Archive of Our Own

1.

Mingi had always thought the apartment smelled like laundry detergent and abura soba.

That was what “home” smelled like when you were in the middle of your twenties, broke, and pretending you weren’t one bad day from killing yourself.

But lately, the apartment smelled like Yunho.

The realization wasn’t dramatic or anything. It didn’t hit him like lightning or come with some soundtrack that told him he was doomed. It was subtler than that—more insidious, like a song that got stuck in his head.

Yunho’s scent was everywhere.

Everywhere.

It clung to the couch. It lived in the hallway like it too, paid rent. It sank into the fabric of their shared life, woven into things that had nothing to do with Mingi and everything to do with Yunho.

The scent was warm like cedarwood and something deeper that made Mingi’s omega instincts sit up and stare like a dog that heard its name.

It was stupid and gay.

It was so, so stupid and so gay.

They were just roommates. Best friends, even. Almost always five feet apart because they weren’t not best friends. That was the label they’d slapped onto their dynamic. It made everything easy and simple. It kept them from having to look too closely at the way Yunho always seemed to know what Mingi needed before he said it.

Or the way Mingi always found himself drifting toward Yunho’s gravity without even thinking.

Yunho was an alpha, of course he had a scent. Of course it was strong and of course it lingered.

That was biology and that was normal.

Mingi kept telling himself that.

Still, recently, he’d started noticing things he didn't notice. Like how Yunho’s jackets always smelled better than his own, or how the air felt different when Yunho wasn’t home.

Mingi hated that. He hated that Yunho’s presence filled the apartment the way sunlight filled the room, settling into every corner until Mingi couldn’t pretend he didn’t feel it.

He hated that his omega body had opinions. He hated that his instincts didn’t care about logic nor care about what was appropriate. He hated how humiliating it was to crave comfort like it was oxygen.

He was not some helpless omega out of a nineteen year old’s fan fiction. He wasn’t needy.

He was fine.

But alas, he actually was in a nineteen year old’s fan fiction, so that afternoon proved that Mingi was wrong.

The rain started before lunch and didn’t stop. By the time Mingi left the studio, the sky had turned the color of wet concrete and the streets had become a miserable mini-river. His umbrella had snapped inside out within five minutes. The wind had slapped cold water into his face like it was angry at him.

Not only that, but his phone died. His bag felt like it weighed a million pounds, and his shoes squelched with every step.

And not only that, but his day had already been a parade of little humiliations too. A client was passive-aggressive about her revisions and a coworker smiled too brightly while stabbing him with polite words.

By the time he reached the apartment building, his hands were trembling from the cold and he felt like he’d been scraped raw from the inside out.

Mingi climbed the stairs because the elevator was broken, and by the time he reached their door, he wasn’t even annoyed anymore.

He was just empty.

He fumbled with his keys, cursed softly when they slipped, and finally managed to shove the right one into the lock.

The door swung open and warm air hit him immediately.

The apartment lights were on, and for a moment Mingi just stood there, blinking stupidly as if he’d just stepped into a different world. A world where it wasn’t raining and his day wasn’t bad at all.

And then the scent reached him.

It was familiar enough that it made Mingi’s shoulders sag. He closed the door behind him, leaning his forehead against it for half a second.

His body felt like it was melting.

From deeper in the apartment, Yunho’s voice called out, “Mingi?”

Mingi tried to answer normally. He really did. But what came out was a tired, cracked sound instead. “Yeah.”

There was a pause, then there were footsteps, and suddenly, Yunho appeared in the hallway leading from the kitchen. He was barefoot, wearing sweatpants and a loose shirt that clung to his shoulders in a way that was probably illegal. His hair was slightly damp, like he’d showered recently.

His eyes landed on Mingi and widened.

“Mingi, what the hell happened to you?”

Mingi blinked at him. He wanted to laugh, but his throat felt too tight. He looked down at himself like he hadn’t noticed. His hair was soaked. His jacket dripped onto the floor. His sleeves were heavy with rainwater. He probably looked like a dog dragged out of a flooding street.

“Rain,” he said, as if the rain itself had committed a personal offense against him.

Yunho stared for another beat, then his face softened in that way it always did when he was worried. It wasn’t dramatic—he didn’t fuss like some overbearing alpha stereotype. He didn’t hover, but his attention sharpened, as if Mingi was the only thing in the room worth noticing.

“Come here,” Yunho said.

It wasn’t a question.

And Mingi—because he was tired, cold, and weak in ways he refused to acknowledge—let himself be guided.

Yunho’s hand landed on his shoulder, firm and warm that shot straight through Mingi’s system. 

He tugged Mingi gently forward, steering him toward the living room. Mingi’s bag slipped from his shoulder and hit the floor with a dull thud. His brain registered it distantly, yet he didn’t move to pick it up.

Yunho did, of course.

“Sit,” Yunho told him.

Mingi sank onto the couch like his body had been waiting for permission to collapse. 

The cushions were soft. The blanket on the back of the couch was the one Yunho always used, the thick gray one that somehow held heat like it had a pulse.

Mingi stared at his hands. 

They were red from the cold. His fingertips were wrinkled from being wet too long. He flexed them slowly, like he was trying to convince himself they still belonged to him.

Behind him, Yunho moved around the apartment, footsteps quick but quiet. Mingi heard cabinet doors open, the rustle of fabric, and the sound of the kettle being set on the stove.

Domestic noises.

Safe noises.

Mingi swallowed hard, tilting his head back against the couch. The ceiling above him blurred slightly. He felt stupidly close to crying, which was ridiculous. It was just rain. It was just a bad day. He wasn’t a child.

Still, his omega was stirring like something half-awake. It didn’t care that he was trying to be rational.

It cared that he was cold and exhausted and was practically in an alpha’s territory.

It cared that Yunho was here.

Yunho reappeared with a towel in his hands. A big one. Soft, clean, probably fresh out of the dryer because the older man was annoyingly good at life.

He tossed it into Mingi's face.

Mingi made a sound of protest, muffled as the towel smothered him.

“Hey,” he complained, pulling it down.

Yunho’s mouth twitched. “Dry your hair before you get sick.”

“I’m not gonna get sick,” Mingi muttered.

Yunho gave him a look. The kind of look that said, “I know you’re lying, and you know I know you’re lying, and you’re going to obey anyway.”

Mingi glared back halfheartedly, then started rubbing the towel through his hair. Water dripped down his neck. The towel smelled clean, but beneath it was the faint trace of Yunho’s scent, like it had been folded near his clothes.

His hands tightened on the towel unconsciously.

He forced himself to keep drying his hair, scrubbing harder than necessary, like he could rub the feeling out of his skin.

Yunho, meanwhile, had disappeared again and returned with a hoodie.

Not Mingi’s, but his own.

It was black, and of course, oversized. The sleeves were long enough that they’d swallow Mingi’s hands. Yunho held it out like an offering.

“Why?” he asked dumbly.

Yunho blinked. “Because you’re soaked.”

“I have my own hoodies.”

Yunho’s eyes flicked over Mingi’s dripping clothes. “Not dry ones.”

Mingi opened his mouth to argue again, purely out of principle, but the words died when Yunho stepped closer and dropped the hoodie into his lap.

It landed heavy and warm like it had been Yunho’s body heat before this.

Mingi’s throat tightened once more. He didn’t know why something as stupid as a hoodie could make him feel so… undone.

Yunho crouched in front of him, hands reaching for the zipper of Mingi’s jacket.

Mingi jerked back automatically. “I can do it.”

Yunho paused, eyes lifting to meet Mingi’s. His gaze was calm and unbothered.

“I know,” Yunho said. “But you look like you’re about to fall asleep sitting up.”

Mingi swallowed. His face burned. “I’m not.”

Yunho didn’t argue. He just waited, hands still hovering near Mingi’s jacket, like he was giving him the choice.

Mingi hated that too.

Thus, he exhaled shakily and leaned forward a little—a silent permission. Yunho’s fingers found the zipper and pulled it down with ease. His knuckles brushed Mingi’s stomach through the damp shirt, an accidental contact that still sent a jolt through Mingi’s spine.

Mingi looked away.

He didn’t want to see Yunho’s expression, didn’t want to know if Yunho was thinking about him the way Mingi sometimes thought about Yunho, in those quiet moments where the apartment felt too small and Yunho’s scent felt too big.

Yunho peeled the jacket off completely and set it aside. Then he reached for the hem of Mingi’s shirt.

“Mingi,” Yunho said softly, like he was approaching a skittish animal. “Change.”

Mingi stared at him.

The word wasn’t suggestive, and yet his omega immediately went, “Your alpha just told you to change! Oh my god he wants to see you naked!”

Warmth crawled up his neck.

“I’m fine,” he lied.

Yunho’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re shivering.”

“‘m not!”

“You are.”

Mingi opened his mouth, ready to argue again, but his body betrayed him with a visible tremor. His teeth clicked once.

Yunho’s expression shifted into something else. Not anger, really. 

Possession, maybe. Or just the sharpness of an alpha seeing an omega uncomfortable. His omega uncomfortable.

It made Mingi’s stomach flip.

Yunho stood up abruptly, maybe because he couldn’t stay crouched there any longer without doing something reckless. He walked to the bedroom hallway, then paused and looked back.

“I’ll get you dry clothes,” Yunho said. “Don’t move.”

Mingi frowned. “I’m not a dog.”

Yunho’s mouth quirked, but his eyes stayed serious. “Yeah. I know.”

Then he disappeared into his room.

Mingi sat there, clutching the towel and staring at the hoodie in his lap like it was a loaded weapon. 

His fingers brushed the fabric.

It was soft, thick, and worn in the way good clothes got when they belonged to someone who lived in them. Yunho lived in his hoodies. Yunho lived in everything.

Mingi lifted the hoodie slowly and brought it closer to his face before he could stop himself.

He inhaled.

It smelled like Yunho. Clean sweat. Laundry soap. Something warm and distinctly alpha that made Mingi’s lungs expand like they’d been starving.

His eyes fluttered shut.

For one humiliating second, his omega surged with such relief it almost hurt. Like his body had been waiting all day to come home and bury itself in this scent.

Mingi’s grip tightened.

“God,” he whispered under his breath.

He was just tired. That was all. Just cold and tired and stressed.

(And gay.)

But it didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t mean anything.

Footsteps returned, and Mingi jolted, yanking the hoodie away from his face like he’d almost been caught committing a crime.

Yunho walked back into the living room holding a pair of sweatpants and a dry shirt. He looked at Mingi, then at the hoodie in his hands, and something unreadable flickered in his hands.

Mingi’s face went hot.

Yunho just stepped closer and set the clothes down on the couch beside him.

“Go change in your room,” Yunho said—commanded—with a quieter voice now. “I’ll make you something warm.”

Mingi stared at the clothes, then back up at Yunho.

There was something about the way Yunho looked at him, like he was precious. Like Mingi was something Yunho wanted to keep safe.

“Thanks,” Mingi managed to say, voice rougher than he intended.

Yunho nodded once, then hesitated. His hand lifted, hovering near Mingi’s hair, like he was about to touch him.

Mingi held his breath. 

For a moment, Yunho’s fingers hovered close enough that Mingi could feel the heat of them, close enough that Mingi’s omega leaned forward, hungry and hopeful.

Then Yunho stopped himself.

His hand dropped back to his side.

“I’ll… uh,” Yunho said, clearing his throat. “I’ll put your jacket in the dryer.”

Mingi blinked. 

Something in his chest sank, stupid and disappointed.

“Yeah,” Mingi said quickly, forcing a laugh. “Okay. Sure.”

Yunho turned away too fast, like he was escaping something.

And Mingi sat there on the couch, still trembling while holding Yunho’s hoodie in his lap like it was the only warm thing remaining in the world.

He told himself he was just tired and cold and that it was normal to want this—to want comfort, warmth, and your best friend’s scent wrapped around you like armor.

He told himself that it didn’t mean anything.

But when he finally stood up to go change, he didn’t put the hoodie down. 

He pulled it over his head instead.

The fabric swallowed him whole.

Yunho’s scent swallowed him whole. 

Mingi’s shoulders dropped like he’d been carrying a weight all day without realizing it.

He realized it the moment he inhaled a little bit sharper—he never wanted to take it off again.

2.

Yunho had always been good at pretending.

He’d spent his whole life pretending that instincts were something you could bury under manners—that an alpha didn’t have to be ruled by the primitive parts of himself. That he could smile politely through things that made his blood run hot.

He’d gotten so good at it, most people didn’t even realize how much effort it took.

Mingi didn’t realize.

Or maybe he did, and he just didn’t know what it meant.

Because Mingi had always been so comfortable and careless with his body. He would share his warmth like it was something to be held between him and Yunho. He would always sprawl across Yunho’s space like he belonged there.

Yunho told himself it was fine because they were best friends and Mingi trusted him.

And he would rather tear his own throat out than ruin that.

So he swallowed it all.

Every time Mingi wore his clothes. Every time Mingi fell asleep pressed against him. Every time Mingi laughed, head thrown back, scent spilling out in the air like honey slathered all over a tree in order to attract a rare Pokemon.

Every time Yunho had to lock himself in his room and breathe through it like it was a fever.

He was good at pretending, but alas, the nineteen year old author was better at ruining that.

They’d both woken up late one morning, alarms missed and schedules overlapping. Yunho had stumbled out of his room half-asleep, hair a mess, brain still fogged with wet dreams of him and he-who-must-not-be-named, and found Mingi in the kitchen wearing one of Yunho’s shirts again.

Oversized on him. Collar slipping off one shoulder. Bare skin visible in a way that should not have been legal before nine in the morning.

Mingi had been rummaging through the pantry like he was some kind of rat.

Yunho had stared at him for six, maybe seven seconds too long.

Mingi hadn’t noticed. Or maybe he had, and he’d decided to ignore it. But eventually, he turned around, blinking sleepily. “Morning.”

Yunho forced his voice to stay even. “Morning.”

And then Mingi yawned.

The sound was soft, half-whiny, and it did something ugly to Yunho’s spine. Mingi stretched his arms over his head, shirt riding up, exposing the line of his waist.

Yunho’s vision had gone white for a second.

He’d turned away so fast he nearly walked into a table.

“I’m gonna shower,” Mingi said casually.

Yunho nodded because his throat went dry all of a sudden.

Mingi padded off down the hall while Yunho finally managed to walk into where Mingi had just been in, staring after the omega.

The air felt thicker than usual. Mingi’s scent had been stronger.

Yunho swallowed. He busied himself with making coffee he didn’t even want, because his hands needed something to do than curl into fists (or snake down his pants).

Then, as if the universe decided it wanted him dead, Mingi yelled, “Yunho! The water’s being weird again!”

Yunho froze. He stared at the coffee machine like it spat coffee directly at him.

He called back, “Did you turn the knob all the way?”

“Yes!”

There was a pause. The shower started up again, the sound of water hitting tile. 

Then Mingi’s voice came again, muffled by the bathroom door. “I think it’s the heater!”

Yunho sighed through his nose. The building was ancient. The pipes hated them. The heater had moods.

He set his mug down and walked toward the hallway, already resigned to crawling under the sink or twisting the heater valve or doing whatever ritual sacrifice the plumbing demanded today.

He stopped outside the bathroom door. Steam leaked out from beneath it.

The scent hit him immediately. 

Warm, damp air laced with Mingi. 

Yunho’s throat tightened.

He knocked once, his hands shaking ever so slightly. “Mingi?”

“Yeah?” Mingi’s voice came out louder now, close to the door.

Yunho cleared his throat. “I’m coming in to check the heater knob.” 

“Okay.”

Yunho pushed the door open. 

Steam rolled out like a living thing. The bathroom was fogged over, mirror blurred, tile slick with condensation. The air was hot enough to make Yunho’s skin flush instantly.

And then Yunho saw him. 

Mingi was behind the shower curtain, but it was translucent enough that Yunho could see the shape of him. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, head tilted back under the spray.

Water slid down his skin in lines Yunho’s eyes should not have followed.

His alpha surged so fast it was dizzying. “Oh my fucking god I need that cookie so fucking bad,”  it said, gnawing at its enclosures.

Yunho clenched his jaw so hard his teeth ached.

“Mingi,” he said, voice strained.

Mingi peeked his head out from behind the curtain, eyes blinking from the water. His cheeks were pink from the heat, lips parted slightly.

“Yeah?” He tilted his head. “Look, it’s going cold now! Why is it more unstable than my mood when I’m in heat?”

Yunho stared at him.

Mingi stared back, patient and oblivious and far too exposed.

Something in Yunho’s chest twisted.

“Move,” Yunho ordered, too rough.

Mingi blinked. “Huh?”

“I mean,” Yunho corrected quickly, forcing his voice to soften. “Move over. I’ll check.”

Mingi nodded and slid aside.

The curtain shifted. 

Yunho caught a glimpse of bare skin, hip, stomach, and the curve of Mingi’s ribs. 

His vision stuttered. His instincts snapped forward like a leash pulled too hard.

Yunho reached out and yanked the curtain closed again with unnecessary force.

Mingi yelped. “Hey!”

“Sorry,” Yunho said immediately, voice too sharp. “I just… I don’t want water all over the floor.”

Mingi muttered something under his breath, but he didn’t sound angry. Just amused.

Yunho crouched from outside the shower area, beyond the curtain, pretending to examine the faucet knobs with the seriousness of a surgeon. 

He wasn’t seeing the knobs—he was seeing the way Mingi’s scent was saturating the steam.

It clung to Yunho’s skin already, curling around his throat, sinking into his lungs. 

Yunho’s hands tightened on the metal until his knuckles went pale.

“You’re using too much hot water,” Yunho lied.

Mingi scoffed from behind the curtain. “No I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I literally just got in here.”

Yunho swallowed. His voice came out lower. “Then maybe it’s because you take forty-minute showers.”

Mingi laughed, and Yunho nearly lost his mind. “Excuse you,” Mingi said. “I take thirty.”

Yunho shut his eyes briefly. 

This was insane. He shouldn’t be in here. He shouldn’t be able to smell him like this. He shouldn’t be able to imagine the slick of Mingi’s skin beneath his hands. 

But he couldn’t leave, because the water really was turning cold.

And Mingi, of course, was not going to get out.

Yunho reached and twisted the heater knob. The water sputtered.

Mingi made a small sound, annoyed. “See? Cold!"

“It’s fixing,” Yunho said tightly.

The water warmed again after a few seconds, making Mingi hum in satisfaction. 

The sound was quiet, but it went straight through Yunho like a bullet from a sniper. His alpha rose again, sharper and uglier with want.

He could smell Mingi’s pheromones bloom under the heat, reacting to the enclosed space, reacting to Yunho’s presence.

The scent shifted. It was like Mingi’s body was leaning toward something without Mingi himself even realizing. 

Yunho stood up, head spinning. 

“Okay,” he said. “It should be fixed now.”

Mingi peeked out again, wet lashes blinking. “You sure?”

Yunho stared at him. Water ran down his neck, pooled at his collarbones, then slid lower.

Yunho’s gaze flicked away like he’d been scorched.

“Yeah,” Yunho said hoarsely. “I’m sure.”

Mingi smiled. “Thanks, hottie.”

Hottie.

Hottie?!

The word landed like a slap, not to his face, but to his dick.

Yunho’s jaw flexed. He should leave. He should walk out right now and pretend he’d never seen anything.

But his body didn’t move.

Instead, he stood there, breathing omega scent until his head felt light.

Mingi’s eyes lingered on him for a moment. And then slowly, he frowned. “Are you okay?” 

Yunho swallowed. “I’m fine.”

“You look… flushed.”

Yunho let out a breath that was almost a laugh. “It’s the steam.”

Mingi tilted his head, gaze flicking down Yunho’s body. 

“Then why are you just standing there?” Mingi asked, voice quieter now.

Yunho’s pulse stammered.

Because if he moved, he might move wrong. And if he stayed, he might snap.

He forced himself to take a step back. 

“I’ll… I’ll go shower after you,” Yunho said.

Mingi’s brows knit together, as if he was thinking.

“We’re late.”

Yunho blinked. “What?”

Mingi shrugged. “We’re both late. Just shower now.”

Yunho stared at him like he’d lost his mind.

“Mingi,” Yunho warned.

“What?” Mingi asked, genuinely confused. “It’s not like we haven’t seen each other naked. You literally changed in front of me last week.”

That was not the point.

Mingi was wet and too close and this was going to be skin to skin due to the size of the bathroom. 

Yunho’s alpha only snarled even more.

He could almost feel the urge to step forward—to press Mingi into the tile, to breathe him in until there was nothing left in his lungs but Mingi.

His hands twitched at his sides.

Mingi’s expression shifted, eyes narrowing slightly. Then, like he was trying to prove a point, he reached out from behind the curtain and grabbed Yunho’s wrist.

Yunho went rigid.

“Come on.” Mingi tugged once.

Yunho’s breath hitched.

“Mingi,” he said again, but this time it came out like a warning and a plea at once.

Mingi blinked up at him.

Their eyes met. 

And in that split second, Yunho saw it. The way Mingi’s pupils had gone slightly wider. the way his cheeks were flushed deeper than the steam could explain. The way his scent had thickened in the air.

Mingi wasn’t as unaffected as he was pretending.

Yunho’s throat tightened. 

The curtain slid open, and Mingi stepped aside, making room.

“Just get in,” Mingi said, voice a little too soft. “It’s fine.”

Yunho stared at him once more. His alpha was screaming. His brain was screaming. His body was already reacting, heat crawling under his skin, a heavy throb of want that made him feel sick with himself.

With one swift movement, he tugged his wrist away from Mingi, and he could have sworn the omega frowned just a little. It made him guilty, but after all, how was he supposed to get into the bathroom with clothes still on?

He quickly got rid of the obstruction and stepped inside, facing the wall, not looking at Mingi at all. He moved fast like if he didn’t think about it, it wouldn’t be real.

The moment he stepped into the shared space, Mingi’s scent wrapped around him, hitting him full force.

It was suffocating.

Yunho sucked in a breath and immediately regretted it.

His alpha surged violently. “Omega. Omega. Omega.”

Mingi shifted beside him, close enough that their shoulders nearly brushed.

The water sprayed over them both, splashing Yunho’s back, sliding down his skin. Mingi was right there, breathing the same air, sharing the same heat.

Yunho’s skin felt too tight.

He reached for the soap aggressively, like it was an enemy.

Mingi chuckled. “Relax.”

“I am relaxed,” Yunho snapped automatically.

Mingi hummed, clearly unconvinced.

“You can be more convincing if you didn’t make out with the wall like it was your boyfriend, you know?”

Yunho sucked in a sharp breath, fists clenching. Contrary to his brain, his feet moved on their own, turning around to face Mingi’s back.

Now closer, Yunho could see just how devoted Mingi had been to making himself fit. His shoulders were sharp, his muscles were taut, and his ass was—

Yunho coughed violently, earning Mingi a reaction.

“What? What happened?” Mingi asked, his concern genuine.

“Nothing,” Yunho replied, voice strained.

Mingi’s scent shifted again, a small spike of relaxation and curiosity filling the space.

It made Yunho’s head go light.

He could feel it in his bones—the way his instincts wanted to answer. He wanted to flood the air with his own pheromones, to claim the space, to make Mingi react harder.

Yunho swallowed. He scrubbed his chest too hard, nails dragging over skin.

Mingi then turned to face him, brows furrowed and face full of questions. “You’re acting weird.”

“It’s nothing,” Yunho managed to let out.

Mingi’s gaze dropped briefly. Yunho saw the flicker of it, the way Mingi’s eyes followed the water down Yunho’s torso, down to his pelvis and his hardening cock. He saw Mingi’s lips part.

Then Mingi blinked, like he’d surprised himself.

Yunho felt his control slip a fraction. He could smell Mingi’s arousal spike. He could feel his omega gnawing at its cage the same way Yunho’s alpha is thrashing around its own one.

Yunho’s voice came out rougher than he meant. 

“Turn around.”

Mingi blinked again. “What?”

Yunho froze.

His heart slammed against his ribs. He didn’t mean to say it like that. He didn’t mean for it to sound like an order.

But he was an alpha, and the words came out like one anyway.

Mingi’s cheeks flushed deeper.

“What?” Mingi repeated, quieter.

For a long moment, Yunho thought he’d pushed too far. That Mingi would laugh, tease him, or worse, look uncomfortable.

Instead, Mingi’s expression softened.

“Oh,” Mingi said.

He turned around. Just like that.

Yunho’s brain short-circuited at how submissive Mingi was. His hands hovered in the air uselessly. He could somehow smell Mingi even stronger like this, like he didn’t have his back turned at him literally seconds ago.

Mingi tilted his head slightly, exposing the side of his neck.

Yunho’s alpha lunged. He swallowed hard enough it hurt.

“Yunho?” Mingi asked, voice even smaller.

Yunho’s hands landed on Mingi’s shoulders. The moment he touched him, it was over.

Mingi’s skin was warm, and Yunho felt the contact reverberate through his entire body. It was like his hands finally found where they belonged.

Mingi let out a slow breath, almost like a moan.

It wasn’t one entirely, but it was close enough that Yunho’s vision went dark.

Yunho forced himself to move. He lathered soap between his palms and began to scrub Mingi’s back.

He tried to keep it clinical, but his hands didn’t want to be clinical.

His hands wanted to explore.

He wanted Mingi’s shoulder blades. He wanted the dip of his waist. He wanted the way Mingi's body reacted to touch in subtle shifts and tiny shivers.

Mingi’s breathing changed. 

Yunho felt it immediately.

He leaned closer without thinking.

Mingi’s pheromones thickened, like flowers blooming because they were finally watered after a long time of drought.

Yunho’s own pheromones responded involuntarily. Heavy alpha presence flooded the small space.

The bathroom suddenly felt smaller and more intimate.

Mingi’s head dipped forward slightly, like he was melting.

Yunho’s hands slid lower. Down, down, down to Mingi’s ass. He cupped it without thinking, earning a whine from the omega.

“Mingi,” he groaned without meaning to.

Mingi didn’t answer.

He just turned his head slightly, cheek nearly brushing Yunho’s shoulder.

His voice, when it came, was soft.

“Your hands are warm.”

Yunho’s stomach clenched.

His instincts screamed. His grip tightened, making Mingi moan. 

For one terrifying second, Yunho imagined pushing Mingi against the tile, mouth to his collarbone, teeth sinking into the skin.

He wanted—needed—to make Mingi his in the most permanent way.

Shame and desire tangled together until he couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. He jerked his hands away like if it stayed for one more second, it would do something unholier than it had already been doing.

Mingi turned around to face him, and suddenly, their faces were close. His lips were slightly parted again and his eyes were glassy. His pheromones were practically all that Yunho could breathe now. 

Yunho stared at Mingi’s throat.

Mingi stared at Yunho’s mouth.

They stood there, frozen, water cascading over their skin, steam curling around them like it wanted to trap them in that moment forever.

Yunho could feel his control hanging by a thread. He could feel his own pheromones spilling, and he could see the way Mingi’s pupils had blown wide with the way his chest rose and fell faster.

Mingi’s omega was responding. 

He was responding.

And Yunho couldn’t take it. He couldn’t take being this close and knowing he could ruin everything with one wrong movement.

Yunho’s voice came out like gravel.

“We should stop.”

Mingi blinked, dazed. “Stop what?”

Yunho swallowed hard. “This.”

He stepped back abruptly, reaching for the curtain, pulling it half-closed like it could save them.

Mingi stared at him for another second, then suddenly moved, grabbing his towel. He wrapped it around his waist too fast, like he was fleeing.

Then he pushed past Yunho, brushing Yunho’s shoulder as he went. 

That brief contact made Yunho’s entire body flinch, and so did Mingi.

Yunho turned his head slowly. Mingi was standing at the bathroom door, hand on the knob, breathing hard like he’d run a mile. 

He didn’t look back.

“I’m done.” His voice came out small and hoarse. Then he left. The door shut behind him with a soft click.

Yunho stood under the water, staring at the fogged tile. The shower spray hit his shoulder and ran down his chest, down to his hard cock. It didn’t do anything to cool him down. Nothing could cool him.

The bathroom still smelled like Mingi.

And worse than that, it smelled like Yunho too.

3.

Mingi had been avoiding Yunho.

Not in a dramatic way. Just… in small, cowardly ways that made it easy to pretend it wasn’t happening.

He left the room when Yunho entered. He took longer showers. He answered Yunho’s questions with one-word responses that tried to sound casual but weren’t.

And it was stupid, because Yunho didn’t even seem bothered.

If anything, Yunho seemed worse.

He was quiet in a way that felt like he was holding himself back from something. Mingi knew he was afraid too. 

That shower was a mistake.

So now every time Mingi was in the same room as Yunho, he could feel that thin invisible thread being pulled tight between them. One wrong word and it would snap.

So Mingi avoided him.

Which was hard, considering they lived in the same apartment after all.

It was 1:27 in the morning when Mingi was sitting on the living room floor with Tyudeongi in his lap, absently smoothing the plush’s ears while a show played on low volume. He wasn’t really watching. His mind kept circling back to the memory of Yunho’s hands cupping his ass. 

Mingi squeezed Tyudeongi a little too hard.

He didn’t even notice until he heard Yunho’s voice behind him.

“Mingi?”

His spine went rigid. He forced himself to breathe like a normal person and looked over his shoulder.

Yunho stood in the doorway of the living room, hair damp from his own shower, wearing a plain black shirt and sweatpants. His expression was… neutral.

His eyes lingered on Mingi for half a second longer than necessary.

“What?”

Yunho hesitated.

That alone made Mingi’s stomach tighten. Yunho didn’t hesitate. Yunho just did things. But now he was standing there like he was about to step onto thin ice.

“My shoulders hurt,” Yunho said finally.

Mingi blinked. “Okay?”

Yunho’s jaw flexed. “Can you… help?”

Mingi stared at him.

Help.

Which could mean nothing. It could also mean anything. But Yunho’s eyes were too dark and his gaze was too careful, like he was choosing each word the way you chose where to place your hands around a fragile glass.

“You want a massage?” Mingi asked.

Yunho’s throat bobbed. “Yeah, if you don’t mind.”

Mingi should’ve said no. He should’ve laughed it off, made a joke, or even told Yunho to buy one of those massager machines like every other stressed alpha on the planet.

Instead, Mingi heard himself say, “Sure.”

Yunho exhaled like he’d been holding his breath.

That should’ve been his first warning.

Yunho moved into the living room slowly and sat down on the couch, then leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

Mingi stared at the line of his back. 

“Sit here,” Mingi said, patting the space on the floor in front of the couch.

Yunho glanced at him, then nodded and shifted off the couch, lowering himself onto the floor.

Mingi stared at him for a moment, then reached out.

His hands hovered—and there it was again, that same, awful hesitation, like his body remembered the shower too. Like his skin still carried the ghost of Yunho’s touch.

Mingi swallowed hard and placed his palms on Yunho’s shoulders.

Yunho’s entire body reacted.

It wasn’t dramatic, but Mingi felt it anyway. Yunho went still, and his breathing changed. Not only that, but his pheromones started to become sharper.

“You’re really tense,” Mingi murmured, forcing himself to knead Yunho’s muscles the way he’d done a hundred times before, back when this was normal.

Yunho’s voice came out rough. “Yeah.”

Mingi pressed his thumbs into the knots near Yunho’s neck, and Yunho exhaled through his nose, a sound that made something hot flicker through Mingi’s chest.

“Feels good,” Yunho muttered.

Mingi swallowed. “Yeah?”

“Mm.”

Mingi’s hands moved lower, working down Yunho’s shoulders, thumbs pressing into muscle. Yunho’s skin was warm under the thin fabric of his shirt. The heat seeped through Mingi’s palms, into his wrists, and up his arms like a slow infection.

He tried to focus on the massage, but there was nothing normal about the way Yunho’s scent deepened even further in the air.

Mingi’s throat tightened. His omega reacted instantly, a soft ache thrumming beneath his ribs.

He pressed harder, as if the force could crush the feeling out of him.

Yunho let out another sound akin to a groan, deeper this time.

Mingi’s hands faltered. 

“Mingi,” Yunho said, voice strained.

The omega froze. “What?”

Yunho turned his head slightly, just enough that Mingi could see the line of his jaw. “You okay?”

He blinked. He didn’t realize that his breathing had gone shallow, or that his hands were trembling, or that his scent probably changed.

Mingi forced out a laugh that sounded wrong. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Yunho didn’t answer immediately, then he shifted, turning his torso just enough to look back at him properly.

“Mingi,” Yunho said softly, “you smell so good.”

Mingi’s stomach dropped. His face burned so hot it might as well just melt.

“That’s not,” Mingi started, voice cracking. “that’s not—”

Yunho’s gaze flicked to his mouth. Mingi stopped talking.

The alpha inhaled slowly like he couldn’t help it, like he was tasting the air. His nostrils flared.

Mingi’s omega flared back, helplessly pawing at the alpha just a few inches away from it.

Yunho’s voice came out quieter. “Do you want to stop?”

Mingi’s throat worked.

Again, he should’ve done the logical thing. He should’ve said, “Yes, please stop and move away, please don’t look at me like that.”

Instead, his body betrayed him again—his fingers tightened on Yunho’s shoulders, and Mingi whispered, “No.”

Yunho stared at him for a beat, then he turned fully, shifting so he was facing Mingi now, close enough that their knees brushed.

Yunho’s scent rolled over Mingi in a wave. It sent his omega leaning into it like a starving thing. 

The alpha’s eyes dragged slowly over Mingi’s face. Then, in a voice that sounded like he was barely holding himself together, Yunho asked, “Can I… do you?”

Mingi blinked. “What?”

Yunho’s jaw clenched. He looked away for half a second, like he hated himself for saying it.

“Massage you,” Yunho clarified. His voice was hoarse. “I mean. I can tell you’re tense too.”

Mingi nodded so fast it even surprised him.

“Okay,” Mingi whispered.

Yunho’s shoulders dropped like he’d been waiting for that answer all his life. 

“Lie down,” he said.

He shifted awkwardly, setting Tyudeongi aside and lying face down on the rug in front of the couch. The carpet was soft against his cheek, but it didn’t matter. 

All he could think about was the sound of Yunho moving behind him and the drawer opening and a bottle cap twisting.

“I have oil.”

“Oil?”

Yunho cleared his throat. “It helps. My mom used to… when I was younger.”

That made Mingi’s chest ache unexpectedly. Of course Yunho had a softness tucked inside him like that.

Mingi nodded. “Okay.”

There was a pause, then Yunho’s hand hovered over Mingi’s back.

“Mingi,” Yunho said quietly. “You’ll need to… you know.”

Mingi blinked. “What?”

Yunho’s voice dropped even lower. “Your shirt. If I use oil.”

His cheeks burned, face pressed into the carpet. “Oh right.”

He pushed himself up onto his elbows, fumbling with the hem of his shirt. It shouldn’t have felt like stripping, but it still did. 

Mingi pulled the shirt over his head quickly, tossing it aside like it was venomous. The air against his bare skin was cool for about half a second before Yunho’s presence warmed it up again.

Behind him, Yunho inhaled sharply.

The sound was quiet, but Mingi heard it.

His omega purred, pleased and terrified at once.

Yunho didn’t speak for a moment.

Mingi waited with his heart pounding, trying not to think about the fact that Yunho was staring at him.

Then Yunho’s voice came, strained. “Is this okay?”

Mingi swallowed.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “It’s okay.”

“You’re still wearing pants.”

Mingi’s brain did a stupid thing. 

“Huh?”

Yunho cleared his throat, voice slightly frantic now. “I mean. The oil. It’ll get on your clothes. If you want. You can… you don’t have to. It’s fine.”

Mingi laid there with his pulse racing. He wanted to laugh, scream, and turn around and kiss Yunho until neither of them could breathe.

Instead, he muttered, “I’ll—I’ll just…”

He fumbled with his waistband and shoved his pants down just enough to kick them off, leaving himself in his underwear.

It just so happened that he was wearing a jockstrap today.

He felt even more exposed. Yunho didn’t move for a second. Mingi could practically feel Yunho’s eyes on him, heavy as his hands.

Then Yunho muttered, almost to himself, “Okay.”

Mingi shivered.

Yunho poured oil into his palms. The sound was obscene in the quiet room. Then he rubbed his hands together, warming it.

His palms landed on Mingi’s back and warm oil spread over his skin in a smooth glide. 

Mingi’s breath left him with a broken sound.

Yunho froze immediately. 

“Mingi?” he asked, voice tight.

Mingi swallowed hard. “Don’t stop.”

So he continued. His hands moved down Mingi’s back in long strokes, fingers pressing into muscle with practiced strength.

Mingi didn’t know Yunho knew how to do this. He didn’t know Yunho could touch like this. Yunho’s thumbs dug into the tension along Mingi’s spine, and Mingi’s entire body went loose, melting into the floor.

It felt good. It felt like being cared for. 

It felt like being claimed. Mingi’s omega lit up like a candle in the dark. 

His scent started to shift without permission. He could feel the way his body responded, warmth pooling low and his thighs pressing together instinctively.

Yunho’s breathing changed behind him. It grew heavier and less controlled.

His scent thickened too. It felt like Mingi was drowning in it with how much it filled the room. 

Yunho’s hands slid lower along Mingi’s waist, just like they did back in the bathroom.

Mingi gasped. 

“Mingi,” Yunho whispered. “You’re…”

Mingi couldn’t answer. His body felt too hot. His mind felt too foggy. 

Yunho’s hands hovered, then pressed again, kneading into Mingi’s ass.

Mingi whimpered.

The sound slipped out of him before he could stop it.

The apartment seemed to hold its breath.

Yunho’s hands stilled completely. Mingi could hear Yunho’s breathing behind him, like he was fighting something inside himself.

Then Yunho shifted, and now his knees were pressed into the carpet on either side of Mingi’s hips, and Mingi’s entire body went stiff.

Yunho was straddling him now, close enough that Mingi could feel Yunho's hardness through the thin fabric of his pants.

He wasn’t wearing any underwear.

Mingi’s pulse thundered. He could feel Yunho above him like a weight.

The alpha leaned forward slightly, hands braced on either side of Mingi’s shoulders. His breath brushed the back of Mingi’s neck.

Mingi shuddered. 

Yunho inhaled. 

Mingi’s body answered Yunho's arousal by flooding heat throughout his whole system. He pressed his thighs together, but it didn’t help. His own arousal pulsed, and he wanted to lift his hips and meet Yunho’s body.

So he did.

His ass met Yunho’s bulge, grinding onto it shamefully. 

Yunho’s voice came out broken.

“Fuck.”

He jerked backward, scrambling off him so fast it was almost clumsy. The sudden loss of warmth left Mingi cold and aching.

Yunho stood up, breathing hard, hands clenched at his sides like he was physically restraining himself. 

Mingi pushed himself up slowly, oil slick on his skin, hair messy and chest tight.

They stared at each other.

The living room smelled like sex not because they’d done anything, but because their bodies had wanted to.

Mingi’s pheromones were thick in the air now, overwhelming and dizzying Yunho.

Yunho’s scent was the same, only heavier and nearly choking Mingi—and all Mingi wanted Yunho to do was to choke him even more.

The alpha’s eyes flicked over Mingi’s bare skin, then snapped away like he couldn’t stand it.

“I’m sorry,” Yunho said hoarsely.

Mingi’s throat tightened. “For what?”

Yunho swallowed hard. “For… that.”

Mingi’s hands curled into fists. He forced his voice to come out steady. “It’s fine,” he lied.

“Go wash the oil off,” Yunho said quietly. “You’ll get it on everything.”

Mingi nodded too fast. He fled down the hall on shaking legs and with the air behind him still heavy. He didn’t close the bathroom door all the way. 

He didn’t know why.

Maybe because he wanted Yunho to follow.

But Yunho didn’t.

4.

Yunho didn’t think he was drunk.

He was buzzed, maybe. Loose in the shoulders. The kind of drunk that made the city lights look softer and made the cold air feel less like an enemy.

He’d only gone out because Wooyoung and Yeosang had dragged him out, because they’d said he’d been acting weird lately and insisted he needed to get laid like that was a cure for whatever had been rotting inside him for weeks.

And yunho had gone, because he didn’t know how to explain that it wasn’t just sex he was craving.

So he’d sat at the bar with a glass in his hand and laughed at the right moments, listened to people talk about nothing, and let the music thump through his ribs. He’d let a few omegas flirt with him, because that was what happened when you were an alpha in a crowded place. He would just smile politely and keep his hands to himself.

One of them had leaned in too close. Had touched his arm. Had laughed into his ear.

Yunho, of course, stepped back.

He’d left early.

And still, when he walked into the apartment, he knew immediately that he’d made a mistake.

The living room lights were off, but the kitchen light was on. 

The air was quiet. Too quiet, in fact.

Yunho shut the door behind him as gently as he could, slipping his shoes off. He expected to hear Mingi’s voice from the couch, teasing him for being out late.

Instead, he heard footsteps.

And then Mingi appeared at the end of the hall. He was wearing an oversized hoodie that Yunho recognized instantly because it was his.

Mingi stopped like he’d been waiting there the whole time. His eyes locked onto Yunho’s face that for a second, he felt relief in his chest.

But then his expression twisted into something wounded and furious.

Yunho’s stomach dropped.

“Mingi?” Yunho said. “Why are you awake?”

Mingi didn’t answer.

He walked forward instead, closing the distance in long strides, shoulders tense and posture rigid like a wire pulled too tight.

Yunho straightened instinctively, alpha senses sharpening.

Mingi smelled sour. His pheromones were uneven like his instincts were clawing at the inside of his skin.

Yunho’s own instincts stirred immediately, responding.

Mingi stopped right in front of him. Close enough that Yunho could feel the warmth radiating off his body. Close enough that he could smell Mingi directly.

The omega’s gaze dropped to his throat. His nostrils flared and his lips parted. And then he looked up, eyes furious.

“You stink,” Mingi said.

Yunho blinked. “What?”

Mingi took a step closer. Yunho didn’t move back. He couldn’t.

“You stink,” Mingi repeated, voice rising. “You smell disgusting."

Yunho stared at him, stunned. “Mingi, what are you talking about?”

Mingi let out a laugh that sounded like it hurt. “What am I talking about? Are you serious?”

Yunho’s brows furrowed. “I… I just came home.”

“Yeah,” Mingi snapped. “From where? From who?”

The words hit Yunho like a truck. “From the bar. I told you I was going out.”

Mingi’s eyes flashed. “You didn’t tell me you were going out to let some omega crawl all over you.”

Yunho’s heart slammed. “That didn’t happen,” he said immediately, voice firm.

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not lying,” Yunho insisted.

Mingi shook his head, hair falling into his eyes. His hands clenched at his sides, fists trembling.

“You smell like them,” Mingi said, voice cracking. “You smell like some omega’s perfume and their pheromones and whatever the hell else they left on you.”

Yunho only noticed it when Mingi said it, but now his own senses caught up. A faint sweetness clung to his shirt, subtle but present—the omega at the bar.

“Mingi,” he said quietly, “it’s not what you think.”

Mingi’s eyes were glassy now.

“Then what is it?” he demanded. “Because you came home smelling like you let someone else—”

His voice broke. 

And Yunho saw the tremor in Mingi’s jaw and the way his eyes shimmered like he was trying not to cry.

Yunho’s instincts surged, protective and immediate. He stepped forward without thinking and reached for Mingi’s wrists.

“Mingi,” Yunho said. “Hey. Look at me.”

Mingi jerked like he wanted to pull away, but Yunho’s grip was gentle and steady.

Mingi’s gaze flicked to Yunho's hands. Then up to Yunho’s face.

And his eyes filled.

“Don’t touch me,” Mingi whispered, voice shaking.

The words gutted Yunho. He loosened his grip instantly, hands dropping.

“Mingi,” Yunho said again, softer now. “What’s wrong?”

Mingi swallowed hard. His throat bobbed. His lips trembled.

Then, in a small voice that sounded like he hated himself for saying it, he admitted, “I can’t handle it?”

Yunho stared.

“What?”

Mingi let out a breath that sounded like it tore out of him.

“I can’t handle another omega’s scent on you,” Mingi whispered, voice breaking. “I can’t. I can’t do it.”

His eyes squeezed shut and he finally cried. Tears spilled down his cheeks like his body had finally given up on holding them back. 

Yunho’s chest went tight. 

He didn’t know what to do with it. He didn’t know what to do with the fact that Mingi was crying because Yunho smelled like someone else.

Like Yunho belonged to someone else.

Yunho took a shaky step closer.

“Mingi,” he said. “Hey. No. No, come here.”

Mingi shook his head, wiping at his face with his sleeve, but the hoodie only made it worse because it smelled like Yunho.

“You don’t get it,” Mingi whispered.

Yunho’s hands hovered again, hesitant now. “Then make me get it. Tell me.”

Mingi’s breathing hitched. He stared at Yunho with wide, wet eyes.

“You come home,” Mingi’s voice was trembling. “and you smell like someone else, and suddenly it felt like I was losing you.”

Yunho’s heartbeat seemed to stop, then restart violently, thudding so hard it made him dizzy.

“Mingi,” Yunho whispered.

Mingi flinched at the sound of his name.

The omega looked down, shaking his head like he wanted to take the words back, like he was ashamed.

“I know it’s stupid,” Mingi muttered. “I know it’s not my business. You’re an alpha. You can do whatever you want. I’m just your best friend and I’m being insane and—”

“Stop,” Yunho cut in abruptly.

He stepped closer until there was barely any space between them. 

While his voice came out steady, his hands were shaking at the sides. “You’re not insane,” Yunho said. “And it’s not stupid.”

Mingi stared at him.

Yunho could smell Mingi’s pheromones spiking again. The scent wrapped around Yunho like a hook.

He wanted to soothe him.

He wanted to gather him up and press him against his chest and tell him he was safe.

“I didn’t let anyone touch me,” Yunho spoke truthfully. “Not like that. Someone leaned in too closely and I moved away. I left early. I came home because I didn’t want to be there.”

Mingi’s eyes searched his face desperately. “Then why do you smell like them?”

“Because I was in a bar full of omegas and the air was thick with pheromones. I didn’t think it mattered.”

He paused.

“I didn’t think you’d care.”

Mingi’s breath caught. His scent shifted again, softer now. 

Yunho could feel his own pheromones rising in response. He hated how easily his body reacted to Mingi and how right it felt.

Then, in a whisper that barely made it past his lips, Mingi said,

“I care.”

Yunho stared at Mingi like he couldn’t trust his own ears.

“You care,” Yunho repeated.

Mingi nodded, tears still clinging to his lashes. His voice cracked. “I don’t want you to smell like anyone else.”

The words should’ve been impossible, but they weren’t. They were real and here, standing between them.

Yunho took a step closer. He lifted his hand slowly, like he was asking permission with every inch of movement. 

Mingi didn’t pull away.

Yunho’s thumb brushed the tear track on Mingi’s cheek gently. “I promise I won’t let that happen again.”

“Promise?” he whispered.

Yunho nodded. “Promise.”

Mingi’s gaze dropped to Yunho’s mouth. Yunho’s breath hitched.

It was like watching Mingi fall toward him, like watching a star collapse. 

Mingi stepped in closer, forehead nearly touching Yunho’s chest.

Yunho’s hand slid to the back of Mingi’s neck instinctively, fingers tangling in his hair.

The air was thick with their mixed pheromones now. Yunho’s alpha scent had spread without permission, wrapping around Mingi like a blanket. 

Mingi tilted his head up.

Their noses nearly brushed.

Their lips hovered a breath apart.

Yunho could taste him already—could already feel the inevitability of it.

But then Mingi suddenly whispered, voice trembling with urgency, “Can I—can I scent you?”

Scenting.

It was intimate and something you did to claim someone, even temporarily. 

Something you did when your instincts were screaming that you needed to make sure everyone knew.

Yunho’s mouth went dry. Mingi looked terrified of his own request, eyes wide and pleading, like he’d asked for too much and couldn’t take it back. 

Yunho nodded anyway.

“Yes,” he murmured. “Yes, Mingi.”

Mingi spent no time and stepped forward and pressed his face into Yunho’s neck. He inhaled deeply, then rubbed his cheek against Yunho’s throat, like he was trying to erase every foreign scent with his own.

His hands somehow found their way on Mingi’s waist, where they tightened, making Mingi shift, dragging his scent along Yunho’s skin, pressing his nose to Yunho’s collarbone, then higher, back to his throat.

Mingi’s lips brushed Yunho’s skin barely, but Yunho’s body reacted like it was a kiss.

His pheromones surged, making Mingi make a small sound in his throat, almost pleased. 

Mingi pulled back just enough to look at him. His eyes were blown wide. His voice came out wrecked. “Better.”

Yunho’s hands slid up Mingi’s arms, pulling him closer again before he could stop himself.

“My turn,” Yunho muttered.

Mingi’s breath hitched. “What?” 

Yunho didn’t answer. He leaned in and pressed his face into Mingi’s neck. The moment Yunho inhaled, his instincts roared.

Mingi smelled like home.

Yunho rubbed his cheek against Mingi’s skin, leaving his scent behind. He moved lower, to Mingi’s collarbone, then higher again, nuzzling under Mingi’s jaw.

Mingi shivered. His hands clutched Yunho’s shirt, fingers twisting in the fabric like he was holding on for dear life. 

Yunho’s scent poured out of him, claiming the space, wrapping around them both like a seal.

The omega’s pheromones spiked in response, flooding the air until Yunho felt lightheaded.

Mingi made a small sound.

Yunho lifted his head immediately. “Mingi?”

“I feel…” Mingi started, then stopped, swallowing hard.

Yunho’s thumb brushed Mingi’s jaw.

“Tell me,” Yunho said softly.

Mingi’s voice came out shaking. “I feel safe.”

The words were quiet, but they destroyed Yunho anyway. His grip tightened around Mingi’s waist. His body pressed closer without permission.

He felt them both get hard, and he knew Mingi felt it too, considering that his eyes widened and a flush crawled up his neck.

But he didn’t pull away. Instead, he pressed closer.

Yunho’s breathing turned ragged.

“Mingi,” Yunho warned, voice strained.

Mingi whispered, almost helpless, “Yunho…”

Their pheromones were a storm now, colliding in the narrow hallway until air itself was too thick to breathe.

Yunho’s hands slid down Mingi’s back, pulling him against him.

Mingi’s hips shifted unconsciously, making Yunho groan under his breath. He tipped his head back, exposing his throat, and Yunho’s instincts jumped, teeth aching.

“Mingi, do you want me to…?” Yunho asked, salivating both literally and figuratively at what was going on in front of him.

“Yes, but…” Mingi’s throat bobbed. “Not now.”

The omega swallowed, eyes still locked on Yunho’s mouth. 

“But I want to,” Mingi admitted, voice trembling. 

Yunho leaned his forehead against Mingi’s, breathing hard. “I want to, too,” he whispered.

They stood there like that for a long moment, tangled together, drenched in each other’s scent, bodies acting and reacting without permission.

“Next time?” Mingi asked.

“Next time.” Yunho nodded back.

5.

Mingi woke up wrong.

Not in the way people meant when they accidentally slept on their piercing. It was deeper than that. It was under his skin and in his bones.

His body felt heavy and oversensitive, like every nerve had been turned up too high. It was like the air itself that was brushing over him was enough to make him shiver.

For a few seconds he just laid there, blinking into the dim morning light lurking through the blinds. His room smelled like him. Like Yunho too, still lingering from last night.

Mingi’s heart gave a strange, stuttering thump.

His throat went dry and he shifted, intending to sit up.

And froze.

Because the moment he moved his legs, there was a slick, sticky drag of sensation between his thighs that made his stomach drop straight through the mattress.

Mingi went completely still.

His brain tried to scramble for logic, tried to pretend it was something else, but his omega didn’t let him lie.

His thighs pressed together unconsciously, and the friction made his vision blur for half a second. He sucked in a sharp breath and his cheeks burned instantly.

“Oh my god,” he whispered hoarsely.

In a sudden, his body felt needy. He felt like he had a hollow ache that wanted to be filled. Like his instincts had woken up and immediately started tearing the room apart looking for something that didn’t exist.

Or someone.

Mingi’s eyes flicked to the door.

Yunho’s scent was seeping from his room, and it made his stomach twist with a yearning so sharp it almost made him nauseous.

He clenched his fists in the sheets. His skin was too hot and his clothes were too much. His heat, despite not being due for months, was now here, and his omega was like a beast stretching its claws and blinking awake, sniffing the air.

Mingi squeezed his eyes shut. 

“Stop,” he whispered, like his omega could listen to him.

But his body didn’t stop.

It only got worse. 

His slick kept pooling, and his stomach clenched again with a deep, aching pull that felt like it came from somewhere beneath his ribs.

His lower belly felt tender, like it wanted something. 

His gaze snapped to the corner of his bed.

Tyudeongi and Bbyongming were half-buried under his blanket, where he’d thrown them last night without thinking. Their stitched little faces stared back at him, harmless and soft.

Mingi stared at them like they were a lifeline.

Something in him broke. One second his hands were clutching the sheets, and the next he had both plushies in his arms, dragging them close, pulling them against his chest so tightly it almost hurt.

He immediately got up and threw all of Yunho’s belongings onto his bed and made a nest, with the plushies safe inside. He curled around them instinctively, knees tucking up, body folding inward like he was trying to protect something precious.

He pressed his face into Tyudeongi’s soft fur and inhaled. It was warm and safe and his instincts didn’t care about any logic at all. They only cared about the shape of comfort.

The ache in his belly flared again.

His thighs clenched.

Mingi let out a broken sound. His arms tightened around the plushies, rocking slightly without meaning to, the motion slow and rhythmic like something ancient had taken over his muscles.

“Shh,” he whispered.

He didn’t know why he said it.

He didn’t know who he was referring to.

“Shh… it’s okay,” he murmured again, pressing his lips to the plush’s head. “It’s okay. It’s okay, I’m here.”

His cheeks were burning and his eyes stung. He didn’t understand what was happening to him, but his omega did.

“Pups.”

He sucked in a breath, shaking. His hands moved, pulling a hoodie tighter around the plushies, wrapping them up like they were fragile. 

His arms cradled them against his chest, and then his body betrayed him yet again. 

A strange pressure built behind his nipples, dull at first, then sharper, like a fullness swelling beneath the skin.

Mingi froze. 

He blinked down at his chest like it might be a hallucination. His shirt darkened slightly where it pressed against Tyudeongi’s face.

Mingi stared. His mind went blank. His throat tightened so hard he could barely breathe.

“No,” he whispered again. 

But his body didn’t care. His body kept going.

His breasts ached, heavy and full, and when he shifted even slightly, more warmth leaked, soaking into the fabric.

Mingi let out a strangled sound and pressed his face into Bbyongming like he could hide from himself.

He was lactating. 

He was actually lactating… for a plush toy.

His omega hummed with satisfaction anyway, like it was proud of him. Mingi’s hands trembled as he pulled the shirt up slightly, fumbling and not thinking, only obeying the awful, aching pull inside him.

He guided Tyudeongi closer to his breast. His lips parted as he let out a shaky breath, and then he made another soothing sound, almost a coo.

“Good… good baby,” he whispered. “It’s okay. It’s okay…”

He rocked them both. His body shook with the motion. His slick kept gathering between his thighs, sticky and hot, and the ache in his belly turned more demanding.

A deep, instinctive need clawed up his spine and wrapped around his ribs. 

Mingi’s eyes squeezed shut. Tears slipped down his cheeks. 

It was mortifying, but it felt… right. 

He didn’t know how long he stayed like that. The world narrowed to warmth and rocking and the soft plush bodies in his arms, to the dampness against his breasts, to the scent of himself growing stronger and stronger until it started seeping out under his door.

Mingi didn’t even realize he was calling out until his own voice echoed faintly in the room.

“Yunho,” he whimpered.

His name tasted like salvation.

“Yunho… please…”

His voice broke. He rocked the plushies tighter to his chest and sobbed, tears soaking into Bbyongming’s head.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to him, incoherent. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry… I’ll take care of you, I promise.”

The ache in his belly twisted again, harder this time, and Mingi gasped, thighs trembling.

He needed Yunho. 

He needed Yunho so badly it hurt.

The apartment was silent except for his ragged breathing, until suddenly, there was a sound outside his room.

The soft, muffled thud of someone moving too quickly was heard down the hall. 

Mingi’s eyes snapped to the door.

The doorknob turned, and finally, finally, Yunho stepped in.

His hair was messy and his shirt was half untucked, like he’d thrown it on without thinking. 

The second he crossed the threshold to Mingi’s room, he stopped dead. His nostrils flared up. His gaze snapped to Mingi on the bed. To the nest around him, to the plushies cradled against his breast, and to the damp stain underneath Mingi’s pants.

Yunho’s expression changed instantly.

Shock first, then something more primal.

“Mingi,” Yunho snarled. The sound of it made Mingi’s entire body shudder.

His omega surged, reaching toward Yunho like a thing needing water.

Mingi clutched the plushies tighter, face burning with humiliation. He wanted to disappear, but his body didn’t let him hide.

His scent poured off him in waves.

Yunho took a step forward, then another.

His gaze never left Mingi’s face.

“Don’t look at me,” Mingi whispered, voice breaking.

Yunho didn’t stop until he was standing at the edge of the bed. His alpha was already responding to the pheromones, and Mingi could smell the electricity between them.

“Mingi,” Yunho said again. “What happened?”

Mingi let out a small sob.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I woke up and I was… I was like this and I can’t stop and I tried to but I can’t, Yunho, I can’t—”

His voice broke apart.

“I’m so embarrassed.”

Yunho’s gaze dropped to Tyudeongi and Bbyongming.

Something flickered in his eyes, like he understood too well what Mingi’s instincts were doing. Like he could see the truth written all over Mingi’s body.

He wants pups.

He wants an alpha.

Yunho swallowed hard. “You’re in heat.”

Mingi’s breath hitched. He nodded weakly, tears still falling.

Yunho stepped closer, leaning down slightly, inhaling. The moment he breathed Mingi in, his entire body went taut. His scent surged into the room.

Mingi gasped. His thighs clenched and his belly ached.

“You’ve been like this all morning?”

Mingi nodded again. “I didn’t want to bother you. I tried to wait it out. I thought it would go away.”

Yunho let out a harsh breath. “It won’t.”

Mingi blinked up at him.

Yunho’s gaze snapped to Mingi’s breasts again, then to the dampness. His jaw clenched and his bulge twitched. He looked back into Mingi’s eyes, and there was something in his expression that made Mingi’s omega whimper.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

Mingi’s lips trembled.

“I didn’t want you to know how much I needed you,” he whispered.

The words hung in the air. 

“I’m sorry,” Mingi choked. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

His arms tightened around the plushies, rocking them like it would fix everything. 

Then he looked up at Yunho again, and the need in his body overwhelmed every ounce of shame he had left.

His voice came out pleading.

“Yunho,” he whispered. “Please… I need you.”

“Mingi…” Yunho’s voice was physically restraining itself from turning into something more feral.

“I can’t,” he sobbed. “I can’t do this alone. I can’t… I can’t stop thinking about it, Yunho, I can’t stop thinking about you.”

His breathing turned frantic. 

His instincts surged again, and the words tumbled out before he could swallow them back down.

“Please put pups in me,” Mingi cried.

Yunho’s expression shattered. His scent filled the entire room until Mingi’s omega practically fainted in response.

“You have no idea what you’re asking me.”

Mingi sobbed.

“Yes I do,” he whispered. “I do. I want you to impregnate me, make me bear your pups—make me yours…”

His voice shook with desperation.

“Please, claim me, alpha.”

That was the last thread.

Yunho moved so fast Mingi barely saw it. He climbed onto him, hands gripping his waist, dragging him closer with a strength that made Mingi gasp.

Tyudeongi and Bbyongming tumbled aside.

Mingi’s hands flew to Yunho’s shoulders.

The alpha’s face was buried into Mingi’s neck, and all he could do was cry out—the sound being half a moan and half a sob, as Yunho inhaled him like he was starving.

“Mingi,” he breathed, shaking. “Tell me to stop and I will.”

Mingi shook his head desperately, clutching him.

“I don’t want you to stop.”

Yunho’s teeth scraped lightly against Mingi’s throat. A jolt of pleasure shot down his spine so hard his toes curled.

The alpha’s arms tightened around him, holding him down like he was afraid Mingi would disappear.

Mingi’s breath came out in broken gasps.

“Yunho,” he whimpered.

“I’m going to mark you,” Yunho said, voice shaking like he was barely hanging on. “I’m going to claim you. You understand?”

He nodded frantically.

“Yes, alpha,” he sobbed. “Claim me. I’m yours, I’ve always been yours.”

Yunho’s lips brushed Mingi’s neck and finally bit down.

Mingi screamed. The sound tore out of him, pleasure and relief crashing together until he couldn’t breathe.

His body arched. His slick flooded between his thighs. His entire world went white.

He sobbed, shaking violently, clutching Yunho like he was the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

Yunho lifted his head just enough to look at him, expression wrecked.

“Mine,” Yunho’s voice came out low.

Mingi nodded, tears spilling down his cheeks. “Yes, my alpha—yours… All yours.”

Yunho pressed his forehead against Mingi’s. His hands slid down Mingi’s sides like he was grounding himself.

His voice softened. “I want to kiss you. Can I kiss you?”

Mingi smiled with all that he could. “Please, I’d love that—alpha, I—I need your kiss.”

And finally, Yunho kissed him. Soft at first, like he was afraid of frightening him.

But it didn’t stay soft for long. Their mouths moved together like they’d been starving for this for years.

Mingi whimpered into him, hands clutching Yunho’s shirt, dragging him closer.

Yunho’s body pressed down over him, and Mingi’s omega, finally awake from its fainting, melted into it like it had been waiting his whole life. He only broke the kiss only to breathe against Mingi’s mouth, voice shaking.

“You’re going to take me?”

Mingi’s eyes fluttered open, nodding and panting. 

“Yes,” he whispered. “I’ll take every inch of you—everything you give me, I’ll take it happily.”

Yunho’s jaw clenched. He kissed Mingi again, deeper and hungry this time as his hands worked their way into removing their clothes. When he peeled Mingi’s pants off of him, the omega let out a cry that only made Yunho more feral. 

The slick Mingi produced only came even more as Yunho circled his index around his hole. 

“Breathe in,” Yunho murmured as he inserted his finger. The slick acted as a lubricant, so Yunho had no problem slipping his entire index inside of Mingi. The omega moaned as he started wiggling his finger inside him, finding that sweet spot he wanted to hit so badly.

When he couldn’t find it with one finger, he inserted another—making Mingi clench around Yunho’s fingers.

“Ah—! Y—Yunho, there—!” Mingi whimpered, rolling his eyes as Yunho finally found his prostate.

Yunho nodded, curling his fingers up and pumping them into the omega, making sure to hit that spot over and over again. Mingi’s moans filled the room, his pheromones spilling every time Yunho fingered his prostate. 

The alpha inserted another finger, scissoring Mingi open for preparation.

“You’ll need to get prepped,” Yunho breathed through his teeth. He could barely hold on from fucking Mingi, but he was too big for the omega to handle without preparation. “I’ll break you in half.”

Mingi nodded, his tongue hanging out of his mouth. Yunho took the chance to take it in his mouth and suck it as he inserted the fourth finger. The younger man moaned around his mouth, trying his best to stay sane from the overwhelming sensation on his prostate. 

When Yunho pulled his fingers out of Mingi, he felt an immediate sense of emptiness and almost made an attempt to chase the fingers, but Yunho stopped him, diving down and positioning his head in between Mingi’s legs.

“W—What are you doing?” Mingi asked. 

“Eating my princess out,” Yunho replied, before licking a stripe on Mingi’s hole. 

The omega jolted from the surprise, before melting into pleasure as Yunho thoroughly tongue-fucked his ass. His hand reached out to hold Yunho’s hair in place, which made him hum in agreement, in turn sending vibrations up Mingi’s spine. 

Yunho went at it for a few more minutes before retracting himself and catching his breath, smiling smugly at Mingi beneath him. 

“You taste so good,” he said, before kissing Mingi and making him taste his own slick. “Think you can take me now? Hmm?”

Mingi’s omega keened, and so did he. He nodded immediately, pleading. “Yes alpha—I’m ready to—to take your pups…”

Yunho smiled, and then he shifted his weight, pulling Mingi closer. He lined his cock up with Mingi’s entrance before slowly pushing in. Mingi moaned as he was stretched out by Yunho’s cock inch by inch.

He was right—his cock was big. Big enough that despite all the preparation, Mingi still felt himself being torn apart by his cock. Big enough that he was almost full and yet Yunho did not bottom out yet. Big enough that once he finally did, Mingi was sure he felt it in his stomach.

“So big… so full…” Mingi whined mindlessly, his mind no longer functioning properly, only saying the same few words—I need his cock. I need his pups.

Yunho waited for Mingi to adjust, staying still until he finally gave the green light to start moving. He started slow enough, making Mingi get used to his size. Each pull was brutal for the alpha, whose brain was yelling at him to pound into him relentlessly already, but the very small, very rational part of it begged for him to remain gentle.

But Mingi did not want gentle. 

“Harder…” he whimpered, clenching just enough to let Yunho know that he was being genuine. “Breed me, alpha.”

Yunho was not a strong man at all. His legs faltered slightly as the words left Mingi’s mouth, but his alpha finally won over the rational side. With one slow thrust, he immediately quickened the pace, pounding into Mingi with all that he could. 

His thrusts were relentless and his rhythm did not stagger at all. His mind was only filled with the need to breed the omega—his omega—beneath him. 

Yunho leaned down to suck Mingi’s tits, earning him a moan louder than what he had been receiving for the past minute. He then kissed Mingi on the lips, his tongue seeking dominance over Mingi’s, to which the omega immediately submitted.

Mingi’s mind was nothing but fog now, but he knew his climax was nearing. The sounds being made by their sex was filthy and lewd, and all he could think was Yunho’s cum spilling inside of him and impregnating him.

“‘m close… alpha—alpha!” he moaned, his eyes squinting.

“Me too—” Yunho groaned, his pace turning erratic. “Gonna breed you—gonna fill you with my pups. You want that? Want me to knot you and fill you up?”

Mingi nodded, crying. “Yes! Knot me! Make me yours—!” 

Once more, Yunho leaned down to bite Mingi’s mark again before he finally came inside him. His cum spilled inside of Mingi, his cock forming a knot inside of Mingi as he did. 

Mingi came as well, spilling all over their stomachs and torsos, with a little bit even hitting his face. His body seized up, pleasure ripping through him so sharply he couldn’t even breathe around it. He’d also made a sound he didn’t recognize nor even know he could make, but that's another thing for another day.

He was barely even aware before Yunho was swearing under his breath, thumb brushing his cheek, wiping the cum away. He stayed pressed against him, his arms locked around Mingi’s waist like restraints.

Yunho’s scent was also everywhere. Underneath it, Mingi’s own pheromones were slowly changing, losing its sharp desperation and turning softer, like its instincts were finally curling up to slumber now that it’s been fed.

“Mingi,” Yunho murmured. “Did I hurt you?”

Mingi swallowed, throat sore from crying and begging. His cheeks burned again, embarrassment creeping in now that the haze was lifting. 

He turned his head to look at Yunho. His face was flushed and his lips were swollen from kissing. There was something dazed in his expression too, like he couldn’t believe what they’d done either.

“I’m okay,” he whispered.

Yunho’s brows furrowed, like he didn’t trust it. “You’re shaking.”

Mingi hadn’t realized he was. His mind wandered to everything and nothing at once, but all he could say was, “Don’t move yet.”

Yunho exhaled a quiet laugh that sounded more like relief than amusement. “I couldn’t even if I wanted to.” He wiggled his knot as if to prove his point, making Mingi groan and laugh at the same time.

Eventually, his knot deflated, and before long, Mingi was clean again. They changed clothes and cuddled in the nest, smelling each other like it was the best thing to ever do with each other.

“You know, I wanted to do this for so long,” Yunho admitted suddenly, his fingers tracing Mingi’s palm. “I thought I was going insane.”

Mingi’s voice cracked. “I didn’t know.”

Yunho’s thumb then brushed under Mingi’s eye, catching a tear before it even fell. “You did. I think you just didn’t want to admit it.”

Mingi couldn’t argue—it was true after all. 

“I was scared,” he confessed.

Yunho leaned in, pressing their foreheads together. “So was I.”

He kissed Mingi then, like he was apologizing for being scared—like he was promising not to be scared from now on.

Mingi kissed him back, like he was promising the same thing.

“I feel… full,” he said when they finally pulled away from each other. 

“Good.”

Mingi’s cheeks warmed. He stared at Yunho for a long moment, studying him like he’d never really seen him before.

This wasn’t his roommate.

This was an alpha—his alpha—whose scent wrapped around him like a collar, one that Mingi proudly wore. 

“What happens now?” he asked.

Yunho’s expression softened. He brushed Mingi’s hair back from his forehead, thumb lingering there.

“Now, I take care of you.”