffice anymore.”

“Mom—”

“I am just saying… you are not a pup anymore, Jeongguk, nor a teenager. Your chances of giving birth are already low, and if you wait too long—”

“Why are we talking about this right now?”

His mother eyes him with gravity, her cup forgotten on the tray. “As I was saying before you interrupted me, if you wait too long your possibilities might get down to zero. You are a beautiful omega, and every alpha would be proud to have you by their side. Take the Kims’ son, for example.”

“Has it crossed your mind that maybe I could not be interested in marriage, right now? Or parenthood, for that matter?”

“You were already five years old when I was your age.”

“And I am happy to have you as my mother, but… we are not the same person. My interests right now are different from the ones you had at twenty-four.”

“Such as?”

Jeongguk holds himself back from rolling his eyes. “You know I want to get a PhD after I finish my master’s. How do you expect me to jostle between a husband, a possible child and that type of research?”

“Maybe a family would make you happier than all those emperors you are always reading about.”

“Oh, so we are diminishing the importance of the history of our continent, right now?”

“Do not use that tone with me ever again, Jeon Jeongguk.”

Casting his gaze down, annoyed, Jeongguk sits back in his chair. When his mother gets like this he always feels the urge to punch something, or scream.

On the contrary, he tries to appear as collected as he can. Disrespecting his mother is the last thing he should do.

“I am sorry,” he apologises. He tries to meet her eyes and only sees ice, even through her dark brown irises. “But, mother… I am by no means interested in marriage at this point of my life. I understand the importance of it, and I will fulfill my duty, I promise you, but—”

“You will meet the Kims’ son this Sunday at five p.m. He will come here himself, perhaps to pick you up. I have yet to be informed about the plans.”

Jeongguk frowns, extremely confused. “What?”

“Mr. Kim set the date up for the both of you this morning.”

His mother stands up from her chair, fixing the skirt of her dress.

“But—”

“You will not argue about this, Jeongguk. If you do not attend the date, you can dream about the money for your PhD.”

His mother gives him her back and walks back inside their house, the sound of her shoes tapping on the wood echoing across the porch. She left her now cold tea on the table, a few drops having spilled out of the cup.

Jeongguk feels a tear threatening to drop, but he contains himself because he knows they would never stop flowing if they started. With all the energy he can muster, he tries to finish taking notes for the eleventh chapter of the book. The cup clinks on the unstable tray every time Jeongguk’s pen hits the notebook, moving in sync with his arm and hand.

He buries his mouth in the crook of his elbow and screams.

Heavy and warm lights reflect on Jeongguk’s skin while he sits in the farthest left corner of the BBQ restaurant. It’s dark outside, probably nearing midnight, and he feels his head starting to spin. His friends are grilling the last serving of meat and he’s already on his third bottle of soju, trying to forget everything about the date he attended this afternoon. He doesn’t want to think about that man ever again.

The place is still packed, the smell of burning flesh permeating the air, so much so they all grew numb to it. His stomach is filled with chicken and cold noodles, and he rolls his eyes when he notices the big stain on the front of his shirt, probably from when he was grilling beef slices and forgot to wear an apron.

His friend Eunwoo wraps a piece of pork jowl in a sesame leaf with some scallion and fried kimchi while smiling at him, but Jeongguk can’t even get his face into focus. His sight is starting to become blurry, but his friends shout for another toast. At the sound of jjan, Jeongguk buries his self-pity into the alcohol.

☽☼☾

Half an hour later, he can’t even recognize who is the person talking to him. They’re going off with a monologue about some Indonesian artist, but sculptural arts has never been Jeongguk’s forte, and he has no idea who his friend is talking about.

The only thing he can see is the blood seeping out of the unfinished meat on his plate. It’s probably undercooked, and his dish is smeared in reds and browns. It reminds him about that person who shot videos of their menstrual blood as it dripped down the sink from their cup, coloring the ceramic as the water washed it away, and that same blood smeared on their partner’s dick. Censored, just skin and pubic hair, of course.

Or about that movie he’d once watched with Jimin after a sex marathon, when he was too tired to go home and still wanted to feel the alpha’s scent on himself. It was an indie production from the ‘90s, and the blood smeared all over the corpses and the floor was so fake it looked like actual ketchup.

He can’t remember the name of the film. It was months ago and he’d fallen asleep in the middle of it, waking up only towards the end. This carmine red resembles it a lot.

Three-quarters of the table has already gone home, and there are just three people left with him. They all look engrossed in an argument, and Jeongguk doesn’t have the mental strength to participate in whatever that might be.

With a heavy head, he unbuckles the clasp of his bag and searches for his phone. His fingers are greasy with chicken fat and fermented bean sauce and the home button doesn’t read his digit. He taps in the code, getting it right at the second try, and swipes over the screen to look for the calling app.

He chooses the third number in his list of favorites and places the phone near his ear, listening to the line ringing.

“Hello?” A sleepy voice echoes after the fifth beep. “Jeongguk-ah?”

“Hyung…” Jeongguk slurs, his right side leaning against the wall window. “What was the name of that movie we saw together… there was a novelist that went with that whiny girl and the married woman, and then… then there were those girls at the ticket office drinking Yakult, and one of them recorded moans from that small TV—”

“Jeongguk-ah, did you drink?”

“—it was sorta like anime, right? They looked like anime. She recorded for cartoon pornos. Like hentai.”

There’s a sigh coming from the other end of the line. It sounds like the one Jimin does when he’s brushing his hair off his face, or when he looks up at the ceiling. “Where are you? Are you alone?”

“I’m—I’m at the uni BBQ. You know, I thought they had more than chicken here, but Seojoon really wanted to come, I don’t know why, but it wasn’t that bad—”

“Jeongguk-ah, are you alone? Please... tell hyung.”

Jeongguk glances at the table, where only two people remain. They look even drunker than him.

“I don’t know when they’ll go home… soon, I think. They’re smashed.”

“Okay, look…” There’s rustling from Jimin’s side, the snap of a shoe rack closing. “I’ll be there in twenty. Don’t go anywhere. Hyung will come get you.”

“Waitwaitwait…” Jeongguk hears a door shutting and steps hurrying down a corridor. “What was it? The film’s title?”

Jimin smiles in the darkness of his building’s stairwell. His voice still sounds rough from sleep.

“The day a pig fell into the well.”

☽☼☾

“And I was thinking…” Jeongguk walks with his arm around Jimin’s shoulders. He can still keep himself straight, but he’s lost his footing twice, and Jimin doesn’t want him to end up face first in the concrete. “There aren’t love motels like that anymore, right? Like… that one was just a room. But now we got all those computers, and the noraebang, and that kitsch lighting and posters.”

“Mmh…” Jimin hums, pacing his walk with Jeongguk’s one, syncing their feet. “Maybe it was just a regular hotel.”

“You think so?” They pass by the 7-Eleven and Jeongguk gets distracted for a moment by the lights coming from the 24 hour store. “I don’t know… it looked too cheap for a hotel. But I haven’t been to a lot of love motels… you remember that time we went to the one in Yongsan?”

“You were a mess and you were scared they would recognize you.”

“That man had probably never even heard about my family,” Jeongguk smiles. His head is heavy, but Jimin had told him that walking would be good for him. It’s a warm night, and Jimin’s place isn’t far from where they are.

“You didn’t drive there, right?”

Jeongguk shakes his head, “No… Eunwoo drove me but he went home first ‘cause he works tomorrow.”

They can see Jimin’s house at the end of the street. It’s near the north-west side of Bangbae Park, between a beauty salon and a fried chicken takeaway. The walls of the building are exposed red bricks, and the entrance gate was left ajar. It’s old, and the aircons sitting outside don’t aid the aesthetic, but Jeongguk always feels safe here. There’s cables everywhere, intertwined over their heads, and the steps of the staircase probably get washed twice a year. There are dirty cardboard boxes sitting in the entrance from who knows when, and the flap windows always have to stay open to help with the humidity, letting the air circulate. But it’s a home. And it will always feel more reliable than the place he’s been living in for the past twenty-four years.

Jeongguk takes off his shoes by the door when they get to Jimin’s apartment, trying to hang his bag and letting it stay on the floor when it falls from his hand, the handles not catching the wall rack. Jimin guides him to his room, helping him to sit on the floor.

“Wait, I’ll go grab you a glass of water.”

Left on his own for a moment, Jeongguk feels his head spinning, even if he can’t see anything in the darkness. Jimin’s mattress looks so comfortable, and he almost throws himself on the sheets right when Jimin comes back from the kitchen.

“Here,” he says, walking in and crouching down to the omega’s level. “Drink up.”

Jeongguk takes the glass in his hands and starts chugging down the water, feeling it wash away all the traces of chicken in his mouth.

“Slow,” Jimin whispers, cradling the back of his head in his hand. “Slow.”

Jimin’s fingers feel warm, and when he hands him the glass back, Jeongguk notices the alpha had always been in his house clothes ever since he came to him. Those black stained sweatpants and one of his soft t-shirts.

Feeling Jimin’s hands trail down his body, Jeongguk follows the movement until it stops over his crotch. Undoing the buttons of his slacks, Jimin starts taking his pants off, trying to pull. “Raise your butt, gimme a hand.”

Jeongguk falls on his back over the sheets, pushing his trousers down his ass, and Jimin pulls the fabric from over his knees. He discards them on the floor after taking off Jeongguk’s socks too, straddling the omega when he’s finished.

Jimin undoes the first button of his shirt and Jeongguk places his hands on his hips, trying to bring the alpha down with him. But his arms are weak and Jimin is strong, and his shirt is taken off of him before his mind can register it.

He’s only in his underwear, a little colder now. Jimin smells sweet and his thighs warm him up, but when Jeongguk’s hand starts touching the bulge under the alpha’s sweatpants, Jimin places his hand over his, stopping him.

“Hyung…” Jeongguk looks at him with pleading eyes.

Jimin shakes his head. “Not tonight, baby.”

The omega pouts, his bottom lip jutting out. Jeongguk always gets whiny when he’s wasted. “Why?”

Jimin starts getting off his lap, “You’re drunk.”

“I’m not!” Jeongguk stops him from going too far, throwing his leg over Jimin’s as they face each other on their sides. “Please, hyung…”

Jimin swallows thickly, brushing his fingers over Jeongguk’s cheek. “Another day, okay?”

He leaves a kiss on the omega’s forehead and starts undressing himself quickly. He rips his t-shirt off and pulls down his sweatpants, lying naked beside Jeongguk under the sheets. He hadn’t even worn a pair of briefs; Jeongguk wonders if it felt weird to run with his dick hanging that way.

Wrapping his arms around the omega, Jimin spoons him from behind, hugging him in a warm embrace. As his head hits the pillow, Jeongguk feels himself slowly drifting to sleep.

“Goodnight,” Jimin whispers as he leaves a kiss to the back of his neck, the metal of his central piercing cold on Jeongguk’s skin, his hand resting over the omega’s tummy.

Jeongguk slurs something unintelligible and doesn’t hear anything else.

☽☼☾

Waking up the next morning is a difficult feat. The sheets feel so warm on his skin, smelling like fresh coffee. He buries his face in them with his eyes still closed—the light coming from the window still too strong for him.

His head rings, a continuous buzz, and his throat feels parched.

He tries to sit up slowly, carding his messy strands away from his eyes. He should cut his hair, but he likes it long, even if it always tangles during the night. Jimin brushes it for him every time he asks.

Jimin is not in the room with him, but he hears stirring and soft music coming from the kitchen, so he forces himself to stand up. He’s still a bit unstable, but he makes it out of the room without stumbling over anything.

“Hey,” he croaks out, and it hurts even to utter a single word.

Jimin exhales the puff he took from his cigarette out the window, tapping the end over the ashtray and resting it over the dip. “Hey,” he smiles, finding Jeongguk’s gaze. “How d’ya feel?”

Jeongguk huffs, “Like shit.” He rubs his fists over his eyes, stretching the skin of his cheeks with his fingers.

“Good thing I’m making haejangguk then.” Jimin walks to the stove and stirs the meat cooking up with the radish. “Sit down, I just gotta add the broth.”

Jeongguk feels his heart expanding in his chest at the sight. As he sits down on the floor cushion, he can’t help but look at Jimin tipping the broth into the other pot, adding the marinated cabbage and stirring.

It’s not common to see an alpha cooking, not in this way. Most of his own friends who live alone usually order take-out, and the others live with omegas who prepare food for them. But ordering food every day can get expensive, and Jimin had told him once that he really liked cooking, ever since he was a pup. As the older brother, he had to provide for his family from very early on, and with the sole salary of his mother after his father had disappeared and three younger siblings to feed, sub-genders had started to matter less and less in his house.

So, Jimin cooks for himself every single day, and Jeongguk has always loved the taste of his food. His kitchen is cramped and cluttered, too many pots with too little cabinets, and there are old stains which can’t be cleaned, but it smells like the cooking of a grandmother during the lunch of a festive day.

After fifteen minutes of boiling and a finished cigarette, Jimin serves the soup in two bowls over the low table placed against the wall, sitting with his legs crossed in front of Jeongguk, on the opposite side. He hands him a wooden spoon and a smaller bowl of rice, and Jeongguk bows his head a little, muttering a thank you.

The music has been turned off, and the silence aids the migraine that’s been ripping Jeongguk’s head apart. His teeth hurt too, but the soup doesn’t feel wrong against them. It warms up his throat, and after a minute, swallowing comes easier.

He tastes the broth before eating the solids, trying to keep the chewing to a minimum. It’s the right amount of spice, and he can feel that the kimchi is homemade.

“Hyung...” he mumbles around a mouthful of cabbage. “This if fo good, you’re amafing.”

Jimin’s eyes smile with happiness, the corners of his lips curling up. He looks almost angelic with the way the sun reflects over his black hair, coming from the open window behind his back. He’s blushing, and his scent permeates in the room with the sweetest brew.

When he looks at Jimin — his naked torso and his black tattoos, the lingering smell of smoke in the air, warm food in their bellies as they sit around a table, dishes to wash in the sink and a quiet street outside — Jeongguk thinks he wouldn’t mind spending more mornings just like this one.

History of the Ottoman Empire is his last morning class, and Jeongguk is happy to spend his break in the open air, under the warm May sunlight. The cherry blossoms outside his university building have ended their blooming season, and the first small fruits will start to show up soon.

His stomach grumbles — he didn’t have time to eat this morning, and no pauses were covered in his lesson plan for the day. He’s waiting for Taehyung in front of the Philosophy building, right beside his one, when he spots a familiar figure coming towards him.

It looks like a glitch at first, a stranger to this environment. He fears his mind is playing games with him, making him see things that aren’t there, when—

“Jeongguk-ah!”

Jimin smiles gently, his feet starting on a slow run. He’s in front of him in no time.

“Hyung…” Jeongguk whispers, confused. “What—what are you doing here?”

Jimin’s hand grazes his elbow, covered by a sheer white blouse. “I had some free time for lunch, longer than usual… thought we could eat something together before you gotta go back to class.” With soft touches, Jimin tucks a wild strand of Jeongguk’s hair behind his ear. The bun he tied up this morning didn’t survive four hours of classes. “And… I wanted to see you. After the other day… I wanted to know if you were feeling okay.”

Jeongguk’s cinnamon scent blooms between them, an aftertaste of honey. “I’m fine… I really am. Your haejangguk did wonders for my migraine.” Jimin blushes lightly, and Jeongguk loses himself for a moment in the crinkles around his eyes, his almost black irises. “Well, ehm…” He glances behind his back and sees students starting to exit the building. “I have two hours free more or less, but I was actually waiting for—”

“Jeongguk-ah! Sorry, I’m late!!!”

Jeongguk turns and finds a very drained Taehyung walking down the pathway, his tote bag falling from his shoulder, his jacket looking haphazardly put on.

“I’m sorry,” he continues, joining Jeongguk under one of the persimmon trees. “My professor wouldn’t stop talking. It felt like my brain was going to explode.” When he seems to have regained his breathing, Taehyung tilts his head to the side, the hint of a smile on his lips. “This is a surprise,” he says, his eyes finding their guest.

“I’m Park Jimin.” The alpha bows, and Jeongguk sees the dilemma in his eyes, uncertain if to offer his wrist for scenting or not.

“Kim Taehyung.” He bows back, keeping his arms along his body. Taehyung has never liked stranger’s scents on his body. He’s always been sensitive to them, more than most omegas. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, finally.” His eyes dance over Jimin: his hair swept away from his forehead, his silver lip ring, the tattoos running up his arms and the o-ring leather bracelet tied around his bicep, resembling a choker, his all-black outfit consisting of a t-shirt, a pair of jeans and combat boots. Jeongguk feels his best friend’s scent sweeten, and he’s tempted to roll his eyes. “Are you joining us for lunch?”

Jimin looks a little out of his element, but his scent doesn’t smell rotten. “If it’s okay with you.”

“Sure thing!” Taehyung smiles.

“We were thinking about going to The Lab… it’s a café, just a short walk,” Jeongguk says.

As they walk around campus, Jeongguk thinks about how strange it is to have Jimin here. These parts of his life don’t mix. Yet… it’s also not weird at all. It feels right to spend more time with the alpha even outside the walls of his bedroom. He gets to see a different side of Jimin—the extroverted, outgoing person, which is something that’s always muffled in the comfort of his home. Taehyung has already started to ask him questions, and he looks happy to answer them all, as they’re engrossed in their conversation.

After choosing their food, they sit down around one of the tables outside, near the windows of the shop. The place is bustling with students, but they still have a lot of food choices available since they’re in the first lunch batch.

“And so…” Taehyung says around a bite of his sandwich, “you’re basically a tech guy?”

Jimin chuckles, a lemongrass tea in his hand. “I just work in an electronics store… I mean, we also print stuff and I boot computers and phones and I gotta know how to fix them, but it’s not like I have a degree or anything.”

“You know…” Taehyung mumbles, sipping on his blueberry latte. “Since Jeongguk doesn’t tell me anything,” he side-eyes his friend, “at first I thought you were, like, a tattoo artist.”

Jimin takes a bite out of his rice meatball. “I’m not, but my best friend is.”

“That explains a lot,” Taehyung says. In his quietness, Jeongguk smiles as he looks at two of the most important people of his life interacting so naturally. “Are you completely covered?”

Jimin hums, “Not completely. I got both sleeves, half of my torso, my thighs, and one tattoo goes up to my hip… and then…”

“Your calf,” Jeongguk helps.

“Right,” Jimin meets his gaze, smiling. “Thanks, baby.” He looks caught up in his thoughts, probably not realizing. “Mmm… I think that’s it. I’m planning something for my back that will probably take part of my neck too, but I still have to finish the design and I’m never 100% satisfied with it.”

Jeongguk’s heart is still processing the fact that his alpha called him baby in public to take part in the conversation.

“Wait… you draw your own tattoos?” Taehyung asks, bewildered.

“Yeah… not all of them. My best friend drew some—the traditional Korean style sleeve, he’s specialized in it. But for the rest, I sketched them myself. I even tattooed some… like the thigh ones, and the 13 on my arm. But that was a poor attempt at stick-and-poke from when I was sixteen.”

Taehyung’s mouth is almost gaping, a dribble of latte on his bottom lip. “That’s… that’s so fucking cool. Wow… I could never get a tattoo. I would be forever undecided about the drawing and then I’d probably end up not liking it. Do you like all of them?”

“Some more than others… I mean, I was very young when I got some of them, and my style has changed a lot from then. But… they’re a part of me, and I could never hate one of my tattoos. They’re… kind of an addiction, I think. But it’s better than any other bad habit I had in the past, so…”

Taehyung nods, even if he can’t personally identify with the feeling. “It’s good then, if it helps you get over other things.” The omega turns towards his best friend, whose gaze is lost looking at Jimin, his banana pudding forgotten with the spoon in the cup. “What about you, Jeongguk-ah?”

Jeongguk blinks, eyes big, his lips pouty. “Huh?”

“Would you ever get a tattoo?”

He’s speechless for a moment, trying to come up with a reply he can’t find. He sees Jimin frowning on the other end of the table, his mouth opening to say something, but Jeongguk’s alarmed gaze stops him before he can utter a single word.

But then he thinks about it. Reminisces the time he entered that studio, how excited and scared he was. Two pairs of gentle eyes guiding him through it, making him feel comfortable in the foreign environment. A sketch and a paper note in the pocket of his jeans.

“I think I would.” His gaze shifts from Taehyung to Jimin, glancing at him for a second. The side of his shoe touches the toe box of Jimin’s boot under the table. “I would, only if I truly loved the sketch.”

Nine months ago

The heels of Jeongguk’s boots clacked on the marble floor, the doors of the elevator closing behind his back. It looked like a nice building, probably remodeled recently. He could hear the bass of a metal song playing behind the glass doors at the end of the corridor, and he was feeling a little out of place.

He pushed the door as silently as possible, making himself small. He wondered if his anxiety would be perceived from his scent, and he thought about how silly he looked. A twenty-three-year-old omega scared about getting his first tattoo.

It wasn’t even the tattoo itself that he feared; he had never been afraid of physical pain. Sometimes, he even enjoyed it, when he stretched himself without prep in the comfort of his room. But this was different; it was the whole ordeal that made him nervous.

“Hey.”

Jeongguk stood completely still before the main door, his hand on the handle.

“Do you have an appointment?” the man asked. His hair was bleached, he had a slit going through his eyebrow, a labret piercing and a ring around his nostril. He was dressed in a long black skirt, fishnets and combat boots on his feet, and a white and pink crop top full of pins was hugging his chest.

“I…” Jeongguk swallowed, trying to stop his hands from shaking. “I do. Eleven thirty.”

The man — a beta, judging from his dull scent — stretched his arm to the other end of the reception desk, picking up a notebook. His eyes scanned the calendar, white strands of hair falling over his eyes. “Mmh… Jeongguk, right? You got an appointment only for sketching, I believe.”

“Yeah, I… I still don’t have a clear idea about the design. That’s why I wanted to come here first, before actually doing it.”

“No worries, that’s why we’re here.” The man smiled. “I’m Min Yoongi, by the way. I’ll guide you through the process, and then we can talk about sketching.”

It was not as scary as it had been in his head; Jeongguk got numb to the punk-rock music and got to meet the other two artists working at the parlor, Seokjin and Hoseok. One of them went on a lunch break shortly after and the other was piercing the belly of a girl with a colorful dragon tattooed on her stomach. Yoongi made the paperwork easy, asking him about his basics and if he had any allergies. The bright place full of windows and the warm look the beta gave him made Jeongguk gradually feel more and more relaxed, until he felt like he was fully ready to start.

They left Hoseok’s pink hair and his infectious laughter behind to get inside a different space, up a couple of stairsteps. Behind the thick black curtain there were two tattoo beds and respective stations, a shelf full of healing products, and wall windows opening onto a terrace, where someone was smoking a cigarette.

“Do you have any experience with tattoos”? Yoongi asked.

“Absolutely none,” Jeongguk laughed nervously. “I was skeptical, when I was younger, but… I don’t know, I’ve been following a lot of artists on Instagram lately, and some of them are so cool… that’s how I found out about you, actually. A girl I was talking to linked me to the shop’s profile, and…”

Jeongguk’s words fell short when he heard the sound of a sliding door closing. The person on the terrace brought with himself the smell of smoke, mixed with the scent of coffee. He didn’t spare them a glance, sitting in the back on a rolling chair with an iPad in his hands.

Yoongi seated himself on a leather chair, indicating the one in front of him with the palm of his hands. Jeongguk mimicked him, crossing his leg over his knee.

“Tell me a bit about whatcha had in mind.”

Jeongguk took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to describe his idea. “So… maybe it’s a bit basic, but… I kinda wanted to get my birth flower.”

Yoongi nodded, “Okay… we can work with that. Not basic, by the way. When were you born?”

“September 1st… it’s the tiger lily.”

Glancing behind Yoongi’s back, Jeongguk met eyes with the alpha sitting near the window, a couple of meters away. He caught him staring, and the alpha kept his gaze for a second more, his eyes such a dark brown they could have been obsidian. There was a black ring around his bottom lip, and it curled in a smile for a moment before his focus went back to the tablet.

Yoongi’s eyebrows furrowed lightly, but he continued. “You were saying, a tiger lily…”

“Yes… sorry,” Jeongguk apologized, shaking his head once. “Mmh… a tiger lily with a phrase near it. I was thinking under it, or around… but I don’t think it’s long enough to go around.”

“What’s the line?”

Jeongguk pressed his lips into a line. “It’s please love me… in English.”

“Okay, okay…” Yoongi mumbled, eyes focused on a random spot, probably trying to picture it. “Definitely too short to go around… unless you’re okay with lines between the words or something. Do you have a specific style you’d want the flower to be like?”

“Honestly…” Jeongguk sighed, “I have no idea. I mean… I know nothing about tattoos. Maybe… you know, the style in which flowers were drawn in antique books? But I’m not too sure… maybe I’d like that style on a smaller tattoo, but I’d want this one to be a decent size.”

“Do you already know where you wanna get it?”

Jeongguk answered with certainty. “My ribs.”

Yoongi’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you sure? For a tattoo newbie, ribs can be pretty painful. Especially for a piece like yours, if you want it to be big.”

“I don’t mind the pain.” Jeongguk smiled to himself when he smelled the scent of coffee spiking in the room. He tried not to let his gaze drift to the alpha, but ever since he had entered the room, Jeongguk had been wanting to take a better look at him, his omega making itself space in the back of his mind. “I… I can’t let the tattoo show. I want a private place, somewhere only I can see it. And… I love rib tattoos, they always look pretty. I’m sure the pain won’t matter.”

Yoongi smiled, his gums showing from under his top lip. “Okay, then. Well… I’ll show you some different styles, we can start with that.” He turns around in his chair, his eyes finding the alpha. “Jimin-ah, can you hand me the iPad?”

The alpha — Jimin — frowned lightly. “Why? You got yours.”

“I left it downstairs… please, just for a second.”

“I—”

But Yoongi was quick to get up and snatch it from his hands, leaving the alpha with only the Apple pencil in his hand. “Just so you can get an idea…” Yoongi says, eyes up at Jeongguk. “Let’s go with—”

Yoongi cut himself abruptly when his gaze focused on the screen. He glanced back at Jimin, who—who was looking at Jeongguk.

“What is it?” the omega asked, confused. “I don’t—”

“It’s nothing,” Jimin replied, his gaze somehow alarmed. “It’s nothing, really.”

Yoongi turned towards the alpha, frowning, his face puzzled, and Jeongguk took a chance at peeking at the screen of the iPad — where a quick sketch of a tiger lily with three words written across the flower stretched over the white sheet.

The beta sounded perplexed. “What are you—”

“Can I see it?”

Jeongguk’s voice resounded clearly in the attic.

“What?” Yoongi asked.

“Can I please see the sketch?” he repeated, his brown eyes growing big.

Yoongi sat in his chair, speechless for a moment, but he handed Jeongguk the iPad nonetheless.

Focusing on the details, Jeongguk followed the black lines of the flower, the way it partially covered the letters, how it looked so realistic even just after a five minute’s drawing.

“It’s just an outline, really,” Jimin said, an edge in his voice. “I was just… messing around, I—”

“It’s beautiful.” Jeongguk spoke with a certain finality, his gaze meeting the alpha’s. “It’s truly wonderful… I love it. How… how did you draw it so quickly?”

The alpha scratched the back of his neck, his cheeks flushed all of a sudden. “I’m… I guess I don’t have lots of time, usually.”

“Are you a tattoo artist too?”

Jimin shook his head, “No, I’m just… bothering him,” he said, glancing at Yoongi, who seemed fairly amused by the conversation, a smile still stretching his lip.

“Oh... that’s a pity.” Jeongguk sighed, but a second later his mind repeated what he had just said. “I’m—I’m sorry, I meant… you must love your job, I just…” he wanted to start digging and bury himself under the marble floor, “I just really loved the sketch. That’s it.”

The warm and sweet smell of coffee soothed his nerves for a moment, but he couldn't help his nails from sinking into his own palm.

“You know… if you really like it, I can get it done for you.”

Jeongguk turned towards Yoongi’s voice, whose kind eyes were trying hard to make him feel comfortable. “Really?”

“Sure… I mean, it’s not customary, but… Jimin is my best friend, and I appreciate him as an artist. If you want to get a tattoo out of one of his creations, I’ll be the first to support you.”

“Hyung…” Jimin whispered, his gaze full of tenderness.

“... If he agrees on sharing it with you, of course,” the beta added.

With his lips pressed in a line, Jimin pushed his hair back and stood up from his chair, walking closer to them for the first time.

“I haven’t introduced myself yet…” He smiled, looking at Jeongguk. “Park Jimin.” He bowed.

The omega scrambled to his feet quickly, bowing back. “Jeon Jeongguk.”

For an instant, even with trash metal playing in the background and the unfamiliar environment full of skulls and black leather, Jeongguk’s eyes scanned Jimin’s face with red and pink colored lenses.

Jeongguk coughed once, his words coming out almost in a whisper. “Your style… your sketch is lovely, truly.”

Smiling, Jimin’s irises danced over the omega’s face. “Not as much as its soon-to-be keeper.”

Jeongguk saw Yoongi rolling his eyes behind the alpha’s back, getting up from his chair too.

“If you’re done flirting with my client…” He pushed his best friend lightly, making him walk towards the exit. Jimin muttered something incomprehensible and left the room, Yoongi right behind him, and Jeongguk followed them back to the reception desk.

The main room was completely empty now, no sign of Hoseok or the girl with the dragon tattoo.

“Do you prefer mornings or afternoons for the next appointment?” Yoongi asked with the notebook in his hands.

“Mmh, afternoons… or Tuesday morning. Or any time during the weekend.”

Yoongi scanned the agenda. “Is next Friday at 4 p.m. okay?”

“Sure, I don’t have any lessons… perfect.” Jeongguk turned around for a moment, searching for Jimin, but he only saw an empty corridor behind his back. “Do I have to leave a deposit, or…?”

“That will depend on the final sketch, how many hours it will take. If you want the shading, or to just keep it simple… but we’ll talk about all that next Friday.”

Jeongguk smiled, happy to be learning more about this world. Naver didn’t say anything about tattoo appointments and how they usually went. “What about Jimin-ssi? Should I… pay him for the sketch, since he doesn’t work here?”

“That won’t be necessary.” Jimin’s voice came from behind the omega’s back, out of a backroom Jeongguk hadn’t noticed. “I’ll gladly do it for free.”

“Are you sure?” Jeongguk asked with a sincere tone, his eyes sparkling. “I don’t want to take advantage of your kindness.”

“Positive” Jimin smiled, and it easily reached his eyes. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Jeongguk-ssi,” he said, and his scent bloomed in the tiny reception area. Like this Jeongguk could finally admire him closely: his arms, muscular and toned, were completely inked, from a tiger in a Korean style to a couple of koi fish swimming in circles, a skeleton looking strangely medieval and a foxglove running up his bicep. He filled out the black t-shirt he was wearing well, and Jeongguk was sure he got a glimpse of a tongue piercing when he smiled. His nails were painted in a very dark violet color, and there was something he was fiddling with between his fingers.

“You know…” Jimin continued, searching for Jeongguk’s gaze, which met him with a newfound confidence. “If you wanted to change the sketch up, or a new idea came to mind…” The alpha handed him a small piece of paper, folded in half. “This is my number.”

Jeongguk tried to keep his mouth from gaping, surely looking like a lost pup.

“And… I re-drew the sketch real quick.” He gave him another sheet, where a perfect reproduction of the digital sketch had been made. “So you can look at it this week and tell me if you’re still convinced… I can make changes and send them to you.”

It was impossible to repress his smile for longer, and Jeongguk grinned happily at the alpha. “Sure, I… I’ll text you, then. If I wanna make any changes.”

Jimin carded his fingers through his hair to push a few strands away from his eyes. “You can text me for whatever you want.”

Blushing a deep pink, Jeongguk couldn’t do anything but nod, a smile printed on his lips.

He turned to the side, bowing at Yoongi, who was scrolling through his phone behind the desk. “Thank you again for everything… I’ll see you next Friday, then.”

Yoongi nodded with his head, looking up for a second. “Have a good week, Jeongguk-ssi.”

With his hand on the main door’s handle and one last glance at the parlor, Jeongguk slowly waved his hand as a farewell, already a step into the corridor, waiting until Jimin mouthed him bye, his face beaming.

His heels still clicked on the marble, and Jeongguk decided to take the stairs, even if the shop was on the fifth floor.

A sketch and a paper note in the pocket of his jeans.

Jeongguk’s skin feels sticky as it spreads on the messy sheets, the last rays of the sun disappearing behind the high buildings in an afternoon of June. Jimin’s room is lessy tidy than usual — there are some books open around, a mystery novel and an electronics textbook, and the laundry corner is full to the brim. A couple of weights scattered over clothes, a printer still on. The jockstrap he used, along with a vibrator.

The window is open, and Jimin is smoking a rolled cigarette, leaning on the sill. He’s still naked, like Jeongguk, and he has a dozen red scratches running up his back. A deep mark of teeth on his shoulder.

“You can feel it, right?” Jeongguk asks in the quiet room, playing with a corner of the sheets. They’re dirty with cum, and he knows he’s laying on his own slick.

Exhaling a hit, Jimin turns his head towards him. “What?”

Jeongguk sighs, drained. “My pre-heat.” They’ve been consuming him all week, these thoughts. Waking him up in the middle of the night, thinking about what it will be. What it could be. “You feel it, right?”

Jimin sniffs, taking a puff in. He looks dead tired too. “Of course I do…”

Humming, Jeongguk tries to sit up on the bed. His back aches, his legs do too, and he just wants to crawl into something and sleep. “Hyung…”

Even talking hurts. Maybe it’s his heart, maybe his throat after being used up. He cried too, when Jimin got past his tonsil. His eyes were full of tears, and for a second, he didn’t know why.

Hearing the tone in the omega’s voice, Jimin puts out his cigarette in the ashtray and walks back to the bed, sitting down on the mattress with his legs crossed. He takes Jeongguk’s hands in his, thumb drawing circles over the web of his fingers. “What is it, baby?”

Jeongguk feels like a mess. His hair is tangled, covering half of his sight, his lips feel chapped, he has hickeys all over his thighs and clavicles. They pulse, and he wishes they could stay there forever.

A sob escapes his throat, and he curses himself for being so vulnerable. But if he doesn’t ask, it will eat him alive. Might as well feel the ache all together rather than prolong the suffering. He’s always been good at dealing with pain. “Hyung, do you want to spend my heat with me?”

When Jimin’s lips part but no sound comes out, time stalls. It stretches, and stretches, but it halts for too long, and Jeongguk is sure he feels the first rip wounding his heart.

“Jeongguk-ah…” His tone feels regretful, and Jeongguk doesn't like it at all. "Ain’t that... spending a heat together is a big thing—"

"That's why I'm asking you, hyung." The first tear is trailing down his cheek. Oh, how he hates feelings. "It's because I want you to help me through it... don't you want to stay close to me when I need you the most?"

Jimin bites the ring around his bottom lip, glancing up at the ceiling for a second. "Baby, I... it's not that I don't want you—"

"What is it then? Why do you—"

"I saw you with that Kim guy, okay?" Jimin snaps. "I saw you... last month."

Jeongguk's mouth opens in an oh, understanding written all over his face. "It wasn't... I... it's wasn't what you—"

"I know, Jeongguk-ah, I know he was one of those guys... you told me about your mother."

Jeongguk frowns lightly, looking down at their intertwined fingers. "I... I don't understand, then..."

Holding his hand a little tighter, Jimin takes a deep breath, mimicking Jeongguk and watching their digits dance over each other's palms. "I was... jealous." Jeongguk hears him swallow. "I was... I was so jealous I had to stop myself from jumping him. I was on the other side of the street, and he was so close to you, he looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky—"

"It was the first time I ever met him," Jeongguk confesses. "He... he was nice, and charming, but... he touched me many times, without my consent. He wanted to hold my hand when we were walking, maybe that's when you saw us... I didn't know what to do, Jimin-ah. He's... his father is the head of Lotte shopping. I... I couldn't do anything."

"You have the right to do whatever you want, Jeongguk-ah." Jimin's voice sounds thick, and when he looks up for a second, Jeongguk sees that his eyes are a bit glossy. "I would never want to dictate on who you go out with, or what you do with them... the problem is me. I... I don't think I could help you through your heat because... because I grew too attached to you."

There's a crease between Jeongguk's eyebrows. "What do you mean too attached?"

Jimin presses his lips together. Jeongguk sees the tears falling on his own hand, feeling them drip down his wrist. He does nothing to wipe them away. "Jeongguk-ah, I... I'm scared I'll claim you, if we're together during your heat. My alpha, it's... sometimes I can't control it. And... I know it's low, but... there's always the possibility for you to get pregnant. We never even use condoms as it is, and it's too late now to start taking suppressants—"

"I wouldn't mind."

Jimin waits a moment, another tear falling down his cheek, his neck. "What?"

"Jimin-ah, I... I wouldn't mind." Jeongguk looks up, trying to meet the alpha's gaze. Jimin is still watching their fingers. "Claiming... and everything else... it would be okay with me." A sob escapes his throat, his nose runny. "Don't you see it?"

Jimin's bottom lip has started to tremble, his shoulders shaking from time to time. But if he doesn't say it now, Jeongguk isn't sure he'll ever have the courage again. It could be the last time he'll ever see him. "Hyung, I..." he wants to smile, but it feels too bittersweet. "I fell in love with you."

The alpha looks up then, his eyes full of tears, but he's shaking his head.

Jeongguk looks up at the ceiling, chuckling self-mockingly. "You can deny it how much you want... I realized this some time ago. And I don't know if it's news to you, or if you feel the same... it's okay if you don't. I know this wasn't our initial agreement, but... I can't go on if we're not on the same wavelength. As much as it would hurt to lose you... I can't do this to myself."

"Jeongguk-ah... I'm... you know that what I feel doesn't matter. You know I'm not in the position to think about having a future with you. You'll turn twenty-five very soon, and I'll be thirty in four months. I think... our time—"

"Don't say it." Jeongguk's voice is muffled by the tears, the snot. His eyes are bloodshot as he whispers. "Please... don't say it."

"I don't want to be the reason for your separation from your family. I know that at first you did this to defy everything they ever told you. But... your parents are already finding you numerous partn—"

"Oh my fucking god, I don't care about what my parents want!"

Jeongguk hears himself and his laugh sounds manic. He breathes deeply, trying to find some balance.

One, two, three, four— in.

One, two, three, four— out.

He's trying not to have an anxiety attack while sitting on his own cum. A part of him still wants to be delusional about love.

"What I'm asking you," he starts slowly, his voice soft, "is to tell me if you feel the same, or not. I don't care about my family, what people expect me to do, our age difference... forget everything. Pretend, for a second, that the background isn't there. It's just us, and we're at the center of the frame. Now look me in the eyes and tell me what you feel for me. Just me."

Jimin breathes deeply, but he forces himself to look at the omega, staring at him. Jeongguk can feel the fear in his eyes. "You know I'm not as good as you with words..." he starts, and maybe a bit of hope sparks again in Jeongguk's chest. "But I think I've been loving you for a very long time." Jeongguk tries to keep his tears at bay — because as much as this means something, it could also not change anything. "I think..." Jimin's lips crack a smile, a very heavy one. "I think I knew ever since you were drunk and I came to get you at one in the morning. I was so fucking cold in that t-shirt, I ran like a crazy man, I even lost my cigarettes on the way... but the only thing I cared about was knowing you were okay. Bringing you home, and making sure you'd feel better."

He takes a moment to think, maybe find the right words. Jeongguk doesn't want to interrupt, and his thoughts are too scattered to focus on any of them. His mouth feels like cotton and his ears still ring from crying. "I know I don't have much," he continues, his thumb rubbing over the omega's palm, "I don't have... a good job, I never finished high school, I don't even have a car. I... wasn't always a good person, in the past. But I swear, Jeongguk... you are one of the best people I ever met. And when I tell you I feel honored you ever even texted me back... I mean it. Because... you're so clever, and sweet, and caring, and—"

"Don't say I deserve better."

"It's true, though."

"It's not," Jeongguk shakes his head. "It's not, because... I don't think you see yourself in the way I see you." Jeongguk glances up, and Jimin is nibbling on his inner cheek. His dark circles look heavier than usual. He's still beautiful. "I see a very emotionally intelligent person, much more than any educated prick I ever met. And I’ve met a lot of them." It makes Jimin laugh, and it sounds sincere. They both feel a little lighter. "I don't care about money, or having a fancy car... I know I'm privileged. I know I’ve always had all of those things since I was born... but that doesn't mean I wouldn't be able to live without them. You know that love always comes first to me."

Jimin smiles, "You’ve told me many times."

"Exactly," Jeongguk smiles back. "So... I'm asking you again." He braces himself — more hopeful this time. "Do you want to spend my heat with me?"

With his lips pressed together, Jimin sighs. "My answer is still no."

Jeongguk's shoulders slump.

"But—" the alpha continues, "it's not because I don't want to be with you. It's because I'm... not ready yet. I’ve never spent a heat with someone, and neither have you. I want to... make this right. A step at a time. So..." He smiles lightly, and Jeongguk meets his eyes easily. "Maybe the next one?"

Feeling a newfound peace in his chest, Jeongguk accepts the fate of things. "The next one."

The room is darker now, twilight having fallen over the city. Jeongguk still feels in a limbo, like everything could crash down at any moment. He always feels like this when he's emotional.

"Doesn't mean we should wait for your next cycle to change things."

Jeongguk's head tilts to the side — afraid to read the words wrong. He'd break if he did. "What do you mean?"

Jimin cradles Jeongguk's hands in his; they always feel so warm. Like his scent now, coffee just served from the moka pot. "If I love you, and you feel the same... I don't want to be just your friend anymore."

Jeongguk smiles. "You haven't been just my friend in a long time." He can feel cinnamon permeating the whole room, passing between them like wind. "But okay, then... partner." He intertwines their fingers, bringing them up to his lips and leaving a kiss over Jimin's knuckle. "Even if I think I love my alpha even more."

Jimin grins, sitting a little closer to him. "I don't know if my heart can take that."

Resting his hand on Jimin's cheek, Jeongguk grazes his chin and brings him in, two stars in his eyes where the light reflects. "You'll have to get used to it," he whispers, his lips brushing against Jimin's. They close around his bottom lip, sucking it in, his tongue getting past the seam. "But if you're my alpha now..." He kisses him tenderly, until Jimin melts in his palm. He hasn't felt this kind of happiness in a long time. "I want you to meet someone."

The café is quiet during this hour of the morning, when the early customers are leaving their tables and the lunch ones are still on the road. Jeongguk is grateful for it — stressed enough as he is, he doesn’t need any background noise to distract him from the conversations he’ll have. His purple modern hanbok is making him sweat a little, but it looked good with the amethyst earrings he’d decided to wear. At least he tied his hair in a bun — since it’s now long past his shoulders, it always gets sticky behind his neck after a few hours.

Hearing the shop’s door open, he looks up from the wooden table and sees his boyfriend walking in, his eyes searching for a familiar face in the room. Spotting him on the other side of the café, Jimin comes towards him with a smile on his lip. Jeongguk isn’t sure he ever saw him dressed this elegantly — a white long sleeved shirt, black slacks and leather booths. Long silver earrings, but none of his usual punk stuff; his hair is parted in the middle.

Jeongguk might be inappropriately affected by all of it.

“You look…” he starts, words dying on his tongue.

“Weird?” Jimin cringes.

“I would have said hot,” Jeongguk whispers, his stare frozen on the patch of skin revealed by the three undone buttons on his shirt.

Jimin smirks, taking a seat in front of him at the table. “You still have heat residuals?”

Jeongguk’s heat had come and gone in three days. He’d spent it alone, as he always did, splitting himself on toys bigger than Jimin’s cock and hoping it would be enough.

(It wasn’t.)

He clicks his tongue, “Just accept that you’re hot and go.”

Jimin sighs, “I feel hot in another way... couldn’t we have done this in November? I’m so stressed my pits are sweating. What if I drench my shirt?”

Jeongguk waves his hand mid-air, “You’ll be fine… besides, my mother should be here soon. You’ll see she’s… not as bad as you think.”

“You didn’t really paint the kindest picture of her.”

“Well, yeah, I’m biased, I’ve been living with her all my life… but in small doses, she’s bearable.”

Jimin doesn’t look too convinced, but it’s too late now to change his mind, Jeongguk thinks. He’d been okay with it when he’d proposed the date to him, and his mother had been extremely confused, but very interested indeed.

“What does she know about me?” Jimin asks, wringing his fingers.

“Not much… your name, your rank, your job, kinda… she didn’t really understand.”

“She doesn’t know my age?”

“It’s fine… her and my father are nine years apart, she’d be a hypocrite to say anything about that.”

“You know it’s not the same—”

“She’s here.”

Fixing the strap of her piton clutch on her shoulder, Jeongguk’s mother struts towards their table, smiling at the waiter who welcomes her, the heels of her shoes clicking on the floor. She’s wearing one of her usual summer dresses — forest green and white, matching well with her lily of the valley scent. She got her hair cut a few days ago, and it sits perfectly straight around her face in a short bob.

Feeling the scent coming closer, Jimin stands up along with Jeongguk, greeting her with a bow.

“Mother,” Jeongguk says quietly, meeting her gaze. She looks bright, in high spirits.

She nods her head shortly, her red-painted lips smiling.

“Mrs. Oh,” Jimin whispers, keeping his bow for a second longer.

“Please,” she says, offering her hand, “Call me Sunyoung.”

With a hint of uncertainty, Jimin takes her hand in his and lightly scents her wrist, waiting for her to do the same. She wraps her delicate fingers around his forearm, and Jimin’s shirt slips up, showing off more of his tattoos. Her gaze lingers on the skin for a moment, but she doesn’t comment on it.

“Ground coffee…” she murmurs, rounding the table and taking a seat beside Jeongguk. “Not a native scent, right?”

Jimin flushes, trying to keep his back straight, hands in his lap. “That’s right… I guess I must have some Ethiopian descendants I’m not aware of.”

She nods, slipping her phone out of her pocket to QR code the menu. “Interesting… never been on the continent. I always wanted to visit Kenya when I was a little girl — cannot remember why. Have you ever been there, Jimin-ssi?”

“Oh, no…” Jimin replies, his shoulders tense. “I’ve never been outside South Korea.”

“That is a pity,” Mrs. Oh states, “But you’re still young, you have time for that… young like my Jeongguk, isn’t so?”

It feels like a rhetorical question; Jeongguk knows Jimin looks evidently older than him, but he guesses his mother is keen on playing games.

Jimin smiles with his lips closed. “I will turn thirty in October, but… I guess it can still be considered young.”

“Careful with what you say,” she chides jokingly, “I am only ten years older than you.”

“Fourteen,” Jeongguk mutters under his breath, while his eyes scan the menu.

His mother side eyes him, a silent reprimand sealed on her lips.

But Jeongguk doesn’t want to create any more tension. “You’re already so young, mother… you don’t need to take years off your age.” He smiles, hoping to ease her.

Fortunately, he’s saved by the waiter asking them their orders, and any deep conversation stalls for a few minutes until their food is brought to the table.

“So, Jimin-ssi…” Mrs. Oh starts after taking a sip of her tea. “Jeongguk told me you work with computers. I am extremely terrible with technology, I admire people who can understand it in depth.”

Jimin quickly swallows the cake bite he’s munching on. “I am an assistant in an electronics store, but… yes, I am also a repair technician.”

“He actually does everything in that store,” Jeongguk adds, a crumble of biscuit still on his lips.

His mother looks genuinely interested, her tea forgotten on the saucer. “And did you study for it? Is it a passion you’ve been having for a long time?”

Jeongguk smells the slight stress in the alpha’s scent. “No, I… I changed a lot of jobs throughout my life. I wanted to pursue other studies, but… the circumstances never let that be possible.”

“How so?” Mrs. Oh frowns.

He coughs, fixing the neck of his shirt. “Well... as the oldest among my three siblings, I had to help my mother bring money home. I… never had time for university.”

“But what would you have pursued, if you could have?”

Jimin takes a sip of his coffee, his eyes crinkling in a soft smile. “I would have loved to study Fine Arts.”

Mrs. Oh’s gaze brightens. “Is that so? I have a degree in Fine Arts and Cultural Heritage.” She looks pleased, her hands placed one over the other near the edge of the table, her manicured nails reflecting the warm lights. “Are you still interested in the subject?”

“Very much,” he replies, evidently calmer. “Not from an academic point of view, but… I practice whenever I can.”

“Oh, so you are an artist?”

Jimin shakes his head lightly, black hair falling over his eyes. “I wouldn’t call myself one.”

“He is, mother,” Jeongguk insists, his voice soft. “He creates beautiful pieces.”

Jimin meets his eyes, smiling warmly, and the side of his boot finds his own shoe under the table.

“Would you mind showing me some of your works, Jimin-ssi? I am quite curious.”

“Uhm…” Jimin chuckles nervously, pushing his hair away from his face. “I am not sure they would be of your liking.”

“My appreciation wouldn’t change the charm of your creations.”

With a nod of his head, Jeongguk gives him a smile of support, and Jimin undoes the button of his right cuff, rolling up his sleeve. He shows off his skin, completely covered by ink. Mrs. Oh’s eyes widen, but her gaze skims with interest over the intricate designs.

“You drew these yourself?” she asks, studying the wolf on his forearm.

“I did,” he answers, “I drew all of my tattoos apart from this sleeve,” he touches his left arm.

Jeongguk loves the way Jimin is so proud of his tattoos. He wishes he could be like that too — not care about what others think of them, just show them off as a painting. He knows he’ll get there, one day.

“That’s fascinating,” his mothers says, and it catches Jeongguk off guard. She has always been against body modification — had yelled at him when he’d gotten his ears pierced. Perhaps she changed her mind; or she’s trying her best to be nice. Being fake is a skill she mastered well over the years. “Wearing your own creations on your body is a real sign of confidence… I like it. You love what you create: that’s important.”

“Thank you,” Jimin whispers, not knowing what to reply to the compliment. “I… I work really hard on them. I always fear I’ll get sick of them after a while… you will get it, as an artist yourself. We evolve, and our past works may not represent us anymore… but they were part of our life once, and I think that comes with the journey.”

“Oh… definitely,” Mrs. Oh says, sighing softly. “I could never keep my sculptures around at home. I would hate them, if I saw them every single day.”

“Perhaps then it’s a bit different…” Jimin tilts his head, glancing at his arm. “I see my tattoos as parts of myself… like they’ve always been there.”

Mrs. Oh nods, and she gets quiet for a while — immersed deep in her thoughts. Jeongguk finds Jimin’s eyes and the alpha looks calm. He rolled up his left sleeve too, and the tiger tattoo faces Jeongguk with its round face. A few minutes later, Jimin excuses himself, moving his chair back and heading to the bathroom.

The table is quiet for a moment, until Jeongguk’s mother takes the final sip of her tea and mutters, “He looks nice.”

Surprised, Jeongguk turns his head towards her. “What?”

“He is,” she repeats. “I think I like him. He’s… well dressed, quite well spoken. I could hear he comes from Gyeongsang but… Grandmother spoke just like him, didn’t she?” Jeongguk nods. “He is obviously not well-off, but… he doesn’t look like he’s in for the money. He loves you, doesn’t he?”

Jeongguk smiles, “He does.”

His mother breathes out heavily, her clutch in her lap. “Well… if you met your alpha, I won’t be the one stopping you from pursuing him, my dear.” She grazes his forearm with her fingertips, meeting his eyes. “But remember I still want grandchildren.”

Grinning, Jeongguk reassures his mother, “They will come… just wait a few more years, okay?”

Jimin comes back a moment after, sitting quietly on his chair, legs crossed at the knee.

“Well, boys… I have to go,” she states. Bowing her head at the alpha, she meets his eyes, and her gaze is gentle. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Jimin-ssi. I hope we will have more opportunities to get to know each other in the future.”

Jimin stands up, bowing to his middle. “I have no intention to disappear any time soon.”

She smiles, and it reaches her eyes. “I know.” She motions to walk away, but she stops right before the next table. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t give you my blessing.”

Mrs. Oh exits the bar as light as a snowflake, while Jeongguk still processes all the emotions he’s feeling.

“Gguk-ah…”

Jimin’s voice makes him look up, meeting warm brown eyes on the opposite end of the table. “Love, we… we did it.” The alpha takes his hand in his, but Jeongguk’s gaze is still frozen, looking somewhere close to the floor. “I mean… we still have to go through your father and maybe the rest of your family, but… we did it.”

The omega blinks a few times, eyes refocusing — but he heard everything. Jimin sounds so young, he thinks. So young, and a bit scared perhaps, but full of excitement. Maybe it comes with having survived this meeting, and the hot temperature in the café regardless of the air conditioning. But Jeongguk feels himself burning, and Jimin’s skin burns, and he wants to kiss him.

Teenager Jeongguk would have never dreamed of doing something like this, but he stored that old version of himself in a drawer, a corner that hasn’t been dusted in a long time.

Today’s Jeongguk stands up, tastes ground coffee on his lips, and lets himself be held in public in the arms of his lover.

The flooring feels hard under Jeongguk’s knees, and Jimin wraps the rope another time around his wrists. He’s tying them together simply, with fast movements he mastered over the years; they sit perfectly aligned on Jeongguk’s lap, over his naked thighs. The bamboo is painted red, and Jeongguk stares at Jimin’s swift fingers working the knots on his skin, the rope catching on the buckle of the alpha’s watch. Jeongguk had gifted it to him when he’d known Jimin had never owned a watch in his entire life — but starting with a Patek Philippe wasn’t an usual thing.

The jacket and slacks had also been Jeongguk’s present; a gift he’s currently regretting, since it’s the thing that started the swirl of images in his head and made him end up on his knees on the floor, completely naked, his face still bare and his ass leaking.

“I think I might have a suit kink,” he whispers as the alpha ties the last knot around his hands, making sure it’s not too tight.

Jimin smirks, and it goes right to Jeongguk’s groin; the jacket forgotten on the bed, the white shirt open to his mid-chest, the leather around his wrist, his belt already unbuckled, a bulge under his pants.

“You just like to ruin expensive things,” the alpha replies, holding Jeongguk’s jaw between his fingers. The glass of the watch grazes his chin and Jeongguk feels slick dripping down to his balls. “Sure you can keep yourself from slobbering all over me? The guests might see your spit on the cotton.”

But Jimin’s just talking shit, and his fingers already work the zip over his crotch. He lowers his slacks under his bum along with his underwear, and the view of his half-chub, head peeking out the foreskin, makes Jeongguk lick his lips hungrily.

Jimin holds Jeongguk from his ponytail, pulling it down to make him look up. “How do you want this?”

Jeongguk feels his saliva being swallowed now that his throat is tighter, “Rough,” he whispers, “Use me, sir.”

Shaking his head, Jimin grips his hair tighter. “The other one.”

Blinking slowly, Jeongguk murmurs, “Use me, alpha.”

Wrapping the hair around his fingers, Jimin brings Jeongguk closer and slaps his cheek with the head of his cock a few times. His free hand closes around the base, the watch glistening when it catches the light, and Jeongguk brings his tongue out, letting it loll over his bottom lip.

“Such a good toy,” Jimin mumbles, slipping the head inside the warmth of the omega’s mouth. Jeongguk relaxes his jaw, closing his eyes for a moment. He keeps his back straight, wrists in his lap, moaning when the tip of Jimin’s cock reaches the back of his throat. He’s been trained well over the past year and a half; his gag reflex almost nonexistent, he’s trying to work himself up to take a knot. Although he can never last more than a handful of seconds.

Gripping the wild strands on top of the omega’s head, Jimin thrusts into his mouth harder, going at it a few times. He lets Jeongguk breathe, but his nose is already starting to become runny. Searching for the tip with his lips, Jeongguk takes the whole length in his mouth, letting it go deep, past his tonsil. Jimin’s knot is starting to form, now even more easily since he’s close to his rut, and Jeongguk pushes his nose against the hairs on the alpha’s groin.

“Fuck…” Jimin moans, hearing the wet noises coming from Jeongguk’s mouth, feeling him swallow around his girth. He’s pushing his nose so hard he can’t breathe, only smelling coffee, sweat and sex, and Jimin keep him there with his grip. Jeongguk’s eyes fill with tears, and he taps on Jimin’s thigh to let him go.

But Jimin doesn’t release his hold, and Jeongguk feels his head going dizzy, his throat full, until he’s sure he can’t breathe and his ears start to ring. He doesn’t have control, his nose is clogged and—

Jimin pulls his head back, making him take a big inhale. But his saliva is everywhere, connecting his lips with the tip of the alpha’s cock, smeared all over his face; he has snot around his nostrils and over his top lip, and his eyes are bloodshot and full of tears.

“Mmh…” Jimin mumbles, pushing two ringed fingers inside the omega’s mouth. In a daze, Jeongguk sucks on them, smiling until his cheeks ache. “What do you say?”

Jimin presses on his tongue, spit all over his fingers, and replaces them with the head of his length.

“Thank you, alpha.”

Pleased, Jimin smiles with his lips closed, the ring of his central between his teeth, pushing his cock inside once more. He thrusts hard, makes the omega bury his nose in his skin, and lets him breathe. Repeats a few times, until his knot thickens in Jeongguk’s mouth, and it can barely get past his lips.

“Where do you want me to come?” Jimin asks while the omega licks around the head.

“Please fuck me,” he whispers, keeping eye contact, knowing he must look on the verge of desperation.

Jimin checks his watch with a glance, “We got no time… we’re already late for church.” The knot grazes Jeongguk’s lips, and he licks at the thick skin, smelling the strong scent permeating from it. “Maybe… if you’re good…” Jimin whispers, his eyes piercing, half-closed, “I’ll fuck you during the afterparty.”

Jeongguk’s gaze brightens, nodding with the little force he has.

“Good…” Jimin pets his hair, and Jeongguk feels a shiver when his fingers brush over his scalp. “I’ll come inside, then.”

In the back of his mind, Jeongguk wants to ask him to come on his face, but he knows that it would be a bitch to clean and he can’t afford to have spunk in his hair when he has to see his parents.

Jeongguk pushes his tongue out and lets Jimin take whatever he wants — his warmth, the wetness of his spit, the moans around his knot when it fills Jeongguk’s cheeks, so much that the omega doesn’t feel his jaw anymore. Soft skin slips in and out of his mouth, the veins on Jimin’s cock growing thicker, until Jeongguk feels the first squirt of bitterness on his tongue and Jimin pulls back, but the omega forces himself to take it all in once again, pushing his nose in the alpha’s groin and feeling his come directly go down his throat.

The knot is thick, so thick, and he can barely breathe, and before he knows it he starts coughing — Jimin easing him out. There’s soft rubs on the crown of his head, only the tip on his lips; Jimin is still shaking from the high, the last spurts dripping over Jeongguk’s tongue.

He feels come and spit all over his face; his eyes are ringed with tears, and he feels fucking amazing.

“You did so good, baby,” Jimin rasps from above him, caressing his wet cheek. “How are you feeling?”

Jeongguk blinks slowly a few times, leaning his cheek over the alpha’s bare thigh. Jimin still draws circles over his scalp, and he sighs happily. “I’m okay.” He swallows, and his throat hurts a bit. “Fantastic, actually.”

His voice feels all used up, and he wonders if he’ll be able to make the speech later.

Jimin crouches down after tucking himself back in, taking Jeongguk’s wrists in his hands. He starts to undo the knots, letting Jeongguk lean his head on his shoulder. “Want some proper aftercare? Draw you a bath?”

Jeongguk glances at the alpha’s watch, “We don’t have time… the ceremony starts in fifteen minutes.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Jimin replies, leaving the rope on the floor. “Your well-being comes before everything.”

Jeongguk smiles, “You’re sweet… but I’m okay, really.” He blinks, and he already feels his head starting to clear up. “I’ll just dress up and then we can go… I’ll do my makeup in the car.”

Taking the cream from the bedside table, Jimin opens the jar, balancing it over his thigh. “Do I get to drive your Mercedes then?” he asks while he rubs lotion over Jeongguk’s wrists.

“As long as you respect the speed limits.”

“Oh, come on,” Jimin laughs, screwing the cap back on. “We should already be on the road.”

Jeongguk clicks his tongue with a grin on his face, standing up from the floor. “That’s why being twenty minutes late won’t change anything.”

Jimin chuckles as he buckles up his belt. “I know you did this ‘cause you hate Christian ceremonies.”

Slipping on his shirt, Jeongguk turns around with fake offense on his face. “I did not!”

“You hate the smell of churches.”

“It’s because of all those candles!” He fixes his dress sock as his eyes search for his earrings. “And that incense never leaves those places… I don’t know how people can pray in peace there.”

“Maybe they’re just used to the scent,” Jimin says as he slips on his jacket.

Jeongguk checks himself in the mirror for the last time: his deep purple suit fits him perfectly, his golden necklace sits comfortably around his neck, his hoops are neither too big nor too small, and he combed his hair as much as he could. He’ll tie it up in a bun while they’re on the road.

With his makeup bag in one hand and his clutch in the other, he turns to the side, meeting Jimin’s gaze near the main door, where the Mercedes’ keys already dangle from his finger.

“I’m ready.”

Jeongguk feels the buttons of his pants pressing over his skin and he regrets taking the double serving of cake; but Jimin hated the fuzz that coated raspberries, and he didn’t want to leave the whole slice on the plate.

“I feel like Kaonashi after the chase scene in the bath house,” Jeongguk mumbles in Jimin’s ear, tipping his head to the left.

Jimin laughs quietly, pulling up both of his sleeves. “I think you could manage to offer that kind of gold to the workers ‘round here.”

Jeongguk snorts. “I’m probably a street kid compared to all these people.”

“Never seen so many diamonds in my entire life… why’s this stupid amount of jewels considered a sign of wealth, tell me again?”

Jeongguk slaps his forearm, “She’ll hear us, you know?”

They stare at the old woman on the opposite end of the table, who is busy entertaining a conversation about the beauty standards of Persian cats. Jeongguk never particularly enjoyed the shape of their noses.

Jimin rolls his eyes. “Maybe she’ll think twice about that ensemble of rubies, emerald and pearl necklaces the next time.”

Smirking, Jeongguk looks at him with mirth in his eyes. “You’re saucy when you wanna be.”

“Oh, honey, you haven’t seen the half of it,” he smiles. After a moment, the corner of his mouth falls a bit, and his gaze sets on the used napkin close to his wine glass. “You know…” he whispers, his fingers grazing the inner side of Jeongguk’s thigh. “When I was younger, I could never express my queerness… I’m an alpha, you know? I had to behave like a man, or whatever that bullshit means. But… when I finally moved out, I could just… be myself.” His gaze finds Jeongguk, and the hint of a smile reblooms on his face. “And it was hard at the start… you know, with money. Worse than it ever was when I lived in Busan, but… here, things are better. I learned how to be a man — an alpha — without losing my femininity… and, I never told you this but... I think you taught me a lot about that too. With how you present yourself, how you show your vulnerability… thank you, really.”

Jeongguk grins, and it reaches his eyes. “I didn’t realize it... but I’m happy I could help, as much as you helped me. I…” His hand finds Jimin’s skin, and their fingers intertwine under the tablecloth. “I think we’re really good for each other.”

Jimin gives the briefest kiss to Jeongguk’s shoulder. “I think so too.” He straightens his back, like he’s about to stand up. “And that’s why, in honor of our love… I think we should dance a few songs together.”

Jeongguk’s eyes bug out, his hands trying to stop his partner. “Please, hyung… I don’t wanna cause a scene.”

“Come on… no one will care.”

“We’re the only queer couple here, I… there’s so many rich people, and you know they’re all about tradition and—”

“The world doesn’t change by itself, Jeongguk-ah.” Jimin holds his hand a bit tighter. “People change it. And if they never saw two men dancing together during a wedding… I think it’s time for them to experience such beauty, before it’s time for them to go.”

With a sharp tug, Jimin makes both of them stand up, their chairs grating on the wooden boards. The Persian cat woman turns towards them, but they don’t mind her as they walk down towards the dance floor, fingers threaded together.

Chaoxing is dancing drunkenly with her just-married husband, a guy named Namjoon she’d met on a website about Contemporary Korean artists when she was attending her bachelor at the Sorbonne. She looks happier than ever, and Jeongguk smiles at her widely when she meets his eyes, slurring something in Mandarin he doesn’t catch.

With two familiar hands on his waist, Jeongguk falls easily into the slow rhythm of the song. It’s an old ballad, probably from the ‘80s, one of those songs his mother used to sing along to when he was a child and Sunday mornings were considered to be family time. He tries not to look at their surroundings — the tables, the paper lights, the other dancers, the waiters and their flutes of Champagne.

But it’s beautiful. This atmosphere of love, of festivity — all the people you care about around you. Jeongguk likes this. It feels right.

“You know,” he whispers, his hands resting over Jimin’s shoulders, the thin fabric of his shirt. “I was thinking… all of this holds a bit of magic.”

“You mean this wedding?”

“Yeah…” He looks up at the fairy lights hanging over their heads, along the trees. “It’s a celebration of love. I… I like the idea behind it. Not the whole pyramid it’s structured upon, but… just the ceremony. I love that.”

Jimin smiles, slightly red in the cheeks; a bit from the emotions, a bit from the alcohol. “Think you’d like a day like this of your own?”

“I think I would…” Jeongguk confesses, his cheek almost leaning on the alpha’s shoulder. “One day. Not soon, but… one day.” His heart rate starts going up, suddenly feeling his hands starting to sweat. “But, I’ve been thinking…” Jimin glances up at him, bringing him a bit closer by the waist. “You know how I’ll finish my master’s really soon.” The alpha nods. “Well, it’s… it’s a really important step for me. It’s the start of a new chapter, and… I was thinking that maybe… it could be something more. Maybe… maybe we could have a little home of our own.” He can feel his heartbeat in his ears. Jimin’s eyes soften. “What do you think?”

Taking a big inhale, Jimin nods. His eyes look glassy, and his fingers rub the small of Jeongguk’s back, over his shirt. “You’d make me the happiest person on Earth.”

Grinning until his cheeks hurt, Jeongguk feels his mascara run down his cheek as a single tear falls from his eye; a tear of joy.

With the greatest courage he can find and the euphoria that a young heart holds, Jeongguk kisses his alpha in the middle of the wedding’s dance floor.