Archive of Our Own

When Jisung started college, he thought it’d be the same as high school. Swing! Hit! Homerun! He’d go to all his classes, study hard, pass his exams, and lead an active social life.

What nobody told him was that, without the weight of his parents’ presence on his shoulders, he would not, in fact, be able to wake up for an 8 a.m. Or 9 a.m. 10 a.m. is pushing it, and eleven o’clock is basically lunchtime, so no dice. After the first semester, he’s tried to keep it to afternoon and evening classes.

But then that starts to cut into his social life.

Thankfully, he and his randomly matched roommate, Felix, hit it off right from the start. An education major and dance minor, and probably the most baby-faced, sunshine-radiating, happy-go-lucky alpha he’s ever met.

He didn’t believe it at first. (No offense to Felix, he’s a good guy.)

“I know you’re surprised,” Felix had laughed while moving his things into their shared dorm. The entire building was alphas only.

“N-no, I’m—” Jisung was (is) a terrible liar, but he also couldn’t talk because everyone was always surprised when he told them that he was an alpha. Him. One hundred seventy centimeters and sixty kilograms. Barely any muscle that sometimes even his own legs give out under him. He literally could not judge.

But anyways, he’s glad to have someone like Felix with him from the start. He’s a little more responsible and would sometimes wake Jisung up for his morning classes if he also had one, and they even shared an apartment at the start of their second year. And not being super social himself, Felix also introduced him to some of the friends he made.

Hwang Hyunjin, omega. Junior, one year ahead of them. Co-captain of the dance club, and dance major. They didn’t really get along at first, but it was all misunderstandings in the end. And also because Jisung wasn’t really interested in being friends with Hyunjin when Felix introduced him to his other friend.

Lee Minho, another junior. Captain of the dance club, dance major, and the handsomest man that Jisung had ever laid eyes on. A god amongst men, for sure. When they first met, he made Jisung nervous because of how good-looking he was, so Jisung kind of shied away from him, but then he learned that Minho was a huge nerd and liked all of the same things that he did, and they became practically inseparable.

Sometimes Jisung would accompany Minho to late night dance sessions, or Minho would surprise him in the studio with snacks and good distraction. Jisung never had any close friends in high school, but now he found himself slowly falling into place with the four of them, but Minho especially.

And the reverse was the same: Jisung introduced Felix to two of his classmates that had become semi-regular on-campus acquaintances.

Seo Changbin, a junior and an alpha who was Jisung’s TA for one of his intro to audio engineering classes, and Bang Chan, a senior and an alpha who Jisung happened to meet because he lost track of time in the studio and went over his timeslot, and then Chan showed up for his allotted time and… well.

If Jisung grew close with Minho, then obviously Felix had to do something similar. Except he kicked it up a notch and announced to Jisung one evening that he and Chan were dating.

“How does that even work?” Jisung cocked his head in confusion. He knew there was alpha-alpha porn, but at the same time, he’d never slept with anyone before. Would it even feel good? Could an alpha take a knot?

Turns out yeah, with enough prep, anything was possible.

“He’s so sweet, Sungie,” Felix had gushed. “Yesterday he ate me out for an hour, and then I fucked him until he was crying.”

Ah, sweet chivalry. Kept alive by the tenacity of man.

🍦🍦🍦

Partway through the spring semester of their sophomore year, Felix ends up moving out and in with Chan. Jisung is kind of sad but partially grateful because now he doesn’t need to worry about being sexiled several times a week, and also because Minho offered to take his place.

“My lease is ending soon anyway,” he shrugged when Jisung complained. Score! Problem solved, just like that.

Felix moves out, Minho moves in, everything is handy dandy.

Except merely three weeks after settling in, something very unexpected happens in the newly formed Lee-Han household.

Minho presents.

As an omega.

It happens as all things do: at 9 a.m. on a Wednesday morning. Jisung first notices that something is up when he wakes up and there’s the lingering smell of sweet citrus in his room and out in the hallway, but he chocks it up to the candles that Minho sometimes burns.

He sits down for breakfast and crunches on his cereal once, twice, before noticing that Minho’s door is still closed. Odd. Strange. Not like him at all. He has a 10 a.m. on Wednesdays and is always up before Jisung anyways.

Like a good roommate, he goes over and knocks on his door, calling, “Minho?”

Silence, hanging heavy in the air. Jisung is about to turn away and let him sleep when he hears a soft moan and his name.

“Jisungie.” It’s Minho, and he sounds like he’s in pain. Jisung panics a little.

“Minho? Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah, I—fuck. Call Hyunjin, please.”

“Do you need anything? Are you in pain—”

“Call Hyunjin!”

Jisung jumps at the sudden raise in his voice. Minho never talks to him like that. Should he call Hyunjin and then go in? Just call Hyunjin?

In the time that he’s stewing in his brain, Minho groans again, obviously in discomfort, and Jisung starts to really panic.

“I-I’ll call him, hyung! I’m calling him!” He runs back to the kitchen table for his phone. “Don’t worry!” He hears more pained sounds while his phone rings.

Hyunjin comes over in record time. Like, law breaking record. When Jisung opens the door, still panicking and worrying that Minho might be dying or something, Hyunjin just pushes past him, a duffle bag in one hand, and goes straight to Minho’s room without a word. The door opens, a waft of eye-rolling, sweet smelling tangerines comes flying out, and then the door clicks shut.

He’s worried, so he stays in the apartment for a while until he hears an unmistakable whimper and then he has to leave, for his sanity, and for Minho’s privacy.

He stays the night with Felix and Chan, who both seem to know what’s up the moment Jisung texts them.

Minho’s presenting. Late.

As an omega.

Jisung’s friend—probably best friend—is presenting as an omega.

Jisung’s very hot and very single best friend is presenting as an omega.

Fuck.

Fuck.

He really doesn’t want to believe it at first, but he also can’t ignore the huge elephant in the room: he’s an alpha, Minho is an omega, and they live together.

Shit.

After getting the go-ahead from Hyunjin, Jisung braves going back home the next day to get some clothes so he can spend the rest of the week at Felix’s. Or however long a presentation heat lasts. Oh fuck. How long do they last?

He knocks on his own front door like an idiot, and Hyunjin says as much with his eyes when he answers.

“Did you just knock on your own door?”

Jisung flushes. “I-I didn’t know if it was safe to come in!” From outside, he can smell just how much sweeter the apartment is. He can almost taste it on his tongue. “How—how is he?”

Is it hot outside?

“He’s sleeping right now. Presentation is never easy.” Hyunjin makes a face, like he’s contemplating something. But he shakes his head and stands aside and says, “Are you staying with Felix and Chan?”

“Yeah.” Jisung dares to take a hesitant step inside. It smells so fucking good. Probably strongest in Minho’s room. Oh god. Wait.

Is this what their apartment is going to be like from now on?

“Stop freaking out. I can feel you sweating on my own skin. It’ll be over in a few days and then this place will stop smelling like oranges.” Under his breath, Jisung swears that he hears Hyunjin mumble, “Hopefully.”

Hopefully? What is that supposed to mean?

To be honest, he knew that Minho was unpresented. Even betas go through some kind of stage, and Minho was honest right from the start. But Jisung thought that he’d be an alpha. And so did everyone else.

The apartment smelling like mandarins constantly isn’t really an issue because Jisung prides himself on being able to control his urges. Also because he just gets anxious when omegas release their scent and it makes him think that they’re in pain or trouble or something. But he knows that other alphas are not like that, and that’s what worries him.

What if Minho gets treated like shit? Will he have to fight off other alphas? Don’t get him wrong, Jisung will defend Minho if it comes down to it, but… more verbally than physically. He’s not a big guy, okay! And at least he knows it, too.

Jisung scuttles to his room, straining every muscle in his eyes to not look in the direction of Minho’s bedroom. Hyunjin tails close behind and leans in the doorway as he rifles through his closet.

“You know,” the older man starts, “you could stay here, if you wanted to.”

“What?” Jisung drops the shirt in his hands. Hyunjin just shrugs.

“I think your scent would help calm him down. If you’re okay with it, that is.”

What the fuck. What the fuckfuckfuck.

“You really think so?” Jisung half laughs, half chokes. He’s never helped an omega in heat before. Is presenting a real heat? Oh god. Wait. He’s never sex before! And Minho’s probably had lots of sex! Oh shit, he’s going to look like a fool.

Should he tell Hyunjin? No, that would out himself as a virgin. But it’s for Minho, so….

Hyunjin comes in the room proper and says to Jisung in a whisper-quiet voice, “Don’t tell him I told you this, but after you left yesterday, I went and got one of your hoodies from your hamper and Minho immediately passed out holding it. It’s clean, don’t worry, or, like, as clean as it was, but he’s been scenting it this whole time and I just think that if he could scent you then it would make this whole thing pass over quicker.”

Scenting? Is that really going to help? Aren’t omegas super horny during their heats? Would he be able to withstand that kind of pressure?

“I can stay here to supervise, or whatever,” Hyunjin offers.

Minho’s been sniffing his hoodie since yesterday. His hoodie. Does he really bring his hyung that much comfort? Minho isn’t really a touchy person, but he does lounge back during their movie nights and will oftentimes rest his feet on Jisung’s legs.

Fuck it.

Jisung gulps. “C-can we do, like, a trial run?”

“Sure.” Hyunjin snorts. “I’ll meet you in the living room.” He leaves, and Jisung waits until he hears Minho’s door open and close before rushing to the living room and sitting on the couch, back straight and arms placed stout in his lap.

He’s experienced maybe one omega in preheat before. And he’s smelled plenty of omegas before. But nothing really compares to the way the entire apartment smells right now. Ripe tangerines that taste sweet even with the peel. Jisung can feel the sugar on his teeth, on his tongue, sticking to his lips and his finger pads. It’s so pungent that even with a good scrubbing, the scent will linger for hours, probably days.

He takes shallow breaths, eyes fixed straight ahead, blood pounding through every vein in his body. The flat is so silent that he can hear Hyunjin’s soft whispers from down the hall, and then he hears what reasonably has to be Minho’s voice, but it’s higher than usual. Squeaky, almost.

A door creeks open. Jisung sits straighter, stiffer. Oranges come rolling down the hall. Hyunjin is there first, so—oh shit.

Oh.

Shit.

He’s wearing his hoodie.

Minho is wearing his hoodie. Too big on Jisung, and too big on Minho. The shoulders hang off of him, sleeves covering his hands, and hood pulled up over his head.

Fuck.

Jisung gulps. He’s so fucked. And Minho smells so. Fucking. Good.

Fuck!

He doesn’t say anything. Can’t, really. Not when his mouth is hung open in stupendous awe at the sight in front of him. Minho looks tired but his skin is glistening. Glowing. And he doesn’t say anything either, doesn’t look away.

Hyunjin holds onto his arm as they take one slow step, then another, closer to the sofa, and with each silent footfall, Jisung’s heart thumps loudly.

He keeps perfectly statuesque even as Hyunjin is helping Minho to sit onto the couch. The cushions dip, and he can feel the buzzing presence of another person right next to him, but still Jisung keeps looking on ahead like they’re still in front of him.

“Okay,” Hyunjin says, backing away with Minho absent from his arms. “I’m gonna go sit at the table, and if anything happens, just know that I could beat you in a fight, Han Jisung.” Jisung would comment on that statement if he could even function. But instead, he lets Hyunjin leave to occupy the dining room right in back of the couch, because honestly, he’s got bigger things to worry about.

Namely Minho, the freshly-presented omega sitting right at his side.

He wants to wrap his arm around him like he does when Minho’s sick, but his muscles won’t move. Maybe he can try and release a calming scent? But how? His heart’s beating a million miles a minute. If anything, he’s just going to release a smell that makes everyone on edge.

Minho sighs and Jisung jumps a little, then his hyung lays his head gently on his shoulder, and Jisung’s entire body relaxes, unsure of why it was so strung up in the first place.

“Hi, Jisungie,” Minho mumbles, so soft and so light that his words could be carried off by a spring breeze. His scent has deepened a little.

Jisung swallows and murmurs back, “Hi, hyung.” He dares a glance over his shoulder and finds Minho resting peacefully, eyes closed and lashes straight, lips slightly parted and tinted the sweetest shade of red that matches the flush on his cheeks. Each breath that he takes is silently labored, like he wants to seem better than he probably feels.

“How, um.” Jisung gulps this time. “How are you feeling?”

“Mmh. Better now that you’re here.” He nuzzles in closer, a little higher, a little nearer to Jisung’s scent gland. “My head hurts.”

“Do you want me to get you anything? Painkillers? Water?”

Minho chuckles, airy and out of breath. “You’re sweet. I’m okay right now.”

Sweet. Minho’s word choice burns a hole in Jisung’s chest.

“Is there anything I can do to help you?” From the dining room, Hyunjin scoffs, and it sends Jisung into a panic. “N-not like that! But, like…. I dunno.”

“Cute,” Minho murmurs, seemingly unconsciously. “But there is something. I don’t know if you’ll be comfortable with it, though….”

“I’m fine,” Jisung quickly supplies. “Whatever you need.” Just ask.

There’s a tense pause between them. Well, maybe just on Jisung’s part. But Minho stays silent for a while before finally saying in the quietest whisper, “Can…. Would it be okay if I scent you?” He says it so soft for just the two of them, not even Hyunjin being able to hear, even with how close the dining table is to them.

“Oh my god,” Jisung says out loud rather than the thought staying in his head.

Minho scenting him.

Minho. Scenting him.

Minho, who smells like a citrus orchard and salty air—orange groves by the sea—wants to scent him. Him!

“Jisung?”

“Yeah, sure.” Jisung’s hand tightens on his waist. (When did that happen?) “Go ahead. Whatever you need.” He tugs the collar of his shirt out of the way and bares his neck, stares straight ahead, eyes bugging out.

There’s another heightened moment between them where Jisung is fairly certain his heart stopped working right because it’s not supposed to beat so shallow, right? Or maybe it’s beating so fast it’s not registering? Is he having a heart attack? Is it the left side of his body that isn’t supposed to feel right? Or the right?

Minho hesitates at first, which only adds to make Jisung more nervous. But then it’s like a lunge: he practically dives into Jisung’s neck, buries his nose just an inch shy of his scent gland, and inhales deep. His breath is shaky when he exhales, and it’s hot and wet on Jisung’s neck and sends goosebumps cascading along his arms, his legs, his chest and his back.

“Fuck,” he swears he hears Minho curse before their skin is touching proper.

With every breath, Minho seems to get closer, lips ghosting over Jisung’s perspiring skin, mouth moving just a hair overtop, teeth gnashing like he wants to bite—to lick, suck, bruise.

“I-is this helping?” Jisung’s spine hurts from how straight he’s sitting.

“Mhm.” Another deep breath and a bitten-back whimper. Minho’s scent quickly eases out into something tangy and sweet, alluring and eye-rolling. “You smell nice.”

Oh fuck.

“Really?” Jisung tries to play it cool.

“Yeah.” Minho takes another breath, sends a shiver down Jisung’s body. “Like vanilla whip. Fresh. Or toasted marshmallows. I like it.” He shifts to just resting his head on Jisung’s shoulder, no longer properly scenting him, and giving him a moment to breathe.

So Minho likes his scent? Since when?

“Sorry for borrowing your hoodie.” Minho snuggles into the collar of it.

How could Jisung say anything other than “it’s alright” when his hyung is looking like that? Wearing his clothes because it brings him comfort? He really had no idea that he had this kind of effect on Minho.

“Can we lay down?” Minho asks with a yawn. “‘M sleepy….”

“Of course, hyung.” When Minho asks him something, Jisung stops fretting in his head and instead focuses on the man in front of him. Whether or not he realizes it is yet to be determined.

But he holds Minho close and brings them to lay on the cushions, Minho nestling close to the crook of his neck, and Jisung lying back and closing his eyes, awash in blue skies and sweet oranges. The added pressure on his chest is nice. Comforting. Natural.

He closes his eyes as Minho’s breathing shallows and evens out, head drifting off to the sound of soft snoring. He doesn’t know how long they sleep for, but what Jisung does notice is that Hyunjin is gone by the time they wake up (with a camera roll full of blackmail, which he’ll figure out later), and only a text from him that reads he’s in good hands. Let me know if you guys need anything.

Minho is still asleep on his chest, long eyelashes laced with diamond tears. Jisung squeezes him tighter while feeling something else pulling in his chest but ignores it. Right now, all that matters is Minho is comfortable, and he’ll do anything to make sure of that.

He drifts off again, this time for the rest of the night and until the morning sun begins to shine.

🍦🍦🍦

Turns out presentation isn’t as bad as Jisung thought it would be. At least, not with Minho. All he wanted to do was cuddle and scent him, and after that first day Jisung was perfectly fine with it. He did whimper and whine in his sleep sometimes, but all Jisung had to do was bust a blood vessel in his brain and poof! Nothing to worry about!

Minho presenting as an omega was a bit of a shock because of how late it was, but also because, almost immediately after it was over, he asked Jisung if he wanted him to move out.

“What?” he all but shouted in surprise.

“Just…. If it makes you uncomfortable, you know—I don’t really mind.” Minho’s cheeks were flushed and he was still wearing Jisung’s hoodie.

“I’m not gonna kick you out, hyung, just because you’re an omega now. It doesn’t change anything. We’re still best friends.”

“Right.” Minho’s expression softened out with a warm smile. “Sorry. I don’t know why I was worrying.”

“It’s okay, hyung. And if you ever need, like… space… or something, I can stay with Lix and Channie-hyung. They don’t mind.”

“I’m sure your eardrums would, though,” Minho laughed. He certainly hit the nail on the head with that, but if it turned out that his heats were bad, then Jisung really didn’t mind fleeing the apartment for however long it lasted. Hyunjin could help him. Maybe. Possibly. But definitely not anybody else. No, they wouldn’t be able to take care of him properly, not like….

Not like Hyunjin would. Maybe.

🍦🍦🍦

A few weeks after presenting, Minho starts acting strange, like he’s burning to ask Jisung something but is holding back every time. Until Jisung finally confronts him prior to one of their movie sessions.

“I just, uh— What about when you have ruts?”

Oh. Right. Omegas have heats, alphas have ruts. Duh. But Jisung doesn’t have to worry about that because he’s never—

Oh fuck.

“I-I—” He flushes crimson, hopefully shielded by the darkness of the room. How is he supposed to tell Minho that he doesn’t really go into rut while also not outing himself as a virgin?

But Minho wouldn’t judge him, it’s not in his nature. And best friends share this kind of stuff, right?

“I-I don’t really get them because, uh, um. I’ve, uh, n-never—y’know, uh. Slept with—anyone.”

“Oh.” The TV hums, the LEDs static. Jisung stares at the screen while feeling Minho’s gaze boring into him.

Then the mood shifts, Minho continues swiping through the selections, and comments, “That’s okay. Sex is overrated.”

Haha, yeah, totally. Jisung chuckles nervously.

Yeah….

🍦🍦🍦

Turns out Minho presenting as an omega is quite possibly the worst thing to ever happen to Jisung. Not because it’s ruining his life, no. In fact, it hasn’t changed anything about them living together. Minho’s heats are extremely mild and all he wants to do is crawl into Jisung’s arms and scent him. Jisung can still go to class and keep his schedule, and he just brings back snacks and things that Minho requests when he’s out.

No, Minho presenting as an omega is ruining his life because of everyone else.

Minho is handsome. Even a blind person knows it, so unfortunately, that means everyone on campus is aware of his looks. And now that he’s officially presented, well….

It gets on Jisung’s nerves because he sees the way people look at him when Minho’s back is turned. There’s been some times when they’re in the library or a café on campus and Jisung is bristling the entire time because of how many people are looking at him like that.

Why are they looking at him like that? That’s his—! His….

Roommate.

Yeah. His roommate. His roommate. How dare they look at Minho like he’s a piece of meat! His roommate! They need to start looking somewhere else or, y’know, Jisung will….

Well, he’ll get back to that later. He’s not jealous, though, no, sir. He’s just looking out for his best friend and roommate. That’s all this is. He just wants what’s best for Minho and doesn’t want to see him taken advantage of.

But unfortunately, this new emotion isn’t only reserved for strangers on campus. It also rears itself while he and Minho are out with Chan and Felix at dinner. A double date, but also not really.

“You know you’ve been glaring daggers at Channie the entire night,” Felix says while they’re washing their hands in the bathroom.

“No, I haven’t,” Jisung is quick to defend. He hasn’t. Not more than once, two times tops. Chan has Felix, he keeps having to remind himself. Him smiling at Minho is just friendly and doesn’t mean anything. They’re friends. They’re all just friends. Hanging out, smiling at each other, making each other laugh. Friendly stuff.

Before they head back out into the restaurant, Felix adds, “Has anything happened since Minho presented? You do seem a little more defensive of him.”

That’s because Felix doesn’t see the way other people look at him. He would be extremely protective of Chan if he were an omega, and vice versa.

“It’s just that some guys can be real assholes, y’know?”

“Yeah.” Felix looks at him with a curious expression, like the gears are turning in his head about something. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

Jisung is only protective because it’s in his nature. That’s why he always opens his arms when Minho wants to snuggle or gives him his worn hoodies because Minho likes to wear them and totally not because it leaves his scent on the older man and thereby deterring other alphas from coming too close.

He’s looking out for Minho. His friend and his roommate. That’s what friends do.

Felix later texts him a photo he secretly took of Jisung glaring across the table at Chan with the caption you look cute when you’re jealous. But what the photo also captures is a moment in time when Minho’s eyes are on Jisung, sparkling under the warm lighting of the restaurant, and he just stops and stares and stares and stares.

Does Minho always look at him like that? When Jisung isn’t paying attention? It must just be because he likes his scent or something. Yeah, Minho did say it was calming to him, so he’s probably just really relaxed in the photo. That’s probably why he wasn’t aware of the way Chan was constantly smiling and cracking jokes with him. (But he does the same thing with everyone else.)

“What’re you looking at?” Minho asks, fresh out of his nightly shower and wearing one of Jisung’s hoodies.

“Nothing!” Jisung tucks his phone in his pocket. He’s not a jealous person. Minho is his friend who also happens to be an omega that alphas could easily take advantage of. Jisung would know, he’s had plenty of experience with other alphas, and some of them can be downright deplorable. He doesn’t want that for Minho. “Nothing.”

“Okay.” His hyung flops on the couch and curls right into his side. “Your turn to pick.”

Jisung sits back and Minho follows. He swipes to the movie app. “What’re you in the mood for?”

“Mmh, whatever you want to watch. I’m kinda sleepy.” He yawns and nestles in. Jisung is kind of sleepy, too.

He puts on a movie they’ve already seen before as some background noise, and only a few minutes into the intro, he hears Minho snoring softly on his shoulder and feels his warm breath breeze over his scent gland. Jisung closes his eyes, too, just for a second, only to rest them. He ends up falling asleep, remote still in one hand, and Minho’s waist in the other.

He expects to wake up in the middle of the night or in the morning like they always do when they fall asleep on the couch, but instead he wakes up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat. A fever most likely, but his head doesn’t feel hot. His body does, but that’s because of the searing body pressed into his side.

It’s Minho that’s on fire, and his lips are quivering right over Jisung’s scent gland. He’s breathing hard, moist against his skin. He lets loose an unrestrained moan, and something zings through Jisung’s body.

“Hyung?” he quietly calls.

“Jisungie.” Breathy. Airy. Whiny. Desperate. He feels it when Minho chews on his own lip, holding himself back from something.

What is happening? Is he going into heat? But it’s so different from the other times. Usually he’s not burning up, maybe a fever here and there, and sure, he likes to scent Jisung when he’s in heat, but it never has this affect on Jisung. Minho never loses control of his scent like he’s doing now. Pumping out pheromones that are making Jisung salivate and working himself into overdrive to hold back.

“Jisungie,” Minho whines again. He rubs his cheek right into his scent gland and—

A growl threatens to rumble out of Jisung’s throat, but he does everything in his power to stifle it. What is happening to him? He’s never been like this before! He’s never growled, never had the urge to sink his teeth into someone and hoping that their skin tastes saccharine and tart like fresh nectar.

“Hyung,” he grits, fingers digging into soft flesh.

Minho gasps against him. “Jisung.”

He wants to consume him in a way he’s never felt about anyone before, and it’s taking him very careful, very precise control over his muscles to stop himself from pouncing and taking what he wants. This is Minho. His hyung. His best friend. Someone who looks out for him, takes care of him.

But he’s also someone that Jisung wants.

“Mmh. Jisungie.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. He’s never had a rut before, but from what he’s heard, this definitely might be one. Or maybe it’s just Minho releasing his omega pheromones and Jisung’s inner alpha (his very horny and very virgin alpha) is ready to burst through the surface.

“M-Minho,” he tries again, teeth chattering, voice shaking. His nerve ends are on fire. “W-we should go to bed.”

“Wan’ you,” Minho slurs. He presses a hot hand right against Jisung’s heart. God.

Jisung shakes his head and squeezes his eyes tight. “This isn’t right. You’re not thinking straight. I-it’s your heat.” He cannot pop a boner right now. It’ll totally ruin their friendship.

“It’s not my heat. Well, it is, but it’s not contributing.” Minho sits back, eyes glazed but looking otherwise coherent. He shrinks back and asks, “Is this too sudden?”

Jisung’s heart twists at that. “No! No. God no, Minho.” He scooches closer, something inside of him urging to protect. “It’s—okay, it’s a little sudden, but—”

But why would Minho want him? He’s not the biggest alpha by a mile and then some. Someone with Minho’s looks could get anyone he wanted—handsome, experienced. Why does he want Jisung? What does Jisung have that other alphas don’t?

“I can hear you thinking, Sungie.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Does he like Minho like that? Since when did Minho start liking him like that? “How long?”

Minho cocks his head with a cute, confused look on his face. “How long what?”

“H-how long have you… y’know.” Jisung waves his hands around.

“Uh.” Minho blushes. A first. Cheeks crimson, and ears singeing. His neck, too, where it dips below the collar of his t-shirt. “Just… a while. Did you not know?”

Well, Jisung really wouldn’t be surprised if Minho gave him obvious hints that just went right over his head. And then it clicks.

Minho jumped at the opportunity to move in when Felix moved out.

He wants to scent him during his heats.

He always wants to cuddle when they watch movies.

He wears Jisung’s worn hoodies even when he isn’t in heat.

He loves Jisung’s scent.

“Oh.” It was so obvious.

Minho cracks a timid smile. “You always have been a little oblivious.”

“Why me?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, why do you like me? Me? You’re handsome, Minho. Actually, fuck, you’re hot. You could literally have anyone on campus. So why me? How am I different from all the other alphas who have been trying to get your attention?”

“Really? Well for starters, those other alphas aren’t my best friend.” He inches in, too, until their knees are knocking together.

“Those other alphas wouldn’t let me scent them without wanting anything in return.” He takes Jisung’s hands, soft and smooth, and rubs circles into his knuckles.

“Those other alphas don’t smell half as good as you. Sweet and serene. Not overpowering, and just the right amount of sugar.” The room slowly fills with tangerines and a hint of cream. Something that salivates on the tip of the tongue.

“Have you ever heard how compatible mates will have complimenting scents?” Jisung nods. His throat feels dry.

He’s heard. Not just two scents that go well together, but two scents that mix well and create something new. A new flavor or a new smell. Minho smells like fresh orange juice, and Jisung knows that his scent is a little sweet considering he’s an alpha. Most alphas have a heady or strong scent while his is more subdued and sweeter.

He’s not really sure if his and Minho’s scents mix well, but they smell good to him, especially when Minho releases more of the orange peel part of his scent.

Minho shyly says, “I think ours go pretty well together. Don’t you think?” He’s holding Jisung’s hand properly now, both of his curled around one of Jisung’s. Minho’s always had small hands, and Jisung wonders what it’d feel like to have Minho’s fingers entwined with his own.

Jisung sits up straight and nods, holds Minho’s hands with both of his, too. “I love your scent, hyung, don’t get me wrong. But—you know I’ve never, y’know. Had sex before. I-I’ve never helped an omega in heat before.”

People have told him that omegas are super needy when in heat. But Minho hasn’t really been like that in the past. All he usually wants to do is nuzzle into the crook of Jisung’s neck and be fed snacks.

Even now, Minho doesn’t seem like he’s really burning up anymore than usual. He seems to want more attention, but is it because he’s finally confessing?

Jisung’s had plenty of crushes before, and he had one on Minho when they first met, but he swallowed it the more he grew to know Minho and see that his friendship meant more than some silly crush. Besides, someone like Minho could never feel the same way.

Oh, how wrong Jisung was about that.

A gentle smile crosses Minho’s lips. “You know I don’t care about things like that.”

“But what if I can’t satisfy you?”

“You know we don’t have to have sex, right? We can just cuddle. Or I could blow you.” Minho snickers when Jisung bristles with embarrassment.

“T-that’s—” Is he really about to say no to a blowjob?

“Jisungie, I really don’t care if you’re a virgin, but I do care if this is something you don’t want to do.”

“No! I do, I do. Are you kidding? Minho, you—” There really isn’t another person that Jisung would rather share his first time with. Minho wouldn’t judge him. He’d guide him, let him know what feels good, and what doesn’t.

And he’s so patient all the time, already used to Jisung’s tendency to overthink the smallest things. This wouldn’t be any different. Plus, just thinking of knotting him is making Jisung a little woozy. If Minho wants it! That is.

“I—” Jisung wets his lips and swallows his nerves. “Can we start slow? Like, you just scent me?”

“Sure.” Minho brightens at the request.

He keeps his grip on Jisung’s hands as he moves into a position already so familiar between them. Minho’s nose against his neck is nothing new and feels so right. Like he’s always belonged there.

Jisung’s skin prickles, and his back is rigid, and Minho’s hot skin on his makes him jump a little, but he settles out quickly.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Minho scents him like he always does, fingers tickling on the other side of Jisung’s neck. He inhales, deep, before exhaling shakily. There’s a soft whine hidden somewhere under his breath; a whine that makes something crack in Jisung’s brain that he’s pretty sure shouldn’t be making such noises.

Minho continues to breathe him in and out, in and out, each set more labored than the last. He’s got a firm hold on Jisung’s neck now, and his lips brush over Jisung’s scent gland periodically.

“Jisungie,” Minho mewls in a similar way to how Jisung woke up. He grinds his hips as he starts to lose control of himself, and Jisung has never had the urge to jump someone before, but Minho is hard and rubbing himself against him, and Jisung’s pretty sure he’s not going to make it out of this with the same amount of braincells he started with.

He grinds his teeth as Minho grows bolder with his movements. What start as hesitant rolls turn harsh, and Jisung feels his own pants start to tighten, his own control starting to slip.

“Jisungie,” Minho moans again, this time louder. He mouths at Jisung’s scent gland, flattens his tongue right over it, and whatever was cracking in his brain finally breaks.

He growls, digs his fingers into Minho’s hips that earn him the sweetest of gasps, and drags him into his lap and grinds his own erection into the cleft of Minho’s ass, presses against the small of his back to give him that much more friction.

A long, drawn-out moan is coaxed from Minho’s lips, and he wraps his arms around Jisung’s head and pulls him in to scent him as well.

If he smelled good enough to eat before, then being right in front of the source of his hyung’s alluring scent is nothing short of time-stopping.

Jisung takes in the deepest of breaths until he tastes syrupy tangerine lacing his tongue. He sucks on the gland, swears that juice runs down his throat, and grinds up again as Minho bares himself, mouth dropped and sounds divine.

Fuck. He can’t get enough. Of Minho, of his scent, taste, noises, how he feels in his arms—just him in general. He’s never experienced anything like this. Awash with emotions so strong that he never wants to let Minho out of his sight, something urging him to protect and claim and care.

It scares him a little, but then Minho whimpers and pulls him in closer, sticky oranges growing riper, and nothing else matters.

“Hyung,” Jisung groans, fingers stiff over the waistband of Minho’s jeans. There’s another smell ruminating beneath the surface. “Hyung.”

“Fuck. Jisungie.” Minho scrambles to wedge his hands in between them, fumbling with the buttons on his pants until they all snap open, and then he relieves a content sigh before reaching back to find Jisung’s hands, begging, “Touch me. Please.”

And how could Jisung ignore an omega’s pleas?

He lets Minho guide him to his waistband, then below. As soon as Jisung’s fingers disappear below and he feels the unmistakable slide of slick he thinks oh. That’s what he smelled.

It’s a more concentrated scent that he’s never experienced before, not like this. Not with Minho in his lap chewing on his lips and trying but failing to keep his desperate whimpers and whines contained. There’s no going back from this.

“You’re so wet, hyung,” he murmurs, breaking free of Minho’s guiding hands and delving deeper. He traces through the mess inside of his boxer briefs, running his middle finger dangerously close to Minho’s throbbing hole. “Show me? Hyung?”

Minho’s eyes are squeezed shut, and his brows are furrowed as he sucks on his lower lip. “Okay,” he finally manages, though his expression remains the same. “Let me— Hang on.”

He shimmies his jeans and boxers down past his hips until they won’t budge anymore from the way he’s straddling Jisung’s legs. He keeps his head low and tucked into the side of Jisung’s neck, so Jisung can’t really get a good look at him, but it’s okay. He wants to, of course, but his head is swimming from so many new scents and things happening so rapid fire.

“Okay,” Minho repeats, but it sounds more like he’s psyching himself up. Is he nervous? “Just—start with circling your finger around—hah, a-ahn.”

Jisung follows as he talks, earning him another sweet noise to tuck into the back of his mind. “What next? Hyung?”

“Shit, s-shit.” Minho quivers in his arms. He feels so small despite being broader. “W-when you’re ready, you can put—put—oh. Your finger. Inside. Whenever.”

Jisung’s seen plenty of porn (read: plenty), but nothing could really prepare him for the real thing. Especially with an omega in preheat. In most of the videos, it’s obvious that the omega isn’t really into it, with very little slick and very copious amounts of lube to give the illusion. But with Minho, it’s different.

Not only is he wet, but his body is so eager for Jisung’s touch that his hole practically sucks Jisung’s finger inside once he’s even hovering close enough.

Wet and hot—so, so fucking hot. Jisung lets out a shuddered breath and flops his head against Minho’s shoulder, and Minho’s next noise is so relieved and satisfied, like he’s just finished a race or something, as he lolls his own head so that his cheek is resting on Jisung’s shoulder, breath as hot and wet as he is inside.

Jisung’s finger presses in easily, so much so that if they hadn’t spent the entire day together, he’d have thought that Minho fingered himself before this. Not quite loose, he’s just tight enough that his walls are sucking against Jisung’s digit, but loose enough that Jisung could slip in a second finger. Maybe a third.

Minho breathes relaxed once Jisung starts to lightly thrust inside of him. “Feels good, Sung,” he sighs. “Doing good.”

Jisung feels the praise shoot straight to his dick.

He tests the new waters and runs his finger pad along velvet walls, the only thoughts running through his head being how good it would feel around him. Minho would feel good around him. He strains again.

“Another. Please.” Minho inches his cheek so that he’s closer to Jisung’s scent gland. Jisung complies.

Just the presence of his hyung so close to him has him fighting his own urge to give himself some relief, but he’s able to work through that hurdle as soon as he’s slipping in a second finger and a long moan drips from Minho’s lips, unfiltered and unfettered.

The air smells sweet like clementines, undertones of cracked sugar sprinkled generously. Jisung wonders if Minho tastes as good as he smells. Like nectar or fresh orange juice.

Minho stiffens as Jisung delves in deeper, suckling on a patch of skin dangerously close to Jisung’s scent gland, and the tiniest of whimpers muffled from his throat.

He feels even better with two fingers. Tighter, wetter, hotter. Jisung has to work his muscles into overdrive to not cease function and just feel. Feel Minho and feel the echo of all of his sounds.

“Curl your fingers,” Minho instructs through a heavy breath, sounding nearly fucked out already. Jisung sucks in air and does as he’s told.

He’s rewarded with a rich and heady moan that has him biting his lip and his toes curling into the fibers of the carpet. He swears more slick leaks from Minho’s hole, but his brain’s a little foggy from the noises that are being breathed in his ear, and the way his dick throbs in his jeans, begging for release.

“O-oh shit.” Minho takes hold of Jisung’s shoulders, and his entire body stiffens, shudders. “Sung. Jisungie. Oh my god.”

“You’re so wet, hyung,” Jisung repeats because he can’t think of anything else to say.

“Mmph. ‘M ready if—if you are—oh.”

Truth be told, Jisung doesn’t know if he’s ready. He’s pretty sure he’s already halfway to popping a knot, and he hasn’t even taken his fucking pants off yet! Oh fuck. He’s totally gonna come as soon as he’s inside, isn’t he?

“I’m scared.” He gulps. He half expects Minho to laugh because it honestly is a little ridiculous to be scared of sex, but hey, he is. He’s nervous he’s going to fuck something up and make it a bad experience for both of them.

But Minho is his best friend for a reason. Instead of laughing like anyone else would, Minho collects himself, sits straight up, and caresses Jisung’s cheek and says, still out of breath, “It’s okay to be nervous, Sung. We really—really don’t have to if you’re not feeling up for it.”

“No, I am, it’s just….” His grip flexes on Minho’s hips. “I-I’m afraid of coming too fast and not satisfying you, hyung. I don’t want you to be disappointed or left hanging because I can’t control myself.”

Minho blinks at him slowly, like he does when he’s trying to understand something, before his eyes soften and his lips curl into a pleased grin.

He doesn’t say anything, but he does lean in and place a light peck to Jisung’s lips. “I’m not going to last long either,” he whispers against them. His eyelashes brush against Jisung’s own. “We’ll go at your pace, okay?”

Jisung gnaws on his lip and looks at Minho with unsurety. He knows he isn’t lying because his dick is leaking in Jisung’s lap. A steady string of precum that’s been creating a pool right on the front of his jeans since they started. Since Minho climbed into his lap and started grinding against him.

This is definitely quite the step in their friendship. Surely they’ll actually go on a proper date once all of this has passed, right? (Jisung mentally files away a reminder to ask him out after.)

He swallows thick for the last time before nodding unconvincingly. “Okay.” His voice cracks. “I— I’m ready.”

“You make it sound like you’re getting ready for your own execution,” Minho chuckles. Honestly though, it kind of feels like it. Virginity might not be a big thing for Minho, but for Jisung (the hopeless romantic of hopeless romantics), it’s huge. Ideally, he wants to date one person, the person, and he wants to share memories with one person—achievements, milestones, little things.

And in his heart of hearts, he secretly hopes that Minho will fill that spot. Minho who he hasn’t known for very long but has always been there for him. From long nights awake spent sick, to bringing him food when he’s too busy to eat, to being cheery in the mornings when Jisung isn’t a morning person and making them breakfast. The last year since they’ve met, and the last six months or so since they’ve lived together, in all of Jisung’s fond memories, Minho is there.

Jisung looks at Minho who looks back at him shyly, cheeks dusted rose and looking so perfect. “I’m ready,” he says with a little more confidence. “I want you, hyung.” And Minho’s grin widens.

He leans in again to place a chaste kiss to his lips—which Jisung now realizes is only their second time kissing since this all began—before sliding from Jisung’s lap and pushing down his jeans and boxer briefs that have been snug on his thighs this entire time.

His cock sways as he steps out, cute and blushed at the tip and still shiny with precum. Jisung’s jaw drops as he watches Minho finish getting undressed by tossing his shirt off to the side. He’s seen him naked before—well, not this naked, but without a shirt—and he still can’t believe how perfect Minho looks. All soft muscle and round edges with enough fat on his sides and his thighs and his ass that Jisung knows once he gets his hands on him, he’s never going to want to let go.

“You look perfect, hyung,” he breathes in awe. Minho rolls his eyes coquettishly.

“Quit your schmoozing and take your pants off.” Jisung doesn’t have to be told twice.

All of his nerves and embarrassment are erased as he hastily unclasps the buttons on his jeans and pulls them, along with his underwear, down in one quick motion. Jisung swears that as soon as his dick is out in the open, the flush on Minho’s face deepens and his cock jumps, and it’s such a huge ego boost and turn-on.

When he’s finally got them off, there’s a brief pause where Minho blanks out while staring at Jisung’s cock before he shakes himself out of his stupor. Literally the biggest turn-on to Jisung right now.

Minho slides one knee back onto the couch next to Jisung’s thigh, electricity jolting between their bare skin. “You’re pretty big,” he comments absently, completely engrossed in Jisung’s very hard dick.

Jisung blushes but tries to play it cool. “You can touch it. If you want.” Fuck! Wrong words!

“Oh, I want to.” Minho licks his lips in a way that has Jisung’s head spiraling. “Later, though. Right now, I just want you to knot me.”

“Oh my god,” Jisung whines. His hips stutter on the sofa. He’s just short of begging when Minho finally swings his other leg up to straddle him.

“You don’t have to do anything,” Minho says as he reaches between his legs to grasp Jisung’s length, smirking at the gasp and little buck he gets out of the touch. “Just sit there and look pretty.”

He grins and lines himself up, and Jisung can see frame by frame as Minho lowers himself, feels the tip of his cock touch his wet hole, and then time slows down exponentially. He feels as Minho’s rim stretches to accommodate him, tight and warm, eyes rolling back when as he pops through the ring of muscle.

It’s hot and tight and Jisung tries to take a breath, but it gets caught in his throat. And from the little noises that squeak out of Minho’s trembling lips as he sinks down Jisung’s length, he knows he’s not the only one losing his mind.

He doesn’t know what to think or what to do or how to breathe anymore. All he knows is what Minho feels like, like it’s all that ever mattered.

He grips onto his hips as Minho settles onto his lap, trembling and shaking like a leaf. Jisung manages to round up enough braincells to slur out, “You a’right, hyung?” He doesn’t get a response right away. Minho has his head buried in his neck, breath hot and moist.

“Hyung?” He wishes he kept his mouth shut when Minho swivels his hips in response, and lightning zings up Jisung’s spine.

Then he picks it up from there. No more dawdling. Minho rolls his hips in a motion that Jisung’s eyes copy each time he lifts up, walls sucking Jisung’s sensitive cock the entire way. Half clockwise. Then when he slams back down, it’s the other half.

“Jisungie,” he pants into Jisung’s ear, nibbling on his earlobe and suckling it, all while doing things with his hips that has Jisung’s nerve ends on fire.

He’s pretty sure his body is having a meltdown. In all his years, he’s never felt this hot before. Like he’s burning up and smoldering everything he touches. And his mind is hazy, with only the sweet tangerine scent that Minho is giving off swirling around.

God this is intense. People do this every day? He feels like he’s going to come already! But he could probably go a second round. Maybe a third. Only if it’s Minho, though. No one else.

Minho grinds his hips and Jisung moans, fingers digging into soft flesh. “Hyung,” he gasps on a featherlight breath. His eyes have been screwed shut this entire time, and for good reason. Because as soon as he cracks them open, he’s met with a glassy-eyed Minho right in front of him.

Red lips licked slick, cheeks rosy and bright, and eyelashes chiming with tears. Jisung makes a split-second decision.

He surges in before his brain can catch up, slams their lips together in a messy collision of spit and sweat and hot breath. Minho moans, winds his arms around Jisung’s neck, and picks up his pace, now almost frantic. Jisung curls his hands around Minho’s waist and licks into his hyung’s mouth to taste candied citrus.

Addicting. Alluring. Agonizingly right. Why didn’t they kiss sooner? Why didn’t Jisung just confess as soon as they met? Why is Minho’s heat so bad this time compared to the others?

Not that Jisung’s complaining! Absolutely not! He’s halfway to a knot and very quickly approaching.

Another swivel, another groan swallowed up by hungry lips. “Minho.”

Chests sticking together with a thin layer of sweat. “Min—Minho-hyung.”

Slick leaking profusely and making the obscenest sounds with each of Minho’s bounces. Jisung feels a little bad that he’s doing all the work, but his legs also feel like jelly.

But. Can he really say he fucked his hyung if he didn’t even move? Pleased his omega if he let him do all the work? His omega?

A low growl rumbles out of his throat. Minho gasps when he feels it, tries to pick up his pace again but cries out when Jisung bucks his hips to meet his thrust.

“Ah!” He stops, buckles in Jisung’s hold. “Jisungie. Please.” His tip glistens as fresh precum oozes out.

“Hyung.” Jisung settles his feet on the ground. He feels the base of his cock start to stir. “I— I’m so close. I’m not gonna last.”

“I am, too. Just keep doing what you did. I’ll match your pace.”

“Okay.” Fresh oranges and ripe clementines. Dizzying. “Okay. Okay.” He can do this. He can do this. He doesn’t need to overthink anything! All he has to do is make Minho come, and seeing how he’s close already, it shouldn’t be too hard, right?

Jisung gulps and Minho strokes his knuckles along his cheekbones. “Don’t worry, Jisungie,” his hyung coos. “You’re already making me feel good. Now give me your knot and make me come.”

“Oh my god,” Jisung says out loud rather than in his head. His hips stutter and Minho chokes in surprise. “Sorry. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Minho’s face twists. (Hopefully in delight!) “Just give a guy some warning next time,” he chuckles. Jisung feels it right where they’re connected.

Well. No time like the present. Or something.

Jisung gulps again and holds Minho’s soft hips firm, saying, “Okay, hyung.” Minho gives him a reassuring smile and bends down to kiss the breath from his lungs. Jisung almost forgets that he’s supposed to start thrusting. Or something. Look, he still doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he’s seen plenty of porn.

“Okay,” he says again to psych himself up. Here goes nothing.

He plants his feet on the floor and experimentally rolls his hips, watching Minho’s expression intently. His hyung’s mouth drops into a little ‘o’ and he lets out a quiet huff, eyes closed. Jisung makes a face.

He was hoping to hear more. More sweet noises—high whines, long moans. Guess he just needs to try harder.

He rolls his hips again, this time with more force, reaching deeper. A sharp gasp leaves Minho’s lips this time. Not enough. Now, it’s business.

“Minho,” Jisung sighs. He manages to find a steady rhythm. Hands traveled south and gripping the fat of Minho’s ass, he spreads him apart as he bucks his hips, and Minho cries out.

“Jisung!” He hiccups and seeks leverage on Jisung’s shoulders. “O-oh my god. Angle your hips, pleas—oh.”

Jisung does as instructed, hitting a spot that punches out a throaty moan from Minho.

“Right there,” Minho begs. He tightens around Jisung, and Jisung moans, too. There’s a heat rapidly expanding in his belly.

Minho rests his head on Jisung’s shoulder, spit dribbling from the side of his mouth. He lies limp in Jisung’s arms with soft mewls hitching out of his throat. He doesn’t meet Jisung’s thrusts like he said he would, too far gone, but Jisung doesn’t mind. Having him so pliant in his arms isn’t something that happens often. Usually only when he’s in heat, like now.

(In the back of his mind, Jisung hopes that he’ll do it more often when he’s not in heat.)

On another series of thrusts, Minho’s hole spasms around him, and Jisung’s eyes roll a bit. “Oh shit,” he rasps. He feels his knot start to inflate. “Hyung. Minho-hyung.”

“Sungie,” Minho says, breathy and barely audible. He smells heavenly. “I can feel your knot.”

“You can?”

“Mhm.” He pushes himself up on shaky arms. “Want you to knot me,” he says, hole pulsing and slick oozing around Jisung’s cock. Jisung shudders.

Fuckfuckfuckfuck.

“Please, Sung,” he whines and rolls his tongue over Jisung’s scent gland.

“Fuck.” Jisung drives his hips, rhythm be damned. The long moans he’s been wanting to hear finally drip from Minho’s lips, cut short every time their skin slaps together obscenely. There’s slick everywhere. Plastering Jisung’s thighs to Minho’s ass, on the couch cushions, dripping down Jisung’s calves. It’s probably on the goddamn floor, too.

Through all of his heats, Minho’s never been this wet. And Jisung would know because it smells so strongly of orange peel oil that it’s making him dizzy and drunk as it hangs thickly in the air.

Had he been holding back? What made tonight so different?

Another sharp thrust that sends Minho careening further into Jisung’s chest. “Fuck,” he swears. “I-I’m gonna come. Sung. Hurry, please. Please. Wan’ you to knot me. Wan’ it so bad.”

Fuck.

“Minho,” Jisung grits. “Can I—” He squeezes his eyes tight as he tries to hold the swelling at the base of his dick at bay. “Oh fuck—can I come inside?”

“Yes. God, Sung. Please, please. Inside. Want you to—ahn, ah.”

He can’t hold on any longer.

Jisung feels his knot inflate and catch on Minho’s rim, and he buries it deep, deep. So deep that he feels goosebumps cascade all along Minho’s skin as he writhes in his arms. He smells sweet and delectable, and Jisung wants to bite, to claim, the alpha inside of him urging him to sink his teeth into Minho’s inviting scent gland.

But he can’t. He still has enough semblance to resist and to redirect his actions.

He bites down on Minho’s shoulder and Minho sobs as he comes, too, painting Jisung’s shirt white-hot.

Minho’s rim stretches around him so right, pressures his knot so well that Jisung never wants to leave. He wants to stay right here, buried in his hyung, keeping him plugged and sated and his.

They both pant and try to catch their breath. Soon, the post-orgasm bliss will dissipate, and they’ll have to face the reality of their situation. Locked together until Jisung’s knot goes down, which is in….

“How long do your knots last?” Minho asks, once he’s caught his breath.

“I, uh.” Shit. Does he know? “I’m not really sure. I-I’ve never knotted anyone or come that hard before.”

Minho chuckles. “You did well, Jisungie. It’s been a while since I’ve come that hard, too.”

“Really?” Jisung’s cock twitches at the compliment.

“Mmh,” Minho hums. “Can you carry me to bed since we’ll be stuck like this for an indeterminate amount of time? I’m sleepy.” He yawns and stretches his arms out.

Right. He gets sleepy during his heats. He’ll probably want snacks, too. And drinks.

“Okay. Hang on, hyung.”

Jisung hooks his arms under Minho’s knees as Minho clings to his neck, and he stands on wobbly legs and slugs his way over to Minho’s room. His bed is made with one of Jisung’s hoodies laid neatly on his pillow. One that Jisung has been missing for a week.

Though his back is to his bed, Minho seems to notice what Jisung has seen. “Took it from your hamper last time you did laundry,” he explains, nuzzling close to Jisung’s scent gland. Wanted to smell you when—if—”

When his heat hit. If Jisung turned him down. If he had to spend his heat alone like he always does after they turn in for the night after their cuddling sessions.

If he needed the help, why didn’t he ask? Has he been spending all of his heats in pain when Jisung was just on the other side of the wall, none the wiser?

“You could’ve asked for help sooner, hyung. I could’ve been there for you.”

“You’re here for me now.” Minho shakes his head with a serene smile. “That’s all that matters.” He kisses Jisung’s lips as he’s laid back onto the plush comforter, Jisung crawling overtop him.

“I’ll be here for you from now on,” Jisung promises.

“I know you will.” Another kiss, and another. Another before Minho’s eyes flutter shut, Jisung’s close behind.

Jisung wakes up to a dark room and his cock pleasantly warm, still inside Minho’s relaxed hole. He smiles and grinds his hips subconsciously, earning him a sleepy whimper and hips rolling back to meet his thrusts.

He fucks Minho just like that, without ever pulling out. It’s hot and humid and sweaty and wet, and when Jisung comes again, he feels the way his seed seeps through Minho’s rim, already full from earlier, and soon to be stuffed by the time he manages to get out of bed.

It’s Herculean strength that moves his legs out of the apartment later to get Minho his much-desired snack that he only indulges in during heats: caramel pudding. And of course Jisung will get it for him without any complaint.

He showers and drives to the store, and while he’s perusing the fridges for desserts, he notices an alpha sniffing the air around him, then closer. Closer. Which is odd, because alphas don’t do that to him, a fellow alpha. Even though he has a sweet scent, he still has dominant pheromones which keep them at bay. But that’s not what this alpha is smelling.

He’s smelling Minho, an omega, whose scent is probably lodged in every crevice of his body right now. But more importantly, this complete stranger is smelling his omega when he should be minding his own business.

Jisung’s hairs bristle. He glares over his shoulder at the man until he backs off, looking embarrassed as he probably didn’t realize what he was doing. As he scampers off with his tail between his legs, Jisung huffs, proud, and nods to himself. He gets extra pudding and some cheesecake.

🍦🍦🍦

Felix and Chan are the first people they tell that they’re officially dating.

“That’s great, Sung! Congrats!”

“You guys make a good couple.”

Embarrassing stuff. Sappy stuff. Jisung’s entire face is flaming the whole time they’re at the alpha pair’s apartment. Due to Felix’s constant teasing, and maybe because of the fact that, before they even arrived, Jisung made it an unconscious point to rub his scent all over Minho and gave him his clothes to wear so that the other two alphas wouldn’t look at him.

“Your jealousy is cute,” Minho snickered while he threw on one of Jisung’s hoodies over another of Jisung’s t-shirt.

“‘M not jealous,” Jisung pouted.

Oh, how wrong he was about that.

(“You might as well have those little squiggles they draw on anime characters coming out of you,” Chan laughs.

“I’m not jealous!” Jisung slams his fists in his lap. Minho reaches over to ease them.

“It’s okay, Jisungie, you’re doing great, jagi.”

“I’m just saying people don’t usually look at each other for that long!”

“You mean you don’t look at someone when you’re having a conversation?” Felix asks with bemusement all over his face.

“No, do you?”)