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Jeongin warned Minho, over and over. A truly unnecessary amount of times.
“My heats.” Jeongin clears his throat, pushing his glasses up. He’s still staring down at the steaming bowl of pasta Minho had made him, so they begin their useless descent down the sweet slope of his nose once more the second he moves his fingers away. Long fingers. Pretty fingers. Minho refocuses when his lips start moving, but that also proves dangerous. “They’re… intense? I usually have to take a week off work. I don’t really leave my nest, either.”
Minho nods, chewing on his own food slowly. Very different to his own circumstances; his ruts leave him horny and frustrated and light-sensitive, but he can work with a scent patch on and lots of fluids. He’s just a bit irritable until he knots his fist at the end of the day. “Eat while it’s hot, aegi,” he says first, and Jeongin immediately lifts his fork again. There’s some sauce in the corner of his mouth. “Intense. I can work with intense. Is it bad pain?”
“Not like you’re thinking,” Jeongin mumbles. “I just get really-” he turns his head away, cheek burning pink where he delicately touches the back of his hand to it, like he’s taking his own temperature. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down in his slender, unmarked throat. “Um. Needy? I guess. It’s embarrassing, I don’t know how to talk about it.”
“That’s fine with me.” Minho leans over, swiping his thumb over the corner of his mouth to clear the mess before sticking it in his own. Jeongin blinks rapidly as Minho sucks the digit clean, wriggling his eyebrows. “If you want me around, I’ll be around, and I’ll want to be around.” Besides, Minho thinks it’ll be cute. Jeongin, all heat-soft and clingy. Even if he isn’t, Minho will still just be happy to be around him.
“Are you sure?” He still looks uncertain of himself. Truly, oddly embarrassed, like heats and ruts aren’t normal things that affect everyone in the world. “It’s intense. I’m a handful.”
“I have two hands,” Minho replies immediately with a sleazy wink that’s mostly a blink. Jeongin stares at him blankly, unimpressed, though he can do nothing about the fact he’s turned almost completely strawberry red.
“Yah. So cheesy, hyung,” he mutters with a put-on air of exasperation, hopelessly pointing his poor attempt at pretending not to smile down into his bowl. His accent thickens, even, “Cheesy, oh my god hyung, are you serious-!”
“I’m so serious,” Minho sings, uncaring of Jeongin’s continued grumbling complaints. He loves it. “I’ll make us lots of dinner, and I’ll wash all your sheets, I’ll rub your feet, I’ll do whatever you need. I’ve assisted with heats before-”
“Ew.” Jeongin’s whole face sours in a flash. His soft scent prickles at the edge to really telegraph his displeasure, which makes Minho smile. So possessive, his Jeongin. “Why are you thinking about other omegas.”
“Let me finish my sentence.” Minho slides his foot forward in his bunny slippers, and Jeongin instantly hooks his ankle between his feet. His scent evens out, satisfied, and Minho tries not to shiver. “I know they’re uncomfortable, and I know they’re painful, so whatever I can do to help as your partner, I will. You’ve got me, as long as you want me.” Forever! Minho howls inwardly. This is practise for the rest of our lives! The first of many! I’ll be there for all of them!
“You’re so corny,” Jeongin mumbles, sniffing. “…thank you. I- I think it’ll really help, hyung. Having you around.”
Minho remembers his father’s heats, even as infrequent as they were, and how some were easier than others. He remembers his mother showing Minho how to prepare the best tea to soothe cramps and discomfort, and the twinkle in her eye as she’d said one day you might need to know for your own mate, aegi-yah. Minho remembers the joy of carefully carrying the mug between both hands to wherever he was nesting, and the way his father would welcome him into the softest, nicest nest ever to cuddle and scent him. His father told him having his pack close helped, even when he was grumpy that he had to go to the office tomorrow, and Minho would always make sure to be super careful and gentle and not too loud, because his father was sensitive to noise in the way Minho eventually was about light. It was nice, being able to help. Nicer now, knowing Jeongin already thinks so highly of him to readily invite him into his own nest. That he thinks Minho will be able to help. Like- he could be his alpha.
It starts easily enough. Jeongin’s pre-heat is, essentially, what Minho has seen as a heat in his previous partners, but he makes sure to keep that thought to himself. Jeongin is grumpy, but still soft. Clingy. He loosens the reins on his own scent, and there’s this deeply instinctual thrill that sings up and down Minho’s spine as he gradually picks out the sweetening notes of his incoming heat. Something that says mate, something that says future. Jeongin hangs close like he’s magnetized whenever they’re together, and every evening he’s waiting at the door with a smile when Minho finally comes ho- to Jeongin’s apartment with his bags of ingredients and meal prep for the week coming. They unpack side by side, hips bumping. He complains when Minho has to hoist him up to sit pretty on the counter to avoid any cooking accidents, but he stays there with his feet swinging until they head to the couch to eat and immediately buries his way into his side. Minho catches him zoning out more and teases him for it. Is hyung that boring? He asks, playful, and Jeongin looks back with a dazed smile and says, I just like your voice, hyung.
Minho doesn’t really get what all of his fussing was for, and he curses whatever bastard came before him and convinced Jeongin he was too much to handle. Luckily, no one else will ever be allowed this close to Jeongin in heat to make him feel bad ever again. Not if Minho has any say in it.
Time now feels immeasurable, gooey between Minho’s fingers, as hot and malleable under his hands as Jeongin is. It’s sweltering in the sweet safety of Jeongin’s nest, especially with both of them under the sheets, and Minho had to discard his shirt secondsminuteshours ago. He’s half-hard in the confines of his boxers just from the proximity, tempted by the surprisingly strong scent surrounding him, and that’s how he’ll stay. Jeongin had still been overwhelmingly shy when he’d asked for Minho to scent him, even shier when he asked to scent him in return, and Minho is determined to do exactly as he wants. Minho’s back hurts in a distant, unimportant kind of way, holding himself up between Jeongin’s open legs where he’d positioned him with one elbow bent into the mattress and the other wandering up and down his torso. Touchin’feels good, he’d slurred, guiding Minho’s hand to his own chest like he had no idea of his desperate and very transparent perversion. Or maybe because of it. Minho has never been subtle. Just. Feels nice. Being close. And so, close Minho is. Jeongin’s bare thighs are hot, spread around him and sweaty-sticky where the rest atop Minho’s own thighs, and occasionally he squeezes his knees against his waist like he’s checking he’s still there.
The squirming omega hasn’t moved his face from Minho’s neck since he got it there, gulping down mouthfuls of his scent greedily between wet little whimpers that are so soft Minho thinks he isn’t even aware he’s doing it. All of this, muffled hot into the crook of his sweaty neck, but still he hears it when Jeongin sighs, “hurts.”
Minho aches at that. “Aegi.” He hums, nuzzling his cheek against Jeongin’s hair, inhaling the berry sweetness of it. His scent is potent even now, teetering on the edge of a full-blown heat, and Minho is starting to understand why Jeongin calls his heats debilitating. Thank god he took the week off work. Does he feel this horrible every time? There’s a possessive, ancient part of Minho that wants to growl, wants to ensure he never feels pain again, but it’s unrealistic and stereotypical. He’s above that. He’s trying very hard to be above that.
“Where’s it hurt, hm?” Minho pulls back just an inch and Jeongin exhales hard, eyes fluttering open for the first time in a long while. Minho sweeps one hand down from where he’d gently been massaging his fingers into tensed shoulder muscles, watching his teary expression keenly as he descends. “Here, is it?” Jeongin gasps, nodding fervently as Minho smooths his palm over his quivering stomach. He’s practically burning up, and a pang of sympathy strikes through Minho. He figured it would be here. “Cramping?”
Jeongin moans, shaking his head this time, slapping his big hand over Minho’s to keep it there. He presses down, harder than Minho thought would be comfortable, murmuring something unintelligible as sweat drips down his temples. When he presses down the heel of Minho’s hand brushes against the waistband of his briefs, and the tension in Jeongin’s forearm makes him think it’s deliberate. A silent plea.
“Talk to me, baby,” Minho croons. Jeongin twitches like he’s been electrified- those knobby knees again, squeezing around the width of him. “What can hyung do to help?”
“Hyung,” he mouths. The first tear trembles at his waterline, caught in his pretty eyelashes, and Minho drops a kiss to his damp temple.
“It’s okay, you’re okay. It’s not cramps, hm? What is it?”
“M’empty,” Jeongin gasps, like it’s been torn out of him, his head falling back. He’s tense all over, pulled taut like a bowstring, panting as his hips jerk minutely upwards into nothing. Minho imagines lowering his hand down, or pressing closer. Pinning his legs open as wide as they can go with his body, giving something for him to rut against. Wonders, curiously, inappropriately, what would happen if he pulled him tight enough to snap. “Hyung- need-“
“Empty?” Minho wasn’t expecting that. Isn’t sure what exactly it means, or if he’ll be able to get Jeongin to explain it adequately. If he had anything to compare his behaviour to, it would be the symptoms of falling scent-drunk.
Minho has never seen an omega like this before. Never anyone like Jeongin.
Jeongin sounds so small, unaware of Minho rebuilding his entire universe around the hot red centre of him. “Yeah. Need you inside. Please. S’that okay?”
“You want me to fuck you?” Minho asks, hushed. Surprised. He’s only fucked an omega in heat once before, because his previous partners hadn’t really had the desire for it. It was always a bit dangerous, anyway. Considering how heats make you. Well. Fertile.
His skin feels tight, and his cock jumps embarrassingly just at the thought. He’s been trying hard to ignore his own erection, waiting for an obvious cue from Jeongin as to what he wants or needs, but watching Jeongin- feeling Jeongin. God. He’s wet, wetter than he’s ever been, slicking through his underwear. His shirt is sweat damp and twisted around his torso from Minho’s wandering hands and his own endless wriggling. His eyes are so big, so cloudy, his pouty lips soft and spit-slick. Minho can feel his tummy heaving with every breath under his hand.
“Yeah,” Jeongin sighs, “need it, need- need to be full.”
“Full,” Minho repeats. “Because you’re empty.”
Jeongin nods, his head lolling on his shoulders. “Hyung.” This whine is a little more- demanding. His expression creases in adorable frustration and Minho leans back down to kiss him again, once, twice. Jeongin nips at his bottom lip greedily once he’s close enough.
“Okay, okay,” Minho says, and he drops both hands to Jeongin’s thighs. Rubs up and down, leaving goosebumps in the path of his palms. “Can hyung undress you?”
“Hurry,” Jeongin answers, and Minho suppresses his giggle by pursing his lips into a line.
He has to shift backwards, mourning the heavy heat of Jeongin’s body against his as he eases his legs out straight to comfortably pull down his briefs. Minho holds his breath tight in his chest as he goes and it’s a testament to Jeongin’s state that he isn’t even shy to be revealed like he normally is- instead Jeongin is soaked, slick matted in the hair between his legs and dripping down his pale thighs, thick strings snapping between his swollen pussy and the translucent fabric as Minho pulls it away. It takes all of Minho’s energy not to shove his face down there, but- Jeongin wants to be full. Minho can fill him up.
“How’s it gonna be comfortable for you?” he manages to ask, breathing shallowly through his mouth as he makes his way back in closer. Jeongin’s eyes are so big, staring up at him like this from his pillows, and Minho feels somewhat like he’s approaching prey.
He replies, immediately, “inside.”
“Yes, baby, but- what position.” Jeongin whines in answer, one of his legs kicking out until his heel thumps against Minho’s back, and Minho can’t help his laugh this time. “Okay. We’ll figure it out as we go.”
“It’s-” Jeongin pouts, squeezing his eyes shut like he’s trying to centre himself. He wriggles, attempting to roll over, and Minho leans back on his heels and hastily manoeuvres his long, uncoordinated legs for him as he twists to avoid catching a foot to the face. It’d be no good trying to have sex with a bloody nose, after all. Once Jeongin has his knees under him he falls forward, ass up, trembling all over, and Minho stops breathing at all. “Like this. S’gotta-”
“Holy shit,” Minho whispers. He might end up with a nosebleed anyway. “Oh. Okay.”
“Fuck me.” The demanding tone is back, high and reedy, but it tapers as he adds, shyly, “please.”
“Do you have a condom-” Minho doesn’t get to finish his sentence, because Jeongin wails.
“No!” He slams his face down into his mess of pillows, and Minho is horrified by the way his whole body shakes in front of him with what is undeniably a sob. The tears start up hard and fast like a summer storm with not a lick of thunder in warning. Minho lurches forward, slinging one arm around Jeongin’s shaky torso as he lays beside him to try and coax him back up before he suffocates in his own bed. “No, no, hyung, you- can’t-” Jeongin hiccups, breathing so rapidly he’s about to pitch himself into hyperventilating, even as Minho runs a hand up and down his back supportively. “You can’t, I need it, you- don’t be mean, please, pleaseplease-”
“Okay, okay, no condom!” Minho stammers, squeezing him to his side. One of Jeongin’s hands comes up, blindly clawing at Minho and Minho takes it in his own. “No condom, baby, it’s okay. Please breathe.”
Jeongin lifts his tear-streaked face up out of the pillows, red and blotchy. There’s snot smeared under his nose, and his bottom lip wobbles tremendously as fat tears continue to spill down his cheeks. He’s the most beautiful person Minho has ever seen. “Promise?”
“I promise,” Minho repeats. He knows Jeongin is on birth control, but he’ll need to go out tomorrow and get the morning after pill just to be safe. Scratch that. He’ll get it delivered. There’s no way he’s leaving. Minho’s hindbrain has never been louder. “No condom. Not at all. Whatever you want.”
“Wan’it inside.”
“You’ll get it. Just breathe for me, first, so hyung can fuck you.” Jeongin nods and takes a long, shaky breath, biting his bottom lip. His eyes are expectant, waiting for praise at following instruction so well- the same look he had when he prepared all their banchan without assistance, and when he first took all of Minho’s cock in his mouth. “Good job, Jeonginnie,” Minho whispers, watching the words ripple over him. “You still wanna be face-down, baby?” Another nod. A big sniffle. Minho smiles lopsidedly, wiping under his nose gently. “Okay.”
He’s hesitant to get back up on his knees, watching Jeongin’s face carefully for any more meltdowns as he shuffles back to situate himself behind him again. There’s just so much slick. Minho feels dizzy. He’s getting hotboxed by omega pheromones and it’s making him feel territorial and insane, like some crazy alpha in a drama. That’s it. Surely.
“You’re- you smell really good, Jeongin-ah,” Minho says, sick with it. He quickly shucks off his own pants, freeing his aching cock and wincing at the embarrassing slap of it hitting his stomach. Jeongin gets restless again, looking over his shoulder with his cheek squished into the pillows, and Minho is greatly gratified by the way Jeongin appears to be drooling at the sight of him. “You ready?” He asks, just to be sure. Even with only one open Jeongin gives him the stink-eye, and Minho laughs. Just once, sharp and pleased. “Okay. Alright.”
Minho curls his hand over Jeongin’s soft hip, hopefully grounding both of them. With the other he grips his cock tightly above the base, careful not to touch the burgeoning swell of his knot as he tips himself forward. He has to bite down hard on the inside of his cheek as he drags the tip through the mess of slick smeared between Jeongin’s legs, slipping back and forth lightly. It’s easy to coat his length in sticky slick and even easier to rock that bit further, nudging up against Jeongin’s swollen clit to watch the curve of his spine invert. Insistent, guiding Minho where he wants him. He notches the head on his hot, twitching hole, enthralled by the way he can feel Jeongin's cunt trying to suck him inside. So greedy. Empty.
Minho, for some inexplicable reason, feels like they’re having sex for the first time again. Butterflies in his stomach, his heart beating tight and flighty against his ribs.
“Alright,” he says softly, running a steadying and soothing hand over Jeongin’s flank as he slowly pushes inside. He has his gaze pinned on what’s visible of Jeongin’s face the whole time, watching for any discomfort or instruction, but all he gets is Jeongin’s eyes rolling back into his head with a moan. His mouth falls slack, a desperate sound growing with every inch that tumbles out on his lolling tongue.
Jeongin’s whimper is long, animal, vibrating in his throat. There’s virtually no resistance and the excessive amount of slick aids the rest of the way, meaning Minho is bottoming out in no time. He releases a controlled breath, overwhelmed by the way Jeongin throbs and tightens around him, planting both hands on his hips now for traction. In the same moment Jeongin’s whole body goes loose, slumping forward, and Minho tugs him back towards him to keep him up and in the process fucks somehow deeper. Jeongin jolts, gasping soundlessly, and the obscene sound of Minho fucking the slick out of him makes his ears turn bright red.
“Better?” Minho asks, voice strained. Jeongin nods absently, fingers loosely gripping one of his pillows. “Full?”
“Alpha,” Jeongin answers, dazed, and Minho curses. His hips jerk out of his control and this time Jeongin is louder, that same word slipping past his slick lips like it’s instinct. “Alpha.” It sounds like a command, and Minho wants to give Jeongin everything, anything he asks for.
Minho starts up a cautious rhythm. He knows Jeongin wants this wholeheartedly, he just isn’t sure how, so he’ll let Jeongin guide him. He can set the pace. Immediately Jeongin croaks, “more.”
“Harder?” He nods again, frantically, and Minho worries about the state of his neck. “Faster?”
“Okay, aegi,” Minho rasps. “Hyung’s got you.”
Minho picks up the speed, quicker and deeper strokes, his hips slapping against Jeongin’s ass with each thrust, and the wet sound is almost as distracting as Jeongin’s desperate babbling, muffled now by the pillow. It becomes apparent quickly that Jeongin has absolutely lost it, an uninterrupted stream of nonsense words and animal noises tumbling out of his mouth, and when Minho leans forward - pitches his weight downward, to grind deeper - Jeongin finally lifts his head and becomes audible. Semi-coherent.
“Hyung, alpha, need more.” He’s crying again, but his scent is so overpoweringly pleased and wanting. “Deeper, please, here, I can- I can feel it, oh my god, hyung-” Jeongin worms a hand between the mattress and his stomach, back arching deeper, and Minho grunts as he fights to keep his positioning. “Hyung!”
Minho hastily lifts his hand, dragging it over his mouth to clear away the drool. He’s drooling. He feels like an animal. Jeongin’s scent is so- much. So demanding. Minho is addicted to it. He drops forward, pressing his chest to Jeongin’s back, taking a fistful of the pillow beside his head for balance as he works to get his nose as close to his neck as possible. He slides his free hand from Jeongin’s hip to his trembling chest, and he jerks in surprise when Jeongin clumsily slams his hand over his. Drags it again, from the soft swell of his pec to his stomach. Back to that pressure. Minho wonders how it feels. If Jeongin can feel him in his guts. He expects Jeongin to keep pushing his hand down, to get some friction against his clit this time, but he keeps him there with his fingers splayed over his abdomen.
“Right here,” Jeongin breathes, “fill me up, hyung, make me- please, please, wan’your pups, please-”
Minho’s eyes fly open. A thousand images zing through his brain at once. Jeongin, soft in the hips and chest. Jeongin rounded, impossible to miss, smelling like berries and Minho. Jeongin pregnant, lying in this nest, staring up at Minho. Jeongin full with proof no one can ignore, proof of how good Minho takes care of him.
"That's what you need, Jeonginnie?" Minho groans, hips snapping forward at a bruising pace. He isn't sure what comes over him or where the words come from, just that every one has Jeongin shaking, fucking himself backwards on Minho's knot. "You need hyung's babies? Need alpha to breed you?"
Jeongin is panting, trembling like a spring coiled tight. "Please!"
"Please what?"
"Breed me!" he gasps without hesitation, "I need it!"
"So needy, my baby, my omega, you're so- you're so perfect," Minho babbles, "God, Jeongin, you'll look so good full, I know it, you're made for it, aren't you? Made to be pregnant. Made to have our litter."
“Need your knot, I need it, right here, can't you feel it, pleaseknotme, please alpha-?” Jeongin presses his hand down hard, and Minho feels it. His own cock, deep inside Jeongin. The slightest bulge when he bottoms out.
“Jeongin-ah.” It comes out like a growl, guttural and unfamiliar. Minho can’t clear his throat. He spits out, rather urgently, “I’m going to knot.”
“Yes!” Jeongin wails. Every word mashes in a wet blur, desperately begging, “knot me, fill me up, pup me please you have to I need it-“
“Oh my god.” Minho laughs out loud, a touch hysterical, his heart pounding in time with his head and his knot. He barely has time to comprehend much of anything, because he’s swelling so fast he feels lightheaded in the next second. On his last harsh thrust he’s locked in and Jeongin screams at the stretch, coming in a rush all over his cock, so loud Minho is surprised the neighbours don’t start banging on the walls, but if they did Minho would kill them, because no one can come close to his omega, no one can disturb them in their nest, no one-
“Alpha,” Jeongin sobs, breath hitching, “need you t’come, please-!”
Minho comes on command, locking up with a choked up grunt as his cock kicks and spills hot and heavy into his cunt. His bones liquify and scorching heat lances up his spine, settling hot between his hips as he fills Jeongin up. His ears are ringing, but through it all he’s perfectly attuned to Jeongin’s grateful sobs. “Thank you, thank you,” he’s slurring, and Minho growls because he can’t do much else. He feels like he’s slipped halfway out of his skin, anchored only by the points they’re connected. He thinks he’s delirious. He can feel how soft Jeongin’s stomach is, his hand still trapped against it, and he imagines it’s softer now, rounded with come. That’s not possible. Minho doesn’t care.
Jeongin falls silent eventually, twitching and whimpering, milking Minho’s knot insistently, as if Minho didn’t just come the hardest he ever has in his life. He looks dazed, eyes unseeing, fingers stiff where they’re still interlocked with Minho’s. There are tears dripping sluggishly down his cheeks, and he’s red all over. Sweaty. His hair is sticking to his forehead and the mattress is damp under them. Minho thinks Jeongin might still be coming. His scent is all Minho can smell and taste, and it’s broadcasting happy. Satiated.
It takes too long for the ringing to subside and finally then Minho can move his tongue again without making that growling sound that’s bubbling so close to the surface. “Jeongin-ah,” he manages. “Are you- okay?”
“Mmm.” It’s a breath, barely. His eyelids slip shut. “Feels’good.”
“Full enough?” Minho is trembling. His whole body hurts, and he tries to adjust- take the full weight of his body off Jeongin’s back. Jeongin growls, squeezing his hand tightly, and Minho immediately lays back down.
“S’gotta take,” Jeongin slurs. “Don’t- let any out. Can’t.”
“Okay. My bad.” Minho presses his sticky cheek to Jeongin’s back, still weirdly breathless. His knot shifts and Jeongin wheezes happily. “Okay. Wow.”
Minho gets it, now. Intense. He can work with intense. When they’re unstuck, he’ll clean his mate up. Stretch out his sore muscles and make him tea for the discomfort. Get food into him.
It might be a while, though.
“Aegi.” Jeongin hums. “I think we need to try again. Just to make sure.”