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On the third day of Felix's sickness, Minho slips into his bed. Though his senses are going haywire, Felix latches onto him immediately, seeking comfort. The feel of Minho's shirt grates along his skin, the smell of Minho overwhelming his senses. He smells like dry, burning cinnamon, almost stinging Felix's lungs and making something in him want to rear up in protest.
"You're presenting," Minho murmurs into his hair, "as an alpha."
The words make Felix curl further into Minho's chest. He knew that, at some point, this would happen. He's always known this is a possibility. They all suspected it when Jisung presented a few weeks ago and had to ride out his heat at the dorms the company keeps for ruts and heats. That Felix followed him was only natural.
"Hurts," Felix whimpers, "hurts, hyung."
"I know. It'll get better."
The presence is soothing but the pain in his gums hasn't abated. He feels the need to bite, to mark, instincts peaking.
"Are you in your rut yet?" Minho asks.
Felix's mind is fuzzy, filled with cotton and barely taking in a single word. He wants to growl, claw, lash out, but knows none of it will help. Knows he'll get greater pleasure from being held like this.
"I sh—" he shivers, heat growing, "I shouldn't be an alpha."
"You are. You're going to make a great alpha." Minho's hand soothes down his back.
A noise builds up in the back of Felix's throat and he doesn't stop it from bubbling up. What surfaces is a growl, low and possessive, and not the whine he was expecting. Minho stills at the sound and Felix can almost feel him fighting his own answering growl. The spice of Minho's scent spikes, assaulting Felix further. Newly emerging instincts pull him every which way, but one thing is clear to him through the fog: he doesn't want to leave Minho's arms. Minho has gone through this before; he knows what this is like. He can help Felix. Felix trusts him.
It seems like the years of reigning in his instincts have paid off, if the way Minho relaxes again is anything to go by.
"You're doing well," Minho reassures, "you're doing so well."
This time, Felix does whine. The heat in him grows exponentially, sweat beading on his forehead. He can't control himself properly, his hips move of their own accord, shifting forward until his hard cock collides with Minho's thigh. It feels so good, so good, the best he’s ever felt in his life—
But he knows he shouldn’t, knows this is wrong and he should tell Minho to take him away to the rooms that the company has set aside for ruts and heats— but the comfort of Minho’s presence is worth its weight in gold. He doesn’t want to go through this alone.
The hand on his back continues its gentle rhythm. There’s no way Minho didn’t feel Felix rutting against him but he says nothing and continues holding Felix through it. Somehow that makes the heat worse, the knowledge that he’s not being judged or stopped but comforted through it. His gums ache and his nose burns with spice and his hips keep moving, shifting until Minho’s thigh is between his legs, a steady presence he continues to roll into.
Whines and whimpers leak from his mouth, dragging dry lips over Minho’s neck, over his scent glands. Minho shushes him softly, trying to soothe him, his hands running down Felix’s back even as Felix presses in harder, pushing Minho flat on his back in order to continue his desperate humping.
When he presses them together roughly, he feels Minho’s own cock, half hard in his sweatpants, and another growl builds in his chest, slips through his teeth. There’s no answering growl again, just the burn of Minho’s scent.
“H-hyung,” Felix pants. “Hyung, I can’t— I’m so—”
The hands on his back move down in tandem, running over Felix’s sides before landing on his ass. Minho presses their hips together, rolling at the same time, and Felix nearly collapses, his whole weight laid on Minho’s body.
“It’s okay, Yongbokkie. It’s okay. Keep moving.”
He does as Minho’s asked, dragging their cocks together through the layers of fabric and savoring Minho’s noises, the way his scent spikes almost sweetly. Felix’s newfound senses parse his arousal, and that’s more heady than anything.
“Pl— please—” He barely gets the word out before he’s coming in his underwear, the heat abating for just a second. Long enough to draw back and take in Minho’s flushed face, his glazed over eyes. Felix can feel how hard he still is, and he’s about to ask if he can help before another wave crashes over him. He doubles over, panting wetly against Minho’s neck.
“Hyung,” Felix tries to string his words together. “Dorms? Rut. S-starting.”
The soothing hands on his back return, pressing them together more fully. Felix takes the comfort despite how hard he is again, how needy he feels himself getting.
“Do you want me to go with you?” Minho asks. “I can help.”
Felix shivers, forcing himself to pull back and meet Minho’s eyes. “Help?”
“If you want to knot someone.” Minho explains, voice neutral. “I can help.”
“Knot… you?”
“If you want.”
Felix’s fuzzy brain catches up a second later and he’s surging up to press his lips to Minho’s. The kiss is a mess of teeth and spit, Felix’s mouth not following any orders from his brain, simply chasing what feels good. Warmth and cinnamon and the hint of sweetness at the end of it that lets him know Minho is here, that Minho wants to help. That Minho wants him.
“Please,” Felix gasps. “Please.”
“Alpha.” Minho growls, and the words light Felix on fire.