Archive of Our Own

“Baby bread’s looking a bit toasted.”

Jeongin takes another sip of his drink, flipping Hyunjin the middle finger. He resents that nickname, and has for months. Sure, he is the only one in his friend group that hasn’t presented yet, but that doesn’t mean he’s a baby. He’d literally been dragged out tonight against his will to celebrate his twenty-third birthday.

“Fuck off,” he bites back.

One drink in and his words are slurring; this is a new low.

An arm wraps around Jeongin’s shoulder, pulling him close. “Play nice, Jinnie.” Felix’s low voice is surprisingly serious. Not threatening, but commanding. It’s moments like this that make it easy to remember Felix is the lone alpha at the table, surrounded by a rag-tag group of omegas—and Jeongin. The outlier. The lone wolf (and no, the joke isn’t lost on him).

Across the table, Hyunjin snorts, hand clasped over his mouth as he laughs. Jeongin sticks out his tongue and lets himself melt into Felix’s side. “Hyung, I’m being bullied,” he pouts. Felix’s hand ghosts down Jeongin’s spine to the dip of his waist, resting there, fingers pressing into skin. Possessive. But—no, not that, Jeongin reminds himself. Most alphas have an instinctual need to protect. Felix is just particularly physical about it. Hugging, hand-holding, legs tangled on couches; he likes to be attached.

Jeongin doesn’t. He never has. Personal space is important to him, and everyone knows that. Felix though, has always been the exception to the rule. Jeongin couldn’t explain it if he tried. It just—it’s always been that way, for as long as they’ve been friends.

“I’ll protect you,” Felix whispers playfully. This close, Jeongin can smell him: his favourite cologne, and beneath that his natural scent. Bright, like a summer breeze, and vaguely fruity. Spicy, but soft. As far as scents go, it’s— subtle. Nothing you’d think an alpha would smell like, but perhaps that’s part of Felix’s allure, what draws people to him like moths to a flame.

Turning his face, Felix gently rubs his nose against Jeongin’s neck, just below his ear. Another alpha instinct, since they both know that Jeongin doesn’t have a scent . He can fake it, with perfumes and colognes or a particularly potent fabric softener. He can smell nice, but it’s not natural—not him.

Like a kid playing dress-up, trying to be something—someone—they’re not.

Felix stiffens. His breath hitches.

“Hyung?”

Jaw clenched, Felix pulls back, loosening his grip on Jeongin’s waist. His pupils are dilated in the dim lighting of the bar as he assesses Jeongin. 

Jeongin swallows around the newly formed lump in his throat. “Hyung, what’s wrong?”

“Do you—” Felix stops himself. He exhales, wiping the concern from his face before he takes a sip of his drink—some ridiculously fancy cocktail with slush and a mini fruit kabob sticking out of the glass—and offers Jeongin a small smile. “You feel okay, Yen-ah?”

It’s a question that Jeongin answers with a shrug. Yes and no. No, because he’s definitely feeling far too drunk for how little he’s drank. No, because if he thinks too hard, he remembers that this is yet another birthday cementing the fact that he’s destined to be a beta. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Fuck, being a beta will make so many parts of his life convenient. Easy.

But if he’s being honest with himself, Jeongin doesn’t want easy.

He sighs. Yes, he feels okay. He’s here with friends—even if some of those friends are being assholes. “Yeah,” he answers, because Felix is looking at him expectantly. “M’good.” He ignores the spike of pain in his gut, as if his organs are cramping. It must be from sitting too long, or the alcohol. “Maybe just water for a bit, y’know?”

“Lightweight,” Jisung mutters.

Jeongin scowls at him with narrowed eyes. “Says you.”

“Easy kids,” Chan says, and the table erupts into laughter.

Jeongin is not drunk.

Swaying back and forth to the music on the outskirts of the dance floor, trying to get his vision to focus, though—he feels like he is. He tugs on the collar of his shirt; it’s hot, and he’s sweaty, and his stomach is churning as his vision goes hazy once more.

Hands on his waist. Lips brushing against his ear. Felix’s voice, deep, grounding him. “Innie,” he says, “Do you want to dance?”

It’s probably not a good idea, when Jeongin’s legs feel boneless beneath him. But it’s his birthday, and he wants to enjoy himself—wants to have fun. And Felix is the best possible distraction, all sharp edges and soft skin. No amount of nausea is going to ruin this for him.

“Sure,” Jeongin says.

Felix grins. The lighting in the club turns his wolfy teeth a brilliant neon blue.

Jeongin wants to kiss him.

It’s a fleeting desire, there and then gone as quickly as Jeongin realizes he wanted it. They’re—they’re friends. They’ve been friends for years. And sure, there’s always been something overtly fruity about their (for lack of a better word) pack, but it’s never been serious. Especially for Jeongin. It’s a different sort of nausea he feels in those moments, induced by the soft gazes Minho always saves for Jisung when he thinks no one else is looking, or the sight of Hyunjin wrapped around Seungmin like an octopus—and the sickeningly sweet smells that seep out of omegas in love. Maybe that’s why he’s always felt drawn to Felix, to his sharper scent that might prickle the inside of Jeongin’s nose, especially during Felix’s pre-rut—but it never burns. If anything, the slight sting actually feels kind of nice.

He bites down on his tongue, on that desire, then lets Felix lead him onto the dance floor and slot their bodies together, Jeongin’s back flush against Felix’s chest, ass to hips. It’s warm, warmer than before, which does nothing to help Jeongin’s nausea.

But Felix is here.

Hands ghosting along the skin of Jeongin’s waist, thumbs hooking into the belt loops of his jeans, pulling him impossibly closer. Lips dragging along Jeongin’s neck, nose pressing into the sensitive skin just below his ear. Nuzzling. Scenting. That same subtle citrus tickles Jeongin’s nose; he inhales it, sinking further into Felix’s embrace, lifting one arm to reach behind him and tangle in Felix’s long, blond hair. Closer, closer, closer. Felix’s scent soothes, a different sort of haze. Pleasant. Comforting. It drives away the worst of the unease.

Jeongin turns his head as Felix pulls away, their eyes locking as he looks back over his shoulder.

Felix has always been beautiful, a dangerous combination of appearing dainty, lithe, fragile—but being, in reality, strong. Solid. He is a reassuring presence, hands firmly holding Jeongin in place. Supporting him. He’s always been that way, if Jeongin thinks about it. His favourite hyung, even. The only one who’s never treated him like the youngest, the only one Jeongin feels—equal to. Which doesn’t make sense, because he knows they aren’t. They can’t be, not really, not when Felix is an alpha and Jeongin is—well. Jeongin.

Maybe that doesn’t matter as much as Jeongin thinks it does, though.

He’s still looking at Felix; they’ve stopped dancing, standing in the middle of the crowd as if time has frozen around them. Jeongin licks his lips. Sighs, a long inhale with an even longer exhale.

Felix’s pupils dilate. His lips part.

That desire is back. Jeongin wants—so, so badly.

“Can I kiss you?”

It’s a quiet request, barely audible among the crowd and the blaring music. Felix must hear it, though, because his nails dig into Jeongin’s skin and his breath hitches. “Are—” He swallows. His fingers drift higher up Jeongin’s waist, under the hem of his shirt. “Are you sure?”

Such a nice alpha. Kind. Polite. Jeongin knows this about Felix, of course. He wishes, just for a moment, that Felix wasn’t. Not about this. He wishes Felix would close the distance between them without a word. He wishes Felix would drag him off the dance floor and shove him up against some grimy bathroom stall door. He wishes—

But he knows Felix well enough to know that will never happen.

No matter. “Yes,” Jeongin replies. His vision is starting to blur at the edges again. Nerves, he thinks. The same can be said for how hot he feels. “Yes, I’m sure, hyung.”

Felix pauses. Briefly, as if he’s considering if he should let this happen. He’s older. He’s the responsible one. He should probably tell Jeongin no. But he doesn’t. Felix nods wordlessly, and then meets Jeongin halfway, holding him steady as their lips finally—finally—touch. Felix is gentle, soft lips and softer hands that hold Jeongin steady. He tastes vaguely of liquor and strongly of citrus.

All things considered, it’s a chaste kiss. Yet Jeongin feels like he’s on fire, heat coursing through his veins, burning up from the inside out. Closer, his body yearns, and Jeongin doesn’t have the mind to fight it. He’s the one that deepens that kiss: tongue pushing past teeth, hands fisting in the shimmery fabric of Felix’s shirt. Closer. There’s no space left between their bodies. Jeongin can feel Felix’s cock against his thigh, which—he can feel it. Hard. Felix is—

It’s not enough.

Jeongin is the one who pulls away, but only so that he can drag Felix away from the crowd, so that he can press Felix up against the wall in some dark forgotten corner, so that he can kiss Felix again. “Hyung.” He’s going to combust. More, more, more. He’s never wanted anything as badly as he wants Felix. Here, now.

“Yen-ah.” Felix’s voice is like a caress, soothing the worst of the burn without extinguishing the fire.

This time, when they kiss, Jeongin sees stars. Not in the romantic metaphorical sense, but in the real, terrifying sense. Black vision, spots of white. He can’t see. Nausea, a wave worse than any earlier in the night, crashes over him. Too long, before his vision returns. He’s still hot, but shivering.

“Yen-ah?” Felix grips his shoulders, voice pitching higher with concern.

“I don’t—”

Jeongin bolts. It’s a miracle that he makes it to the bathroom in time, slamming open the nearest stall and collapsing to his knees in front of the toilet, emptying his insides into the bowl. Stomach bile, sour, stings the back of his throat.

Citrus in the air. A gentle rap of knuckles against the stall door. “Can I come in?” Felix’s question is met with a moan, small and helpless. Jeongin slumps against Felix the moment the alpha kneels next to him, fingers carding through Jeongin’s hair and massaging the back of his neck. A sense of calm falls over Jeongin, Felix’s pheromones wrapping around him like a blanket. Safe . He is safe here. Hyung—alpha—will look after him, like always.

“I think I’m coming down with something,” Jeongin mutters.

Just for a moment—hands stilling, breath catching—Felix tenses. Then he sighs. “Yeah,” he says, tone oddly careful, voice tight, “I think you might be.” He reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone. Jeongin watches as Felix’s thumb taps across the screen. “C’mon,” he says afterwards. “I’m gonna take you home.”

It’s too hot in Jeongin’s apartment. Uncomfortable. Stifling, turning Jeongin’s stomach all over again. His hands are shaking too much to unlock the door. But Felix is there, gentle as he takes the keycard and even gentler still as he helps Jeongin inside. Jeongin slumps against the wall; his heart is racing, threatening to beat right out of his chest. He groans.

“Where does it hurt, Yen-ah?” Those same gentle hands, cupping Jeongin’s cheeks.

“Everywhere,” Jeongin grits out. It’s the truth, too. His head is throbbing, timed to the beat of his heart; his vision is fuzzy at the edges once more; his insides are twisting and turning. He still feels as if he’s on fire.

“C’mon,” Felix whispers, pushing Jeongin’s bangs back with a soft smile before he kneels. Even like this, pained and exhausted, it’s a sight that sends Jeongin’s mind—and body—spiraling. His head, his mouth; at this height, Felix could— 

He could—

This is bad. This is very, very bad. Those soft, plush, pink lips could wrap perfectly around Jeongin’s cock. He could suck Jeongin off here, in the hallway. His hands could clutch at Jeongin’s thighs, his waist. He could—

Felix removes Jeongin’s boots. He slowly unties the laces, hand cradling Jeongin’s calf as he tugs one boot off, then the other, setting them neatly on the floor. Guilt turns Jeongin’s cheeks red; he’s grateful that the dim lighting hides it. Here Felix is, helping him—looking after him, caring for him—and all Jeongin can think about is how much further than a kiss they might have gone. If only he hadn’t ruined it. Selfish of him, and stupid.

Unaware of Jeongin’s turmoil, Felix pushes himself upright. He leads Jeongin to the kitchen, directs him onto one of the stools at the counter, slides him a glass of water. “Drink,” he says. Commanding, but gentle. Alpha. Jeongin does as he’s told, draining the glass in one go.

Felix watches him, eyes fixated on Jeongin’s throat.

“How are you feeling?”

Jeongin considers the question, turning the glass around and around in his hands. It leaves a ring of condensation on the countertop. “Tired,” he settles on. And he is. His eyes feel heavy in his skull, the act of keeping them open a feat in and of itself. His limbs are made of lead. He’s so, so hot.

Felix nods. “Let’s get you to bed, Yen-ah.”

Another order, but one that Jeongin is all too happy to follow. He lets Felix help him up, trying to ignore how surprisingly cool Felix’s hand is where it wraps around his waist for the short walk down the hallway to his bedroom. Felix sets him down on the edge of the bed, then rifles through the dresser across the room. There’s a blur as he tosses something at Jeongin: a rumpled sleep shirt, ratty and old but comfortable, the letters and picture peeling from the design on the front. It’s Jeongin’s favourite.

“How did you—”

“Shh,” Felix says. He comes back to where Jeongin is sitting, standing before him just as he had in the club. Expectantly, he gestures with his hands in an upward motion. Citrus rolls off of him in waves, and Jeongin inhales the scent, desperate for more. He lifts his arms above his head. Shivers, when Felix’s hands ghost along his waist, undoing his belt so that he can untuck Jeongin’s shirt and pull it off over his head, tossing it aside. Another shiver works its way down Jeongin’s spine. He’s been shirtless around Felix before—hell, he’s been naked before. It never mattered then.

It feels like it might matter now.

Or Jeongin is just sick, and his mind is playing tricks on him. Making him see things that aren’t there.

Felix is helping him, because he’s a good alpha—a good friend, a good hyung. That’s all. Taking care of Jeongin when Jeongin isn’t capable of doing it for himself. Like how he leans down and grabs Jeongin’s shirt off the bed, helping him into it. Afterwards, he gives Jeongin another look. His jaw is clenched, just for a moment, before he relaxes it. “Do you need my help with those, too?” he asks.

Jeongin glances down, trying not to blush more. He knows if he says yes that Felix will help, would treat it as systematically as he’s treated everything else tonight. But now that the question’s been raised, something inside of Jeongin recoils at the thought of being babied to that degree; a different sort of heat brewing beneath his skin.

“I’m fine,” he says. As if to prove it, he stands and kicks the offending pants off. “I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can.” Felix is smiling, small and reserved. He takes a step back, towards the door. Giving Jeongin—space, for some strange reason. “If you need me,” he adds, shoving his hands into his pockets, “I’ll be on the couch.” There’s something indiscernible in his expression again. Some sort of frustration, Jeongin thinks, that Felix is trying his best to temper.

“You’re staying?”

“Yes?” Felix says, like it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “Just in case.”

Once he’s gone, closing the door behind him, Jeongin plops helplessly onto his bed, running a hand through his hair with a sigh. He fucked this up, too. Had he not been so arrogant, he could—he might have—

If he’d asked, Felix would have stayed.

Not out there, but here, in Jeongin’s room. In his bed. He could have apologized for earlier, for ruining it. If he apologized well enough, perhaps Felix might even have let them pick up where they left off. But, no. Jeongin let him leave, and he hates that. He doesn’t follow Felix, though. He forces himself to stay in his room, looking forlornly at the door. Beyond it, if Jeongin focuses, he can smell Felix. That will need to be enough, he tells himself, before the nausea comes crawling back up and forces Jeongin to lie down.

Eventually, he sleeps.

Heat. Blinding, overwhelming, burning heat. It’s the sort of warmth that sends Jeongin into a frenzy, kicking off his blankets in the dead of night and stumbling to the bathroom across the hall. Water, ice cold as he splashes his face, but it does nothing to quell the fire coursing beneath his skin, hotter than ever before.

Shit. Shit.

The face staring back at him in the foggy mirror is—a mess. Skin glistening with sweat. Tawny orange hair damp and stringy, sticking to his forehead. Cheeks flushed a fierce red. Jeongin’s chest tightens. He presses his fingers to the skin, wincing as the pads of his fingers burn. He leans forward—trying to inspect the reddened skin, watching how his pupils dilate under the cold fluorescent lights and his irises darken.

He’s—fuck. Delayed presentations aren’t unheard of, Jeongin knows that. He just assumed it would never apply to him. But now, with his body burning up? Hissing as his hardened cock strains against the fabric of his boxers, pressed between his body and the edge of the vanity counter?

Sandalwood spikes in the air.

Crisp and woodsy, just sweet enough that the inside of Jeongin’s nose burns. It seeps from his every pore, oppressive in its strength. All-consuming. It rolls off of Jeongin in waves as panic sets in. Panic, and desire. Worse than desire—a need, primal and desperate.

Alpha, alpha, alpha.

The knowledge of it sears through his veins, pooling low in his gut.

Jeongin gasps, peeling off his shirt and tossing it to the floor. His chest is as flushed as his cheeks are, nipples perking in the cool air even as he feels closer and closer to combusting from the inside out. His knuckles turn white where he grips the edge of the sink. Laboured breaths—in, then out, then in again—cast more fog on the mirror.

He needs, and that’s the worst thing of all. Like an itch that will kill him if it goes unscratched. His cock twitches in his pants, solid and heavy and full. A dark stain spreads across his boxers. Jeongin inhales once more, biting down on his lip to stop himself from moaning. Whining. Whimpering. Iron, tangy and sickly sweet, floods his mouth.

Fuck.

Perhaps it’s foolish, the way Jeongin shoves down his underwear, just enough to get his cock out, just enough that he can wrap his hand around the base and give himself a few quick strokes. But the effect—the relief—is so immediate he can’t bring himself to regret it. This, he needed this. And yet, it’s still not enough. Not yet. He drags his hand up, circling the head of his cock with his fist, precum smearing all over his palm to ease the glide the next time he runs his hand back down the shaft, to the base.

More. More, more, more. With a low-pitched keen, eerily close to a growl, Jeongin tumbles forward. He braces himself against the mirror, forehead pressed to the glass as he strokes himself faster, rougher, watching the precum seep from his slit as his cock grows harder in his hand, beginning to swell at the base.

Fuck.

He comes like that: frantic, desperate, overwhelmed. More blood fills his mouth as he bites back a shout, releasing thick stripes of white that splatter all over the sink, up his stomach, dripping off his fingers. It just—doesn’t end. Coming and coming and coming, until Jeongin slumps against the wall. Spent, exhausted, but it’s not over yet.

His cock is still hard, as flushed as his face.

Rut. Understanding of what that means finally begins to set in, despite the haze. Desire, wild and primal, still burning beneath his skin. Insatiable hunger. The entire bathroom smells of sandalwood; Jeongin feels like he might choke on it. If it’s this overwhelming for him, he can only imagine what it must be like for—

Felix.

Felix, who stayed, because he knew Jeongin wasn’t feeling well. Because he knew something was—if not wrong, then different. Felix, who is an alpha. He—surely, he must have smelled it on Jeongin earlier.

Jeongin shudders. He pushes himself upright, turns on the sink and shoves his hands under the faucet, furiously scrubbing away the evidence of his orgasm. He’s almost tempted to get in the shower, to scrub and scrub and scrub until the smell washes away, until it no longer burns.

The pocket of his pants vibrates.

The sensation of it—fuck, he’s leaking again. Precum oozes from the slit of his cock. How is there more? Jeongin wonders with a groan. Is this what he’s going to have to deal with from now on, his body betraying him every few months, mind crazed with lust?

hyunjinnie 🥟:

yeeeeeeeeeeeeenaaaah

minnie and i will be on our way home soonish i think, lix let us know you both got home okay so we’ll try not to wake you!

i’m sorry ur feeling like ass

and that i was mean to you on your birthday :c

i’ll make it up to you when you feel better! 😘

Guilt curls in Jeongin’s chest, intermingling with desire, souring the sandalwood. The scent leeches out of him, permeating the room. No shower, no matter how long, could make this disappear. No—his only option is to hide; to wait out the worst of the rut, or all of it.

Hastily, Jeongin pulls his underwear up, hissing as the fabric drags over his cock, hard and sensitive. He can deal with that later, rub out as many as it takes until this fever breaks. Or perhaps he can be stronger than that, and ignore it all together. Force his cock to soften by sheer force of will. Jeongin can be stubborn like that. Surely he— 

Citrus. Bright, sharp, tangy but sweet.

So much softer than Jeongin’s own sandalwood, settling over him like a balm and soothing the inside of his nose. Delicious. Jeongin should know better—but in the haze of his rut, driven by the ravenous hunger in his gut? He folds, opening the door. Succumbs, eyes slipping closed as he falls into the scent, melting against the body on the other side of the door. His hands fist in soft fabric hanging off a lithe frame.

Oh.

It’s Felix. Of course it’s Felix. Eyes half-lidded, but alert. Silver-blonde hair mussed with sleep, the long ends of it tickling Jeongin’s face. “Jeongin.”

Jeongin buries his nose further into the crook of Felix’s neck, skin against skin. Inhaling. He’s never—Felix has never smelled like this before. Not to Jeongin. The alpha has always smelled good, sure, but never this clear, or pure, or strong. He smells nothing like Jeongin does.

“Yen-ah?”

Despite the hesitation and concern, Felix’s voice is as comforting as his scent. It settles deep in Jeongin’s chest. His grip tightens, pulling Felix closer. A low grumble builds in his chest. “Hyung,” Jeongin whispers, his voice cracking.

Small hands rest on Jeongin’s shoulders, massaging the tense muscles. Trying, against all odds, to get Jeongin to relax. “Shit,” Felix hisses under his breath. “Are you okay?”

“No.” The admission, the weakness of it, sends Jeongin’s alpha spiraling. He breathes Felix in, trying not to cry. Too much, but not enough. More. He needs—he wants—more.

One of Felix’s hands shuffles, moving to the base of Jeongin’s neck. Fingers rub back and forth before working into his hair, massaging the base of his skull. “How do you feel?”

Words, speech, escape Jeongin. He’s presented suddenly in the middle of the night, his scent is on the verge of smoking out the entire apartment, he feels like he’s seconds away from crawling out of his skin if he doesn’t pop a knot—how is he supposed to feel?

“Jeongin.”

“I—S’hot,” Jeongin manages to say at last.

Those same small, soft, warm hands slide around to cup Jeongin’s face. One of Felix’s thumbs swipes along a cheekbone, rubbing away a tear. Fuck, Jeongin hadn’t even realized he’d started crying. He curls in on himself, ashamed. He’s an alpha now; he shouldn’t be crying. Not about this. It’s a bitter thought, one that leaves him fighting back fresh tears.

Felix pulls him closer. “Oh, Yen-ah.” 

Citrus, heavy in the air. Comforting, like a blanket. Jeongin wants to curl up in it. Taste it. So he does, tongue darting out to lave over Felix’s scent gland. And then, without meaning to but unable to stop himself, Jeongin closes his mouth over the gland—and bites. Citrus in his mouth and nose, settling between his bones. More. He’s never needed anything as badly as he needs this; as badly as he needs Felix.

There’s no point in denying it.

“Should—should I call Chan-hyung?” There’s an edge to Felix’s voice as he says it, almost like the thought makes him uncomfortable. Like he’s suggesting it not because it’s what he wants to say, but because he thinks it’s what he should say. It makes sense, logically. Chan is an omega, the oldest of their friend group, unattached. Giving, sometimes to a fault. He’d help Jeongin through this first rut, and both Felix and Jeongin know it. But the way Felix asked—it’s clear they both know that Jeongin doesn't want Chan.

He doesn’t want anyone except Felix.

Teeth and nails dig in harder, Jeongin refusing to let Felix go. He’s too terrified of what might happen if he tries. “No.” His body moves, finally, pushing Felix back against the wall on the other side of the hallway. Felix is solid beneath him, and Jeongin melts against his scent gland once more, abusing the skin. Perhaps he should give a fuck about that, but he doesn’t. His vision is turning red, black—foggy with a desire even stronger than before. He slots a knee between Felix’s legs, rutting against the other alpha’s thigh, relishing the friction it offers. More. Jeongin’s hands find Felix’s slender waist, fingers slipping under the hem of his shirt to be met with cool skin.

He should stop. He knows he should stop. But his brain is a chorus of alpha alpha alpha want need felix alpha more and he can’t fight it. “Hyung,” he pleads desperately, the word murmured into Felix’s skin.

“Tell me what you need, Yen-ah,” Felix whispers. There’s no judgment behind the question; just honesty. And—of course Felix would understand. He’s an alpha, too; he knows exactly what Jeongin is feeling, and has lived it himself. He presented early, shortly before he turned seventeen, second in their little pack after Chan. It had been a topic of conversation once, a few years back; Jeongin remembers, but only because it was the same night he’d confessed he hadn’t presented yet to anyone outside of his family.

What Jeongin can’t remember is a time that Felix has ever been like this—messy and needy and demanding. Perhaps Felix has just been better at hiding it.

Jeongin can’t hide anything.

The question still terrifies Jeongin. He knows the answer; they both do. The more he tries to fight this first rut, the longer it will last and the uglier it will get. Giving in is the best option. His body knows that, cock uncomfortably hard where he’s still grinding against Felix’s leg, boxers tacky with precum and sticking to Jeongin’s skin.

“You,” he admits, hoisting Felix into his arms, hands digging into the underside of Felix’s thighs as he presses the other alpha against the wall, peppering kisses and little nips along his jaw.

It’s a confession that Felix responds to enthusiastically. “Yeah—fuck, yeah, okay. Let me—I can help.” Legs wrap around Jeongin’s waist, slender fingers twine in Jeongin’s hair, pulling. The faint burst of pain at that sensation leaves Jeongin shuddering. His mouth seals over Felix’s in a kiss, tongue licking between soft lips, along pointy teeth.

Felix tastes as sweet as he smells.

Somehow Jeongin manages to carry Felix to his room, deepening the kiss instead of breaking it. He kicks his door closed with his heel, hoping that no one will come knocking because, like this—hands and mouth full of Felix—Jeongin can’t be bothered to lock it. He’s occupied, letting his alpha take over the minute he manages to sit down on his mattress, Felix in his lap. The other alpha is hard, Jeongin can feel it. His hands grow bold, rucking up Felix’s shirt and exposing his chest, pink nipples and pale skin splattered with freckles.

Jeongin wants to kiss every single one.

He presses his lips to the middle of Felix’s chest. “Hyung,” Jeongin says between kisses, playfully pinching a nipple and purring when Felix moans. “Touch me.”

It’s a request that Felix obliges immediately, hands roaming down Jeongin’s back and sliding beneath the waistband of his boxers to knead at the flesh of his ass. Jeongin has never considered there to be anything particularly worthwhile about it—hard to, honestly, when he’s surrounded by the likes of Chan or Changbin—but Felix must not care. Massaging, squeezing, slipping fingers between Jeongin’s cheeks to tease at his rim; just for fun, because he can. They both know that isn’t what Jeongin needs tonight. Not at first, at least. But it’s fun all the same.

Jeongin tears his mouth from Felix’s chest, slotting their mouths together once more and shoving his tongue as far inside as it can go, desperate to taste Felix more. As the kisses deepen, Jeongin’s hands fist in the fabric of Felix’s shirt. He could peel it off, but that requires both time and care that Jeongin isn’t concerned with. Instead, he pulls and tugs until the fabric tears. Hopefully, it’s not a shirt that Felix is fond of.

It mustn’t be, because all Felix does is shuffle his shoulders so that the remaining offending tatters of fabric fall off. With one hand centered on Jeongin’s chest, Felix pushes him down, back against the mattress. Skin to skin, he’s almost as warm as Jeongin is. It’s a heat that, now, Jeongin craves. Closer. More.

Fuck, it’s always going to be more now, isn’t it?

“Hyung,” Jeongin says with a whine once Felix breaks the kiss. His alpha is growing impatient, bored with the foreplay. His cock, hard and leaking, trapped beneath Felix’s body, has been ignored too long. He—Jeongin wants—

He doesn’t have to say it.

Felix’s hands are soft, gentle even, as he runs them down Jeongin’s sides, hooking his thumbs around the waistband of his boxers and pushing them down, down, down. Jeongin’s cock springs free, slapping against his stomach. It’s flushed, precum pearling at the tip, beginning to swell at the base. Felix lies down, positioning himself between Jeongin’s thighs. He grins; smile bright, eyes remaining fixed on Jeongin’s cock. He licks his lips. “Can I?” he asks.

It’s not what Jeongin really needs—but now that Felix has planted the idea in his mind, Jeongin wants it. He nods, and manages a rushed, “Y-yeah.”

“Want to taste you.” The tip of Felix’s nose nuzzles against the inside of Jeongin’s thigh; his balls; the thin, coarse hair at the base of his cock. He pauses, inhaling. Pulls back, pupils blown wide. “You smell—”

Jeongin winces. “I’m sorry,” he says, self-conscious. “It’s—I know it’s—” Strong. Oppressive. Overwhelming, because it’s new. Fresh.

“I like it,” Felix interjects. “S’warm, kind of reminds me of home.” And then he swallows Jeongin down, soft lips around hard flesh, until Jeongin feels the head of his cock press against the back of Felix’s throat.

Unprepared, Jeongin gasps, crying out. “Ah—fuck, hyung.” His hands scrabble uselessly against the sheets, clutching at the fabric. Something to hold on to, something to ground him as Felix begins to move, hollowing his cheeks and bobbing his head. His tongue is a solid pressure against Jeongin’s length, twirling around the head as Felix pulls off. Wraps a hand around the base of Jeongin’s cock, stroking, smirking, and spits on the tip. Slides it around with his thumb.

Jeongin’s hip roll upwards.

Felix rests his other hand on Jeongin’s stomach, pressing him down into the mattress. He brings his fingers, slick with spit and precum, to his mouth. Slips those fingers past his lips, sucking them clean. Keeps sucking, slathering them with spit. Looking at Jeongin the whole time, the corner of his mouth upturned in a grin.

Jeongin keens. From deep in his throat, he growls.

Kitten licks to the head of his cock, the tip of Felix’s tongue pressing into the slit. Those spit-slick fingers disappearing, sneaking between Jeongin’s legs to ghost over his rim. “Lix, what—” All propriety and pretense is gone, stolen by desire.

“Need to take the edge off, Yen-ah,” Felix explains, tone entirely too casual for someone mouthing at Jeongin’s cock and slipping the tip of a finger into his ass. “Your knot will hurt like a bitch unless we get you to come a few times first.”

That sounds like a load of shit. Self-indulgent, even. But what Felix is promising is too good to ignore. Jeongin props himself up on his elbows. “Well?” he asks. He doesn’t mean it like a challenge, but there’s nothing to complain about, either, as Felix’s finger slips in deeper, and deeper, until it can’t go any further—and curls, pressing right against Jeongin’s prostate. He buckles, collapsing back onto the mattress. He’s experienced this before—on his own, with toys, once or twice with other people—but never during a rut, and never with Felix. Felix, who knows precisely how to fuck one’s way through a rut. Felix, who knows exactly how this feels, how his ministrations are adding fuel to the flame burning hot and fast in Jeongin’s gut.

Felix, who promised to help—and is making good on that promise as he slowly adds a second finger and takes Jeongin’s cock back into his mouth.

It’s—fuck, it’s a lot.

So much more than Jeongin was anticipating, and yet still nowhere near what he needs. But it’s a start, and he lets himself give in entirely to the feeling, to the sensation of Felix’s tongue tracing a vein on the underside of his cock at the same time that he begins to scissor his fingers, slowly stretching Jeongin open for—something. Jeongin isn’t focused on that, though. He’s focused on now. A third finger slips inside, and he gasps. This time Felix doesn’t stop him when his hips stutter, when he ruts up, burying his cock to the back of Felix’s throat.

“I’m—”

“Close?” Felix asks, pulling off once more. His voice is deeper than Jeongin’s ever heard, rough and wrecked. Alpha. A thin line of spit hands between his bottom lip and the tip of Jeongin’s cock. “Good.” His fingers curl, massaging Jeongin’s prostate, making him purr as his body spasms. Takes Jeongin in his mouth once more, eyes slipping closed as he swallows down to the base again, nose brushing against the hair there.

The sight of Felix sucking cock is enough on its own to warrant an orgasm. Long lashes, flush freckled skin, hollowed cheeks, lips swollen and glossy with spit and precum. Beautiful. And then he swirls his tongue and does something indescribable with his fingers and Jeongin can’t focus on looking because he’s overwhelmed by feeling.

Now, Felix doesn’t back off. He doesn’t offer a moment of reprieve. Instead, he gets faster, more purposeful. Intentionally pushing Jeongin closer and closer to the edge without giving him an opportunity to retreat.

The first orgasm of Jeongin’s rut tears through him like a wildfire.

He comes with a cry, tears pricking in the corners of his eyes, body convulsing. He arches off the bed, spilling his hot release down Felix’s throat. The other alpha doesn’t shy away. He relaxes, opening himself up to receive every drop that Jeongin has to offer. His fingers continue to work against Jeongin’s prostate, milking him through it, urging out more and more and more.

When it’s over, Jeongin wonders how there could possibly be more—even as Felix finally pulls off, tongue darting out to lick up the remnants, lips pressing another kiss to Jeongin’s still hard cock. They look at one another, Jeongin’s chest rising and falling in rapid succession.

And then Felix is taking him again.

It doesn’t take nearly as long for Jeongin to come the second time. Felix backs away at just the right moment, watching as Jeongin makes a mess of himself, thick stripes of cum painting his stomach and chest, a stark contrast between it and his flushed skin. The room smells like sex, a deliciously suffocating combination of citrus and sandalwood; it makes Jeongin’s nose burn, makes him want to crawl out of his skin. The last of his orgasm is dripping from his cock. It’s still hard, still swelling at the base. Not a knot.

But soon, if Felix would just let him—

“Not yet,” Felix murmurs against Jeongin’s skin, almost as if he read his mind.

“Hyung.” Jeongin is whining, he knows he is. But he can’t help it; he’s sensitive and impatient and horny. His rut still has him burning up, desperate. The one thing he needs is the one thing Felix is still refusing to give him.

Instead, Felix drags a finger through the cum on Jeongin’s stomach, tracing out a sloppy heart and then a smiley face. He laughs, and the sound of it makes Jeongin’s insides twist. A shiver runs down his spine. Jeongin sits up, reaching down. His fingers close around Felix’s wrist, and he brings the other alpha’s hand to his mouth. Felix watches, transfixed, as Jeongin’s tongue darts out. Licks off the cum. It tastes like he smells: sharp, heady. It makes him curious. What does Felix taste like? Is it as sweet as the rest of him? His alpha purrs at the thought. “Hyung,” he says, “I want—can I—”

Nodding, Felix meets Jeongin halfway, crawling into his lap and licking into his mouth as they kiss. His breath hitches as Jeongin’s hands settle on his waist, fingers latching onto the waistband of—

His shorts.

Felix is wearing a pair of Jeongin’s shorts.

His grip tightens. “You—”

“Oh.” Felix laughs, fingers twirling in Jeongin’s hair. “I should’ve asked, but you’d already fallen asleep and—” He slouches forward, pressing his face to Jeongin’s scent gland. Nuzzling. Inhaling. “Needed to—you smell so—” Teeth, grazing Jeongin’s skin. “I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be,” Jeongin says. He plays with the drawstrings and then tugs the shorts down, watching as Felix’s cock springs free. Long, slender, flushed pink at the head; it’s as gorgeous as the rest of Felix is. Jeongin groans. He feels the saliva collecting in his mouth, and attempts to swallow it down. “I like you in my clothes.” And he does. It scratches at that primal, territorial part of Jeongin’s brain that he hadn’t even known existed until tonight.

Felix in his clothes, in his bed, in his arms. It’s where he belongs.

Jeongin never wants to let him go.

So he doesn’t. He pulls Felix closer, slipping his hand between their bodies to wrap around Felix’s cock and give it an experimental stroke. The alpha’s reaction is instant; Felix rocks up against Jeongin. He bites down, his sharp teeth nearly breaking skin. A fresh wave of citrus fills the air.

Emboldened, Jeongin tightens his fist and begins to jerk Felix off in earnest. It’s quick, and rough, both of them panting into the other’s mouth. Felix’s hands settle on Jeongin’s back, nails digging into flesh, scratching. Marking. That thought makes Jeongin’s brain vibrate through the haze of desire. Yes, he thinks. Show everyone we belong together. His thumb circles the head of Felix’s cock, swiping up the precum to smear it down the shaft, easing the friction, smoothing the glide.

Felix bites down on his bottom lip, tugging playfully. Jeongin responds in kind, nipping at Felix’s tongue before deepening the kiss. His other hand rests at the small of Felix’s back, holding him steady before he surges forward and sends them toppling backwards.

Like this, Felix’s cock is trapped between them. He seems so small, though no less strong. Jeongin ruts helplessly against him, rocking their bodies together. Growling. It’s not enough. He kisses down Felix’s chest, sucking dark bruises into pale flesh, biting once or twice. Watching as blood rises to the surface, then laving his tongue over the wound.

Even Felix’s blood tastes sweet. Not as sweet as he smells, but still delicious.

Jeongin moves further down Felix’s body. He’s losing his composure, can feel it burning up in the heat of desire. Nails and teeth digging into flesh, biting. He needs to hold, needs to give, needs to take, needs to have. It’s a need rooted more deeply than any he’s felt before. Distantly, Jeongin feels Felix’s hands in his hair, tugging, trying to get him to surface. Jeongin can’t. He sinks deeper and deeper, losing himself to instinct, grip tightening—

He forgets.

Forgets until Felix’s nails are digging into his scalp, pinching the skin at the back of his neck; until Felix’s legs are wrapping around his waist; until Felix is flipping them over and he’s on top. Thighs spread, knees pressing into Jeongin’s sides. One hand caressing Jeongin’s throat.

Lips, brushing the curve of Jeongin’s ear. Warm breath; a laugh, strained. “Yen-ah,” Felix whispers. The smaller alpha rocks back, rubbing against Jeongin’s cock and making him moan. He fights, but Felix is faster, releasing his throat and grabbing his wrists. Pressing them into the mattress above Jeongin’s head. “Not everyone you fuck will be an alpha,” Felix says, voice low and rumbling. It makes Jeongin’s insides twist. His hips jerk upwards, but Felix holds him firmly in place. “You need to learn to play nice.”

Jeongin whimpers.

He doesn’t want nice.

He doesn’t want an omega splayed out beneath him, slicking the sheets, begging to be taken. He wants this. He wants Felix. He wants someone who makes fucking feel like a game, like a competition. A challenge.

When he finally gets to sink his cock inside someone’s hole—when he pops a knot and fills them up—he wants to feel like he’s earned it.

But if nice is what Felix wants from him, well. Jeongin can behave.

A spike of sandalwood. Citrus, bright and intoxicating, rising up to meet it. Mixing in such a way that Jeongin starts to purr once more, body going loose and pliant under Felix’s weight. He sighs, inhaling deeply. “Hyung.” He sounds needy, fucked out—but that doesn’t matter.

“Can you do that, Yen-ah?” The question is whispered against his neck, Felix burrowing his nose against Jeongin’s scent gland after kissing the skin. Their bodies melt together in the heat. “For me?”

“Yes,” Jeongin says.

He does, body heavy and mind floating, as Felix works him open with his fingers properly, taking his time, waiting until Jeongin is begging for it before finally burying himself inside. Fucking him through a third orgasm, swallowing Jeongin’s moans with a kiss, their hands entwined as Jeongin makes a mess between their bodies, his cock still somehow having more to offer.

This time, Felix comes, too. A different sort of warmth, filling Jeongin up from the inside out.

Jeongin still burns, skin hot.

“Hyung—”

“Almost there.”

Felix is more insistent now, leaving a path of bruises down Jeongin’s body—neck to chest to stomach, all the way to his still spurting cock, where he wraps his lips around the head. Pulling out, leaving Jeongin empty and writhing against the mattress. Hands, rougher than before, grabbing at Jeongin’s waist and flipping him over. Those same hands, directing Jeongin into position, on his knees, back arched, and then he feels it—the warmth of Felix’s tongue circling his rim, dipping inside—and Jeongin is collapsing, chest to mattress, hands fisting in blankets.

“Hyung—”

An exhale of warm breath on skin. “One more, Yen-ah,” Felix whispers. Jeongin can hear him smiling as he says it. “One more, and then you can knot me.”

He shudders.

Just a little longer.

Felix sinks his tongue back inside, nails digging into Jeongin’s flesh as he spreads him open. Jeongin glances back over his shoulder, a whimper escaping him as Felix pulls back. His pupils are blown wide in the dim lighting of Jeongin’s room, the lower half of his face glistening with spit, tongue darting out to lick at the unmistakable fluid on his lips.

He’s licking his own cum out of Jeongin’s ass.

The realization makes Jeongin moan, crying out as he comes once more, his cock twitching as long ropes of cum make a mess of the sheets beneath him. He drops, boneless, fighting to breathe normally even as he can already feel his cock swelling once again.

Hands on his back, massaging up and down his spine, towards his shoulders, loosening the tightened muscles. A kiss, right between his shoulder blades. Another, at the base of his neck.

“Alpha,” Felix coos as he turns Jeongin over, onto his back. Looks down at him, coy grin on his face. Eyes sparkling. Beautiful, so beautiful. Jeongin could live in this moment forever. “My alpha,” Felix says, sealing their lips together. He tastes like oranges, but beneath that—

He tastes like Jeongin.

“Fuck me, alpha,” Felix begs between kisses. His hand is on Jeongin’s cock, stroking him. “Want you to fuck me.” One last kiss, and then he turns around, bending over and mouthing at Jeongin’s cock. Presenting himself, hole as pink as his lips.

Jeongin can feel himself salivating. The scent of sandalwood bleeds into the air as he sits up, just enough to reach out, tips of his fingers ghosting along Felix’s skin, circling his rim. Guts twisting pleasantly as Felix flinches, an exhale of breath on Jeongin’s cock. “Please, alpha,” he moans.

Blistering heat, igniting every nerve beneath Jeongin’s skin. Making him twitch, droplets of sweat marking paths down his face, over the sharp curve of his cheekbones. He’s going to combust, and it will be all Felix’s fault—and Jeongin couldn’t be happier. He licks his lips, pressing the tip of his index finger into Felix’s entrance. Watching, transfixed, as Felix’s body stretches, then tightens. Hissing as Felix groans, sharp teeth grazing Jeongin’s length. “This is what you want.” It’s a statement as much of a question, barely audible even in the quiet room. Emboldened, Jeongin pushes in further, up to the second knuckle and then the third, admiring how easily Felix takes him. Imagining how much better it will feel, when it’s his cock. The thought makes him purr, curling his finger, massaging Felix’s walls until—there.

He brushes Felix’s prostate.

The whine it draws from the other alpha is positively filthy. Primal. Animalistic.

Desire, the haze of it, settles over the room. Felix doesn’t fight when Jeongin’s finger retracts and his hands grip either side of Felix’s narrow waist, dragging him backwards and setting him atop Jeongin’s face. Jeongin drags the flat of his tongue over Felix’s hole, relishing how sweet he tastes, and then dives in. It hits him then, how badly he’s needed this. Wanted this, with Felix. The heat of his rut only makes that more evident, impossible to ignore.

Jeongin is never going to want this with anyone else.

He licks deeper, as far as he can manage. There’s a moment, fleeting, where a part of him wishes he could crawl inside Felix and live there. Inseparable. Fuck, he underestimated just how deranged a rut can be. Later, he’ll blame it on the heat, the pheromones, how deliciously distracting Felix is. Now, he gives in to it, swirling his tongue around and around and feeling how Felix reacts: twitching, gasping, hands flattening against Jeongin’s stomach, nails leaving perfect little red crescent markings on his skin.

“Alpha.” It’s a desperate cry. “Yen-ah, please,” Felix begs. “I’m—close, m’gonna—”

It’s a confession that Jeongin takes in stride. His grip on Felix’s body tightens, holding him down, preventing him from escaping as Jeongin fucks him open with his tongue. Yes, he thinks, come for me. Come for alpha, just like this.

Felix is crying. Jeongin can’t see it; but he can hear it in Felix’s shaky breaths and broken words, and can feel it in Felix’s trembling body. A loud sob. Felix twisting in his grip, hands clasping Jeongin’s wrists and pulling. “Please, alpha,” Felix whines. “I want the next time I come to be on your knot, please—let me—I need to—”

Nothing between them is gentle now.

How can it be, between two alphas caught in the throes of desire, and passion, with Jeongin’s sanity slipping in the wake of his rut? Together, they fall. Give in. Succumb. Felix growls, a hungry and vicious sound. He wrenches free of Jeongin’s hold, spins around and faces Jeongin. One hand on Jeongin’s chest, over his heart, nails tearing flesh and leaving deep scratches. Blood wells to the surface. The other hand on Jeongin’s cock, offering a few rough strokes before Felix is lining up the head to his entrance.

He sinks down, right to the swollen base.

He sighs in relief, eyes shiny like glass from his tears.

Beautiful.

The sight of Felix like this, of another alpha like this, crying and split open on his cock before he’s even been knotted, does something to Jeongin’s brain. It pleases him, makes his own alpha purr in contentment, at the knowledge that he’s capable of doing such a thing. He smiles, relaxing against the mattress, resting his head on his arm, and watches. Watches as Felix begins to move, rocking his hips, rising up and sinking back down. Breathy little moans slipping past his lips each time that Jeongin’s cock hits his prostate.

Precum pearling at the tip of Felix’s cock, dripping down his shaft to the swollen base.

Jeongin wonders, a miraculous feat through the haze of his rut. Is it possible—

“You want alpha’s knot?” he asks.

“Yes.”

He reaches out to curl his fingers around the head of Felix’s cock, swiping up the precum and bringing it to his mouth, sucking on his fingers. “Convince me that you deserve it.”

He’d never say such a thing to an omega, in heat or otherwise. He likely wouldn’t even say it to a beta. But Felix is an alpha, his equal. He knows what it’s like to be in rut, to be so overcome by the need to have and to dominate and to take. To burn from the inside out until that desire is sated.

They both know that between them, this is as much about power as it is about pleasure.

Felix senses the challenge in Jeongin’s words. He smiles through his tears, bites down on his lip as Jeongin’s cock hits him just right. He stills. Looks at Jeongin, defiant. “You think so?” Runs his hands through his long blonde hair; along the curve of his lips; down his chest, rubbing and pinching his nipples.

Jeongin swallows. Nods.

Felix’s smile turns up at the corner, transforming into a smirk. He leans forward, pressing the tip of one finger against Jeongin’s bottom lip. “I think,” he says, voice low and rumbling, “you should convince me.” His hand travels down, fingers wrapping around Jeongin’s wrist. He brings Jeongin’s hand to his cock, red and throbbing and leaking—but doesn’t let him touch. “Fill me with your knot, alpha. Breed me , fuck me full of pups.”

It doesn’t matter that they both know it can’t happen.

In the heat of the moment, Jeongin is convinced anything is possible.

He brushes Felix’s hand aside, ignoring Felix’s cock and gripping his thigh instead. Ask and you shall receive. He shuffles, plants his feet on the mattress, and thrusts his hips upwards, fucking into Felix with enough force that the other alpha topples forward with a gasp. Jeongin is there, catching him, other hand twisting in his hair. Holding him in place as his hips quickly establish a rhythm. Intentional, forceful, skin slapping against skin with each thrust.

Growling, he rolls them over. His body is burning, burning, burning, but he can’t stop. Not now, not when he’s this close, not when he can feel his cock swelling and swelling and swelling. He buries his face in the crook of Felix’s neck. Tangy citrus burning his nostrils. Jeongin groans. “So good,” he mumbles. “Warm and tight, you—fuck, hyung.” He bites down on the tender flesh just beneath Felix’s scent gland. “M’gonna—you’ll take it—” Words are failing him, the closer he gets.

Closer, closer, closer.

Hotter, warmer.

There isn’t time to warn Felix before Jeongin comes.

The base of his cock finally swells to capacity as he sinks into Felix one last time, knot popping as he’s crushed under the waves of his strongest orgasm yet, painting Felix’s insides with his release. His cry is muffled against Felix’s skin.

Beneath him, the smaller alpha spasms. Warmth floods the space between their bodies as Felix comes. Arms wrap around Jeongin’s shoulders, legs hooking around his waist. Felix pulls him impossibly closer. 

Locked together, inextricable.

They stay like that, laboured breaths filling the quiet room as they both slowly find their way down from the high, back to their bodies. Jeongin scents Felix the whole time, nose and tongue lazily—messily—working over the sensitive skin. It leaves Felix whimpering as his hands trace equally nonsensical patterns across the span of Jeongin’s back. Soothing over the angry red marks they both know Felix has left there, and that will no doubt sting once Jeongin is no longer in rut.

He’s looking forward to it. He wants that lingering burn.

He hopes Felix scratched hard enough to scar.

Eventually, Jeongin manages to pull himself away from Felix’s scent gland. He kisses along the edge of Felix’s jaw; over the freckles on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose; in the corner of his mouth. “H-hyung,” he says. His voice still sounds so far away. Rougher than usual, too.

“Shh, Yen-ah.” Felix is still floating, eyes shut.

Jeongin listens. He kisses Felix once more, then gently adjusts his body as much as he can while they’re still knotted together. It’s an overwhelming sensation, feeling how his body has trapped them like this. Every now and then, he’ll feel it twitch, releasing the remnants of his orgasm.

Curious, Jeongin glances down.

Felix’s abdomen—usually a flat plane of hardened muscle—is swollen. Bulging, almost, just a little.

“Hyung.”

“Jeongin,” Felix whispers, “what did I say?”

Jeongin can’t help it, though. He lifts himself up onto one arm and reaches down, resting the flat of his palm on Felix’s stomach. Presses down slowly, gently. Feels as the skin compresses under his hand, and beneath that—

“Holy shit.”

Felix laughs, equal parts exhausted and exasperated. He interlocks his fingers at the back of Jeongin’s neck.

The shift in position sends Jeongin’s hand sliding further down. His eyes grow wide. “Hyung.” He palms at Felix’s cock, still half-hard—and inflated at the base. Felix didn’t just come, he’d popped a knot, too. Entirely untouched.

Is that—fuck. He knows he’s looking at it, but how is that even—

Felix laughs again. This time, he pulls Jeongin back down into a sloppy kiss, licking into his mouth. When they pull apart, Felix is looking at Jeongin with something eerily like worry. Not fear, but uncertainty. “Sorry,” he mutters, cheeks flushing red, “I, um. Excited. I got—yeah.” His head falls back against the mattress as he grimaces, eyes squeezing shut. “I hope you don’t—it’s not something—”

Jeongin shuts him up with a kiss. “I think it’s hot.”

Somehow, Felix’s cheeks turn even redder. “Yang Jeongin, please.” He groans, letting go of Jeongin to fling an arm over his face. “You can’t—don’t say shit like that. M’gonna get hard again and I—ugh. My dick’ll fall off.”

That sends them both spiraling into a fit of laughter, Jeongin’s forehead pressed to Felix’s chest. He feels good, limbs no longer on fire, his body no longer desperate for relief. He feels content, sated. Even if it’s just a lull, he lets himself bask in the glow of it.

He’s an alpha.

It’s more acceptance than realization now, that thought. He releases another sigh, and melts against Felix’s side. He can feel his cock beginning to soften, gradually, at last, but he makes no effort to move. He wants to stay here, like this, connected. Just a little longer.

Felix is playing with his hair, twirling his fingers in the damp tawny strands. He seems—preoccupied. “What?” Jeongin asks.

“Nothing.” He answers too quickly, and it gives him away.

Jeongin turns his head, looking up at the other alpha. “What, hyung?” he asks again, more insistent.

“I—well. Um, I guess I was just wondering—” Felix pauses, grimacing. “It’s stupid.”

“Tell me anyways.” Jeongin shuffles his hips, a gentle thrust.

Felix clenches around him. “Stop that, you cretin,” he whines, but there’s no real malice behind it. “It’s just—” He’s blushing again. Self-conscious about something. Perhaps even embarrassed. “Was it, uh. Did I—help?”

Jeongin’s laughter is muffled by the way he buries his face against Felix’s shoulder. There’s simply no way. Felix can’t be asking this right now, when they’re still incapable of separating because they are knotted together. “Hyung,” he says gently. “Lix. It was perfect. I mean it.” He kisses the starburst pattern of freckles on Felix’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t have wanted this with anyone else.”

“Oh. That’s—good. I’m glad.” He’s still playing with Jeongin’s hair, and now it’s evident he’s trying to distract himself. “It’s just—it’s not always like that. Ruts. It’s—different. I don’t want to, like, give you the wrong impression? Especially if you’re with—if it’s an omega, or during a heat. You—”

Another kiss, to stop Felix’s rambling.

“Hyung,” Jeongin groans fondly, shifting back on top of him. Locking their hands together, just like their bodies. Kissing Felix’s knuckles. “I don’t want anyone else.”

He says it before the gravity of the statement fully sinks in. Before he realizes precisely how strongly, and genuinely, he means it. They lay there, silent, staring at one another. Felix’s eyes, narrowed and unsure at first, gradually widen. Glossy, full of disbelief—and then wonder.

“You—”

“Mean it? I do.”

He does. With every part of his being, every piece of his soul. Fuck biology. Forget about nature, or instinct, or whatever else tells them how they’re supposed to live. Until tonight, Jeongin thought he was a beta. Now he’s not. Who’s to say they shouldn’t be together?

Jeongin’s cock might be soft, but he can feel that all-too-familiar heat building once again. Pleasant, promising. No longer overwhelming.

His rut isn’t over yet. 

And there is no one else he wants. There is no one else he can picture sharing this moment with. Not just here , and now , but ever. It hits Jeongin then, in a way it never has before. It’s always been Felix. It always will be Felix—if Felix will have him.

“I want you, hyung.” He says it with utmost certainty, a fact of the universe.

Beneath Jeongin, Felix relaxes, his entire body exhaling. He pulls Jeongin down into a kiss. Slower, deeper than any of the others they’ve shared tonight. More sincere, now that the worst of the heat from Jeongin’s rut has dissipated. “Me too,” he manages to say when they finally come up for air. “I mean—yes. You. I want you, Yen-ah.” He pauses. “I’ve always wanted you.”

“You have me.” Jeongin playfully nips at Felix’s bottom lip and sucks it into his mouth. Rolls his hips, rutting against Felix’s body. “I’m yours, hyung. I never want to be anyone else’s.”

Another truth, one that he’s only beginning to grasp the depth of.

But here—as a fresh wave of citrus and sandalwood pulls him under, and Felix draws him into another kiss with wandering hands—it’s a truth he’s more than willing to embrace.