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“You’re staring,” sang a voice in Jongho’s ear.
He blinked, suppressing the flinch as he turned his head to see Wooyoung leaning over his shoulder. He raised a brow. “Pardon?”
Wooyoung nodded, gesturing across the kitchen island to the living room where a pack cuddle puddle was currently in session. “You were staring.”
Jongho narrowed his eyes, turning his head to take in the tangle of limbs that was currently scenting each other on the carpet in front of the couch. San’s face was buried in Yeosang’s throat, his body wrapped around Yeosang’s prone form, hips twitching in a mindless grind. Seonghwa was spooning San, stroking his hair, Seonghwa’s other hand had disappeared beneath San’s shirt, teasing San’s skin.
“I was doing no such thing,” Jongho said, raising his condensing beer to his lips. “I was zoning out, there is a difference.”
Wooyoung gave a look of disbelief. “Right.”
Jongho maintained eye-contact with Wooyoung, sipping his beer.
It was Seonghwa’s call that forced them to look away.
San’s left arm had reached back, tangling in Seonghwa’s hair as his hips twitched into the hand Seonghwa had worked down his sweats.
“Come join us.”
Wooyoung jumped at the opportunity, squeezing between Yeosang and San to press his lips to San’s ear. He whispered something.
San whined, back arching further. The room exploded with his scent. Jongho could taste the floral rice on his tongue as he took a final sip of his beer. Seonghwa’s eyes pleaded. Jongho sighed, leaving the half drunk bottle on the island before slipping to the edge of the living room.
Yeosang rolled onto his back at Jongho’s arrival. His eyes were half lidded.
Jongho’s heart pounded. He crouched down at Yeosang’s side. He paused for a moment, limbs stiff as he slowly laid down on his side facing Yeosang.
Yeosang’s smile was soft as he shifted, turning onto his right. He scooted back, making room for Wooyoung between him and San and pressing lightly into Jongho’s chest, back to chest.
Jongho breathed slowly, the mixed scent of the pack hitting him. Happy-safe-content. He pillowed his head on one arm, the other wrapping around Yeosang’s waist. He moved a little closer. Yeosang’s hand fell over his. The heat burned Jongho’s skin. He pressed his forehead into the knobs of Yeosang’s spine. The soft smell of sunlight greeted his tongue. Jongho’s teeth ached.
He opened the hand resting on Yeosang’s stomach, letting Yeosang’s fingers slot with his. He erased the space, squeezing them tight so Yeosang couldn’t let go. He felt Yeosang's chest chuckle. The squeeze reciprocated. Jongho’s body trembled.
He nosed at the base of Yeosang’s skull. His lips brushed the sensitive skin. He felt goosebumps appear beneath his lips. Yeosang shivered in his grip. Yeosang shifted closer. His hips pressed harder. Jongho’s lips parted. His gums tingled.
Jongho gave in to his instincts ever so slightly,
He opened his mouth further, lightly pressing his teeth into the knob of Yeosang’s spine. He felt Yeosang go boneless beneath him. He licked the skin trapped between his teeth. Sunlight exploded on his tongue. Jongho couldn’t help but close his eyes. He subconsciously pulled Yeosang a little tighter. He continued to tease at the small stretch of pale skin. His brain heavy.
He couldn’t help but let the taste of Yeosang’s skin pull him under. Wooyoung’s teasing words echoed in his head.
You’re staring.
How could he not?
Jongho was setting the table for dinner when Seonghwa called out to him from the kitchen. Despite being only the two of them, Seonghwa’s voice was soft. “Your rut is happening soon.”
Jongho hand paused over the chopsticks he’d just set. “Yes.”
He could feel Seonghwa’s eyes from across the room. “Have you thought about it?”
Jongho swallowed, sleepy brown eyes flickered through his mind. “Possibly.”
Seonghwa exhaled with laughter. “You’re allowed to think about it, Jongho.” There was a pause. “You can change your mind.”
He knew that…and yet.
Jongho has never been the overly affectionate type. Even before he presented. Now, despite being an Alpha, he tended to keep to himself, unless his packmates needed his touch. He was happy to press a kiss to a scent gland, offer his throat in a time of need, but when it came to himself and his needs, he rarely did. His instincts preferred actions—making sure a pack mate was fed, that everyone had water and electrolytes post performance—he wasn’t a cuddler. Despite Wooyoung obnoxious pouts, Jongho wasn’t the type to worm his way into the middle of a pack cuddle session. He kept to the edges, pressed to one body, maybe two.
Maybe it was survival instincts.
A need to protect.
He only knew that to turn his back to the door was a bad idea.
Ruts and Heats were a different story—but not by much.
Tentative touch turned into a need to possess. To hold the form beneath his hands and hold them still. He was in control. Under him, they were safe. Under him, they were protected. His first rut, he wouldn’t let Wooyoung leave the den, he prowled the edges of his room between waves of rut, grabbing water and force feeding Wooyoung enough that he’d have enough energy when Jongho’s next wave of rut occurred. It took a few cycles before Jongho would even let the betas inside, let alone Alphas.
The issue wasn’t the designation, more the someone who wasn’t supposed to be there entering the den. It didn’t matter if they were pack. Once his brain decided you were a part of his rut, you were stuck. They’d taken to having two or three pack members with him to ride it out, the ability for substitutions making it a little easier to maintain and take breaks. It usually consisted of Wooyoung—Seonghwa’s health condition prevented him from partaking in ruts—Yeosang, and Mingi. San’s progress of transitioning to an Omega had him participating in Jongho’s recent ruts more and more. Jongho’s dominating tendencies were apparently good for overriding San’s Alpha instincts.
Two to three members had become the standard. A discussion with Hongjoong and the others always occurred in pre-rut. It was always a mix between determining who was available to assist and who Jongho actually wanted in his den.
He always wanted Yeosang.
Everytime Jongho’s rut was over, there were always a few more bruises on Yeosang than the others. Yeosang would just smile every time, waving off Jongho’s apologies with a ruffle of his hair. Jongho would want nothing more than to nip at Yeosang’s fingers. With Yeosang being a Beta, there was never an opportunity for Jongho to reciprocate, to help Yeosang in the ways he helped Jongho. Even when physical affection was desirable in a pack puddle, it was different when it was one-on-one.
The number of eyes kept Jongho in check.
Jongho stared at the half set table before him. “I don’t like losing control.” He murmured.
Seonghwa sighed, moving from the kitchen to Jongho’s side. He took the remaining chopsticks and continued to set the table. “You’re not losing control. They’re your instincts. You’re allowed to follow them.”
Jongho met Seonghwa’s eyes across the dinner table. “What if they steer me wrong?”
“Then we’ll deal with the fall out.” Seonghwa finished setting the table. “But we all consent every time, we know the risks. We’re pack. That means embracing each other's most carnal selves.”
Jongho looked down at the table. He fiddled with the last set of chopsticks he had placed. His chest ached. “What if he doesn’t want me back?” Jongho’s face flushed at the childish question.
“Jongho,” Seonghwa admonished. “He loves you more than anyone else.”
Jongho couldn’t help but doubt Seonghwa’s words but nodded. “Can I talk to Hyung about it?”
Seonghwa walked around the table and pulled a reluctant Jongho into his arms. He nosed at Jongho’s hairline, forcing his scent. “Do. But he’ll say the same thing.”
Jongho nodded, pressing his nose to Seonghwa’s throat letting the smell of clove and pomegranate wash over him.
Slowly Seonghwa pulled away. “I’ll message the pack for dinner. Can you set the glasses?”
Jongho made a noise of agreement. “Sure.”
Dinner was a loud affair—it usually was. Wooyoung talked loudly as he gestured. The story was something from his dance rehearsal that Jongho barely paid attention to. An itch had started at the base of his neck. He ignored the urge to scratch it, aware of Seonghwa’s gaze hovering in his periphery. He wouldn’t let Jongho get away from talking with Hongjoong.
He sighed.
“Everything okay?”
Jongho turned his head. Yeosang was leaning closer from his seat beside him.
Jongho made a noise in question.
Yeosang’s lips twitched. “You sighed.” Yeosang tilted his head. “Wooyoung’s story boring you?”
Jongho kept his face straight. “Always.”
Yeosang’s eyes crinkled, smothering a laugh as he looked back to the table. His elbow brushed Jongho.
The itch disappeared.
Jongho’s lip curled slightly as he returned his attention to the table, the dance rehearsal story having taken a dramatic spin into a tale of vengeance. Jongho took a bite of his rice.
It tasted like sunlight.
When dinner finished Yeosang and Yunho were at the sink cleaning and stacking dishes. Jungho was standing up from the table, hoping to escape, when Hongjoong appeared at his side.
Hongjoong raised an expectant brow.
Jongho sighed, eyes looking at Seonghwa who avoided his gaze. “No escape?”
Hongjoong offered a sympathetic smile. “No escape.”
Jongho’s shoulders dropped in resignation.
“Let’s go for a walk.” Hongjoong offered, turning towards the door.
Jongho shoved his hands in his pocket, shoulders slightly hunched as he mumbled a quiet “sure”.
They tied their shoes in silence, their footsteps echoing in the stairwell before they exited on to the street. It took a few blocks before either said anything.
“What has Hyung told you?” Jongho asked quietly. They both knew he meant Seonghwa.
“Only that I should talk to you.” Hongjoong’s scent gave him away, the smell of storm clouds a little too acidic.
“Hyung.”
Hongjoong sighed, “He thinks you’re avoiding your feelings.”
Jongho snorted. “That’s rich.” He mumbled under his breath.
Hongjoong raised a brow.
Jongho’s neck burned. “Sorry.”
The silence remained between them for another block before Jongho finally spoke. The truth writhed in his gut. “I want Yeosang to join me for my rut.”
Hongjoong nodded. “ We can ask Yeosang to make sure he’s free, I’m not sure about which of the others are free.” He brought his fingers to his lips in thought.
Jongho swallowed. “Only Yeosang.”
They both came to a stop on the street.
Hongjoong blinked at Jongho. “Ah.”
Jongho nodded. “Yeah.”
Hongjoong hummed in thought, staring at the night sky above. His index finger stroked his upper lip. Jongho waited, heart thundering in his chest. Hongjoong met his gaze again. “Okay.”
“Okay?” Jongho whispered.
Hongjoong smiled, hand dropping to his side as he took a step closer to Jongho. “Okay.”
Jongho’s shoulder dropped, the unrealized tension escaping his body. His Pack Alpha had said okay.
Hongjoong's smile stretched wider. He ruffled Jongho’s hair.
The smell of a summer storm covered Jongho’s senses. He couldn’t help but lean into it. Coddling aside, touch from Hongjoong was rare, let alone scent.
“You’ll need to ask Yeosang, of course, but if you want him and only him for your rut we’ll make it happen. Everything else is the same den and food wise?”
Jongho nodded, savouring the hand on his head as it pulled away. His eyes opened slowly, he hadn’t even realized they had closed.
Hongjoong’s smile was a homecoming. “Shall we head home?”
Jongho hummed in agreement.
There was never really a moment to ask in the following days. The lead up to Jongho’s rut was a packed schedule–an effort to get everything done before Jongho’s leave. He could feel the pre-rut creeping under his skin. It itched at his senses, weighed in his spine. His gums ached. His skin burned. Any schedule that had him near Yeosang had him drifting closer, hovering.
Yeosang simply smiled every time. He’d lean slightly, brushing their shoulders. Jongho struggled to not press closer. The taste of sunlight haunted his tongue. His ability to sleep quickly disappeared, nights spent pacing around his room, stolen pieces of sunlight soaked clothing pressed to his nose.
It took Seonghwa pushing Jongho into the living room after a pack dinner, the others busy with cleaning up, for him to finally say something.
Yeosang was curled up on the couch in an oversized sweater, the sleeves pulled past his hands. He tilted his head at Jongho’s stumbled approach. The neck of his sweater fell past one shoulder, hickies from a previous cuddle puddle decorating his skin. Jongho wanted to press his teeth to each bruise and repaint them.
“Jongho?”
Jongho swallowed. His fingers twitched, desperate to reach out. To steal. To claim. He let Seonghwa’s burning gaze ground him. “My rut is coming up.”
Yeosang nodded, big brown eyes waiting for what Jongho really wanted to say. He had always been good at that.
Jongho would let the world burn if it meant Yeosang would always look at him like that. “Will you join me?”
Yeosang’s face transformed into a soft smile, his sunlight radiated outwards. “Of course. I’ll talk with Wooyoung to coordinate.”
Jongho shook his head, eyes dropping to the arm of the couch. He couldn’t help but fixate on a loose thread. He wanted to pull it. He looked at Yeosang through his bangs, and uttered softly. “Just you.”
Yeosang’s mouth opened. His eyes widened. “Oh.”
Jongho’s gaze dropped. The thread stared at him. His fingers itched. The apartment felt impossibly silent.
“Okay.” Yeosang whispered.
Jongho’s head shot up. A blush dusted Yeosang’s cheeks. “Okay?”
Yeosang nodded, turning his head into his sweater-covered shoulder. His eye remained on Jongho’s, big and brown and magnetizing. “I’ll share your rut with you.”
Jongho nodded, the words sticky in his throat. Jongho couldn’t help but reach out and tug at Yeosang’s hair, tucking it behind his ear. Jongho’s fingers trailed down Yeosang’s cheek, savouring the soft skin before he pulled away. He gave a small bow of goodbye to Yeosang before turning and slipping from the common area. The eyes burned the back of Jongho’s neck. His skin prickled, his fingers tingled all the way back to his bedroom.
Yeosang’s agreement opened a flood gate. Jongho couldn’t seem to control himself. Every moment was spent in Yeosang’s atmosphere. He hovered, in between dance practice, savouring the scent of sunlight-comfort-peace. Jongho sat beside Yeosang as they traveled, their thighs pressed together. He would stare at their pressed skin. His mouth watered. His hand twitched. He wanted to grab. To press. To claim. He dragged Yeosang into his den at night. Arm around Yeosang’s waist as they slept, his mouth pressed into the knobs of Yeosang’s spine.
Wooyoung, the human embodiment of an octopus, had tried to hug Yeosang during one dance practice. The growl escaped Jongho’s throat before he could stop it. The entire room stilled. Heat burned Jongho’s cheek. He ducked his head.
Wooyoung inhaled, tease ready on his tongue. A grunt exhaled instead. He rubbed his stomach from the corner of Jongho’s eyes. Yeosang’s elbow in close distance.
Yeosang leaned into Jongho instead. His chin brushed Jongho’s shoulder, a comforting chuff exiting his throat. Jongho couldn’t help but fall into Yeosang’s big, brown, endless eyes. Their foreheads touched. Yeosang’s skin was a cool balm to his searing skin.
His chest rumbled. Mine.
Yeosang pressed harder. Yours.
A part of Jongho was satisfied.
The hunger of Jongho’s rut came in the witching hours. His arm had found a home around Yeosang’s waist. Jongho pulled him closer. A sleepy scent greeted his nose. Quiet, unassuming.
Sunlight on a summer day.
He pressed his tongue against the skin. The flavour transformed, with salt, and tang, and everything Yeosang.
Jongho’s stomach was a black pit of hunger.
He dragged his tongue to the curve of Yeosang’s neck. Hair tickled his nose. Jongho took the meat between his teeth.
Yeosang’s body jerked awake with a gasp.
Jongho pressed his tongue against the trapped skin, a noise rumbling out. Pale hands tangled in his hair. He sucked on the skin. The hands tangled tighter.
Yeosang choked his name. “Jongho.”
Jongho hummed in response. The arm around Yeosang’s waist grabbed at his hip, pulling him flush.
Yeosang’s body trembled beneath his fingers.
Jongho released his teeth, soothing the skin with his tongue once, twice, before dragging his lips to Yeosang’s ear. “Okay?”
Yeosang whimpered.
Jongho’s nails bit into Yeosang’s hip. Jongho dragged his cock along the curve of Yeosang’s rear. Electricity sparked beneath his skin. His mouth ached. Jongho mouthed at Yeosang’s skin. He was starving.
Yeosang wiggled in Jongho’s grip. The threat of his escape had Jongho growling. His grip turned punishing. He dragged Yeosang to his chest, hand wrapping around Yeosang’s throat, pinning him.
“Mine.” He declared with a roll of his hips. His cock slipped between the space of Yeosang’s thighs. Yeosang swallowed beneath his grip.
“Lube.” Yeosang whispered. His adam's apple scraped Jongho’s palm.
Jongho twitched.
“You have to work me open, Jongho.” Yeosang pleaded. The words were like a promise. They filled Jongho’s veins with honey. Syrupy and sweet and addicting.
He released Yeosang’s throat, hand finding a home in the curve of Yeosang’s chest. He pinched a brown nipple between his fingers. The gasp from Yeosang’s throat was music to Jongho’s ears. This time when Yeosang moved from his grasp, Jongho let him, only barely.
Yeosang crawled forward on his hands and knees, barely making it to the edge of the bed. Jongho plastered himself to Yeosang’s back, returning his teeth to the knobs of his spine. Yeosang’s back was a blank canvas, and Jongho ached to be the painter. He counted each kiss under his breath, reason and logic fading away at the press of bone wrapped in skin beneath his lips.
Yeosang stretched a hand out, fingers wrapping around the nightstand drawer handle, revealing new skin in the process.
Jongho’s hands chased it, uncharted territory begging to be marked. He savoured the cool skin beneath his fingers.
Yeosang shivered, trying to shrug Jongho off as his hand wrapped around the lube, fingers catching a silicone ring on his withdrawal.
Jongho hardly moved, following the curve of Yeosang’s spine to the two dimples in his back. He continued further, grasping Yeosang’s hips and pushing them upward. He ignored Yeosang’s gasp, fingers bruising the plump flesh as he spread Yeosang open.
His reward stared back at him.
Jongho dove forward, tongue licking across the delicate skin of Yeosang’s perineum to the divot of his tailbone.
Yeosang cried out. His body lurched forward, only to be wrenched back. Trapped in Jongho’s grasp. Jongho’s tongue continued to taunt and tease the pucker of his rim.
Jongho worked his tongue into Yeosang like a man starved. He could feel his cock hanging beneath his legs. That ached of his rut to fuck and knot. But the taste of Yeosang was more consequential. Jongho wanted to feel him clench around his tongue. To feel the tremble of release beneath his touch.
He wanted to ruin Yeosang for any other.
His chest rumbled, his scent tumbling out stronger, drowning the room.
Yeosang whimpered, going limp in Jongho’s grasp.
Jongho hummed against Yeosang’s skin, spreading his flesh further apart. His own cock leaked between his legs, pre-cum spilling onto the sheets.
He felt it then.
The steady pulse.
Like a heart beat, Yeosang clenched around Jongho’s tongue. The pace increased like a rabbit taking off. Jongho shivered, desperate to be the predator to catch it.
Yeosang’s plea of Jongho’s name, cracking along the edges like ice in winter, finally made Jongho release him. Yeosang collapsed forward, chest to his knees, as Jongho finally sat back.
Their breaths filled the scent haze of the room, puncturing the silence.
Jongho watched the rise and fall of Yeosang’s ribs, mouth aching at the way the skin stretched across the bones. It was too unblemished. Too perfect. Jongho needed to ruin it.
Yeosang turned his face to the side, bangs stuck to his head with sweat. He weakly pushed the lube and silicone ring he’d grabbed from the side table towards him.
Jongho reached for the lube first.
Yeosang let out a noise of discontent.
Jongho paused before his fingers could touch the bottle.
“Massager first.” Yeosang whispered, voice rising and falling with his breath.
Jongho swallowed the fight. He promised this. Knew the rules. Constant knotting was too much for one beta to handle. Not with their schedule. He grabbed the silicone ring—knot massager—instead. He worked the black ring onto his shaft till it was snug at the base. His cock ached in his grasp, the touch making his hips twitch. Jongho squeezed the silicone gently, the ring began buzzing. He lurched at the shockwave, Yeosang between his arms.
He nosed at the base of Yeosang’s skull and bit out with gritted teeth, “Remote?”
Yeosang’s eyes were impossibly large as he looked at Jongho. “Got it.”
Jongho’s fingers twisted in the sheets. “Good.”
He collapsed his weight into Yeosang’s body, forcing them into a brutal kiss, as his hand finally wrapped around the lube, flicking the cap open with his thumb. He didn’t care about the mess as he squeezed, dropping the bottle to take the slick lube between his fingers, bringing his hand back to Yeosang’s opening.
He worked one finger first, swallowing the hitch in Yeosang’s breath as he slipped inside. Drool collected in his mouth at the heat. The tremble in Yeosang’s legs translated to clenches around his finger. He rushed a second finger, finding a place with the first.
Yeosang hissed, grabbing at the sheets, knuckles white.
“Sorry.” Jongho managed, coaxing his fingers. Satisfaction curled in Jongho as Yeosang arched instead of responding, mouth dropping open. He pressed on Yeosang’s prostate, rubbing a slow circle into the sensitive nerves.
Yeosang glared at him through watery lashes.
Jongho grinned, mostly teeth, before pressing his lips to Yeosang’s. He licked at the seam of his lips, forcing them open. He tasted sunshine as Jongho worked a third finger inside. Jongho savoured the tears on Yeosang’s cheeks, as he kissed his eyelids and flushed skin.
Jongho pulled back, pulling his fingers out of Yeosang to grab the lube and coat his cock. He exhaled as he gripped his shaft. He looked at Yeosang beneath him, legs spread, tear stained cheeks, chest flushed. Jongho directed his cock to Yeosang’s hole, the delicate skin shiny with lube.
Slick.
His brain whispered.
He teased the head of his cock along the opening, rubbing it up and down, in and out. He couldn’t help but stare at the way Yeosang stretched around him. The way he seemed to flutter around nothing when Jongho pulled away. Jongho reached forward with a hand, his thumb catching on the edge of Yeosang’s rim. He pressed in and up, almost tugging.
“Jongho.” Yeosang admonished.
Jongho shivered, pulling out his thumb and pushing in his cock.
They both moaned.
Jongho placed his hands over Yeosang’s slotting between his fingers. His breath was ragged as he tried to swallow the drool pooling in his mouth. His eyes fixed on the curve of Yeosang’s throat, sweaty hair hiding his scent glad from view. Jongho leaned down, nosing at the hair, the smell of sunlight peaking through.
Jongho’s hips thrust at the smell.
It punched a noise from Yeosang’s throat.
Jongho wanted to hear it again.
He dragged his cock back before forcing it back in. The same beautiful noise greeted him. He chased the sound, hips picking up pace. Each time the noise got a little louder, a little more desperate.
Jongho wrapped his lips around Yeosang’s scent gland and sucked. He could barely hear Yeosang’s whines as blood rushed in his ears. He only knew he needed to be faster. He needed to paint Yeosang from the inside out.
Breed him.
Mark him.
Claim him.
Jongho cried out.
A shock at the base of his cock as he collapsed into Yeosang’s back, hips twitching helplessly as he came. He saw Yeosang’s hand around a small remote, having escaped from his grasp. He wrapped an arm around Yeosang’s waist, turning them to the side as the massager worked Jongho’s knot.
Jongho could feel the cum slipping out between them, the lack of knot allowing it to escape. Jongho whined, pulling Yeosang closer, pushing in deeper, trying and failing to keep it inside.
Yeosang chuckled, reaching back to pet Jongho’s sweat slicked hair. “It’s fine.”
Jongho let out a noise of discontent.
“You’ll just have to fuck me deep enough it’s forced to stay.”
Jongho’s chest rumbled.
His knot was barely down before he was flipping Yeosang onto his back and folding him into a mating press. His arms bracketed Yeosang’s head as he fucked into him. He licked at the tears that trailed down Yeosang’s cheeks, smothering the beta in his scent of whiskey and woods. Yeosang clawed at Jongho’s back with each thrust, dragging red lines that only encouraged Jongho further. He decorated Yeosang in kisses, leaving a possessive path of bruises on his skin. Each time he became too much, Yeosang pressed the remote, the massager around Jongho’s knot sending him over the edge.
Rinse and repeat.
Jongho didn’t let Yeosang leave the bed, each attempt had Jongho pinning him and pushing in, fucking until they were moaning desperately into each other’s mouth. Yeosang came once for every three of Jongho’s. Jongho wouldn’t miss the opportunity, bending Yeosang in half to prevent his cum from escaping and licking up Yeosang”s release. He bit at any inch his mouth could reach. He marked Yeosang’s thighs with the imprint of his teeth. He needed everyone to know the beta was his. Yeosang has chosen him. No one else would have him.
Somewhere on the fourth day the haze of rut passed. Jongho was wrapped around Yeosang tight, arms around his waist and had pressed his face into the curve of Yeosang’s throat, drinking any hint of sunshine that escaped.
Yeosang’s hand stroked the sweat soaked strands of Jongho’s hair, teasing it with his tips before letting them fall and taking a new series of strands in hand. “Jongho?” Yeosang’s voice was raw as he whispered.
Jongho shivered, the echoes of Yeosang’s cries beneath his skin. He nodded into Yeosang’s throat as he spoke. “Yeah.”
Yeosang hummed. “Welcome back.”
Jongho opened his eyes, a stretch of bruises on Yeosang’s throat catching his eye. He swallowed, raising a hand to lightly trace the edge. “Sorry.”
Yeosang took Jongho’s hand and interlaced their fingers. “It’s okay. They felt good in the moment.” Jongho’s breath caught. “Plus you did tend to them…in theory.”
Jongho huffed a laugh, he could only imagine what his rut fused brain had thought to do.
“Do you want the massager off?”
Jongho blinked, finally focusing on the pressure around the base of his cock. “Yes, please.”
“Such good manners, Maknae.” Yeosang teased, getting Jongho to roll onto his back.
Jongho squeezed his eyes shut as Yeosang took his cock in hand, working the silicone ring off his knot. Yeosang’s hand didn’t disappear, his thumb pressing into Jongho’s knot and rubbing circles into where the massager had been.
Jongho moaned.
“Think you can go again?’
The question startled Jongho’s eyes open. He stared at Yeosang whose head was above him, on his knees at Jongho’s side as he played with the base of Jongho’s cock.
Yeosang tilted his head, lips pulling in that shy teasing smile.
Jongho’s stomach swooped.
“I know you can’t knot anymore, but what do you say to one more?”
Jongho nodded, eyes wide in disbelief.
He watched as Yeosang grabbed a nearly destroyed bottle of lube, flicking open the cap with his thumb and pouring it directly onto Jongho’s cock.
Jongho moaned, back arching at the cold.
Yeosang giggled, working to lube with his other hand before raising to his knees and straddling Jongho’s hips. His smile had Jongho clawing at the sheets as he proceeded to sit on Jongho’s cock in one slow stretch. Yeosang stabilized himself with his hands pressed on Jongho’s chest.
They stared at each other.
Jongho was barely breathing as Yeosang lifted himself up and slammed himself down.
Jongho choked, hands grabbing at Yeosang’s waist as the man proceeded to take on a demanding rhythm.
“You know, I’ve wanted to ride you at least once, but you’ve never let me.” Yeosang said as if talking about the weather.
Jongho whimpered, hands gripping Yeosang for dear life. Yeosang looked beautiful above him, a work of art he’d painted with shades of purple and blue. He couldn’t believe Yeosang would let him some days. A crack of light slipped between the curtains, highlighting Yeosang’s hair in a halo.
Yeosang was anything but angelic. He grabbed Jongho’s hands and pinned them to the bed. He rolled his hips in an excruciating rhythm that had Jongho’s back arching off the bed. Yeosang hovered over him in a knowing smile.
Jongho’s hips begged to join the rhythm, jolting stutters that screamed in overstimulation. Jongho bent his head forward, teeth latching onto the closest set of skin.
Yeosang laughed. “Cute pup.”
Jongho moaned, heat tickling the base of his spine. He gasped. The burn was more sensitive than any rut. He twisted in the bed, unable to escape. Yeosang kept him pinned as he whimpered and whined.
Yeosang lips teased the shell of Jongho’s ear. “It was so good during your rut. But I want to be the focus this time, Jongho.” Yeosang hovered over Jongho’s face, their noses brushing. “You’ll make me come, right? Prioritize me?”
Jongho groaned. He nodded desperately.
Yeosang released Jongho’s hands.
Jongho lunged forward. His back raised from the bed as he gripped Yeosang’s hips in a steel grip. He proceeded to lift Yeosang up and slam him back onto his cock.
Yeosang moaned, his hands curling around Jongho’s neck and tangling in his hair. “Just like that.”
Jongho maintained the motion, his hands pressing into his finger shaped bruises. He could feel the flutter of Yeosang around him. The smell of sunlight became stronger with every thrust. Want-Desire-Need. It drove Jongho further. The little hitches in Yeosang’s breath was music to his ears. His body was burning from the inside out.
On the final downstroke, Yeosang’s knees clenched around Jongho’s hips. His nails bit into the skin of Jongho’s back, dragging forth a hiss.
Jongho gasped as Yeosang shuddered around him.
Cum leaked between them, pumping from Yeosang’s cock with every twitch, it dripped down his purple and blue thighs into the thatch of Jongho’s pubic hair.
Jongho trembled, the sight catching him by surprise. His knot inflated. His body locked up, whining as Yeosang’s hole worked around him. A last release of cum becoming locked inside.
Yeosang panted above Jongho and raised an eyebrow. “Did you just knot me?”
Jongho reddened. He couldn’t help but stutter.
Yeosang laughed in disbelief, taking Jongho’s face between his palms. “My sweet, sweet Maknae. My favourite pup. Maybe one day you actually will breed me.”
Jongho groaned, pulling Yeosang in for a demanding kiss as he tried to ignore his embarrassment. “I’m more than willing to try.” He murmured against Yeosang’s lips as he leaned back onto the bed, Yeosang pulled to his chest.
Yeosang ran his fingers across Jongho’s neck as they waited for the knot to go down. “I’m glad you chose me.”
Jongho looked at Yeosang’s face, hair adorably ruffled. “It could never be anyone else.”
Yeosang smiled. It was as bright as sunlight and as right as breathing.