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Seonghwa…is late. Seonghwa is never late.

Hongjoong crosses his arms where he sits in the cockpit of his pod, his leg bouncing up and down anxiously as he stares at the clock on the control panel that tells him it’s already half past 8:00—thirty whole minutes past when they were supposed to begin their practice flight. As far as Hongjoong knows, the last time Seonghwa disobeyed his rigid, self inflicted wake-up time of 5:00 am was after they’d returned from a mission on a nearby planet, during which he contracted some strange sort of extraterrestrial flu that had him bedridden for nearly two weeks straight. 

The thought makes Hongjoong’s leg bounce even quicker, memories of agonized moans and flushed, sweat damp skin setting his nerves on edge. Not only had he been worried sick to the point he suspected he’d contracted the same illness, but he’d been forced to pair up with Mingi for the flights he took during Seonghwa’s absence, as he hadn’t been—and still isn’t—qualified to fly alone. If he has to withstand endless gushing about the hot, charming flight instructor Mingi is crushing on when he’s trying to navigate the two of them through an asteroid field again, he thinks he might just feign his own sickness to get out of it. 

…It has absolutely nothing to do with his teeny tiny crush on his copilot, and the fact that any inkling that he might be in trouble makes Hongjoong’s heart feel like it’s going to fall out of his ass. No, not at all. Why would it?

With a heavy sigh, Hongjoong leans back against the headrest of his seat and closes his eyes. Everything is probably fine. It isn’t as if they’ve been on any missions lately other than practice flights, and Seonghwa’s immune system is (usually) more resilient than his human peers’. Any minute now, he should come waltzing in with some excuse about how he’d been guiding a lost student to their class, like the insufferably good person he is. Or, perhaps, he’s just helping Yeosang find his perpetually vanishing boots again. Either way, everything is fine. Just. fine.

Hongjoong cracks one eye open once again, peering at the clock. 8:32. 

“Fuck’s sake.” He grumbles as he reaches for his communicator, dialing the familiar number. 

It rings, and rings, and rings, Hongjoong’s foot still bouncing away on the floor of his little pod, making it shake—until finally Seonghwa’s voice filters through the line. 

“HI! You’ve reached Pilot Park!” a little giggle sounds through the line that Seonghwa obviously tries to muffle with his hand; it’s so cute it makes Hongjoong sick. “I can’t come to the phone right now, so leave a message at the b-”

“Shit.” Hongjoong mutters under his breath, ending the call and hooking the communicator back onto his belt. 

Surely if it were something harmless holding him up, he would have sent Hongjoong a message… right? Seonghwa is punctual, professional, despite his occasional bouts of silliness. When it comes to his training, he doesn’t slack off. He doesn’t take shortcuts. He doesn’t vanish on Hongjoong without a word. Not unless it’s something serious holding him up.

He’s dependable, reliable, in the most gut wrenching, hopelessly-in-love-inducing way. He wouldn’t just…vanish like this. Not unless something serious had happened. 

Hongjoong runs a frustrated hand through his hair, jaw clenched tight in an attempt to keep all the (hopefully) irrational worry inside—but ultimately, he groans and stands from his seat. He trudges through the back of the pod until he reaches the exit hatch and wrenches it open, slipping through the doorway that connects it to the larger ship he calls home. The sound of his boots clicking on the smooth tile floor echoes through the internal loading dock as he makes his way down the hallway, not hesitating to swing the door to the vestibule open when he reaches it.

Inside, Jongho sits at his usual desk, there to keep track of who comes in and out. He spares Hongjoong a disinterested glance when the latter approaches, setting down the holopad in his hand when it becomes apparent he’s going to be spoken to. 

“Has Seonghwa come through here?” Hongjoong asks without hesitation. His hands grip onto the edge of the pristine white desk, giving away his stress, and if the dubious look Jongho gives him is any indication—he notices. 

“I haven’t seen him.” Jongho answers slowly, expression torn between bored, confused, and concerned. “Have you tried calling?” 

“No, I just figured he’d receive my message telepathically.” Hongjoong deadpans. 

“Well, I mean, technology is pretty advanced these days. Telepathic communication is probably closer than you-”

“Of course I called,” Hongjoong interrupts sharply. He doesn’t have time for this. “He didn’t answer, Jongho. Since when does Seonghwa not answer? Since when is Seonghwa late?” 

“Okay, relax.” Jongho says, unhooking his communicator from his belt. “San is doing his morning patrol around the ship right now. I’ll ask that he check Seonghwa’s dorm.” 

“No need, I’m heading there now.” Hongjoong says, ignoring the half-hearted little sound of protest Jongho makes. “I’ll call you for help if I can’t find him.” 

And with that, Hongjoong is striding out of the vestibule into the barren hallway beyond, footsteps bouncing off of the sterile white walls as he goes.

It’s lucky that the flight student housing is so close to the loading dock—Hongjoong doesn’t think he would be able to withstand traveling all the way across this god forsaken ship right now. And maybe he’s overreacting, maybe everything is fine, but he’ll allow himself to feel embarrassed about that later, when he knows Seonghwa is okay and not bedridden by some horrific disease again. 

He strides down the hall with purpose, stopping before the door that leads to the dormitory wing and hovering the identification device on his wrist near the scanner on the wall beside it. It opens with a soft hiss, and Hongjoong enters right away, eyes scanning the numbers on the doors as he passes until finally—there. Room 1117. 

Hongjoong’s heart pounds as he bangs on the sturdy steel door, the sound echoing through the quiet, empty hallway. All of the students should already be in class, or on missions, and the solitude of the dormitory wing only sets Hongjoong even more on edge. 

“Seonghwa-yah?” He calls through the door when he receives no answer. “You’re late.” He attempts to sound irritated, still trying to convince himself that nothing is wrong. Maybe Seonghwa just slept in, as uncharacteristic as it would be. Everyone slips up sometimes—even rigid, routine driven extraterrestrial beings. 

But still, there’s only silence on the other side of the door, so Hongjoong knocks again. 

“Seonghwa?” 

And that’s when a sound finally breaks through the silence—a groan, part exasperated, but mainly pained, muffled by the thick wall that separates Hongjoong from Seonghwa’s dorm.

“Seonghwa-yah?” Hongjoong calls again, a bit more panicked. He tries the door, but it’s locked. 

“Don’t!” Hongjoong hears from the other side, strained and barely audible. “Don’t come in, Hongjoong-ah. Please-” Seonghwa cuts off with what sounds like a whimper, and Hongjoong tries the handle again despite the other’s request. 

“Why not?” He asks incredulously. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” 

Once again, there’s no answer other than a horrible, pained moan, and Hongjoong curses, fumbling with the keypad on the door to type in the override code Seonghwa gave him in case of emergencies. 

“I’m coming in whether you like it or not.” He grumbles through the door, heart doing a little flip of relief when he finally inputs the code and the lock gives him a little click in response. He pushes the door open, bursting into the room and taking one, two steps forward—but he stops dead in his tracks before the door even has time to swing shut behind him. 

Seonghwa is on the bed in the corner of his room, lying on his side with a pillow clutched to his front, dressed only in his thermal, long sleeved sleep shirt and a pair of boxer briefs. His eyes are hazy as they adjust to Hongjoong’s sudden presence, his skin flushed pink and drenched with sweat, and his cute little lavender antennae are twitching sporadically where they sprout from his mussed, pitch black hair. 

He looks utterly miserable, but when Hongjoong catches movement out of the corner of his eye and shifts his gaze downwards…all fear and concern is washed away by a wave of embarrassment and…something else he doesn’t want to name. 

Seonghwa’s hips are swiveling in desperate little circles against the pillow he clutches to his front, and even with Hongjoong there watching in horror, they don’t cease. There’s a prominent bulge beneath the thin black cotton of Seonghwa’s briefs, twisting and moving beneath the fabric in a way that makes Hongjoong’s heart rise in his throat, and he only finds himself able to tear his eyes away when he hears Seonghwa whine in mortification. 

“Hongjoong-ah, please.” He says, breathy and strained. His lips are bitten red and his face is wet with what could be sweat or tears, Hongjoong doesn’t know. And the sight of him so disheveled in a way Hongjoong has never seen him, rutting eagerly against that pillow like he just can’t help it… it has a molten feeling bubbling up in Hongjoong’s chest. He’s having trouble discerning whether it’s rooted in shame, or arousal, and he honestly can’t tell which would be worse. 

“Please-” Seonghwa groans again, his face burying itself in the pillow and his entire body twitching in an attempt to stop the movements of his hips. 

Hongjoong doesn’t know if Seonghwa is begging for him to leave like he’d asked before, or if he’s begging for help, but either way, some sort of sense finally seems to crash down on him, his breath leaving him in a rush as he jolts into motion. 

“Fucking hell-” He grumbles to himself as he starts opening cabinets and drawers in the kitchenette across the room, grabbing a washcloth when he finally finds one. He turns the water in the sink all the way to cold and soaks the cloth, wringing it out over the basin before heading quickly to Seonghwa’s side, trying resolutely to ignore the distressed little sounds leaving his lips. The way his hips are still subtly grinding against the pillow clutched tight in his grasp.   

“Seonghwa, what happened?” He asks as he sits on the edge of the bed, leaning down to brush the sweat damp hair from the other’s forehead and press the back of his hand against it. “God, you're burning up.” 

Seonghwa doesn’t respond. He just squeezes his eyes shut and pants heavily into the sheets, flinching when Hongjoong presses the cool towel to his forehead. 

“Shh, it’s okay. Do…do you want me to call the hospital wing? Kyungmoon will know what’s wrong, I can have him bring some-”

“No, no-” Seonghwa rushes to protest. One of his hands shoots out to grab onto Hongjoong’s, like he’s scared he might pull away. He’s pressing eagerly into the damp cloth on his forehead now, but Hongjoong can feel his body heat seeping through the fabric, leeching all of the soothing cold from it. He’s so hot to the touch, even with the way Hongjoong feels warm all over at the sight of Seonghwa like this, the hand that grips onto Hongjoong’s other wrist clammy and blazing on his skin. 

“But, Seonghw-” 

“No, I- I know what’s wrong.” Seonghwa interrupts. “I just have to…wait it out.” He grimaces as he says it, his nose scrunching up in pain, and Hongjoong’s heart aches. 

“And?” He asks, staring at Seonghwa imploringly. “What’s wrong?” 

For a moment, Seonghwa is silent but for the breaths falling heavy from between his lips, but then, right when he opens his mouth to respond, all that escapes is another choked off sound of pain, his knees lifting up to curl in on himself as much as he can with the pillow still clutched to his front. With Hongjoong’s wrist still encased in his grip. 

“Fuck, just- hold on, don’t speak.” Hongjoong rambles, looking around the room frantically. “What can I do to help? Is there…medicine? Treatments? Something to help you relax?” 

Seonghwa shakes his head quickly before burying it in the pillow to conceal his face, a lewd sound muffling itself into the plush cotton and down. Hongjoong swallows thickly, trying to ignore the persistent movement of Seonghwa’s hips in his peripheral vision, the strange bulge he’d see beneath Seonghwa’s briefs were he to allow himself to really look. 

Whatever’s wrong with Seonghwa, Hongjoong is certain it’s going to kill him first.

He swallows down all the inappropriate feelings trying to claw their way out of his throat and attempts to move his wrist out of Seonghwa’s grasp. He receives resistance in return, a whine of protest from Seonghwa’s wet, pink lips, and Hongjoong mutters a curse before doing his best to soothe his friend, whispering reassurances that he’ll be back before he knows it. 

Once he’s finally released he stands and hurries to the kitchen once again, opening the cabinet above the sink to reveal neatly organized rows of pills and tinctures, some labeled in a language Hongjoong doesn’t understand. The glass all clinks together as he sorts through them looking for something that might help, until he finally finds something he recognizes and pulls it frantically from the cupboard to bring back to Seonghwa. 

Somehow in the thirty seconds that Hongjoong has been gone, Seonghwa’s condition seems to have worsened tenfold. His eyes are open, watching Hongjoong, but just barely, red rimmed and glossy like he’s somewhere far away. His skin that has a natural lilac tint on a normal day is flushed with the rising heat of Seonghwa’s body, the subtle speckles littering the skin around his face inflamed in a near-red color from their usual soft pink. His lips are pressed so tight together that they’re quivering with the effort it takes to hold in the pained sounds Hongjoong is sure he wants to make, and his hands grip so hard onto his pillow that the fabric is certain to rip. 

They twitch when Hongjoong returns to the bedside as if Seonghwa wants to reach out, but he resists, watching Hongjoong blearily as he struggles more than necessary to screw the top off of the tincture in his hands. 

“Okay, so…fuck-” Hongjoong curses when he fumbles the lid in his unsteady hands, nearly dropping it to the floor. He steadies himself and fills the dropper to the designated line, trying his best not to shake.  “This should help reduce your fever, and any, uh, pain? You might be having? I hope.” 

Seonghwa doesn’t respond, but when Hongjoong sets the bottle aside and places his hand on the side of the other’s face, he leans into the touch like a cat. God, Hongjoong is going to die. 

“Okay, so just…open up.” Hongjoong mutters as he places his thumb on Seonghwa’s bottom lip to coax his mouth open. It’s sort of dizzying, how quickly Seonghwa follows his gentle guidance, how trusting he is of Hongjoong to take care of him in his vulnerable state. It makes Hongjoong’s heart clench beneath his ribs at the same time that a mortifying heat seems to spread through his abdomen. 

Shamefully, Hongjoong has wondered many times what Seonghwa would be like in less… safe for work circumstances, but somehow he’d never imagined him like this, and it makes his head spin even as he tries so hard to tamp the thoughts down. 

Seonghwa is so pliant, lips parting and soft pink tongue twitching in his mouth as he stares up at Hongjoong in anticipation. “It’s okay…” Hongjoong mutters, even though Seonghwa isn’t giving him any resistance. It’s probably more self soothing than anything else. “It’s alright, I've got you...” 

The dropper slips beneath Seonghwa’s tongue where Hongjoong deposits the medicine, pushing up on Seonghwa’s chin afterwards so he’ll close his mouth. 

He can feel Seonghwa shudder violently beneath his touch at the unpleasant taste. His eyes are drawn down to Seonghwa’s throat where sweat beads atop the flushed skin, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down when he finally swallows. He’s so un fairly attractive even when he’s clearly in distress, and Hongjoong feels guilty for even thinking as much.

Luckily, the effect of the medicine is supposed to be pretty much immediate, so Hongjoong watches raptly as Seonghwa’s eyes flutter shut, expression scrunching in another burst of pain as he pushes further into Hongjoong’s touch. 

“Okay…it’s okay.” Hongjoong breathes, a hollow, worrying ache in his chest. He keeps one hand on the side of Seonghwa’s face while the other brushes his hair back in a soothing motion. “Just breathe, take a moment, and when you feel ready you can tell me what’s going on.” 

Seonghwa makes a small distressed sound then, and Hongjoong isn’t sure if it’s from the idea of telling Hongjoong what’s wrong, or the way his fingers brush one of Seonghwa’s soft antennae as it combs through his hair. The appendage twitches at the touch, and Hongjoong pulls his hand back with a hasty apology, framing the other side of Seonghwa’s face with it instead. Seonghwa seems to be sensitive to the touch everywhere, goosebumps broken out all over his skin, each touch of Hongjoong’s hands inciting the tiniest flinch before Seonghwa relaxes into it.

It takes a moment longer than it should, just enough to give Hongjoong pause. But eventually, Seonghwa’s breathing begins to even out, the scrunch of his tightly closed eyes losing its tension. It’s not by a lot, not enough that it brings Hongjoong much relief, but the panic and uncertainty wane inside him bit by bit with every breath that falls the tiniest bit slower from Seonghwa’s parted lips. 

When his eyes finally crack open, they’re still hazy, bloodshot, far away. But he’s looking at Hongjoong with some clarity despite the way his body trembles, the way he still holds his pillow tight to his front. Tighter now, actually, as if he’s trying to hide behind it. 

“I’m okay.” He rasps, but the state of his voice alone says otherwise. “You don’t have to do all this, I can handle it myself.” 

Hongjoong stares at him incredulously, brows furrowed. “Are you kidding? You're burning up, you’re shaking, you look like you just got spit out of a black hole.” 

Seonghwa winces. 

“You’re not okay.” Hongjoong says stubbornly. “The fact that you couldn’t even call in sick is proof enough.” 

“Hongjoong-ah.” Seonghwa tries to turn his head away from the other’s gaze, but it’s futile, Hongjoong’s hands tilting it back towards him to meet his eyes. Worry and confusion make him bolder, an eagerness to know that Seonghwa is okay staying the usual hesitance he has to reach out and touch.

“Seonghwa, what is it?” He asks, softer now. He swallows an unbearable lump that tries to rise in his throat. “Are you sick again? Have you come down with another flu? Or is it…is it something more… permanent? A-are you-” 

“No, Joongie. No, I’m not sick.” Seonghwa croaks, shaking his head adamantly. “It’s normal, I swear.” 

“This is not normal.”

“It is for me-” Seonghwa insists, the end of his sentence cut off by a little flinch and a subtle wince of pain. Seonghwa’s arms hug the pillow even tighter to him, pressing it into his abdomen, and Hongjoong tries resolutely not to wonder why. “I told you I just…need to wait it out.”

“Wait it out for how long?” Hongjoong asks incredulously. 

Seonghwa’s eyes flicker away from Hongjoong’s gaze. “I don’t know.” He mutters. “Maybe just a day, but…maybe…maybe as long as a week.” 

“A week!?” 

“Hongjoong, please-”

“No, Seonghwa. No.” Hongjoong says sharply. “I’m not leaving you here to wait out whatever this is for a week. Not if there’s anything I can do about it.”

“But there isn’t anything you can do about it.” 

“Try me.” Hongjoong responds, raising his eyebrows.

Seonghwa is silent in return, his cheeks pinker somehow than they were a moment ago, teeth chewing anxiously on his bottom lip. 

“How can I know I can’t help until you tell me what’s wrong?” 

He accompanies the question with a hesitant brush of his fingers, sweeping hair from Seonghwa’s forehead. But when his touch ventures further back and reaches the base of Seonghwa’s antenna once more, the latter makes another wounded sound, this time his hand shooting up to grab onto Hongjoong’s wrist.

Hongjoong’s breath hitches, Seonghwa’s palm burning hot against his skin, his grip like a vice. He stares up at Hongjoong with an expression that’s hard to read, red-rimmed eyes heavy lidded and jaw like steel even with the way he still trembles.

“Seonghwa-yah?” Hongjoong rasps into the sudden heavy silence. 

Seonghwa stares for a moment longer, dazed, but unwavering, like he sees something behind Hongjoong’s eyes that the latter is too scared to name. And then finally, the tension breaks with a blink, Seonghwa’s lips parting around a shaky inhale. His eyes flutter shut as if to steel himself, and then he’s releasing Hongjoong’s wrist and pushing himself up weakly to lean against the headboard of his bed. 

His expression is tense as though he’s still trying to fight through whatever discomfort is plaguing him, but once he exhales slowly and meets Hongjoong’s eyes, his gaze is clearer, his voice unwavering when he speaks.

“I’ve reached breeding age.” 

Hongjoong nearly chokes. 

His heart seems to register the statement before his mind does, picking up speed where it pounds beneath his ribs. A strange, heavy feeling sinks down low in Hongjoong’s stomach, his next swallow sticking painfully in his throat, his mind racing with the implications of what Seonghwa has just told him. One part of him, the infuriating, morbidly curious part, is screaming at him to look down. To avert his gaze to Seonghwa’s lap for just the quickest second. While the rational, admittedly much weaker part of himself, tries valiantly to fight off the urge. 

“Um.” He starts, his voice weak. “Breeding age?” 

Hearing the words from Hongjoong’s mouth, Seonghwa winces slightly, finally turning his own eyes away. “It’s exactly what it sounds like.” He mutters. 

Hongjoong’s throat feels unbearably dry, his hand fisting in the sheets where it’s fallen to the bed. “So… So you-”

“So I feel the…overwhelming need to breed.” Seonghwa finishes for him. “It’s normal, for my people. Once we reach a certain age. When our minds and bodies reach…peak sexual maturity.”

This…cannot be happening. Hongjoong cannot, under any circumstances, be weird about this, no matter how hot all over he feels hearing the word breed leave Seonghwa’s pretty pink lips. He can be normal. He can focus on his concern rather than the need to pinch himself to make sure this isn’t one of his wretched wet dreams. 

This is about Seonghwa—the pained expression on his face and the trembling of his body. He speaks of his condition like it’s the most normal thing in the world, but the deep flush on his cheeks gives away his nerves, his fingers twisting in the sheets on either side of his hips. When Hongjoong doesn’t respond, at a loss for words, Seonghwa goes on. 

“It should only last a couple of days. I mean, it would of course be resolved faster if I…” A deep, steadying breath. “If I had someone to breed—but it’s not mandatory. I’ll be fine on my own, and then I’ll know what to expect during the next one.”

“The next one?” Hongjoong croaks. 

“The next rut.” Seonghwa says, like it’s nothing. “From here on, it will happen monthly.” 

“Oh god-” Hongjoong breathes, closing his eyes and pressing a hand to his forehead. That heavy feeling in his gut is still there, and the hollow ache in his chest that he’d expected to recede once he knew what was going on has only twisted and morphed into something hot, heady, almost painful as it digs its claws into his heart.

He’s somewhat familiar with Seonghwa’s species and his biology, but he’s not at all prepared for this, nor for the way it makes him feel. He wants to run away from it, to write off the aching feeling in his chest as a silly crush, an inevitable result of too many late nights studying together and near death experiences out on the field. 

He wants to pretend this heavy feeling that’s been building and building inside him with every moment more he spends by Seonghwa’s side won’t change the nature of their friendship forever, but… he’s not sure he can fool himself. Not with Seonghwa flushed and sweaty right here in front of him, describing his insatiable need to breed entirely unaware of the sudden growing problem in Hongjoong’s jumpsuit, let alone the one pounding away beneath his ribs. Truth be told, the thought of Seonghwa lying here in pain for days on end makes him feel even worse than the thought of everything changing between them. Like his heart might very well just shrivel up right beneath his ribs. 

He can’t just leave him. Seonghwa is his partner, his comrade, his friend. He wants to do what he can to ease his discomfort, even if it’s simply providing a reassuring presence. So Hongjoong lets his hand fall from his face, swallows down the last of his apprehension, and shifts his eyes uneasily back up to Seonghwa’s face. 

Seonghwa isn’t looking at him anymore. His head is leaned back against the headboard, eyes closed, face scrunched up in discomfort  and hands grabbing restlessly at the bottom hem of his shirt. Hongjoong imagines him alone in this state, and his heart pangs, his determination hardening. 

“Is it painful?” He whispers, observing the way Seonghwa’s eyebrows furrow more, the way his cute little antennae twitch atop his head. 

Seonghwa inhales a deep breath through his nose, eyes remaining shut. “It’s not so much…pain.” He says weakly. 

Hongjoong swallows thickly, reaching out a hand once more to rest it on Seonghwa’s knee. “Is there anything I can do to help?” 

Only, the moment his hand makes contact, Seonghwa’s eyes are shooting open, his own hand darting down to grip onto Hongjoong’s wrist once more. The latter’s heart jumps in his chest, his stomach doing a little flip, and when he meets Seonghwa’s gaze he feels his mouth go entirely dry. 

His eyes are glazed over, pupils are blown so wide they nearly take up the entirety of his iris, and the whites of his eyes are red-rimmed and bloodshot. His lids are heavy, his gaze like that of a predator as it burns into Hongjoong’s, Seonghwa’s fingernails seeming to dig mercilessly into Hongjoong’s flesh. 

Hongjoong has never once felt as though he were in danger around Seonghwa. Soft spoken, sweet, nerdy Seonghwa. Even seeing him in action behind the console of their little ship, eyes hard, focused… he’s never thought Seonghwa could be a threat to him—until now. 

The way that Seonghwa is looking at him, it’s as if he wants to eat Hongjoong alive, and the most mortifying part is… Hongjoong likes it. 

Despite the anxious, jittery feeling in his chest, the uncertainty of what to expect from Seonghwa when he’s like this, that heat churning low in Hongjoong’s gut twists tighter, curiosity swimming to the forefront of his mind, and they’re both getting harder and harder to ignore the longer he’s at the mercy of those eyes.

“I think…” Seonghwa starts, his voice rougher now. Hongjoong has to suppress a shiver in return. “You’re making it worse.” 

Um. What?

Against his will, Hongjoong’s eyes shift downwards. It’s not long enough to see much, but the glimpse of the clear arousal there sticks in Hongjoong’s mind even after he darts his eyes back up to meet Seonghwa’s. He can’t keep his thoughts from spiraling down into the possibilities of what Seonghwa might look like underneath his clothes. With the way it seems to move… to slither beneath the fabric of his briefs. The size of it. The shape. His glimpse being so brief is honestly more damning than if he had let his gaze linger, because now his imagination is running wild and he feels helpless to stop it. 

“Worse how?” He asks quietly.

Seonghwa stares for a moment longer before his eyes shift somewhere lower on Hongjoong’s face. And then as if coming out of a trance, he releases his grip from Hongjoong’s wrist and winces in pain, his body shifting uncomfortably atop the sheets. 

“Don’t make me say it, Hongjoong-ah.” He grumbles.  

“Seonghwa, come on.” 

“It…wouldn’t be appropriate.” 

“Hwa, please.” Hongjoong says, tilting his head to get a better look at Seonghwa’s face when he turns away from him. “I- I’m not good at this kind of stuff, but… I wanna understand. I wanna help. Come on, when are you ever gonna hear me begging like this again?” 

At that, Seonghwa delivers a light kick to his back, and Hongjoong laughs softly. The kind that he tries and fails to hold in, his teeth peeking out from between his lips as they curl up against his will. The kind of laugh Seonghwa always brings out of him. 

“Please, Seonghwa.” Hongjoong says again, his expression sobering. “You can tell me.”

Seonghwa’s eyes are still wary as they gaze at Hongjoong, but they’re not scared. They’re not nervous. His face is flushed with both fever and embarrassment, but he seems to know he can trust Hongjoong with this just like he does everything else, and the thought makes Hongjoong’s chest feel warmer than it should. 

Then, Seonghwa finally averts his eyes, seeming resigned to baring himself for Hongjoong to see. 

“It seems…” He starts, his head tilting slightly as he tries to find the best words. “That your…pheromones are…a good match for me.”

Hongjoong blinks. “My pheromones?” 

Seonghwa nods once. “Yes, Hongjoong. Your pheromones.” 

“Right.” Hongjoong murmurs, wracking his brain for some kind of explanation for what the hell that means. “You’re saying that I… smell good?” 

Seonghwa’s eyes flicker back up to his, the embarrassment behind them now bordered by irritation and something darker that Hongjoong doesn’t dare put a name too. “It’s a bit more complicated than that.” Seonghwa says, deadpan. 

“Right. Of course.” Hongjoong says dumbly. His next words stick in his throat, and he tries to swallow them down, but they’re resilient little fuckers, forcing their way up up up until-

“So I’m making things worse by being here because I’m…making you horny?”

“Hongjoong-ah.” Seonghwa groans, closing his eyes and tilting his head back against the headboard.

“I’m just trying to make sure I understand.” 

Seonghwa makes another wounded sound, and it shouldn’t affect Hongjoong the way it does, goosebumps breaking out all over his skin beneath his uniform, stomach churning with a warm, heavy feeling. 

“It’s instinct, Hongjoong. I can’t help it.” Seonghwa explains quietly, but somehow the reasoning does little to quell the curiosity swirling in Hongjoong’s chest. “Please, just… Don’t worry about me. Go back to the ship, I’m sure Mingi is availa-”

“Seonghwa.” Hongjoong cuts in, his voice barely more than a breath as it leaves him. This is stupid. So, so stupid “I- I want to help.” 

The words fall from Hongjoong’s lips against his will and with very little grace. He hadn’t meant to say them, he just- well- Seonghwa is making him more than a little insane right now, whether he knows it or not, and now that the offer is out it feels far too large and heavy to shove back in. 

Seonghwa’s eyes snap open, his head tilting forward once again to level Hongjoong with a disbelieving stare. “What?” 

“I- Well, I mean-” Hongjoong scrambles, heart pounding away beneath his ribs. “If my other option is being partnered with Mingi… I swear if I have to hear another word about Yunho’s rideable nose-”

“Hongjoong.” 

“I just thought, maybe you would feel better faster if you… listened to your instincts. If you had someone to help you, well…” Hongjoong makes a vague gesture with his hands, cringing at himself internally. “...cope. I mean, unless you’re uncomfortable with it, of course. I wouldn’t want to cross any boundaries, I just-”

“Hongjoong-ah.” Seonghwa interrupts again, louder this time. Hongjoong’s mouth snaps shut like a bear trap, effectively silenced by the dark, incredulous gaze Seonghwa has him pinned under. “What exactly are you offering?” 

Hongjoong swallows thickly. Stupid stupid stupid stupid-  “Whatever you would need me for.” 

Seonghwa blinks, a tense silence festering between them for a moment until he finally speaks up again. “You do realize that what my body wants… is to breed, right?” 

“Um. Well, yeah, I think I got that.” 

“Hongjoong-”

“Look, you said it yourself.” Hongjoong interrupts, and god, why why why is he being so adamant about this? “Your…rut will go by quicker if you have someone to spend it with, so…” He bites his lip, doing his best to hold eye contact so Seonghwa knows he’s serious. “I’m offering.” He finally says.

It feels selfish of him, really, to jump at this chance with little to no thought of the consequences. But Seonghwa just had to go and look at him all misty eyed and trusting, flushed a pretty red, telling Hongjoong that his pheromones were attractive to him. So if—if Seonghwa wants this…if it will help his friend, Hongjoong will let himself be selfish this one time.

Seonghwa seems shocked into silence. His eyes bore into Hongjoong’s intensely, almost uncomfortably so, but the latter forces himself to hold his gaze, swallowing down the urge to look away and break the tension. 

Seonghwa ends up being the one to avert his eyes first, though it does nothing to diffuse the tension at all. That gaze that Hongjoong can only describe as hungry shifts down to rest on Hongjoong’s lips, and he licks them self-consciously, trying not to fidget in place. With eye contact no longer held, Hongjoong is helpless against his own urge to shift his eyes down towards the bulge beneath Seonghwa’s briefs once more. It’s still moving beneath the fabric in an unsettling way, straining against the black cotton, and he quickly looks back up to see Seonghwa watching him intently. 

“Hongjoong.” He says, calmer now. His voice no longer holds panic and embarrassment, only reluctance. Apprehension. He looks down at the evidence of his own condition, and then back up into Hongjoong’s eyes, breaths picking up despite the way he tries to appear unaffected. “Are you certain?” 

Well, that’s less resistance than Hongjoong had been prepared for. He opens his mouth to speak, but words don’t seem to want to come. Seonghwa’s eyes are dark on his, his lips parted around quick, shaky breaths, his knuckles nearly white where they hold onto the sheets. So, in lieu of answering, Hongjoong shifts atop the bed to straddle Seonghwa’s knees before he can think too much about it. 

Seonghwa’s breath hitches, skin flushing a brighter crimson, but he doesn’t object. Hongjoong pauses for a moment to gauge his reaction, drifting his fingertips along the goosebump speckled skin of Seonghwa’s thigh. Seonghwa is still, his body taut like he’s waiting for a strike.

“Can…can I touch you?” Hongjoong asks awkwardly, glancing up to watch Seonghwa’s reaction. The other’s throat bobs with a thick swallow, pink tongue darting out to wet his lips, and then he gives Hongjoong the most imperceptible, barely there nod.

“Yes.” He whispers for good measure. It comes out a little bit desperate. “I mean, yeah. Sure. If you want.”    

What Hongjoong wants is to do anything Seonghwa asks, but he shoves all that dizzying hunger down and hums softly, heart beating unbearably fast beneath his ribs. “I want to help you.” He says. He just hopes his earnestness comes across in his words.

“Then yes.” Seonghwa murmurs. “Yes, please touch me.”

Please. 

Hongjoong feels like he could crumble right here from that one word, but he holds it together enough to appear confident when he sucks in a breath and moves his hand. He’s sure that the way it shakes slightly when he settles his palm over Seonghwa’s bulge doesn’t go unnoticed, though.  

Seonghwa’s hips twitch up into the touch automatically, and a whispered apology leaves his lips. Hongjoong pays it no mind, making his touch firmer, wrapping his fingers around the shape concealed by Seonghwa’s underwear.

The first thing he notices is the movement. It wriggles beneath his hand restlessly, almost like it’s pushing into his touch with a mind of its own, and the thought makes Hongjoong feel lightheaded.

The next thing he notices is that the fabric is damp beneath his palm. He shudders and slides his hand along the bulge, feeling for the shape, the size. It feels long and tapered at the end, almost like a… like a tentacle. Distantly, Hongjoong remembers Seonghwa telling him his home planet is made up of 95% water, and he swallows thickly at the implications. 

“Hongjoong…” Seonghwa breathes after too much silence passes, probably growing impatient from Hongjoong’s idle, exploring touches. When the latter looks up, he nearly runs out of breath at the sight of Seonghwa’s flushed, heavy lidded expression, a few small beads of sweat having accumulated on his temple and made the edges of his fringe damp and stringy. Somehow, the desperation written across his face makes him look even prettier than usual. 

“Sorry.” Hongjoong croaks, starting up a steady pace of rubbing Seonghwa through his briefs. Seonghwa’s mouth drops open slightly, watching the movement of Hongjoong’s hand raptly as he jerks his hips up once on reflex, and for a moment Hongjoong forgets he was about to say something else. 

“What… what do you want, Seonghwa?” He finally asks, having no idea where to start. “What can I do?” 

Seonghwa huffs a short, breathy laugh, lashes fluttering. “Anything. Anything you’re willing to.” He sighs, before drawing his bottom lip between his teeth. 

Well, that certainly narrows it down. There’s about a dozen things Hongjoong would be willing to do for Seonghwa right now, maybe more, and for the life of him he can’t settle his racing thoughts on just one. At least, not quick enough for Seonghwa.

“Just do something, Joong-ah.” He says desperately, reluctance melting away. Hongjoong would be a fool not to listen. 

“O-Okay, I’m gonna…” He reaches for the waistband of Seonghwa’s underwear in lieu of explaining, and when he looks up at the other for permission, he gets a hurried nod in return. 

“Okay.” He says again, unnecessarily, and then he works the fabric down Seonghwa’s hips.

The sight that greets him almost makes him choke, but the arousal and curiosity that surge inside him far outweigh the shock. Seonghwa’s dick is like none Hongjoong has ever seen—and he’s had quite a variety of intergalactic cocks both around and inside him. It’s long, probably the length of Hongjoong’s forearm, and the same soft lilac shade as the rest of Seonghwa, although it darkens subtly in a gradient the closer it gets to the tip. The tip that’s tapered almost to a point, reaching out to poke curiously at Hongjoong’s fingers that still clutch tightly onto Seonghwa’s waistband around his thighs. 

A tentacle. It’s really a tentacle, softly ribbed rather than covered with suckers, dripping with slick that it trails along the skin of Hongjoong’s knuckles as it glides along every dip of his hand, blindly feeling for the shape of it. Hongjoong turns his hand over, palm up, and lets the tentacle explore that too. It sends a violent shudder down his spine when it wiggles its tip between two of his fingers, nestling itself between them. 

“I think it likes you.” Seonghwa says, sounding a bit strangled. Hongjoong is too fascinated (and horny) to look up at Seonghwa when he replies, taking a more confident hold of the tentacle and curling his fingers around it. 

“Because of my pheromones, right?”

Seonghwa laughs softly, but it turns into a groan when Hongjoong tightens his grip, gliding his hand down the length of it in awe. Its wiggling seems to settle when it gets the touch it so desperately wants, and Hongjoong could swear it’s wetter all over when he glides his hand upwards once again. 

The flesh of it is so pillowy and soft. The slick smells of peaches and warm vanilla. Seonghwa’s breathing gets heavier and heavier the more he’s touched and explored. 

Suddenly, Hongjoong knows exactly where he wants to start. 

“Could I suck you off?” He doesn’t mean to blurt it out, but it just sort of…happens. It’s like the question has been pulled out of him by some unseen force, and when he looks up to find Seonghwa staring at him with his mouth slightly agape, he stutters. “I- I mean. Would it help?” 

“Yes, Hongjoong.” Seonghwa says slowly, like it’s obvious. Hongjoong supposes it is, after all. “It would help a lot.” 

His tone is breathier, more impatient, and Hongjoong can’t blame him. He feels drunk on the scent of the slick coating Seonghwa’s cock, from the feeling of it gliding against his palm and leaving a warm, tingling feeling in its wake. Hongjoong meets Seonghwa’s eyes once more with intent, and then mindlessly starts to duck down for a taste—only to be stopped by a sudden hand in his hair and a breathless command. 

“Joongie, wait.” 

Hongjoong stops, looking up at Seonghwa through his lashes. He wonders if his own need is evident in the gaze he directs up at his partner. His second in command. 

“The self lubricant…it’s an aphrodisiac.” Seonghwa explains reluctantly, looking like it pains him to hold Hongjoong back. 

“Okay.” Hongjoong replies dumbly, waiting for more of an explanation. Seonghwa only gives him the same blank, impatiently patient stare. “Was there something else?” 

“Well. no.” 

“Okay.” Hongjoong says again. He’s so turned on he feels like he’ll vibrate out of his skin if he doesn’t taste Seonghwa’s cock in the next thirty seconds. “Just let me help you then.”

When he’s not given any more protests, he starts with a tentative lick, holding Seonghwa’s cock still while he dips down to drag the flat of his tongue up near the tapered head. The tentacle twitches in response, and so does Seonghwa, a choked off little sound falling from his lips. And fuck, Seonghwa tastes just as good as he smells, the sweet flavor spreading all along his tastebuds and crawling down his throat to settle warm and heavy in his gut. 

“Hongjoong…” Seonghwa moans. Hongjoong shifts his eyes, suddenly feeling so heavy and tired, up to hold Seonghwa’s gaze as he takes the very tip into his mouth. It earns him an eager buck of Seonghwa’s hips, a soft sound of surprised pleasure as Seonghwa watches him raptly, and Hongjoong’s heart soars at the reaction. 

It’s solid, but somehow soft on his tongue as he suckles at the tip, going easily when he glides his lips just another inch down its length. That sweet flavor explodes on his senses, all slick and hot, and he moans at the taste, beginning to stroke the parts of Seonghwa he doesn’t have between his lips. There’s no way he’ll be able to take all of it, but he’ll do his god damn best. Either way, he knows that he’s not leaving here until Seonghwa is properly sated and recovering from his rut. 

Needless to say, sucking Seonghwa off is intoxicating. Hongjoong swears he can feel more slick leak from Seonghwa’s cock, both where he strokes his fist up and down the base and where it rests on his tongue, coating every inch of his mouth and throat with sticky sweet arousal. He feels a shiver run through his body when he swallows some of it down, goosebumps breaking out over his skin, and he moans as he begins bobbing his head properly. 

Seonghwa is watching him like he’s in a trance, lips parted around a series of desperate, strangled sounds, fist clenched tight in Hongjoong’s hair even as he lets the human set his own pace. The touch of Seonghwa’s hand makes Hongjoong’s scalp tingle pleasantly all over, and he whines around the cock in his mouth, sinking down until he feels the tip bump the back of his throat. 

Dizzyingly, he realizes he only has about half of the tentacle engulfed in his mouth. The thought of Seonghwa forcing the rest inside, slick easing the way down his throat, has Hongjoong moaning again and running his tongue all along the underside when he slides back up. It's irrational how badly he needs it all of a sudden, mind clouding over with want and his own cock now fully hard beneath his uniform.

“Fuck, careful-” Seonghwa chokes out the next time Hongjoong sinks back down, gagging slightly at the intrusion. He doesn’t dare pull off though. He goes until he physically can’t take anymore, swallowing around the tip and reveling in the moan it draws from Seonghwa’s lips. 

“Ah, Joongie-” 

Hongjoong hums in response and swallows again, this time causing Seonghwa to buck up roughly into his throat and make him gag harder at the force of it. 

“Shit, sorry-” Seonghwa hurries to say, but his voice is rough, desperate for more, and Hongjoong is desperate to give it to him. So, instead of pulling off and regaining his composure, Hongjoong moans again and looks up at Seonghwa through his lashes, his hand still working slowly over the base of the tentacle. 

Something passes between them—a silent conversation, a request, a confirmation—and then Seonghwa is drawing his bottom lip between his teeth and taking hold of Hongjoong’s hair with both hands. 

The first thrust inside makes Hongjoong choke again, and in turn makes Seonghwa moan. Hongjoong still has to hold the other’s cock steady at the base due to its more flexible nature, and now with Seonghwa in control of where his mouth goes, he opts to use both hands. He takes careful hold of the base, realizing with a sudden, dizzying clarity that he can’t even wrap them fully around it at its thickest point. 

Seonghwa’s pace is surprisingly gentle at first. It’s more than Hongjong has taken before, but he hardly notices through the thick fog of arousal, vision blurry as he stares up at Seonghwa through hooded eyes, taking in every twitch of pleasure in his expression and every pretty sound that leaves his lips. 

But it doesn’t stay that way. 

It shouldn’t surprise Hongjoong when Seonghwa suddenly gives a thrust rougher than the rest, making him gag violently and drool all around the cock in his throat to add to its slick. But it does. Not enough to make him pull back, but enough to get his heart beating faster, an unfamiliar, but not unpleasant hazy feeling washing over him. 

And when the next thrust is just as rough, it pulls a deep, guttural moan from his chest as his eyes flutter shut. 

He no longer has the focus to use his hands, mind drifting in the pleasant daze of being used, of knowing its him drawing the curses from Seonghwa’s lips that Hongjoong barely hears. He feels hot all over, mostly where the lubricant from Seonghwa’s cock slips down his throat, and with every thrust deeper and deeper inside, it becomes easier to take. 

“Holy fuck-” Seonghwa moans, prompting Hongjoong to blink his eyes open and look up. Seonghwa’s gaze is dark and far away, his teeth bared, and Hongjoong’s stomach swoops with fear at the sight. Very curious, eager, horny fear. 

Seonghwa’s release catches him off guard, as sudden as it is. All Hongjoong gets as a warning is a slight stutter of Seonghwa’s hips and a tightening of the hands in his hair before he feels more of that hot, sweet slick coat the back of his throat and make him choke around the intrusion. There’s a lot—more than Hongjoong can feasibly swallow—and when he begins to gag and the cum spills over his lips Seonghwa finally pulls out, the very tip of the tentacle still oozing cum steadily through the little slit there. 

Hongjoong pants heavily, watching the thick, white release drip down the length of Seonghwa’s cock and hurrying to stroke him through it. He feels like an absolute mess. His hands are sticky with cum, as well as his chin and neck where it had overflowed past his lips, but he’s still aching and needy beneath his now stained uniform, and his mind is more clouded over from the aphrodisiac than it had been before, so he doesn’t have it in him to care. 

Hongjoong wishes that he could feel satisfied from this alone. From making Seonghwa cum and pulling those pretty sounds from him as he does so, but Hongjoong feels so incredibly selfish right now. It must be the aphrodisiac, but despite all his fascination watching that sweet slick ooze from Seonghwa’s cock, he feels a tiny pang of bitterness deep in his chest. Bitterness that it’s gone to waste. Bitterness that Seonghwa didn’t spill inside of him and breed him full. 

Hongjoong blinks hard, trying to shake away the sudden, mindless hunger building inside him, but it doesn’t help. His vision is blurry, his thoughts all running in circles around that one animalistic urge. 

To be bred. To be filled. To be claimed.

Judging by the disappointed sound Seonghwa makes when Hongjoong suddenly releases his cock, it doesn’t seem he has anything to worry about; Seonghwa’s needs are just as far from being satiated themselves. Distantly, Hongjoong wonders if they ever will. 

Somehow the thought doesn’t bring any fear with it. He looks up at Seonghwa’s flushed face, his skin damp with sweat, lips parted around shaky, staggered breaths, and all Hongjoong feels is the need for more. 

If there had been any hesitance left in Hongjoong before, it’s crumbled into absolutely nothing by now.

His movements are clumsy as he scrambles further up into Seonghwa’s lap, the latter hissing through his teeth when his still sensitive cock rubs against the cotton of Hongjoong’s uniform. Still though, he reaches out to pull Hongjoong up to settle on his lap, legs bracketing Seonghwa’s hips, his hands desperate and greedy where they grab onto Hongjoong’s unfortunately still clothed thighs. 

The thick, protective fabric of his jumpsuit is hot and suffocating, but Hongjoong doesn’t have the presence of mind to properly remove it—he just needs Seonghwa closer, now. His hands reach for the back of Seonghwa’s neck to pull him into an abrupt, hungry kiss, and the moan it pulls out of those plush, sweat-slick lips makes Hongjoong shudder. 

Seonghwa’s hands travel to the small of Hongjoong’s back, pulling him flush against his chest, the hard-on beneath his jumpsuit grinding against Seonghwa’s stomach. He holds onto Hongjoong like he could slip away at any moment, growling into the kiss and bucking his hips up in search of more friction. Hongjoong feels dizzy with the way he can feel the tentacle rut wetly against his backside, its slick seeping through his clothes, the length of it gliding along the cleft of his ass through the fabric and curling curiously around his hip. 

Hongjoong moans into the kiss as he rolls his hips back against it, the hungry swipe of Seonghwa’s tongue against his sparking lightning beneath his skin. He hardly even knows where he is anymore. He’s only aware of the pressure of Seonghwa’s cock against his backside, Seonghwa’s ridiculously long tongue licking into his mouth, the sweat damp and tangled hair that he threads his fingers through desperately. 

He slides his hands up, fingertips brushing the base of Seonghwa’s antennae, and the shudder that wracks Seonghwa’s body beneath him is violent and intoxicating. He can feel more wetness seep through the fabric of his jumpsuit where the tentacle still explores around his hips and ass, and the surge of peaches and vanilla in the air surrounding them makes his skin prickle with heat. 

“Like that?” He pants into the kiss, rubbing each of his pointer fingers along the smooth, velvety skin of Seonghwa’s antennae. The appendages twitch, and he can feel Seonghwa’s breath stutter against his lips. “Does that help?” 

As if any of this is merely about helping anymore.

Seonghwa groans when Hongjoong strokes each of them slowly with his index fingers and his thumbs, hands sliding up to bracket Hongjoong’s ribcage and squeeze him tight. Who knew those cute, unassuming antennae could be so sensitive?

But to Hongjoong’s surprise, Seonghwa shakes his head rapidly, nails digging into the pillowy flesh beneath them. 

“Not enough-” He murmurs breathlessly, causing Hongjoong to huff a warm little laugh against his lips. He doesn’t relent though, tickling the fuzzy appendages softly, touch featherlight along their velvety length. 

“Hongjoong-ah-” Seonghwa groans, finally releasing the other’s waist in favor of gliding his hands up to Hongjoong’s shoulders. He curls his fingers under the neckline of Hongjoong’s jumpsuit as if intending to just pull it straight off somehow, and then attempts just that. The fabric is too thick, though, and Hongjoong scrambles to release Seonghwa’s antennae and pull the zipper at the front of his uniform down instead. 

Much to both of their dismay, it gets caught about halfway down his chest, and with a deep, animalistic sound, Seonghwa reaches for either side and rips, the zipper breaking off and flying somewhere across the room as the jumpsuit splits all the way down to his hips.

It’s a side of Seonghwa that Hongjoong has never seen before, and it makes his stomach swoop with arousal and anticipation. Sweet, silly Seonghwa, who wears a little bunny keychain on his uniform and insists on listening to an ancient copy of the Star Wars soundtrack in their pod when they fly. 

Kind, dorky Seonghwa, reaching for the now loosened shoulders of Hongjoong’s jumpsuit to pull the fabric down roughly, assisted by desperate, scrambling arms until it’s pooled around his waist, and his chest is adorned in nothing but a skin-tight, sleeveless undershirt. Hongjoong’s mind is spinning. 

But Seonghwa doesn’t stop there, and Hongjoong wouldn’t have wanted him to. He gathers both the jumpsuit and Hongjoong’s underwear in his fists and yanks them over his hips, helped by the way Hongjoong lifts himself up in Seonghwa’s lap. And suddenly, Hongjoong’s ass is entirely bare, Seonghwa’s cock nestling between his cheeks with a mind of its own, warm and slick and…is it…longer now?

He can feel the tip of it sliding along the dip in the center of his back, slipping beneath the fabric of his shirt,  and he shudders as he feels it reach nearly to his shoulder blades. Holy fuck. It grew. 

If it was even possible, Hongjoong suddenly needs Seonghwa even more, but of course now is the moment that the latter seems to regain a bit of his clarity, stopping to press his forehead against Hongjoong’s as he finds his words.

“Hongjoong…” He starts, intent but impatient. “Are you sure you-”

“Seonghwa. Shut up.” Hongjoong interrupts, sharp but breathless. He punctuates the command by reaching back to press the tentacle resting against his backside further into the cleft of his ass, grinding back against it. It’s slick and hot against his hole, and he clenches down instinctively with the need to have it inside. 

Seonghwa groans as if he’s in pain, bucking up into the sensation. “I just… I can’t predict how I’ll act. I don’t know if I can keep control of my, uh…my instincts.” 

“Then don’t.” Hongjoong says impatiently, his free hand fisting in the long hair at the base of Seonghwa’s neck. “I said I’d do anything and I meant it. Now come on, get inside me already.” 

“Fuck-” Seonghwa chokes out, “Are you sure you’re not the one in heat?” 

“Shut up.” Hongjoong whines, silencing Seonghwa with another kiss. It’s messy and eager, the taste of Seonghwa’s cum passing between their open mouths, and somewhere along the way Hongjoong feels the tip of Seonghwa’s cock slither down his back to slide between his cheeks with a mind of its own. 

He doesn’t even think about how unprepared he is, nor how long it’s been since he’s taken anything inside. He just licks into Seonghwa’s mouth and scratches at his shoulders until the tip of that tentacle teases around his slick rim and makes him jolt with a moan. 

“Please-” He chokes out when all it does is tease. “Please please please, Seonghwa, I need it.” 

“J-Joongie-” Seonghwa stutters, holding him tight against his chest as the tip wriggles its way inside. 

It’s like nothing Hongjoong has ever felt. It’s so impossibly wet and sticky, the lubricant dripping all down his perineum and over his balls, no doubt ruining their half-removed clothes. The head tapers down to about the circumference of Hongjoong’s ring finger, so there’s not even an ounce of pain. Only desperate, impatient heat that spreads all along his skin and wedges its way beneath it. 

He clutches onto Seonghwa’s shoulders and drops his mouth open on a moan, listening to Seonghwa’s raged breaths quicken even more with every bit of him that slips inside. Every inch of his soft inner walls that the tentacle touches warms with the effects of the slick, easing the glide, almost trying to draw more of the appendage in. Hongjoong feels as though he’s on fire. 

“H-hwa?” He mutters, glancing over his shoulder blearily to see half of the tentacle swallowed up by his hole. When did he get so much inside? 

“Just a little more.” Seonghwa mumbles, almost like he’s drunk. “Just take a little more, Joongie…” 

A surprised, choked off sound is punched from Hongjoong’s chest when Seonghwa’s hips twitch up reflexively, and a surge of pleasure shoots through Hongjoong’s gut as the tentacle glides along that special little spot inside of him. 

Already feeling fucked out and cock-drunk, Hongjoong burries his face in Seonghwa’s neck and closes his eyes, trying to think at least a little rationally through the haze of overwhelming arousal. There’s no way he should be able to fit all of Seonghwa inside. No way. And yet, as Seonghwa’s breaths grow heavier and heavier against his ear, he feels more of him slip inside inch by inch, stretching him out in a way that’s somehow painless, but certainly not easily ignored. 

It’s so, so much. He feels fuller than he ever has before, his rim forced open to accommodate the intrusion, the very tip of Seonghwa’s cock wriggling deep, deep inside in places Hongjoong didn’t even know existed. He twitches in Seonghwa’s lap, feeling the sudden urge to bite down on the other’s shoulder to ground himself, muffling his overwhelmed little sounds in the sweat-damp skin of Seonghwa’s neck. 

His own cock, entirely ignored, is hard and leaking onto Seonghwa’s stomach. The friction against the cotton of his shirt is the only stimulation he’s granted aside from the tentacle forcing its way fully inside him. Further than it feasibly should be able to go. Certainly, the aphrodisiac has something to do with that, and Hongjoong can’t find it in himself to complain one bit. Not when the thought of Seonghwa filling him full and reaching every inch of him makes him so dizzy with desire.

“More...” He murmurs mindlessly into Seonghwa’s skin. “More, Seonghwa.” 

Seonghwa hums idly against his ear but the restless wiggling of his cock against Hongjoong’s inner walls and the tightness of his arms around his torso give away how affected he really is. “Yeah?” He asks. “You want it all?” 

Hongjoong nods frantically, subconsciously grinding his ass back in an attempt to get Seonghwa deeper. “All of it-” He whines. “Want you to breed me… Wanna be full of you.”

And well, that does it. 

Seonghwa chokes out Hongjoong’s name and thrusts up the rest of the way in one go, as if it’s entirely out of his control. It punches a startled sound from Hongjoong’s chest that peters off into a whimper when he feels Seonghwa spill deep inside simply from having that tight heat all around him, Hongjoong’s request fresh in his mind.

“Oh my god-” Hongjoong mutters, his voice small. He can physically feel the cum dribbling out of Seonghwa’s cock, filling his tummy with excessive amounts of peachy vanilla slick. His whole abdomen feels hot, the skin broken out in goosebumps, a pressure building in his gut that feels both painful and addicting in turns as Seonghwa grinds mindlessly up into him. It’s the fullest he’s ever felt, and when he pulls away just enough to look down and see the way his stomach protrudes with both Seonghwa cock and his release, he falls apart. 

It feels like he’s cumming, but it also doesn’t. It’s a white hot burning pleasure deep in his belly, a pathetic dribble of milky fluid from his cock, but it doesn’t satisfy him. It goes on for several seconds of agonizing pleasure and then recedes, leaving him still unbearably horny but at the same time, incredibly sensitive. 

And judging by the way Seonghwa still restlessly grinds up into his body, Hongjoong knows he’s not sated yet either, despite getting off twice by this point. 

His thought is proven right when he hears a pleased, but still hungry growl, feels a hand settle over the wriggling mass beneath the skin of his tummy. He whimpers in sensitivity when Seonghwa pushes down on the bulge, feeling the tentacle shift to rub against every fragile spot inside him, but he never wants it to stop.

He meets Seonghwa’s eyes, finding them glassy and wild, and wraps his hands around the back of his neck to pull him into another hot, brain-melting kiss. 

It earns him a low groan rumbled against his lips, a tug of Seonghwa’s hands around his waist to pull them flush, and then suddenly he’s being flipped over with an almost scary amount of strength and caged against the mattress. The kiss never breaks as Seonghwa settles above him, nestled between his legs, the full, inhuman length of his cock still buried inside hongjoong’s body and jostling with the movement—and he’s forced to pass the little whimper it pushes out of him into Seonghwa’s mouth for him to swallow down. 

“Sensitive-” He croaks when Seonghwa breaks the kiss, pulling away to stare down at him for a moment. 

“Do you want me to stop?” He asks through his heavy breaths, sounding as if it’s the last thing he wants to do right now. Luckily, that makes two of them.

Hongjoong shakes his head, shifting his hips up in invitation. “Don’t you dare.” 

So, Seonghwa starts fucking him in earnest. 

His thrusts are rough, but careful not to damage Hongjoong’s insides where his cock curls in deep, prodding at each and every one of his over-sensitive spots. Reality seems to fade in and out of Hongjoong’s mind—bursts of pleasure, a fullness in his tummy, hot breath panting against his lips and a saccharine, peach vanilla scent saturating the entire room. That’s all he can focus any of his thoughts on—just Seonghwa Seonghwa Seonghwa, that unbearable but oh so enticing heat building and building in Hongjoong’s gut again, far faster than he would even like. 

“S-Seonghwa-yah…” He whispers, finding that the skin beneath his fingers at the back of the other’s neck is damp with more than just sweat—with something sticky that smells of iron. How long has he been digging his nails so hard into Seonghwa’s skin?

Seonghwa growls softly where his face is now buried in Hongjoong’s neck, teeth nipping at the sensitive skin there, leaving marks that Hongjoong will cherish long after they fade. 

“Close again-” Hongjoong croaks. He wants to fall into the pleasure, but he also fears doing so. Seonghwa may have a practically non-existent refractory period right now, but Hongjoong…not so much. Even with the aphrodisiac, he could never have the stamina that Seonghwa has.  

He knows if he cums again so soon, it will all be too much. Too painful. Part of him is morbidly curious to see how it would feel to be used past his breaking point, and part of him is terrified of having to draw back and leave Seonghwa still suffering from his rut without help. 

But in the end, his brief pondering is pointless—because Seonghwa makes a decision for him. Or—his subconscious does. 

The first damp touch of a tentacle beneath each of his thighs makes him jump and glance downward to where he and Seonghwa are connected, heart stuttering in his chest. At the base of Seonghwa’s cock, there are little horizontal ridges around the entire girth of it, almost looking like the gills of a fish. Hongjoong had noticed them before, but hadn’t paid them any mind. Now, however…now he knows what they’re for. 

Out of each one sprouts another tentacle, the same lilac hue as the rest of him, thinner than the first but just as slick and wiggly as they grow and glide upwards with a mind of their own. 

“Oh, god-” Hongjoong breathes, sufficiently stunned. “There’s more?” 

Seonghwa doesn’t get to answer before Hongjoong yelps, two of the tentacles wrapping fully around his thighs to pull him forward. Another slithers up Hongjoong’s perineum, the thin end wrapping several times around the base of his cock while the one beside it crawls up further. 

“S-Seonghwa-yah?” Hongjoong murmurs, fascinated and intrigued. 

Seonghwa’s breaths are ragged against his ear, creating even more condensation against his sweat-slick skin. “I’m sorry Hongjoong-ah.” He chokes out, strained and gravelly, but he doesn’t seem to have the presence for a proper explanation.

Hongjoong opens his mouth to speak again, but it seems the little tendril traveling up to the head of his cock doesn’t care for what he has to say. The tip pokes curiously at the slit there, getting it all wet and sticky with his slick before just barely dipping inside. 

“A-ah-” Hongjoong gasps, the feeling strange but not unpleasant. “W-what?” 

Seonghwa growls softly against his neck once more, hips moving slowly to grind his length into the tight heat engulfing it. Meanwhile, the tentacle teasing at Hongjoong’s slit dips in a little further, just big enough to be uncomfortable in a surprisingly pleasant way. The fullness all over sends an electric spark up Hongjoong’s spine, and he arches up into Seonghwa’s body, hungry for more. 

“Fu-uck-” Hongjoong shudders, gripping onto Seonghwa’s hair for dear life. The heat in his gut builds, the tendril sliding deeper into his urethra aiding the feeling, Seonghwa’s thick, impossibly long cock pressing against all the buttons that make Hongjoong tick. 

“I- I. I’m gonna-” But just as the heat feels like it’s going to spill over, Hongjoong is cut off by his own strangled moan. The tentacle around the base of his cock tightens, the one buried inside it keeping him plugged up, and the burning pleasure of his orgasm makes him seize up with a whine, hanging there in his gut for what feels like forever before it slowly recedes back to a softer, buzzing arousal. 

It. It kept Hongjoong from cumming. Oh, fuck. 

Hongjoong feels limp in the wake of the faux-orgasm, his body pliant as Seonghwa continues to fuck into it mindlessly like he’s nothing but a toy, low sounds of pleasure vibrating against Hongjoong’s ear with every thrust. Hongjoong feels so far away, as if he’s watching all this happen from somewhere else, mind blank but for how it dimly registers the pleasure that builds back up rapidly in his gut, impatient to claim the release it was denied.

The sound of Seonghwa’s shuddering moan is muffled in his ear, like he’s underwater, but the feeling of cum filling his tummy once more is undeniable. Hongjoong takes a shaky inhale, not given any time to prepare before his body tries to reach climax once again only to be stopped by the tentacles in and around his cock. He arches up, going stiff with a whine, and then before he can even tell if he’s reached the peak—everything goes dark.

~

Hongjoong doesn’t know what time it is. Hell, he doesn’t even know what day it is. Reality outside of Seonghwa’s body behind him, hugging him to his chest as he grinds lazily into his soaked, fucked out hole, is foggy at best. 

They had both gotten fully undressed at some point, bare skin now pressing all against each other, searing hot at every place they’re connected. He vaguely remembers someone coming into the room, but the memory is dark—just unintelligible, hasty apologies, a flash of a security uniform and jet black hair. He’s sure they must have gotten up a few times to eat, drink, and go to the bathroom too—otherwise he’d probably feel a lot shitter than he does now. 

As it is, he’s tired…but he feels good. He’s currently coming out of what he thinks was a nap, but may have just been a bout of heavy dissociation, eyes blinking open and fingers twitching where they’re wrapped around Seonghwa’s arm. Seonghwa’s arm that’s curled around his waist, his palm flat on Hongjoong’s stomach to press down on the bulge protruding under the skin. 

Hongjoong groans, tilting his head back into Seonghwa’s space, grounding himself in the sound and feeling of his pleasured breaths against his skin. They’re not frantic, nor desperate. Just sweet, happy little sighs right against the shell of Hongjoong’s ear, sending a shiver down the column of his spine. 

The intrusion doesn’t feel so overwhelming either. Hongjoong doesn’t know if it’s just because he’s gotten used to it, or if it’s shrunk back down as Seonghwa’s rut comes to a close, but either way, it feels good. Calm, peaceful, reassuring. He feels full enough to be satisfied, without the mind-bending, overwhelming pressure from before—nor the extra tendrils keeping him plugged and on edge. It feels far away now, and distantly Hongjoong wonders how many days they’ve been like this. Floating in an arousal induced fog, fueled by instinct and pure need. 

Quite frankly, he’s too tired to care.

Just to be difficult, though, he makes a put-upon little sound, arching back into Seonghwa’s embrace. A sign that he’s coming back to himself. 

“I know, I know.” Seonghwa whispers, his voice hoarse. “I’m sorry, Hongjoongie.” Hongjoong frowns to himself, attempting to twist around and look at Seonghwa. 

“S’rry for whah?” He mumbles. 

Seonghwa’s lazy thrusts slow to a stop, and Hongjoong can practically hear him thinking. It makes him blink hard, attempting to emerge further back into full awareness. He’s not pleased with the sudden lack of stimulation.

“For putting you through this.” Seonghwa says softly. His tone is laced with guilt and regret, and Hongjoong kind of wants to punch him. 

Instead, he turns his head enough to meet Seonghwa’s eyes. They’re still hazy, dark with exhaustion and red rimmed from a lack of sleep, but they’re clearer than Hongjoong remembers them being the last time he was conscious enough to really look at them. 

“Don’t be stupid.” He murmurs, nuzzling his nose up against Seonghwa’s. Maybe it’s the exhaustion, or lingering effects from the aphrodisiac, or perhaps the fact that he’s just spent the last who knows how many days having marathon sex with his friend to help him through breeding season… but Hongjoong doesn’t feel like pretending he doesn’t want this. He doesn’t feel like resisting the urge to hold Seonghwa close just because he can. 

“Joongie…” Seonghwa whispers, his voice small, weak from excessive use. 

“Shush.” Hongjoong replies, pulling him in for a kiss despite the weird angle. Seonghwa moans into it, hips shifting forward again of their own volition, the wet, squelching sound of their bodies moving together far too obscene for the soft moment. “Come on, I know you’re not done.” Hongjoong says when they part, keeping his lips close to Seonghwa’s. His hand goes to pull at Seonghwa’s thigh, encouraging him to keep going. “I want it.”  

It doesn’t take long for Seonghwa to cum one last time, his groan muffled by the languid kiss Hongjoong presses to his lips. He loves the feeling of being filled even if he himself no longer has anything left to give, only a pleased shudder wracking his body when Seonghwa strokes gently over his bulging stomach. They kiss all through it, until Seonghwa’s body relaxes against Hongjoong’s back and melts into the mattress.

They’re both too exhausted to do anything about the slick mess between their bodies, or worry about how badly the sheets need to be washed. Even the thought of Seonghwa pulling out is too much for Hongjoong’s weary mind—so he holds onto Seonghwa’s arm gently, keeping him wrapped around his back like the coziest, clingiest blanket, until their shared exhaustion pulls them into sleep.

~

“I know you’re awake.” Hongjoong grumbles into the pillow, Seonghwa’s breaths on his neck not quite as even as they had been five minutes ago. 

It’s an indeterminate amount of time later—hell, Hongjoong still doesn’t even know whether it’s day or night—and he’s been awake for a little while, just coming back to himself and listening to Seonghwa’s sleepy breaths. 

They’re still spooning, Seonghwa still buried inside him, and Hongjoong really doesn’t want Seonghwa to pull away. But he can practically hear the thoughts running a mile a minute beneath the other’s skull, and he fears the longer they wait to talk about this, the more sour and self-depricating the thoughts will become.

At Hongjoong’s accusation, Seonghwa’s breaths pause—and then there’s a deep sigh that tickles the shell of Hongjoong’s ear. 

“Did you mean it, Hongjoong-ah.” He asks softly, tightening his arms around Hongjoong just barely. “When you said you wanted it?” 

Hongjoong chews on his lip anxiously, reaching down to cover Seonghwa’s hand with his own in an attempt to find the strength to speak. 

“What do you think, Hwa?” He asks in a whisper. The other is silent for a moment, and Hongjoong’s brain makes a valiant attempt to conjure up several worst case scenarios before he shuts them down. “Did…did this feel like just a favor to you?” 

“No, no I-” Seonghwa hurries to say before stopping to gather himself. “No, it didn’t. That… wasn’t what this was for me.” He pauses again, nose nuzzling into the back of Hongjoong’s neck. “...Was that what it was to you?” 

“Seonghwa, I’m not having this conversation with your cock still buried inside me.” 

That makes Seonghwa huff a breathy little laugh, and he leans forward to muffle it into the hair at Hongjoong’s nape. “Okay, okay. Hold on.” 

He shifts back a little, and Hongjoong feels it throughout his entire body when his cock slips out just an inch. It makes him whine softly, and Seonghwa soothes him with a hand rubbing up and down his hip as he begins to draw out further. 

It’s an extremely odd feeling to be empty after so long, as is the sensation of Seonghwa’s cum flooding out of his hole and dripping all between his thighs, making his whole body heat with mortification. 

“Holy shit.” Seonghwa murmurs, and it makes Hongjoong whine once more, this time in embarassment. He’s sure his flush is all the way down his back, especially when he feels Seonghwa pull one of his cheeks to the side as another surge of cum spills out. God, there’s a lot. 

“Hwa.” Hongjoong groans, burying his face in the pillow. “Now how am I supposed to look you in the eye?” 

“Hey.” Seonghwa says lightly, soft and reassuring. He places his hand on Hongjoong’s shoulder to guide him into rolling over, and he goes—with the condition of keeping his face covered by his hands to avoid Seonghwa’s gaze.

“Nothing to be embarrassed about.” Seonghwa assures him. His voice is so close, so gentle, such a contrast to the times when he was truly desperate in the midst of his rut, hands rough on Hongjoong’s body as he took what he needed. 

“Are you sure about that?” Hongjoong asks, flushing even more at the memory. 

“Hongjoong, open your eyes.” Seonghwa says. “Look at me.” 

Reluctantly, Hongjoong does so, cracking his eyes open slowly to peer though his fingers. When he moves his hands from his face Seonghwa smiles, but there’s a slight edge to it. That self depreciation Hongjoong had been worried about. 

“If anyone should be embarrassed it’s me.” 

“Seonghwa-”

“Look at me, Hongjoong.” Seonghwa goes on. “I’m a mess. I lost control of myself and put you in a tough spot with no idea what to expect. I…I don’t even remember a lot of what we did. Or how long it's been.” 

“That makes two of us.” Hongjoong says lightly, attempting to ease the tension, but it only makes Seonghwa groan softly and turn his head to the side to hide it in his pillow.

“But…” Hongjoong starts, reaching out tentatively to toy with a strand of Seonghwa’s hair that’s splayed across the sheets. “I know that I liked it, Seonghwa. I know that I wanted it.” 

Seonghwa glances back up at him warily. “Are you sure the aphrodisiac is out of your system?” He asks. 

Hongjoong scoffs. “Pretty sure. Besides, I wasn’t under its influence when I first offered to help you, was I?”  Seonghwa is silent, but his gaze is a bit more hopeful, drifting down to rest on Hongjoong’s lips briefly before flickering back up to his eyes. Hongjoong swallows thickly. “And, well…I wasn’t under its influence any of the countless times I’ve thought about having you like this either.

Seonghwa eyes widen, cheeks flushing a pretty purply-pink, but Hongjoong goes on before he can respond, eager to get this out before his courage wanes.

“It wasn’t just a favor to me, Hwa. I meant everything I said…everything I did, even if I was high out of my mind.”  

That makes Seonghwa laugh softly again, but his eyes are bright and focused on Hongjoong’s every word. It’s difficult to resist reaching out to tuck a wild strand of hair behind Seonghwa’s ear—so he doesn’t. Seonghwa’s lashes flutter at the touch, the speckles on the edges of his face shifting between several shades of pink to give away how he feels. 

“It meant more than that to me too.” He whispers, scooting closer. “There’s a reason that I…reacted to you the way I did.”

“Oh, you mean it wasn’t my pheromones?” Hongjoong teases. 

At that, Seonghwa slaps his hand away playfully, only to grab onto his wrist immediately after and haul him closer, their noses brushing. 

“Don’t get me wrong.” He murmurs. “Your pheromones are lovely.” 

Hongjoong huffs, but it’s cut off by an unbearably tender kiss. Seonghwa’s hand shifts down to his waist, pulling their bodies flush, and despite Seonghwa’s cock being smaller now it feels just as hard and slippery, reaching out to curl around Hongjoong’s spent one and make him shudder. 

“Does this mean I’ll be helping you with your next rut, then?” He asks when Seonghwa pulls away, rubbing their noses together.

“You don’t have to wait until my next rut if you don’t want to Hongjoong-ah.” Seonghwa says lowly, drawing out a breathy chuckle. 

“I don’t think I’ll have anything left to give for a while.” The former says regretfully. “I feel like I need to sleep for a week.” 

Seonghwa smiles softly at him, his antennae twitching happily atop his disheveled nest of black hair. He looks so beautiful in his post-sex haze, entirely bare and flushed all over his pretty lilac skin, and Hongjoong locks the image away in the back of his mind for a rainy day. 

“Then we’ll sleep.” Seonghwa says, drawing little circles on Hongjoong’s hip with his thumb. “After we shower. And change the sheets. And figure out what day it is.” 

Hongjoong laughs brightly, and it makes Seonghwa smile that special smile that Hongjoong loves, one side of his lips curling up more than the other, lips taut with an attempt to hold it back. Hongjoong leans in to kiss it from his face, his whole body sore, but happy. Sated. Fulfilled.

“Sounds like a plan.” He murmurs against Seonghwa’s lips.