Chapter Text
The scabs on Minhyung’s neck never quite heal anymore.
It’s not a big deal, he tells himself. It’s really just a small constellation of them, rested over a larger mottled bruise that covers the place where his neck meets his shoulder. The bruise is yellowish and green and finally purple in various places — clear evidence of an interrupted healing process. Minhyung has read up on this a little — the pigment of red blood cells undergoes various chemical reactions as it degrades over time, changing its color along the way before it finally disappears and the bruise heals. The one on his neck never gets enough time to undergo this process before Minhyung finds himself with Minseok’s teeth on his neck once again, working at his skin and the scent gland beneath it like he wants to etch and bury himself in Minhyung’s flesh, like he wants the mark to stick.
It’s a little funny, Minhyung supposes, that Minseok manages to be both so quintessentially Omegean and so incredibly unlike one all at the same time.
Growing up, way before he presented, Minhyung had a certain idea of what an Omega is supposed to be like. It went something like this: number one — Omegas are supposed to be lovely and soft and caring, and they are supposed to smell sweet and delightful. Number two — they are vulnerable, so they should be protected and provided for, especially by Alphas. And number three — even though it is instinctual for an Alpha to want to claim an Omega as their own, a good Alpha is never to take advantage of or succumb to their lesser desires around an Omega.
Looking back, it was a naive perspective that had been a mixture of the media narrative and glimpses of the dynamics he’d seen amongst his family. He’d grown out of it fairly quickly, though bits and pieces of that old belief system stuck to him even as he progressed into adulthood.
Maybe that’s why meeting Minseok had been such a whiplash. He’s got the right look for an Omega, of course — a pretty face with soft eyes and full lips. He’s small and sort of dainty too, and Minhyung’s Alpha preens with pride whenever he sees how easily his hand envelops Minseok’s own. On the surface level, his personality aligns with that of an Omega as well — he likes cute things and is supportive and caring to people around him, and he smiles and laughs so brightly whenever he’s in a good mood, a natural sort of sweetness of a homemaker. But knowing Minseok for as long as he has and working with him in a professional setting as his closest partner, Minhyung knows that Minseok’s personality goes way beyond that. Because Minseok, for all his softness, can be sharp and curt and cruel when the stress of the competition really gets to him. He is assertive and smart and authoritative whenever he makes in-game calls, and he’s fiercely ambitious and prideful in a way that Minhyung’s childish idea of an Omega never had any space to be.
He thinks he likes it far better like that, anyway.
“You’re not paying attention,” is what finally snaps him out of his musings.
He looks down at Minseok, who’s currently perched on his lap, with his lips kiss-swollen and his eyes narrowed and boring into his own with insistence. Minhyung opens his mouth, but before he gets a chance to answer, he feels Minseok’s hand tug at the hair on the back of his head, effectively pulling his head back to expose more of his neck. He closes his eyes just as Minseok’s teeth make contact with his scent gland.
It’s a weird feeling. A mix of pleasure and instinctual defensiveness at being put in such a vulnerable position as an Alpha. He registers it only vaguely as his lips pull back over his teeth and a low snarl starts somewhere deep in his chest. Even then, he doesn’t stop Minseok; he just tightens his hands over his thighs and focuses on Minseok’s sweet yet tangy orange blossom scent. It always calms him down, allowing him to focus on the sensation of Minseok’s lips worshiping the side of his neck instead of the need to flip them over and sink his own teeth into Minseok’s scent gland.
He sometimes wonders whether Minseok knows how much it costs him to stop himself at times like these. He’s aware that Minseok didn’t have many experiences with other Alphas before they met, and so maybe he doesn’t know what it does to Minhyung to have him in his lap like this, with his smell sweet with desire and with his whole body pressed against him—so willing, wholly his. Maybe he doesn’t know that by constantly pricking at Minhyung’s scent gland, he makes it impossible for Minhyung to think of anything else but staking his own claim.
But Minhyung was raised better than this. He will absolutely not mate with Minseok on a whim, just because he’s so horny it hurts. He will not be reckless, and he won’t do something that neither of them could take back. He can be responsible (he can, he can, he can, he can, he can, he-).
“I can’t—” he moans, and his hands fly to Minseok’s jaw to tug his face away from the bruise on his neck. As their eyes lock, Minseok looks momentarily dejected. He begins to open his mouth, a clear complaint on his tongue, but Minhyung doesn’t give him a chance to argue before he pulls him into a kiss.
Minseok’s lips melt into his immediately, and Minhyung allows himself to bite at his lower lip in response. It's a poor consolation prize for the spot he really wants to sink his teeth into, but at least Minseok moans for him so prettily and his scent flares so sweetly. His mouth yields and opens to let Minhyung’s tongue in, and for the briefest of moments Minhyung dares to hope that this kiss can be enough.
(It can never be enough. Deep down, he knows that Minseok could give him everything, and Minhyung would still want more after that. He disgusts himself sometimes).
They kiss like this until Minhyung feels himself calm down enough to act like a human around Minseok again. He parts from him and takes in Minseok’s face—his eyes closed and his lips still parted, like he expects another kiss. Minhyung rests one on his forehead instead before he finally leans back against the bed’s headboard. He keeps staring at Minseok, studying the slight furrow of his brows and a complicated expression on his face—he’s beautiful like this, even if Minhyung doesn’t understand him.
It feels like a lifetime before Minseok seems to finally catch his breath. The mysterious expression smoothes over, and he lazily opens his eyes, which immediately dart over to the side of Minhyung’s neck. A smile blooms on Minseok’s face as his hand shoots up to hover fingers over the bruise that Minhyung can imagine stretches over his skin.
“Does it hurt?” It is said with concern, but Minseok keeps looking at the hemorrhaged skin with unbridled pride. A finger smooths over it gently before it rests over the slight protrusion of Minhyung’s scent gland.
“No more than usual. I don’t mind it.”
Minseok leans in one last time to rest a soft kiss over his work before he straightens himself and smiles at Minhyung. His neck is pale, smooth, and untouched, and Minhyung feels a flash of pride at being able to control himself so well, even as his inner Alpha howls at being denied.
“Sooooo… You said you wanted to watch the new episode of that cooking anime?”
Leave it to Minseok to act casual in the face of his torment.
~”*”~
The thing is, this whole biting thing isn’t even completely out of the ordinary.
Sure, maybe it isn’t a standard Omegean instinct to want to stake claim on their partner like this. And sure, usually unmated Alphas would bristle at the thought of being so vulnerable in the presence of someone else, would fundamentally hate to be marked by someone over whom they have no claim of their own. But again—the practice isn't completely unheard of. Just that it usually happens between mated couples as, like, a sign of trust and unwavering commitment from the Alpha. And a way for the Omega to show that, even though their mark can’t remain on their mate’s skin in the same way that an Alpha's mark does, it still gets refreshed for as long as the Omega continues to be happy in the union with their mate.
Minhyung, for his own mental health, doesn’t want to think too hard about what it all means in the context of his and Minseok’s relationship.
It wasn’t always like this, either. Years ago, when their relationship first progressed into more intimate territory, Minseok wasn’t quite as bold. Minhyung still vividly remembers the first heat that Minhyung helped Minseok through. He remembers the way Minseok arched beneath him, baring his neck like he was asking to be marked there and then, an image of innocence and provocation. Minhyung ended up biting at his own lips until they were a bloody mess while he fucked Minseok to completion. By the end of the night, every inch of Minseok was kissed and marked and sweetly bruised, except for his neck, which stayed pristine. Pride and despair might as well have been the same emotion to Minhyung as he watched Minseok examine himself in the bathroom mirror afterward.
And it’s not like Minhyung is wholly opposed to any sort of marking. Scenting has always been a part of their relationship, ever since the time when Minhyung was still a rookie, nervous before one of his first stage matches. None of his usual tactics to combat stress had worked, and Minhyung was slowly going crazy, his skin too tight over his bones, a weird static spreading through his veins. When he was younger, this kind of stress could only be soothed by the warm embrace of his mom, her floral scent gentle and calming, reminding him of home.
He doesn’t know what made him ask or why he asked Minseok specifically. All Minhyung remembers are scraps of a memory. He stumbled into Minseok in the corridor on his way to the bathroom. Minseok's scent was dulled under the obligatory suppressing patch but still there, weirdly familiar despite their relatively short acquaintance. He remembers that he wanted to feel someone against him, to hold someone, so he didn’t feel so unsteady himself. He asked, and Minseok agreed, and they hugged, and Minhyung might have scented him a little—not that anyone would know. The patch really came through in that regard.
Since then, scenting has been normal between them. Even when their relationship became more intimate, scenting retained its original, platonic character.
All of this leads him to the current moment. Minhyung is sitting on a couch, legs rested in front of him and propped on the coffee table. He’s watching some shitty dating reality show - “Transit Love”, maybe. Next to him there is Minseok, curled up under his arm, phone rested against Minhyung’s chest as he scrolls through some manhwa. Everything is perfect. Or everything would be perfect if it wasn’t for…
“Were you out somewhere today?” It’s the off-season, so really—it’s a reasonable question. Some days, none of them even move a foot outside of the dorm when there is no practice or scrims or schedule to attend.
“Yea,” Minseok responds lazily, not even lifting his eyes from the manhwa. “Went out with Hyunjoon-hyung to meet up with the DRX guys. Why?”
And there it is—the source of Minhyung’s woe. The harsh, salty static of a stormy sea, which he couldn’t quite place before now, unmistakably identifies itself as the scent of Minseok’s first ADC. It drills into Minhyung’s nose and muddles the sweetness of Minseok.
He can’t have that.
“Nothing.” Play it cool, Minhyung reminds himself. “Was it fun?”
“Oh yeah, we went out for BBQ together. Changhyun-hyung ordered soju for himself even though it was like, 2 PM maybe, and—.”
Minseok keeps chattering, but Minhyung stops paying attention, choosing instead to focus on the elegant shadow that Minseok’s eyelashes cast over his cheeks and the way it flutters whenever Minseok blinks. The scent keeps flaring whenever Minseok moves his head, and he tries hard to ignore it until… Something snaps in Minhyung, and he straightens himself up momentarily, pulling Minseok up alongside him, cutting him off halfway through a description of Hyunjoon hyung’s new karaoke repertoire. Before he can think to stop himself, he lowers his lips down to Minseok’s scent gland, places the smallest nibble down onto it, and then noses over the spot. He feels it more than sees it, as Minseok startles for the briefest of moments before relaxing in his hold and craning his neck back to give Minhyung better access to his gland.
“He wants us,” his Alpha preens. “He’s a good Omega, and you can smell that he wants it. What are you waiting for?” It growls somewhere deep in his hindbrain.
In his experience, it’s always most dangerous when his inner Alpha starts making too much sense.
He’s just about to pull away, satisfied with his work, the scent of static and sea salt gone and replaced with his own amber and sandalwood, when he feels Minseok’s fingers fix themselves into his hair and hold him against his neck.
“Come on, come on, you were doing so well—” Minseok’s voice is high and breathy, but there is a twinge of impatience to it, the kind of harshness that he takes on when Minhyung is slow on the uptake during practice. “You can take more, you don’t have to always pull away.”
Minseok must not know what it means to be an Alpha.
Who can blame him, really? He is not one himself, no one from his close family is one either. He didn’t have a lot of experiences before Minhyung, so he must have never learned of the awful, carnivorous desires that rule over Alphas. He doesn’t know that you can’t give them even an inch, because that means that they will want to take a mile.
His nose is still buried in Minseok’s scent gland, and he is surrounded by the cloying and tangy aroma of him—so inviting, like he truly means what he’s saying. He takes another nibble against Minseok’s skin, and the scent ripens. He can’t even imagine what it would be like to bite clean through the gland and release all of his sweatness.
But Minseok doesn’t mean what he’s saying. He can’t mean it fully anyway, because he doesn’t understand the ugliness of Minhyung’s desire. If he did, he would be more scared. He would know the risk of offering Minhyung more than what he's willing to give. He would know that it’s a useless pursuit to begin with, because Minhyung’s desire can’t be satisfied no matter how much he’s given—he will always want more.
He will not be the one to ruin Minseok’s idea of what Alphas are like, he decides.
He takes a few steadying breaths against Minseok’s neck, counting down his heartbeats, secretly delighted as he feels Minseok’s breathing hitch whenever the warmth of Minhyung’s exhale hits his skin.
An eternity passes before he thinks it safe to move, and when he leans back to look at Minseok, he thinks he sees a flash of disappointment in his eyes.
He doesn’t know what he’s asking you to do, he reminds himself.
“Sorry,” he says instead. “His scent on you… it bothered me.”
Minseok stares at him for a long moment. He opens his mouth like he wants to say something but in the end he just shakes his head, his expression carefully neutral again.
“Well, I hope this helped you, then.” He murmurs and settles back against Minhyung's chest, grabbing his phone to open his manhwa back up.
Minhyung thinks that it likely made it worse.