Archive of Our Own

“It’s been thirty minutes,” Mingi said, his voice a low rumble that was almost drowned out by the saxophone in the background. He wasn’t looking at Yunho, but at the entrance, a dark archway framed in a velvety red rope. His posture was deceptively lazy, one arm slung over the back of his chair, but the scent of the aggravated alpha was starting to cut through the restaurant’s curated aroma of old wood.

Yunho didn’t need to check his phone. “He’s not coming."

A muscle jumped in Mingi’s jaw. His disbelief was genuine. “He ghosted us?” 

“Looks like it.” Yunho’s tone was flat. He set his glass down with a precise click. 

Just as Mingi was about to suggest they just cut their losses and find someone else—someone easier, one omega was staring at them at the corner of the restaurant anyway—their waiter materialized at the table, a beta with an infuriatingly placid smile and a notepad.

“Apologies for the delay, gentlemen,” he greeted, his gaze flicking between them. “The kitchen is backed up. Have you two lovebirds decided on your main courses?”

The word hung in the air, an awkward chiming sound in the tense silence.

Mingi’s head snapped toward the waiter, a flash of teeth in a grin that was all predator. “Lovebirds? We don’t take kindly to assumptions.”

Yunho didn’t even grace it with a verbal response. He just pinned the waiter with a flat, unimpressed stare that shrunk the confidence even of greater men. “We’re not ordering,” he asserted, the finality of a guillotine. “Bring us the check.”

The waiter’s smile didn’t falter, but it did thin out. “Of course. Right away.”

As he scurried off, Mingi let out a sharp laugh. “Lovebirds. He’s lucky I didn’t bite him for that.”

“Patience,” Yunho murmured, though he was scanning the room with a restlessness that mirrored Mingi’s own. The faint, cloying scent of rejection was starting to sour the air around them. Many of the omegas were now staring at them, some with crumpled noses, some with gazes as hungry as a horse. “We’re going.”

“Oh come on, Yunho,” Mingi rolled his eyes. “That omega over there is practically begging us to fuck him. Don’t you want to take him instead?”

“I said we’re going,” Yunho pushed the suggestion aside, standing up from his seat. “Plus, he stinks.”

They left without looking back, the night humid and heavy, but at least the air felt cleaner than the atmosphere they just vacated. For a long moment, they just stood there as two imposing figures radiating frustrated energy on the sidewalk.

“This is bullshit,” Mingi finally spat, kicking a loose piece of pavement.

Yunho shoved his hands in his pockets. “We’ll find a better fuck soon. Don’t worry.”

The next morning was an insult.

Yunho woke up not to his alarm, but to the insistent, demanding throb of his cock, already hard and leaking against the sheets. He cursed, rolling onto his back and throwing an arm over his eyes.

Beside him, the bed dipped and shifted with a rhythmic motion. Still asleep, Mingi was caught in some dream, rutting against the mattress while a soft, desperate sound escaped his throat with every push of his hips. The air was already thickening with the scent of Mingi’s rut—a damp, earthy spice filling their shared space.

It was… their dynamic. They’d been best friends since they were pups. They were alphas who climbed the ranks together, only really restricted by their own affection for each other—hence why they shared an apartment together.  

They’d seen each other through everything, but this was new.

“Mingi,” Yunho gritted out, his own body responding traitorously to the scent flooding the room. “Go to the bathroom to jack off, please.”

The movement stopped. A groggy grunt came from the lump of blankets beside him. “Fuck off. Don’t be a prude, Yunho,” Mingi’s muffled voice replied.

The blankets were thrown to the side. Mingi was a mess—his hair was damp with sweat and his eyes were still hazy with sleep as he squinted at Yunho. He was hard, a fact he made no attempt to hide, simply gripping himself through his boxers with a frustrated sigh. Without another word, he shoved the fabric down and wrapped a hand around his dripping cock, stroking with a lazy rhythm.

Yunho’s breath hitched. He tried to look away, he really did, but Mingi’s pheromones sank into his skin. His own erection was impossible to ignore now. With a defeated growl, Yunho shoved his own briefs down, fisting himself in a matching rhythm.

The room was silent save for the slick sounds of their hands moving and their harsh breaths. It was weird. They haven’t jerked off together since before they met their first omega, over ten years ago. One of them always headed for the bathroom to his own business, but the clawing edge of a rut flash was overriding any and all social convention right now.

Yunho watched, mesmerized, as Mingi’s free hand drifted up his chest, thumb brushing over his nipple. The motion was instinctual and absent—he always made their omegas play with his chest after all—but seeing him do it to himself made Yunho feel dizzy. 

On impulse, he reached over, his own hand finding Mingi’s other nub, rolling the sensitive bud between his fingers. 

Mingi gasped then, his whole body jerking like he was electrocuted. His back arched, a string of curses falling from his lips as he came, stripes of white painting his stomach and chest. 

The sight, the raw shock and pleasure on Mingi’s face, the sudden spike of his scent, was all it took for Yunho to follow, spilling over his own fist with a choked-off groan.

They lay there panting in the aftermath. The air was thick with the smell of their cum and the frustration of their rut momentarily sated but still simmering beneath the surface. The silence stretched, thick and awkward.

Finally, Mingi cleared his throat, staring at the ceiling. “I’m not changing the sheets.”

Yunho didn’t laugh, but a huff of air that was close to it escaped him. He wiped his hand on the already ruined sheet, the post-orgasm haze rapidly being replaced by the same prickly irritation from the night before. “Fuck you. You started it.”

“I was asleep,” Mingi shot back, though there was no heat in it. He sat up, running a hand through his tangled hair. “My dick has a mind of its own. Yours apparently just follows along like a lost puppy.”

The jab landed, but Yunho was too on edge to care. He could still feel the unsatisfied hum under his skin. The release was nothing but a temporary patch on a gaping wound. “Let’s go to the gym. Burn this shit off.”

Mingi agreed with a nod. 

The gym was their default solution for everything. They could channel their aggression in this place and have barely anyone bat an eye.

But today, it felt different. The air seemed thicker, the scent of alphas and betas more cloying. 

Yunho was pushing through a final set of deadlifts when a breeze of scented vanilla and sunshine walked past him.

An omega went to the squat rack. He wasn’t even looking at them, his attention focused on his phone, but the scent trail he left was a siren’s call. It was light, sweet, and utterly distracting. 

Mingi, who was spotting him, made a choked noise. Yunho dropped the weights with a deafening clang that drew stares. He looked at his friend’s face, now as pale as a ghost. He was hard again, almost immediately, the fabric of his gym shorts doing very little to hide it.

“Bathroom,” Mingi bit out. “Now.”

He didn’t wait for a reply, just turned and practically fled toward the locker rooms. Yunho watched him go, his own body a live wire of renewed frustration. He forced himself to stand there and take a sip of water. He was not going to break.

He broke about a minute and twenty-seven seconds later.

The maddening itch under his own skin and the lingering scent of that omega coalesced into a singular, burning need. He shoved his water bottle into its holder and strode toward the bathroom, each step heavier than the last.

The bathroom was empty, the row of sinks gleaming under the lights. One of the shower stalls at the far end was running, the sound of water a futile attempt at privacy. Yunho pushed the door open without knocking.

Mingi was leaning against the wall, water plastering his hair to his forehead, one hand braced on the wall while the other worked frantically between his legs. His head was thrown back and his throat was exposed, a picture of pure desperation in a gym bathroom stall.

“It’s not working,” he snarled, though his voice was more whiny than anything. “I can’t—it won’t go away.”

“Let me,” Yunho said. He took off his clothes and stepped under the spray, the cold water immediately touching his skin.

Mingi just watched him with his chest heaving. Yunho didn’t hesitate—he crowded him, pressing Mingi’s back flush against the tiles. He reached between them, pushing Mingi’s useless hand aside to wrap his own fingers around both of their cocks.

The noise Mingi made was halfway between a sob and a gasp. Yunho established a punishing rhythm, slicked by water and Mingi’s precum. 

“Fucking—Yunho…” Mingi whimpered, his hips bucking erratically.

Yunho’s free hand found Mingi’s chest, thumbing over the same nipple as earlier in the day. This time, he pinched it, hard.

Mingi cried out, his whole body seizing. “Do that—do that again, Yunho.”

Yunho did, rolling and tugging at the sensitive nipple, then giving the other the same treatment. He was watching Mingi’s face—the way his eyelids fluttered, the way his mouth fell open. 

“Please,” Mingi sobbed, “I’m—I’m—”

He came with a shudder, a mess of ropes painting Yunho’s own cock and mingling with the water at their feet. Despite only really grinding onto Mingi’s cock, the sight and clench of Mingi’s body was enough to tip Yunho over the edge with a harsh grunt, spilling all over Mingi.

They stayed like that for a long moment, their foreheads pressed together under the cooling spray. They were both shaking, and Yunho, looking at Mingi’s wrecked face, felt something terrifyingly close to satisfaction.

The next morning, the atmosphere in their apartment was taut with a forced normalcy. The air was still thrumming with the ghost of their desperation, but they both tried to hide it.

Yunho awoke to Mingi at the stove, a vision of domesticity that was utterly at odds with the tension coiling in the room. He’d forgone a shirt, choosing only a ridiculous, frilly apron—a gag gift from Jongho from years ago—over a pair of loose boxers. He was humming to himself, focused on flipping eggs, but a faint flush on his cheeks and the back of his neck was present.

He was, Yunho noted with a sinking feeling, half-hard. He didn’t seem to notice, too engrossed in cooking, but the sight sent a jolt straight through Yunho’s system. He told himself to stay where he’s at and only come when he’s called by Mingi to finally eat.

He didn’t succeed.

The urge was a physical pull that drew him forward no matter how much he tried to reject it. Yunho closed the distance, wrapping his arms around Mingi’s waist from behind, burying his face in the warm skin of Mingi’s shoulder.

A purely instinctual act of seeking comfort. They’d done it before, especially when one of them was going through a particularly rough time.

Yet both of them yelped as Yunho’s clothed erection pressed firmly against Mingi’s ass.

Mingi’s whole body went rigid. “Yunho, what the hell? Let me cook,” he protested, but there was no anger in his voice, only a breathy surprise.

Yunho tightened his hold, nosing at the juncture of Mingi’s neck and shoulder, inhaling his spicy scent. “Can’t I snuggle with you?” he mumbled into Mingi’s skin.

If he didn’t know better, he would have chalked his own behavior up to stress. 

For a moment, Mingi melted back into him, a soft sigh escaping his lips. It was a perfect, fleeting moment of something tender and right.

But, as if their own bodies betrayed them, their pheromones spiked. The smell of each other hit them like a tidal wave. It screamed wrong—they were alphas at the end of the day. Even if they were best friends, they weren’t supposed to react like this to each other. 

The shock should have sent them apart, but Yunho, driven by a compulsion he didn’t understand, pressed closer. His lips found the soft skin of Mingi’s nape, right over his scent gland.

Mingi’s gasp was sharp, but he didn’t pull away. He arched into the touch, giving Yunho a silent offering. All the fight drained out of him, replaced by a shuddering surrender. He was pliant in Yunho’s arms, melting against him as Yunho’s scent washed over him, mingling with his own in the humid kitchen air.

Emboldened, Yunho parted his lips, letting his tongue drag over the gland in a deliberate lick.

“Fuck… Yunho—” Mingi moaned. His head lolled to the side, giving Yunho better access, a silent plea for more.

But that was the exact sound that broke their spell.

They flew apart like they were burned. Mingi stumbled in front, hitting the counter with a dull thud. His eyes were wide with a mixture of horror and arousal. Yunho was no better, staring at his own hands. 

Neither of them spoke. Mingi turned back to the stove with shaking hands, scraping the now-slightly-burnt eggs onto two plates. Yunho sat down at the table, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. 

They ate in a silence so thick it was suffocating. The only sounds were the scrape of forks on ceramic and their own too-loud breathing. 

Both of them were still hard, a persistent, shameful ache they both pointedly ignored. 

“We need to get out of the house,” Mingi announced over the remains of their breakfast. “Go somewhere public. Remind our dicks they don’t run the show.”

Yunho wanted to argue, but the thought of staying cooped up in their pheromone-saturated apartment was unbearable. “Fine. The mall?”

“You bet,” Mingi smirked, already cleaning up his own plates.

Yunho didn’t miss his erection, still confined in his boxers.

The mall was a sensory assault of thousands of uninteresting scents. 

For the first hour, the distraction worked. They bought churros, made fun of a mannequin’s outfit, and even argued about a movie poster.

“Well, if they’re going the Marvel route, they could at least edit them properly. They just look ridiculous!” Mingi rolled his eyes.

Yunho raised his brows. “I think you’re just judging too hard.” 

“I am a connoisseur at Letterboxd. Do not even try,” Mingi let out a small huff.

Yunho let out a laugh of defeat.

It was almost normal.

Then Mingi dragged him into a clothing store.

“Try this on,” Yunho said, tossing a simple black shirt at him. He leaned against the wall outside the fitting rooms, trying for nonchalance.

Mingi emerged. “Too tight.”

“It looks fine, though?” Yunho tilted his head.

“You’re being such an alpha.” Mingi shook his head, going back in.

He then came back out in a grey shirt. “The neck’s weird, don’t you think?”

“It literally looks fine,” Yunho raised his hands, not knowing the difference between a fine neck and a weird neck. “Mingi, you look good.”

“You’re only saying that because I’m your best friend.”

“‘m not!”

Mingi went back in, taking longer this time. When he came back out, he was in a deep v-neck that showed an alarming amount of chest. 

Yunho’s jaw tightened. “That one looks good.”

Mingi smiled, agreeing. He went back in and took even more time. When the curtain parted, what Yunho saw was unbelievable.

He was wearing a black mesh top. The holes were large, and the fabric was doing absolutely nothing to hide the lean muscle of his torso and his nipples, so hard they were poking outside the top. 

If Mingi wasn’t aware he was provoking him, Yunho proved it himself. In two long strides, Yunho was in the cramped fitting room, yanking the curtain shut behind him. He didn’t speak. He just grabbed the front of the top and ripped it in half. The flimsy mesh tore down the middle with a satisfying sound. 

Mingi gasped, stumbling back against the mirror as Yunho’s mouth descended on his chest, licking a hot stripe across his pec before sucking a nipple into his mouth, teeth scraping lightly.

“Yunho, what the fuck? Here—?” Mingi’s protest was weak, dissolving into a choked moan as Yunho’s tongue swirled. He was instantly hard, the scent of his shock filling the tiny space.

Yunho didn’t answer. He just worked open both their flies, shoving pants and boxers down just enough. He wrapped a hand around them both, stroking them fast.

“On your knees,” Yunho commanded, his voice a low growl that trembled slightly with the force of his own desperation.

Mingi’s head snapped up, a flicker of defiance in his lidded eyes. “Fuck you.”

But his body betrayed him. He was already sinking, the cool floor pressing against his knees as he looked up at Yunho. The sight sent a fresh wave of lust through Yunho.

His control he was fighting for slipped. “Your hands,” Yunho rasped, “Press your pecs together. For me. Please, Mingi?”

A flush of shame and heat flooded Mingi’s face, but he obeyed. He brought his hands up, pushing the muscle together to create a tight channel.

It was obscene.

It was perfect.

Yunho stepped forward, fitting his cock into that warm, makeshift space. He began to move, shallow thrusts that grinded against Mingi’s skin, the head of his cock bumping against Mingi’s sternum with every push.

Mingi was transfixed, and unconsciously, his lips parted, his own cock uselessly straining against his thigh.

“Look at me,” Yunho breathed, and Mingi’s eyes met his.

Yunho came with a shuddering gasp, a spurt landing on Mingi’s lower lip. Instinctively, Mingi’s tongue darted out to taste it.

For a fleeting second, Mingi’s scent shifted. The familiar, aggressive spice of the alpha warped—a subtle, startlingly sweet note bleeding through. It was there and then it was gone, so fast Yunho might have imagined it.

It sent Mingi over the edge too, coming untouched with a strangled cry, spilling onto the floor.

They stared at each other, the reality of what they’d just done crashing down around them. 

Mingi broke the silence with a choked, horrified laugh. “You ripped the shirt.”

The walk to the cashier was a new kind of hell. They threw on their own clothes, Yunho’s shirt suspiciously damp and Mingi’s hair a mess, both of them sporting blotchy flushes they couldn’t hide. Yunho clutched the tattered remains of the mesh top in his fist like a dead bird.

The cashier, a teenager with a face full of piercings and a look of profound boredom, didn’t even look up as they approached. “Find everything alright?”

Yunho slammed the ruined shirt onto the counter. “We need to pay for this.”

The kid finally glanced down, taking in the shredded fabric. He looked from the shirt to Yunho’s murderous expression, then to Mingi, who was pointedly examining the ceiling tiles like they were Saint Peter’s Basilica.

“Rough night, lovebirds?”

Yunho almost wanted to punch the kid. Mingi, however, burst out laughing. 

“We’ll take it,” Mingi wheezed, slapping his credit card on the counter. “And the black shirt.”

They paid and fled, the cashier’s knowing gaze burning a hole in their backs. The second they were outside the store, the laughter died. 

The raw, unsated need was back, only ten times stronger, and mingled with it now a terrifying confusion.

They walked in silence to the car, the mall’s cheerful facade doing nothing to soothe the tension between them.

That night, sleep was a foreign country Yunho couldn’t reach. He lay in the dark, the space beside him a hollow ache where Mingi usually was, but tonight, it felt like there was a chasm between them. 

The memory of the fitting room played on a loop behind his eyelids. His own cock was a persistent pressure against his thigh, but he was too humiliated to even consider touching himself. Not after what they’d done. Not after what he’d made Mingi do.

The thought of Mingi’s mouth, of him on his knees, was both a poison and a cure, and Yunho was caught in the paralyzing middle.

Mingi, for his part, was feigning sleep on the far side of the bed. He could feel the agitation rolling off Yunho in waves, and it mirrored the chaos happening in his own body. His skin tingled where Yunho touched him, and his nipples were still sensitive, a dull ache that was a constant reminder of his submission. He pressed his thighs together, a weak attempt at quelling the lingering heat.

The next morning, their phones buzzed in unison, a salvation disguised as a group chat notification.

It was Yeosang, urging them to go to his house party that night. 

Yunho looked at Mingi, who was already staring back at him over the rim of his coffee mug. The same thought passed between them—distraction.

“We should go,” Mingi said, his voice carefully neutral.

“Yeah,” Yunho agreed. “Maybe it’ll help.”

The party was already in full swing when they arrived. It was a perfect place to get lost. They did shots with Yeosang, laughed as Jongho played a truly egregious song choice, and kept a careful, unspoken distance between them.

By the second hour, the alcohol already reached Yunho’s system, so he sat down on the sofa, lazily eyeing the people walking past him.

Then an omega appeared beside him, his pheromones so potent it was like walking into a wall. 

“Yunho, right? I’ve heard about you,” he said, his voice a purr. “You and your… partner.”

The scent of jasmine hit Yunho like a drug. His blood immediately rushed south, a dizzying hardness made him grip the arm of a sofa to steady himself. It was everything he had been craving for for days—the sweet, yielding scent of an omega.

But the thought of taking him somewhere, of touching him, felt wrong. His mind didn’t go to the omega right next to him.

His mind went to Mingi.

“I have to… go,” he stammered, standing up and pushing past him, his eyes scanning the crowd frantically.

He found Mingi on the back porch, looking out at the dark yard, a solitary figure in the pulsing light from the house. Yunho grabbed his arm, and his voice came out pathetic. “Mingi—come with me, please.”

Yunho didn’t wait for an answer, just hauled him back through the party, ignoring Mingi’s confused protests. He shoved them into the bathroom in the bedroom of Yeosang and Jongho, locking the doors.

“Mingi, please,” Yunho begged, the words tearing out of him before he could stop them. He was so hard it hurt. “Help me. I can’t—I need you to help me with my cock.”

Mingi’s eyes went wide, a flicker of shock and hesitance. He looked at Yunho’s wrecked expression and the way he was practically shaking with desperation. After a beat that stretched for what seemed like an eternity, he gave a short nod. 

“Okay,” he nodded. “Okay, sure.”

His hands, which had been clenched at his sides, slowly came up to fumble with Yunho’s zipper. The metallic sound was obscenely loud in the small room. He wrapped a hesitant hand around Yunho’s length and began to stroke, a clumsy, uncertain rhythm born of reluctance.

“No,” Yunho choked out, stopping Mingi’s hand with his own. His eyes were wild and pleading. “Not enough. Mingi, please—suck me.”

The words hung in the air. Every alpha instinct in both of them screamed no, that this was an act way too much. But looking at Yunho—at the raw need in his eyes—was a stronger pull. It was a compulsion stronger than instinct, a deep, primal need to soothe and give his best friend what he was asking for.

Mingi’s knees hit the floor with a dull thud. It was a surrender he didn’t understand, yet he leaned in anyway and took Yunho into his mouth.

The taste was overwhelming—a part of Mingi recoiled in horror, but the rest of him hummed in dissonant pleasure. He was lost in a fog of conflicting sensations, but he couldn’t stop. He was being guided by an instinct he didn’t know he possessed.

As Mingi’s head began to bob, his scent wavered again. The spice receded, and that sweet scent drifted again, stronger this time. 

It was the scent of an omega in arousal, an intoxicating perfume that filled the small bathroom and clouded Yunho’s mind.

“Mingi… your scent…” Yunho groaned, fisting a hand in Mingi’s hair, the scent pushing him closer to the edge. 

Mingi moaned, sending ripples of vibration through Yunho’s spine. His scent got stronger, pleased that an alpha was satisfied by his mouth.

His scent was too much for Yunho. He came with a harsh cry, spilling down Mingi’s throat. Mingi drank it all, an involuntary swallow. As Yunho’s taste filled him, a shudder wracked Mingi’s body, and he came untouched, a dark patch spreading across the front of his jeans.

And just as quickly as it came, the sweetness vanished. Mingi’s scent snapped back to its alpha spice, though it was evidently weaker.

The silence that followed was deafening. Mingi pulled back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes wide with the realization of what they just did.

They had to get out.

Back in the sanctuary of their bedroom, the tension was practically a physical presence. Mingi sat on the edge of the bed, his hands clasped tightly.

He finally broke the silence, his voice small and lost. “Yunho… what’s going on between us?”

Yunho stood by the window, his back to Mingi, a defensive posture he couldn’t drop. The fear was a knot in his stomach he couldn’t—wouldn’t—name. He clung to the only solid thing he had left, their identity as—

“We’re just best friends,” he said, the words sounding hollow even to his own ears.

A bitter, acrid smell immediately soured the air. It came from Mingi. It was the scent of a friend who had just been pushed away. And the underlying sweetness that was at least somewhat present earlier was gone completely, snuffed out by the pain.

Mingi didn’t say another word. He just lay down, turning his back to Yunho, and pulled the covers up to his chin. The silence that fell between them was final, and for the rest of the night, the only thing Yunho could smell was the bitter sting of Mingi’s disappointment.

Yunho woke up to an empty bed and a wave of cold panic. The space beside him was empty, not even a single scent from Mingi remaining. He fumbled for his phone, his heart hammering against his ribs.

“Mingi?” he answered on the first ring, his voice rough.

“I’m fine,” Mingi’s voice came through. “Just… needed some space. I’ll be out for the day.”

The call ended, leaving Yunho in a silent, suddenly cavernous apartment. He tried to rationalize it, but his alpha was howling, a guttural alarm bell ringing in his mind.

The day was an exercise in misery. Yunho paced, cleaned, and tried to watch the television, but every sound set him on edge. Not even Sticker could make him feel settled. He felt like a caged predator, waiting for a disaster he couldn’t prevent.

When his phone rang that night, the shrill sound made him jump. It was Mingi, but the sound that came through the speaker wasn’t distant—it was a sob.

“Yunho… can you… can you come get me? Please.”

The address was a club downtown. Yunho broke a few speed limits getting there. 

He found Mingi at the bar, hunched over a tool, face buried in his hands, his shoulders shaking with the force of his tears. The rich, spicy scent of him was muddled with the sweetness of omegas and alcohol.

Without a word, Yunho wrapped a firm hand around Mingi’s bicep and hauled him out of the club, ignoring the curious stares of other patrons. The car ride was silent, Mingi’s ragged breaths the only sound.

Inside the apartment, the door clicked shut, sealing them in. Yunho gently guided Mingi to the couch.

“What happened, Mingi?”

Mingi finally looked up, his face a mess of tear tracks and flushed humiliation. “I tried,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I found an omega. He was pretty. He smelled good… and I tried. I tried to fuck him but… my alpha just… refused. I couldn’t get hard. My body rejected him. He thought I wasn’t interested so he left.”

Mingi continued to cry.

“What’s wrong with me, Yunho?”

“Hey,” Yunho immediately knelt in front of Mingi. “Nothing is wrong with you. It’s fine.”

“I’m serious,” Mingi insisted. “I’m broken.”

“No you’re not,” Yunho assured, his thumbs stroking over Mingi’s tear-stained cheeks. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

The two look at each other for a long moment, Mingi taking in his words deep in his soul. He swallowed for one quick second before he surged toward Yunho, kissing him.

It was a desperate, messy collision of lips and teeth. Yunho froze for a split second, but then he kissed back, all the frustration, fear, and confusing want of the past week pouring into it.

They stood up and crashed through the apartment until their legs hit the bed and fell onto it in a heap. 

Mingi was a frantic whirlwind beneath him, tugging at their clothes and tearing at the fabric. “Please,” he sobbed against Yunho’s mouth. “Please, Yunho just… take me. Please take me.”

Yunho froze, pulling back to look at Mingi. “Mingi… are you sure?”

Mingi just nodded frantically. Yunho didn’t need any more encouragement. He yanked Mingi’s pants and boxers down in one rough motion. He kissed his pecs, licking a stripe on his nipples. It sent Mingi quivering beneath him, moaning loud enough that Yunho had to insert two fingers in his mouth just to shut him up.

He immediately sucked on his digits, urging Yunho to go down further, and without another thought, he dove in his hole. His tongue licked a hot stripe over Mingi’s entrance, making the younger cry out. 

Yunho did it again and again, eating him out with a single-minded focus, preparing him in the only way his feral instincts knew how. Mingi was a mess, drooling on his fingers and onto the sheets, pushing back with mindless need and beautiful sounds escaping him with every flick of Yunho’s tongue.

When Yunho finally worked a finger alongside his tongue, Mingi jolted. “Wait,” he gasped, taking Yunho’s digits out his mouth. “I want… I want to taste you, alpha.”

Yunho’s pulse jumped, the name almost sending him over the edge. He flipped Mingi over with ease until Mingi was straddling his face, and Yunho’s cock was level with Mingi’s mouth.

The world narrowed to the taste of Mingi and the feel of his hesitant mouth wrapping around him. Yunho ate him out with renewed vigor, working a second then a third finger into him, stretching him out while his other hand wrapped around Mingi’s cock, stroking him in time with the thrusts of his tongue.

Mingi was lost. The sensations were way too overwhelming. He sucked Yunho’s cock with enthusiasm, taking him as deep as he could, tears streaming down his face. He came without warning, moaning a muffled cry around Yunho’s length as he spilled over Yunho’s fist.

But he wasn’t done. He pulled off with a wet pop, shaking. “Please, alpha,” he begged, looking over his shoulder. “Fuck me now, please.”

“Mingi,” Yunho started, his voice low with concern. “You’re not… there’s no slick. I’ll hurt you.”

“I don’t care,” Mingi sobbed, a note of hysteria in his voice. “I’m prepped enough. I need it. Please, just fuck me.”

And that was all it took. He maneuvered Mingi onto his stomach, lining himself up. “Tell me if it hurts, okay?” 

He pushed in, and while he was slow at first, Mingi pushed back immediately, impaling himself with a sob of relief immediately followed by a pained gasp. The stretch was a stinging ache that had Mingi’s eyes watering. 

It was too much. Too fast. Too big. 

Beneath the pain, however, was a flicker of rightness and satisfaction at being filled this way. This was what Mingi had been missing. This was what he needed.

Yunho set a punishing rhythm, each thrust a frustrated attempt to quell the burning need that consumed him for days. He wasn’t gentle or loving—he was fucking Mingi like he wanted to ruin him, to erase every other touch and scent until all Mingi knew was him.

And Mingi was taking it, arching back to meet every thrust, begging for more. All he could let out was “please” and “more” and “don’t stop”.

When Yunho’s knot began to swell, catching on Mingi’s rim, Mingi screamed. The feeling was overwhelming, a stretch that was both agony and ecstasy, and he came again, sobbing into the mattress as Yunho locked them together, spilling deep inside him.

Yunho’s instincts were in overdrive. He was a mindless fuck machine that continued to rut into Mingi even if he wasn’t actually moving that much. Mingi just took it all, pliant as Yunho used him, wrecked and owned.

After what felt like an eternity, Yunho’s knot finally deflated enough for him to pull out. He flipped Mingi, making him on his back. The sight of him—lips swollen, face stained with tears, body covered in bite marks and bruises—was the most beautiful thing Yunho had ever seen.

“Mingi,” Yunho’s voice was practically giving up. “Can I… can I mark you? Claim you?”

Mingi looked at him, his eyes hazy with lust, and nodded. “Yes. Please.”

Yunho didn’t hesitate. He leaned down, sinking his teeth into the soft skin of Mingi’s scent gland. The bite was sharp and possessive, locking them to each other.

Mingi came again then, his body arching off the bed as a fresh wave of pleasure crashed over him. Yunho began to move again, starting in another relentless rhythm.

“Look at you,” he growled, his voice a mix of praise and degradation. “You look so fucking pretty on my cock, Mingi. You’re taking me so fucking well.”

Mingi nodded, repeating Yunho’s words back to him. His scent shifted, his spice finally, irrevocably giving way to the sweet scent of his omega. The scent of ripe peach filled the room, a dizzying aroma that sent Yunho into a frenzy.

“Fuck,” Yunho snarled, his hips snapping faster, harder. “You’re mine. All mine, Mingi. Gonna fill you up again, give you my fucking pups.”

He was crying now, tears streaming down his face as he drove into Mingi, the words tumbling out of him being a possessive chant that even he was not aware he was able to say. Overwhelmed by the pleasure, Mingi could only sob and cling to him.

And then, with each motion going harder, it became easier for Yunho to drive into Mingi. He looked down, and the sheets below Mingi’s hole were wet with the one thing Yunho didn’t expect.

Slick.

Yunho stopped in his tracks, a stunned gasp escaping him. He pulled out, and without a second thought, he buried his face between Mingi’s legs once again, addicted to the taste of him and the proof of their union.

Mingi whined, but Yunho didn’t stop licking him until Yunho changed their positions and pulled him into his lap. 

“Ride me,” Yunho commanded.

Mingi did, clumsily at first, but then with a desperation that matched Yunho’s own. He bounced on Yunho’s cock, taking him deep, the new slick making the slide effortless. 

“Look at your cock,” Yunho spat on it, making Mingi shudder. “So useless. You were fucking omegas with this cock?”

Mingi whined, but he still nodded. Suddenly, Yunho reached up and pinched his nipples, sending a jolt throughout his whole body, immediately making him cum all over Yunho’s torso and clench around his cock. The sudden tightness made Yunho’s knot swell as well, locking them together again. He fell down on Yunho’s chest, breathing heavily.

But it wasn’t enough. Mingi shifted, a restless movement that made Yunho inhale sharply. “More,” he whimpered.

Yunho laughed. “Greedy little thing,” he taunted, but there was no real heat in it, only undeniable fondness. “Can’t get enough of my cock, can you?”

He waited for his cock to deflate before pulling out, dragging Mingi up with him. He walked him out of the bedroom, stopping in front of the large mirror in their living room.

“Look,” Yunho called out, bending Mingi over. “Look at us.”

Mingi’s eyes met Yunho’s in the reflection, a sea of tears and lust. Yunho started to move again, grinding in a different rhythm that made Mingi see stars. He watched as Yunho’s cock disappeared into him, as his own body arched and writhed in pleasure.

The sight was lewd, and it was the hottest thing he had ever seen.

He came again, a weak, pathetic spurt of cum that landed on the polished floor.

But Yunho wasn’t done. He pulled out, lifting Mingi into his arms like he weighed like nothing. He carried him to the kitchen, setting him down on the cold, granite counter.

Mingi gasped at the sudden cold, but it was quickly forgotten as Yunho entered him again. This position sent a new jolt of pleasure through both their bodies that their eyes pricked up again.

“You were made for this.” Each word was punctuated by a shallow thrust. “This tight little hole? Made to take my knot. You’re not an alpha, are you, baby? Never were. Just a desperate omega waiting for a real alpha to put you in your place.”

“Yes,” Mingi whimpered. “Only for you, alpha—”

“Fuck, Mingi,” Yunho choked out, his hips stuttering. The degradation was only a shield for the overwhelming affection threatening to drown him. “My perfect omega. So good, so fucking perfect for me. Gonna keep you full of my cum all day, every day. Never let you leave the bed. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Just my little cock-sleeve.”

“Please,” Mingi begged, his arms wrapping around Yunho’s neck, pulling him closer. “Breed me, alpha. Please, breed me.”

The words were a trigger for Yunho. His control snapped, carrying Mingi back to the bedroom, throwing him down on the bed. He flipped him over, spreading his legs wide, and entered him in a rough, possessive mating press.

“I’m going to get you pregnant,” Yunho growled, “You’re going to look so beautiful with my pups. And you’re going to be the best father ever.”

He could feel Mingi’s body trembling beneath him in a mixture of overstimulation and unadulterated need. He slowed down his pace, leaning down to whisper directly into Mingi’s ear. 

“Gonna keep you full of me,” Yunho panted. “Gonna wake you up with my cock in you every morning. Gonna send you to work smelling like my cum and my pups so everyone knows who you belong to.”

Each word was a brand that made Mingi’s omega purr with satisfaction. He was so full, so claimed, so loved. He felt a fresh wave of slick gush out of him, coating Yunho’s cock.

“Yunho,” he sobbed, his hands clutching at Yunho’s back. “Please… alpha—I need it.”

“I know, baby, I know,” Yunho cooed, his voice the same pathetic mess, a stark contrast to the feral words he was spewing. “I need it too. You feel so fucking good. My perfect omega. My Mingi.”

He was crying again, tears mixing with the sweat on their faces. He was a lovesick mess, and he was completely undone by the man beneath him.

Yunho drove into Mingi one last time, a deep thrust that had Mingi meet god. His knot swelled, locking them together in the most intimate of embraces. He spilled deep inside Mingi, filling him with his seed and love.

Mingi came with him, a final spurt that was more of a shudder than an actual release. He was completely spent—he was nothing but a boneless lump in Yunho’s arms. 

They stayed like that until they both passed out smiling and still locked together.

When he woke up, the first thing Yunho registered was the weight. There was a solid pressure on his chest and an unfamiliar sensation of another body tangled with his own. His own scent was mixing with the smell of peaches left in the sun.

He opened his eyes, and what he saw was Mingi sprawled across him, his head tucked into Yunho’s shoulder, his breathing soft and even in his sleep. His face was a disaster of swollen lips and bruises, the dark possessive mark blooming on his nape, where Yunho’s teeth broke the skin.

Mingi looked ruined.

He also smelled like an omega. He no longer smelt like an anomaly. It clung to his skin, the sheets, and to Yunho. 

Mingi stirred then, a soft whimper escaping him as he shifted. His eyes fluttered open, and when they met Yunho’s there was only a sleepy, contented warmth present there.

Then clarity returned, and with it, was a silent, “oh fuck”.

“Oh god,” Mingi scrambled back, sending him tumbling off the bed and onto the floor with a dull thud. The sudden movement sent a sharp, fresh scent of omega into the air. He stared up at Yunho from the floor. “Oh my god.”

His hand flew to the bonding bite, his fingers trembling as they traced the tender skin. His scent soured with panic and confusion. “Yunho… What did you do to me?”

The accusation in his voice was a physical blow. “I—Mingi, I…” Yunho’s mind was static. ‘You asked for it’ was the truth, but it was too cruel. ‘I couldn’t stop’ was pathetic. ‘I wanted it’ is way too much of a pill to swallow.

“I claimed you,” Yunho finally said, the words feeling way too huge.

Mingi stared at him, but then the panic in his scent began to recede, the sharpness softening into something else. A wry, almost hysterical humor glinted in his eyes.

“Well, obviously,” he shot back, his voice raspy. He pushed himself up, sitting on the floor. A tired smile spread across his face.

Yunho watched, completely bewildered, as Mingi’s scent settled. It was still sweet, but it was laced with a new thread of contentment.

“Are you… okay?” Yunho asked hesitantly.

Mingi looked up at him, and the look in his eyes was so vulnerable it made Yunho’s chest ache. “I think so. It’s weird… everything feels different, but… it also feels right.”

He paused, giving himself the time to find the right words.

“You feel right.”

Mingi pushed himself to his feet, wincing slightly, and walked back to the bed. He didn’t climb in, just stood there looking down at Yunho. 

Then he leaned down, pressing a soft, gentle kiss to Yunho’s lips. It was nothing like the frantic kisses from the night before.

“I love you, you idiot.” Mingi murmured against his mouth.

Yunho giggled and reached up, cupping the back of Mingi’s neck, pulling him down into a deeper kiss. “I love you more.”