Archive of Our Own

~ Minho ~

Today was finally the day.

Jeongin had been working at that mystery café for nearly three months now, stubbornly keeping both the location and the name a secret the entire time. Something about “not wanting to jinx it”, whatever that was supposed to mean.

Minho had stopped trying to understand his brother’s logic somewhere around week two.

But yesterday, Jeongin had come home practically vibrating with excitement, his ears perked high and tail swishing as he talked. He told Minho that the café owners, Seungmin and Changbin, had sat him down for a review, and told him that if he kept up the good work, they would be offering him a permanent position at the end of his internship.

So, with this good news, the younger fox had finally caved. He told Minho where he worked, and asked, almost shyly, if Minho could pick him up after his shift so they could go out for dinner to celebrate.

Of course Minho said yes.

How could he not?

Minho had finally finished his shift. He was feeling absolutely exhausted, and it was only the afternoon. But the day had been brutal so far. 

It had started with a crash - loud, sharp, and entirely too early in the morning. He’d stumbled out of bed only to find a shattered pot and soil scattered across the floor, courtesy of Soonie, who had apparently decided the plant was inappropriately placed in his new favorite sunbathing spot.

Then his coffee maker, the traitorous piece of machinery, decided that the perfect time to run a self-cleaning cycle was right when Minho was supposed to make his coffee and leave for work, which meant he had to make do with the absolutely disgusting brew they had in the breakroom of the dance studio he worked at.

And as if that wasn’t enough, one of his students had managed to sprain his ankle during class.

That, in turn, had summoned the boy’s husky hybrid mother, who stormed into the breakroom afterward and proceeded to chew Minho out so thoroughly his ears were still ringing. The director had to step in before it escalated any further.

It wasn’t his fault the kid had two left feet and the coordination of a newborn deer.

Still.

It was finally over.

For the first time all day, Minho exhaled as he walked, letting some of the tension leave his shoulders. He had a few days off ahead of him to relax. And he was looking forward to finally seeing the place Jeongin wouldn’t stop talking about.

Even though Jeongin hadn’t revealed much about the café itself, he did tell him about his coworkers often. 

The place was run by a married couple - a coyote hybrid named Seungmin and his bear hybrid husband, Changbin. They were quite young, probably about a similar age as Minho, but it was their dream of owning a café where all kinds of hybrids were always welcome and accepted for who they were, and as far as Minho could tell from Jeongin’s stories, they were successful in making it come true.

He was working directly under a cat hybrid named Felix, who was the head baker in the establishment. With the café getting more and more popular, Felix wanted to expand the menu, but he already had his hands full. Previous interns hadn’t been able to keep up.

Jeongin, however, thrived.

He’d always had a knack for breads and flavor combinations - something Minho had benefited from extensively. In fact, the biggest reason why Minho went to the gym so often was so he could keep enjoying his brother's creations without overthinking how many calories he was consuming. 

He took his job as head taste-tester very seriously. 

His head was still faintly pounding as he saw the signage of the café coming into view.

It was located in an up-and-coming neighborhood, the street a mix of old, slightly worn restaurants and modern, trendy new spots. The kind of place still figuring out what it wanted to be.

Minho followed the directions, turning down a narrow alley until he found it.

“Star Lost.”

The name was painted above the entrance in slightly faded lettering.

The exterior looked older, almost untouched by renovation, with mismatched tables and chairs dotted all around the little courtyard. But it wasn’t neglected - far from it. Clusters of budding flowers and budding trees livened up the space, giving the whole place a quiet, rustic charm.

The door was wide open, and from where he stood, Minho could already see inside - warm wood tones, soft lighting, natural textures woven into every corner. It felt… calm.

He could see why hybrids would like it here.

It reminded him of being out in nature.

He should go camping again sometime soon…

Stepping into the café, he could already smell the faint notes of his brother's scent lingering in the air. Minho was definitely in the right place then.

And speaking of… Minho spotted him almost immediately. Bright orange hair was hard to miss, even in a crowded room. He was just about to call out to say hello, when he noticed a floppy-eared barista hanging all over his brother. 

Minho’s entire body went rigid as he watched the bunny hybrid lean in close, one hand coming up to grab Jeongin’s face - holding him still - as he tried to kiss him. Jeongin was squirming, his expression twisted into something that looked distinctly uncomfortable, trying to pull back.

Minho’s ears flattened.

He was just about to step in, already moving forward, when Jeongin managed to twist out of the rabbit's hold. He said something Minho couldn’t catch, shoved lightly at the bunny’s shoulder, and slipped away, disappearing through a set of swinging doors that likely led to the kitchen.

Minho stopped.

But the unease didn’t.

Was this seriously where his brother worked??

Jeongin had never complained about any of his coworkers making him uncomfortable before, but the blatant sexual harassment at his workplace left a bad taste in his mouth.

Still… causing a scene here wouldn’t help. Not when Jeongin was so close to securing a permanent position.

Minho swallowed his irritation, jaw tightening.

That didn’t mean he had to be nice to that scruffy hare.

~ Jisung ~

Their intern was so incredibly fun to tease! 

Jisung honestly couldn’t remember the last time someone had slotted into their little café family this seamlessly. Jeongin took everything in stride - never sulking, never getting awkward - just laughing it off or throwing something right back at them. It made it all the more tempting to keep going. At this point, the entire staff had more or less made it a shared hobby to poke at the maknae whenever the opportunity presented itself.

And his adorable reactions - the red cheeks, the twitching ears - were just to-die-for when you genuinely complimented his creations.

Jisung was so glad that he'd be officially joining their team soon. Felix had been less overwhelmed lately, and both he and Chan seemed happier for it. The whole place felt more balanced.

Which, all things considered, made today feel like a particularly good one.

Because the most beautiful fox Jisung had ever seen had just walked into the café.

Jisung tried his best not to ogle, but his eyes lingered just a second too long as he took the man in. There was something striking about him, the kind of sharp, clean beauty that felt almost sculpted. High cheekbones, a straight nose, and a slightly pouty upper lip that caught the light just enough to draw attention. With a philtrum as pronounced as his, the stranger looked almost more bunny-like than Jisung, if it weren’t for his floppy black ears and white fluffy tail. 

His ears, in particular, were hard to ignore. A warm sandy blond that matched his hair perfectly, soft-looking even from a distance. But instead of standing relaxed or curious, they were pulled back tight, angled in a way that spoke of tension rather than ease.

The scowl on the fox hybrid’s face was a good indicator of his bad mood as well for that matter…

But Jisung was confident he could brighten anyone’s day!

“Hi there! What can I get for you today?” Jisung greeted with his brightest smile.

One of the fox’s ears twitched at that, a small, involuntary movement that didn’t escape Jisung’s notice.

“Hazelnut latte,” the man said, voice low and clipped. He gave a short nod in greeting, like the motion itself was more obligation than politeness. “Please,” he added a moment later, brows furrowing slightly, as if the word had been an afterthought.

A little rude, but not unusually so.

Jisung had worked with people long enough to recognize the signs of a bad day, so he didn’t take it personally. He just needed to be patient, and usually with the promise of good coffee and a sweet treat, the people eventually relaxed too.

“One hazelnut latte coming right up!“ Jisung smiled, undeterred. “Would you like something to go with your coffee?” He asked as he pointed his open hand towards the glass case filled with fresh cakes and breads.

The hot stranger seemed to be looking intently at the breads, and he noticed his eye darting towards the pudding cups more than once. He’d gotten very good at noticing what people were looking at, and anticipating what they might ask for.

But whatever temptation had sparked there didn’t last long, as all Jisung got was a clipped “No,” as the stranger took out his wallet.

Okay, so this was a more difficult case of the grumpies than usual. He had to bring out the big guns...

He moved to the espresso machine, letting muscle memory take over as his hands settled into the familiar rhythm of preparation. Whatever else could be said about him, Jisung knew his coffee was good. Changbin had seen to that long before the café had ever opened its doors, and was nothing more than a fragile dream. He’d always been a bit of a snob about coffee, and when he met Seungmin, well, the stars just seemed to align perfectly.

Jisung had learned under that standard, and it showed.

Still, good coffee alone wasn’t always enough to crack through someone’s bad mood.

That was where his other trick came in.

Latte art had started as a distraction more than anything else. When he first began his PhD in music technology and production, he’d quickly realized that his brain had a tendency to spiral - latching onto unfinished work, unanswered emails, half-formed ideas that refused to settle. It followed him everywhere, filling in every quiet moment whether he wanted it to or not.

So he made a deal with himself that the only place he was not allowed to overthink about his thesis, grading papers or the mountains of stupid emails his students sent him, was when he was working here.

Focusing on something as precise and immediate as latte art had helped more than he expected. It gave his thoughts somewhere to go, something to narrow in on, until the noise quieted into something manageable.

And lately, he’d been getting pretty good at it.

Satisfied with his work, Jisung set the cup down at the pickup counter and glanced up just as the fox approached, an adorable swan design now adorning the top of his foam.

For a brief moment, the man’s gaze lingered on the surface of the drink. Then came a low grunt, which Jisung generously interpreted as a thank you.

The fox grabbed a sugar packet, turned, and headed straight for the door without another word.

The bunny hybrid was a bit disappointed that his art didn’t get him any reaction at all, but he hoped the fox's day got better. 

~~~

The next couple of months passed in a rhythm Jisung quickly grew used to.

The grumpy customer kept coming back.

After a while his shifts fell into a predictable routine. Every time the door chimed, Jisung found himself glancing up without thinking, and, like clockwork, the fox would walk through the door with that same tense posture, ears pulled back and alert as though he were bracing himself for something unpleasant. 

His expression never softened. Not at Jisung’s bright greetings, not at his attempts at small talk, not even at the occasional joke slipped in just to test the waters. 

The fox would nod, give his order in that same clipped tone, wait in silence, and leave as soon as he had his drink in hand. 

Normally Jisung would have thought that he did something wrong, but in his experience, if people didn’t like you - they just stopped coming. But the stranger kept coming back. Again, and again. 

At some point, Jisung started to think that maybe that was just how he was.

Some people smiled easily, wore their emotions openly, but others seemed to keep everything locked behind careful control. And maybe the fox belonged firmly in that second category.

Still, that didn’t stop Jisung from noticing him.

If anything, it made him notice more.

Because with every visit, the fox lingered in his thoughts longer than he should have, and Jisung found his thoughts drifting back to him more and more. At work, his attention would snag the second the door chimed, ears twitching in anticipation before he even realized what he was doing.

While working on his thesis, his focus would slip at the most inconvenient times, his mind drifting back to sharp cheekbones and tense shoulders, to the way those ears never quite relaxed.

And at night, when everything was quiet and there was nothing left to distract him, the thoughts became harder to ignore. They settled in more comfortably, lingering in ways he didn’t examine too closely.

Sometimes his mind chose to replay small details he hadn’t even realized he’d memorized. Other times he couldn’t stop himself imagining what the pretty stranger would look like naked (his grumpy demeanor didn’t stop Jisung from noticing his thighs).

And the fact that those thoughts got significantly worse during his heats? 

Well…

That particular detail stayed strictly between him, his collection of toys, and Felix - who had, at this point, heard far too much about a certain “grumpy, ridiculously pretty regular” to pretend he didn’t know exactly who Jisung was whining about.

After a while, the curiosity shifted into something more determined.

Jisung couldn’t stop wondering what the fox would look like if all that sharpness was softened. What that face would look like with a real smile - one that reached his eyes, crinkled them at the corners, maybe even made his nose scrunch just slightly.

It had to be a good one.

There was no way someone that pretty didn’t have a beautiful smile.

So Jisung decided, very simply, that he was going to be the one to see it. If the fox wouldn’t give it up easily, then the bunny would just have to earn it.

From now on he would be so charming that the pretty stranger had to cave in somehow, there’s no way that he was this grumpy all the time.

The opportunity to try came quite soon, and in an unexpected way.

One afternoon, the fox was standing in line with his phone pressed to his ear, his brows drawn together as he listened to whoever was on the other end. He looked mildly irritated, his tail flicking sharply every once in a while behind him, attention divided between the call and the slow-moving queue. 

It gave Jisung a rare chance to observe him without that immediate, guarded awareness the stranger always carried with him.

That was when he noticed the back of the phone.

Three small stickers were placed there, slightly off-center, as if they had been added one at a time without much thought for symmetry. 

They were cats - distinct, stylized little figures, each with their own personality. One looked like a grey tabby, and two were ginger. Though Jisung couldn’t quite see if that was the same cat or not.

The detail felt oddly… personal.

Jisung’s interest sharpened immediately.

It wasn’t much, but it was something. A thread he could follow, a starting point that wasn’t just blind guessing anymore.

From that moment on, Jisung adjusted his approach.

He didn’t change drastically, but there was a noticeable shift in how he interacted with the fox. His tone became a little warmer, his smile lingering just a bit longer. He allowed himself to be a touch more playful, testing the edges of what the other man would tolerate without pulling away completely. 

The bunny started centering all his latte art around cats - trying out new cat designs, or if he was in a hurry, just a cute paw print. Or three. 

Jisung wasn’t sure if he was imagining the longer stares at the art, or if that was just wishful thinking.

Occasionally, when the timing felt right, he would slip something extra next to his cup - a small pastry, a sample-sized dessert “on the house” - always framed as something casual, something the café was “trying out.”

The fox never refused. But he didn’t react much either.

At most, Jisung would get a quiet “thanks,” sometimes nothing more than a nod before the man turned and left, just like always. 

It should have been discouraging.

And it was, a little bit…

But not enough to make Jisung stop trying.

It wasn’t until the pudding that something finally changed in a tangible way.

Jisung had noticed, over time, how often the fox’s attention drifted toward them. It was subtle - quick glances, easily missed if you weren’t looking for them - but they happened often enough for Jisung to be certain he wasn’t imagining it. The man never asked for one, never acknowledged them directly, but his interest was there.

So one afternoon, when the café had fallen into a quiet lull, Jisung made a decision.

When he set the usual hazelnut latte down on the counter, he added a small glass pot beside it.

“We made too many,” he said lightly when the fox looked at it, already anticipating the hesitation. “Would you like one?”

The fox paused, his gaze flicking between Jisung and the pudding, suspicion clear in the slight narrowing of his eyes. For a moment, it seemed like he might refuse on principle alone.

But then, after a brief hesitation, he took it.

And, for the first time since Jisung had met him, he didn’t leave.

Instead, he moved to one of the nearby tables and sat down.

Jisung tried not to stare. He really did. But it was difficult not to steal glances between orders, his attention pulled again and again to where the fox sat.

The bunny watched as the man studied the pudding first, cautious and thorough. He tilted it slightly, observing the texture, then brought it closer, nose twitching faintly as he took in the scent, his posture still cautious, still reserved.

And then he took a bite.

The change was immediate.

It was subtle, but unmistakable. The tension in his shoulders eased, just a fraction at first, then more. His ears, which had been angled back in that constant state of alertness, lifted into a more natural, relaxed position. The tight lines around his mouth softened, the faint crease between his brows smoothing out.

For a brief, unguarded moment, he looked almost… blissed out.

Jisung felt something warm bloom in his chest as he watched it happen.

That.

That was what he had been looking for.

And somehow, impossibly, he had been the one to make it happen.

After that, things began to change in small, almost imperceptible ways.

The fox started staying a little longer. Not every time, and not for very long, but enough that he wasn’t just a fleeting presence anymore. Sometimes he lingered with his coffee, other times he even got himself one of the puddings all on his own, once again giving the bunny a glimpse into how the man looks when he’s more relaxed.

It was during one of those lingering visits that Jisung saw him properly interact with someone else.

Chan had taken over one of the tables that afternoon, as he often did, sheet music spread out in a loose, chaotic arrangement as he worked through something under his breath. Felix had mentioned that he had a few deadlines coming up soon, but the wolf hybrid still chose working at a cramped little café over his comfortable office chair, just so he could be closer to his mate.

At some point, the fox’s attention had shifted to him, gaze flicking curiously toward the scattered pages.

Jisung only caught the beginning of the interaction in passing, but Chan, as always, didn’t hesitate to pull someone into conversation. What started as a passing comment quickly turned into something longer, their voices low but animated as they continued talking.

When Jisung glanced over again after tending to another customer, he almost didn’t recognize the expression on the fox’s face.

He looked relaxed.

Engaged.

At one point, Chan laughed at something he said, and the fox responded with a small, genuine smile - quick, but unmistakably real.

Jisung’s heart skipped.

So it did exist.

And it looked even better than he had imagined.

Now what in the world did he have to do to have that smile directed at him…

The question looped in his head far longer than it should have, spinning off into increasingly impractical ideas as he half-heartedly wiped down the milk frother in his hands. His movements had gone absentminded somewhere along the way, muscle memory carrying him through the task while his thoughts wandered somewhere far less productive. 

He was so deep in thought, in fact, that the sudden presence beside him nearly made him drop the frother entirely.

“Goddess, he’s here again,” Jeongin said casually, as if the bunny's soul hadn’t just attempted to leave his body.

He blinked rapidly, trying to reorient himself, Jeongin’s words not quite registering at first.

“…Who? Channie-hyung?” he asked, still a little dazed. “He’s always here. You should be used to it by now.”

Jeongin huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he leaned his hip against the counter. “No. Minho.”

Jisung paused, feeling like he was missing something important. 

“Who?” he asked again, slower this time, like the answer might somehow change if he gave it another chance.

Jeongin turned his head just enough to look at him properly, something amused flickering across his expression. “My brother,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

For a second, Jisung just stared at him.

Then his eyes went wide - alarmingly, comically wide - as the words finally landed.

His head snapped toward the seating area so fast it was a miracle he didn’t give himself whiplash. His gaze locked onto the now very familiar figure sitting across from Chan, posture more relaxed than Jisung had ever seen it, ears angled forward in quiet attention.

Then he looked back at Jeongin.

Then back at Minho.

Then back to Jeongin again.

“How has that never come up before?” he demanded, his voice pitching up in disbelief, a very clear whine slipping into his tone despite his best efforts to remain dignified.

Jeongin only shrugged, completely unbothered by the crisis unfolding beside him. “I’m not sure,” he said, though the slight smirk tugging at his lips suggested he was enjoying this far more than he should have.

Jisung had to physically restrain himself from making a scene.

Because suddenly everything tilted just slightly off balance on the axis of Jisung’s mind.

He had gotten used to thinking of Minho in a very specific way - as the grumpy regular who kept coming back for reasons Jisung couldn’t quite figure out, who existed almost separately from the rest of his life in the neat, contained space of the café.

But now…

Now that neat little box didn’t exist anymore.

Now Minho had a place here that had nothing to do with Jisung.

The thought settled awkwardly in his mind, refusing to fit cleanly no matter how he tried to turn it. Because that meant Minho hadn’t just wandered in by chance one day and decided to keep coming back. It meant there had always been a connection Jisung hadn’t known about, something just out of sight the entire time.

And somehow, that made everything feel… different.

But now was not the time for mental breakdowns.

“…Why is he talking to Chan-hyung?” he asked instead, because that felt like a safer, more manageable question. Something he could focus on that wouldn’t immediately send him into an existential crisis.

Jeongin followed his line of sight with an easy glance. “I’ve told him plenty of stories,” he said. “About work. About Felix. And his wolfie boyfriend who works here all the time.” He shrugged lightly. “He probably just recognized him or something.”

That… made sense.

Jisung nodded slowly, though his attention kept drifting back anyway, eyes flicking toward Minho before he could stop himself. There was something almost unfair about how different he looked compared to the guarded version Jisung was used to.

“…Do you tell him anything about me?” Jisung asked, trying very hard to sound casual and failing just a little bit.

Jeongin glanced at him again, one eyebrow lifting in mild surprise before his expression softened into something apologetic. “Not really,” he admitted. “We don’t actually work together that much. I spend more time with Felix in the kitchen than I do out here with you.”

Jisung’s mouth pulled into an immediate pout.

“Now that won’t do,” he muttered, making Jeongin snort quietly.

“Well,” Jisung continued, straightening slightly as a new determination settled in, “I guess I’ll just have to fix that.”

“Oh?” Jeongin’s tone turned amused again.

“I’ll come bother you more often,” Jisung said, as if this was a perfectly reasonable decision. “Now that you’re full-time, we should get to know each other better anyway.”

Jeongin’s smirk widened, clearly seeing right through him, but he didn’t argue.

Jisung chose to take that as a win.

As if that revelation wasn’t enough to deal with, things took another turn not long after.

One day, Minho walked in with someone else.

Jisung noticed immediately. It would have been impossible not to. The person at his side was striking in an entirely different way - elegant where Minho was sharp, with sleek ferret ears and an effortless kind of beauty that drew the eye without trying.

They looked good together.

Really good.

Jisung felt something unpleasant twist in his chest before he could stop it.

It made sense, didn’t it? Someone like Minho wouldn’t be alone. And naturally, if he wasn’t, the person he chose would be just as beautiful as the fox.

Jisung forced himself to stay professional as he took their order, keeping his expression neutral even as his thoughts refused to settle, going a mile a minute.

His nose twitched faintly, a subconscious reaction kicking in as his thoughts shifted tracks.

There was no territorial edge in the air, nothing that suggested attachment in the way Jisung had come to recognize it in others.. If anything, Minho smelled exactly the same as he always did.

That was… odd. Though maybe this was a new development in the fox’s life?

Jisung frowned slightly, his attention sharpening as he watched them approach the counter. Up close, the dynamic felt different too. Easy. Familiar. 

He was still trying to place it when their voices carried back toward the counter, light enough to blend into the café’s usual noise, but clear enough for certain words to stand out.

“I hope your date goes horribly,” Minho said lightly, a smirk evident in his tone as he nudged the ferret with his elbow.

The beautiful ferret hybrid rolled his eyes, but there was no real irritation behind it, just a quiet sort of fond exasperation. “Oh fuck off,” he muttered.

The word landed instantly, and just as quickly, everything rearranged itself again. 

They weren’t together.

Jisung felt the shift physically, the tension draining out of his shoulders all at once as relief spread warm and sudden through his chest.

He ducked his head quickly, turning back to the cash register in a poor attempt to look busy as a small, entirely uncontrollable smile tugged at his lips.

For no reason at all.

Definitely no reason.

~~~

The weeks that followed should have made things clearer.

Instead, they only made everything more confusing.

Minho kept coming in consistently, but every time Jisung felt like he was getting somewhere - like maybe, just maybe, there had been a shift - it would reset again. 

A softer glance one day would be gone the next. A slightly longer pause at the counter would disappear back into clipped, efficient exchanges. It felt like trying to hold onto something that refused to stay still, like progress that unraveled the moment Jisung looked at it too closely.

So nothing ever changed in the ways that really mattered.

He still came in tense, shoulders tight, ears angled back like he was bracing for something. He still kept conversation to a minimum, still responded to Jisung’s attempts at light teasing or gentle flirting with little more than a polite acknowledgment, if that. There were moments, yes, small ones that kept Jisung hooked, but they never lasted long enough to build on.

What made it worse was that no one else seemed to know who Jisung was talking about.

At some point, desperate for a second opinion, or at least confirmation that he wasn’t imagining things, Jisung had started asking the other baristas about him. Just casually, slipped into conversation between orders, framed like curiosity rather than the borderline fixation it had become.

A few recognized the vague description, but only barely, like they might have seen him once or twice, but most of them had no idea who Jisung was talking about. No one described him as a regular. 

Which meant-

Jisung groaned, pressing his forehead into the stack of student papers he was grading one evening, his ears drooping all over the pages.

It meant Minho was coming in specifically when he was there.

And somehow, that made even less sense.

Because why would he do that if he didn’t even seem to like him?

That question lingered, unanswered, building quietly in the back of Jisung’s mind until it became something heavier than simple curiosity.

By the time next Monday rolled around, Jisung was already at the end of his rope.

The weekend had been a disaster from start to finish. His heat had hit harder than usual, restless and relentless, leaving him with barely any sleep and an aching, lingering exhaustion that clung to his bones. 

On top of that, he’d had to scrap an entire section of his thesis - weeks of work now gone just like that after realizing the data he’d been working with didn’t support the conclusions he’d been trying to build. 

Now he was behind.

And tired.

And fraying at the edges in a way that made everything feel just a little too overwhelming.

By the afternoon, he was already running on fumes.

So when he messed up an overly complicated order - something ridiculous with far too many customizations - and the customer sharply snapped at him, it was enough to tip him over completely.

He held it together just long enough to finish the interaction, and quickly slipped into the back before anyone could notice his red eyes.

The café had already passed the morning rush, the lull settling in comfortably, which meant there was no immediate pressure to return. Jisung leaned against the wall, dragging in a shaky breath that didn’t quite steady him, trying to remember the breathing exercises he had once looked up online. His ears had fallen completely, heavy and limp against the sides of his head, and his tail gave a weak, agitated twitch behind him.

“Get it together,” he muttered to himself, scrubbing at his face with the back of his sleeve.

It didn’t work.

The tears came anyway, frustrating and unwelcome, slipping past his attempts to blink them away. He squeezed his eyes shut, pressing the heel of his hand against them as if that might stop them flowing, as if he could physically push the emotion back down.

It took longer than he would have liked to pull himself together, but he was thankful that he could have this moment to himself.

Eventually, the worst of it ebbed. His breathing evened out, the tightness in his chest loosening just enough to function. He sniffed, wiped his face one last time, and straightened, forcing his ears up even if they didn’t quite hold their usual bounce.

It would have to be enough.

Then the bell above the door chimed.

Jisung’s head lifted automatically, the familiar instinct kicking in despite everything else, and for a brief moment, he tried to put on his usual bright expression.

It didn’t last.

Because of course it was him.

Minho stood just inside the doorway, shaking off his hood from the drizzle that had started up outside, his gaze already scanning the space before settling, inevitably, on Jisung.

Something in Jisung’s chest twisted.

It felt unfair, suddenly. Completely, irrationally unfair.

Because there he was again, showing up only to stand there with that same guarded expression, those same pinned-back ears, that same distance Jisung had been trying and failing to close for weeks.

A walking reminder of everything Jisung hadn’t managed to do.

He tried to smile.

He really did.

But the moment Minho stepped closer, something in his expression faltered. The edges of that smile trembled, pulling unevenly, and Jisung could feel it slipping out of his control, twisting into something fragile and wrong.

Minho’s expression shifted.

Confusion flickered across his face, quick and unguarded, and that was all it took.

Jisung’s vision blurred again.

The bunny sniffled, and then, before he could stop himself, before he could shove it back down or redirect or think-

“Why do you keep coming here when I’m working if you don’t even like me?”

The words spilled out all at once, unfiltered, carried on the tail end of everything he had been holding in for far too long.

They both froze.

But it was too late.

Because once he started, he couldn’t seem to stop.

“I asked the others about you,” he continued, voice wavering, hands curling uselessly at his sides. “They barely even knew who I was talking about, which means you don’t come in when they’re here… only when I am… and I just- I don’t understand…”

His throat tightened, his words stumbling over each other as emotion surged back up, stronger this time.

“You always look at me like you’d rather be anywhere else,” he went on, tears slipping free again despite his best efforts. “You come in with that same grumpy face, your ears all pinned back, and you never talk to me, and I thought maybe I was doing something wrong or maybe you just didn’t like me, but then you keep coming back and-”

His voice cracked.

“And you do smile,” he said, softer now, almost wounded. “I’ve seen it. You smile at other people. You smile when you’re with Chan-hyung and when you’re eating the pudding, and your nose crinkles a little and your eyes…” He let out a small, broken laugh. “Your eyes do that thing, and you look so-”

His breath hitched.

“So pretty,” he finished helplessly.

The words hung there, heavy and unfiltered.

“And it’s never because of me,” he added, quieter now, like the admission had taken something out of him.

He scrubbed at his face again, barely aware of what he was saying anymore, the thoughts just… spilling out.

“You even do that thing with the spoon when you like something,” he mumbled, half-sniffling. “Like a little- like- you just-” He gestured vaguely, frustrated. “And it’s cute, okay? It’s really cute, and I noticed, and I just-”

He let out a shaky breath.

“The only time you didn’t look at me like that was when I asked about your cats,” he said, voice dropping further. “And I thought maybe that meant something, but then it just went back to normal, and I don’t- I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with that…”

Jisung couldn’t even properly see anymore, his vision still blurred, his head spinning slightly from the emotional whiplash of it all. Minho hadn’t said a single word through any of it, hadn’t interrupted, hadn’t reacted in any obvious way, and somehow that felt worse.

Because now that it was over, now that everything had been said, reality started creeping back in.

“Oh goddess,” Jisung whispered, horror dawning as clarity returned. “I’m so sorry, I- you didn’t even order yet, I shouldn’t have-” He wiped at his eyes again, forcing himself to look up, fully expecting Minho to be gone, never to be back again.

Instead, he was still there.

And he was smiling.

Not the small, fleeting thing Jisung had only ever caught glimpses of before, not something half-hidden or quickly suppressed, but a real, open smile that softened his entire face. His eyes curved gently, warmth settling into them in a way Jisung had never seen directed at him before, something almost… Fond.

Jisung’s breath caught, and everything else around him fell away. The embarrassment, the panic, the lingering ache in his chest - all of it quieted under the sheer, overwhelming rightness of that expression, making Jisung still completely and just stare.

Minho let out a quiet, breathy chuckle.

The sound was soft, almost disbelieving, and it sent something warm fluttering through Jisung’s chest before he could stop it.

Jisung blinked.

He- he laughed. 

What a pretty sound!

That he made!

At Jisung!

Wait…

The realization snapped something back into place just enough for the rest of his awareness to come rushing in all at once.

Including the part where he had just, very publicly, poured his entire heart out in the middle of the café.

Jisung’s expression tightened immediately, his brows pulling together as embarrassment and suspicion tangled together in his chest.

“Why are you smiling?” he demanded, his voice still unsteady, though he tried to force some bite into it.

Minho’s smile softened rather than disappearing, shifting into something a little more careful at the edges, like he was aware he might be standing on uncertain ground. The tips of his ears flushed faintly pink, a detail Jisung would have fixated on under different circumstances.

“I think,” Minho started slowly, his gaze flicking over Jisung’s face like he was still taking something in, “I might have misunderstood you.”

Jisung frowned.

“…What do you mean?”

Minho hesitated, just for a moment, then let out a small breath, one hand coming up to rub lightly at the back of his neck. The gesture felt oddly out of place on him - too unsure, too human compared to the composed, distant version Jisung had gotten used to.

“That first day,” he said, choosing his words carefully, “when I came in… you were with Jeongin.”

Jisung blinked, confusion knitting his brows together.

“Yeah?” he said. “We work together.”

Minho nodded once, but his expression shifted, something more uncertain slipping through.

“You-” he paused, then tried again. “You grabbed his face. And then you leaned in and tried to-” He gestured vaguely, clearly struggling to spit it out. “Kiss him.”

There was a brief, suspended moment where the words hovered between them.

And then-

Understanding hit Jisung like a truck.

His eyes widened.

“Oh my goddess,” he breathed.

The memory snapped into place instantly - the flour smudged on Jeongin’s cheek, the way Jisung had laughed and brushed it off, the exaggerated kissy noises he had made just to annoy him, leaning in purely for the reaction.

He stared at Minho, horror dawning in real time.

“You thought I was coming onto him?!” he screeched, the realization unfolding out loud, his voice climbing with disbelief.

Minho didn’t answer immediately, but the faint tightening of his shoulders, and the deepening pink colour of his ears, was answer enough.

Jisung made a strangled noise, dragging both hands over his face.

“But that’s the baby!” he said, his voice muffled behind his palms. 

“I am aware,” Minho said dryly, though there was a thread of something sheepish underneath it now.

Jisung let out a disbelieving laugh, the last of the earlier tension unravelling under the sheer absurdity of it.

“And you just- what- decided I was some kind of predator and never questioned it?” Jisung pressed, dropping his hands to stare at him incredulously. “Never cleared it up with your brother?”

Minho winced, but didn’t deny it.

“I didn’t,” he said. “It… never came up.”

Jisung gaped at him.

“It never came up,” he repeated, then muttered under his breath, “Damn alphas…”

For a moment, neither of them said anything.

And then Minho cleared his throat, straightening just slightly.

“Look,” he said, a little more firmly now, “it’s really hitting me how stupid this whole thing is. And I’m really sorry. Can we just… start over?”

“Start over?”

“Yeah,” Minho extended his hand across the counter, giving Jisung a cute smile. “Lee Minho. Pleasure to meet you.”

Jisung chuckled, looking back at Minho - the person who had been frustrating him for weeks, who had confused him, drawn him in, and driven him slightly insane…

He reached out and took his hand.

“Han Jisung.”

“Um,” he said, glancing toward the door as it jingled with a new customer, “I know you’re working, but I’d like to apologize properly. Do you like bubble tea?” He asked suddenly, his tail slashing around nervously.

Something warm bloomed in Jisung’s chest, his earlier tears now dry and forgotten.

“I love bubble tea,” he said softly. “I finish at eight.”

Minho’s smile widened, something almost triumphant in it.

“I’ll wait up.”

From that moment on, things began to change.

Their first outing was simple. Just bubble tea and a slow walk afterward, the kind that stretched longer than either of them had planned. 

Conversation came easier than Jisung could have ever imagined, unhurried and warm, filled with small confessions and half-finished thoughts that didn’t need to be polished to be understood. 

At some point that evening they exchanged numbers. It happened casually, like it was the most natural next step in the world, but Jisung still felt a little thrill run through him when Minho’s name appeared on his screen for the first time.

Then, not long after, their social media.

At first, it was slow. Jisung would send something small - a cat video, a meme, something funny he saw and thought of the fox - testing the waters without any real expectation.

Minho’s replies were minimal. Sometimes just a single word, or an emoji, or a reaction sent hours later.

Jisung didn’t mind. Not really. He had expected that much, given everything he already knew.

But then, something shifted.

It wasn’t even gradual, not really. One day it was the occasional reply, and the next it was a steady stream - memes, posts, random thoughts, and an almost excessive number of cat photos sent at all hours with little to no context, as if Minho had simply taken them and decided Jisung should see them too.

And there were so many cat photos.

Sometimes there were captions, too. Short, blunt, occasionally dry in a way that made Jisung laugh out loud when he read them.

This one looks like you.
(attached: a rabbit dramatically flopping over)

Jisung had stared at that message for a solid thirty seconds before dissolving into helpless giggles, his ears going warm as he typed out an indignant response.

Not that he was complaining.

No, if anything, it was the opposite.

Jisung found it… Endearing didn’t even begin to cover it.

And with each passing day, each message, each small, unguarded moment, Jisung found himself falling a little more.

Minho still came into the café, but now, instead of that tight, braced tension, he carried something looser in his posture. His shoulders weren’t as rigid. His ears didn’t pin back the moment he stepped through the door, instead flicking forward as his gaze found Jisung almost immediately. His tail, once restless, now moved in slow, easy arcs behind him, giving away more than he probably realized.

And he smiled. 

Often.

At Jisung.

It had taken some getting used to.

The first few times, Jisung had nearly short-circuited on the spot, his brain stuttering as it tried to get used to this new version of Minho - the one who leaned against the counter just a little longer than necessary, who let his gaze linger, who huffed out quiet laughs at Jisung’s jokes like he actually enjoyed them, who couldn’t stop complimenting the latte art Jisung worked so diligently on.

For the first time since Minho had walked into his life, Jisung stopped wondering where he stood, and simply let himself be happy in that moment.

~~~

Jisung woke up with a light chest and a soft, lingering smile already tugging at his lips. The sunlight filtering through his curtains felt warmer than usual, golden and gentle against his skin, and for a few quiet moments he simply laid there, basking in it.

He felt good - better than good, actually - even though he and Minho had stayed up far too late the night before, texting each other long past the point where they had both already said their goodnights. Twice.

Jisung was happy. Incredibly so.

And yet, as he stared up at the ceiling, there was a small, persistent feeling niggling in his chest that something was missing, like a piece of a puzzle that hadn’t quite clicked into place yet, no matter how perfect everything else seemed.

Jisung knew that Minho was attracted to him. He wasn’t oblivious, no matter how much his friends liked to joke about it. 

It was clear from the way Minho looked at him when he thought Jisung wasn't paying attention, in the way his voice softened just slightly, in the way he lingered, always just a little longer than necessary. 

And Jisung hadn’t exactly been subtle either, not from the very beginning. If anything, he’s been the opposite of subtle. 

So why wasn’t Minho doing anything about it?

Jisung turned onto his side, tugging his blanket up slightly as his brows knit together in mild frustration. It didn't make sense. Not when everything else between them felt so… aligned.

Unless…

His ears twitched faintly as the thought settled in.

It could be because of that first day. Because of the misunderstanding that still lingered between them, even if neither of them brought it up anymore. 

Minho had completely misread the situation back then, and ever since, he had been careful - deliberate in the way he approached Jisung, always making sure he didn’t cross a line, always giving him space to pull away if he wanted to. 

They had been taking things slow, almost painstakingly so, and Minho had proven himself to be a real gentleman in every sense of the word. Nothing like the predator alphas Jisung had been warned about since he was just a pup, all sharp instincts and overwhelming presence, the kind his family always told him to be careful around.

But Jisung wasn’t going to lie to himself either.

Because the fact that Minho was a predator - directly so, in every biological sense - was kind of… hot. 

More than kind of, if he was being honest. 

His ears warmed at the thought, and he let out a small, embarrassed huff into his pillow, burying his face in it for a second before rolling onto his back again.

There was something about the way Minho carried that strength, that quiet power, and still chose to be gentle with him, soft-spoken, careful in a way that felt intentional rather than restrained. It did things to Jisung’s thoughts that he probably shouldn’t have dwelled on as much as he did.

And maybe that was exactly the problem.

Because Jisung had never been a particularly patient person. He didn’t like waiting around for things to happen, especially not when he knew what he wanted. And right now… he knew exactly what he wanted.

So if Minho wasn’t going to make a move - Jisung would.

Over the next few days, Jisung quietly set his plan into motion. He reached out to a few coworkers, asking around to see if anyone would be willing to swap shifts with him, carefully working things so that Minho would still come by the café after work as usual. Once everything fell into place, the rest came together almost too easily.

By the time Friday morning rolled around, Jisung woke up with a sense of anticipation humming under his skin. 

He took his time in the shower, letting the water run hot as he scrubbed his skin with his favorite sugar scrub until it felt soft and smooth, lingering longer than necessary as his thoughts drifted, inevitably, back to Minho. To his broad shoulders, to the strength in his arms, to the way he looked in those gym selfies he’d been sending lately, completely unprompted. 

Jisung had been blessed with multiple of them over the past few weeks, and there was no way Minho didn’t know what that did to him, what it did to his already overactive imagination.

His movements slowed, distracted, hands pausing where they shouldn’t be right now. Jisung couldn’t help but wrap his hand around himself, already hard from just the thought of those photos.

He let his head tip back against the tile, eyes falling shut as those images resurfaced - half-damp hair, clinging fabric, the sharp lines of muscle caught in bad lighting that somehow made it even worse.

Jisung’s hand sped up, working over his length with a one track mind, the suds of his favourite body wash making the glide smooth. 

Everything narrowed, his focus slipping inward, consumed by the feeling, by the way his body responded so easily, so instinctively, to thoughts of Minho. He came just moments later with a quiet groan, leaving him breathless.

Jisung stayed there for a moment longer, catching his breath as the running water washed away any evidence of this quick tryst as quickly as it had come.

After the shower, he went through his full hair-care routine, making sure every detail was just right. His hair was styled perfectly, each curl sitting exactly where it should, his ears and tail soft and well-groomed. He applied sunscreen, then just the tiniest bit of makeup to accentuate his eyes, knowing exactly what he was doing. 

Minho was a goner when Jisung played that up, when he let his eyes go wide and expressive in that way that always seemed to catch the fox off guard. It was only fair to use one of his best assets to his advantage, especially if he planned on getting what he wanted by the end of the day.

His outfit was chosen just as carefully - a black tank top paired with a brown cropped leather jacket that sat just right on his frame, blue acid-washed baggy jeans hanging low on his hips, and a black belt that drew attention to how narrow his waist was, especially with the jacket accentuating it. 

When he finally stepped back to look at himself, he tilted his head slightly, lips curling in quiet satisfaction.

He looked edible. Perfect.

Satisfied, he gave his apartment a quick once-over, making sure nothing was out of place, then grabbed his favorite picnic blanket before heading out, excitement bubbling quietly in his chest.

Of course, Jisung had told Felix about the plan, and the kitty hybrid had immediately taken it upon himself to handle everything food-related, insisting Jisung not worry about a single thing.

So when Jisung stepped into the kitchen and saw the beautifully arranged picnic basket and cooler waiting for him by the door, it didn’t exactly surprise him, but that didn’t stop him from being impressed - both of them looked like they had been pulled straight off some impossibly aesthetic Pinterest board.

“Wow, this is so cute!” Jisung exclaimed, crouching down immediately to take a closer look, his eyes lighting up as he reached toward the basket. “Where did you even get all this?”

“Ah- no peeking!” Felix cut in quickly, waving his rolling pin at him in mock warning, though the bright smile on his face completely gave him away. “You unpack everything with your hopefully-after-today boyfriend.”

Jisung huffed out a laugh, but the words still made something warm bloom in his chest. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I try,” Felix grinned, before adding a little more casually, “I actually got the basket recently. Just haven’t had the time to break it in yet with how busy we’ve all been.”

At that, Jisung’s expression softened slightly. Felix wasn’t wrong. Between his thesis, his time spent with Minho, and everyone else juggling their own lives, they hadn’t really had a chance to just be together outside of work lately.

“We’ll have to change that soon,” Jisung said, offering him a warm, heart-shaped smile.

Felix mirrored it instantly. “Deal. Now go, and have fun,” he winked, before returning back to his dough.

When Minho walked in and saw Jisung behind the counter, dressed up and without his apron, he stopped right in his tracks. It was subtle, just a brief pause, but it was enough. For a second, maybe two, the world felt like it stilled, like everything narrowed down to the way Minho’s gaze settled on him, taking him in fully.

Then he smiled.

“What’s got you so dressed up today, bug?” he asked as he approached the counter, his tone light but threaded with something else Jisung couldn’t quite name.

“Well,” Jisung sing-songed, already turning to make Minho’s coffee like it was the most natural thing in the world, “you’re taking me on a date today.”

“I’m very excited,” he added as he handed over the drink, batting his eyelashes just enough to be noticeable.

“Am I now?” Minho smirked, his eyes darkening slightly with something unspoken.

“Mhm,” Jisung hummed, already making an iced americano for himself and placing it alongside Minho’s.

Minho barely had time to process before Jisung disappeared into the kitchen and came back out with the basket and cooler, heading straight for the entrance. He only made it a few steps before Minho moved, stepping directly into his path.

“Put those down,” Minho said, his voice firm, though his expression was anything but harsh.

“I can carry them just fine,” Jisung replied easily.

“I know you can, jagi,” Minho said, softer now, but no less certain. “But I want to do it for you. Now let’s switch.”

And just like that, Jisung was too caught off guard, too stuck on jagi, to protest as Minho took everything from him and replaced it with the coffee carrier instead, leaving the bunny standing there for a moment longer than necessary, still trying to process it.

Jisung had asked to borrow Chan’s car for the day, mostly because he didn’t really drive often enough to justify owning one himself, and also because it felt a little bit special - like this deserved something more than just walking or taking the bus. 

The drive itself was easy, familiar enough that Jisung didn’t have to think about the directions, but the atmosphere inside the car felt different, lighter, but also charged in a way that made his fingers tighten slightly around the steering wheel.

“Wow, I really thought you’d be a passenger princess, Sungie,” Minho chuckled from beside him, turning slightly in his seat to look at him, genuine surprise slipping through his teasing tone.

“My family has always been very big on making sure we could be independent when we grew up,” Jisung replied, glancing at him briefly before looking back at the road, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I don’t need to tell you that bunnies are usually seen as the weaker hybrids, so we were taught how to ‘survive and thrive,’ as my mom likes to call it.” He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head slightly at the memory.

“That’s really cool,” Minho said, nodding as he leaned back again. “My parents kind of tried the same. But ultimately decided it was better if Innie wasn’t given power tools.”

Jisung snorted at that, immediately picturing Jeongin in the café - clumsy in that endearing, slightly chaotic way - and honestly, it made perfect sense. “Yeah… that checks out,” he admitted, amused.

The park Jisung had chosen wasn’t too crowded, with a lake not too far from the main paths. 

They found a spot to settle down and the view was beautiful - the water reflecting the sky in soft ripples, and the breeze carried just enough warmth to make it comfortable without being overwhelming. It felt… right. Like the kind of place that matched the quiet excitement sitting in Jisung’s chest.

They spread the blanket out together, smoothing it down before settling in, and as Jisung reached for the basket, he glanced at Minho with a small, sheepish smile. “Just so you know, I actually have no idea what was in these,” he admitted. “Felix wouldn’t let me look.”

Minho huffed out a quiet laugh, clearly not surprised, and together they started unpacking everything piece by piece. 

The cooler revealed exactly what one might expect from a carefully planned picnic: chocolate-covered strawberries, a neat selection of cheeses, cured meats, cut fruits, small jars of jam and clotted cream, and even a few mini pizzas tucked neatly into containers. The basket held plates, cutlery, cups, a bottle of homemade lemonade, and fresh scones alongside small breads that still smelled faintly warm.

And then Jisung froze.

“…Is that-”

Minho leaned slightly closer, following his gaze, and then paused too.

There, sitting innocently among everything else was a bottle of lube.

“Felix!!” Jisung all but shrieked, staring at it like it had personally offended him.

There was a beat of silence.

And then they both broke.

The laughter came all at once, loud and uncontrollable, the kind that made it hard to breathe properly, their shoulders shaking as they tried, and failed, to compose themselves.

“Talk about subtle…” Minho managed between laughs, dragging a hand down his face.

“Oh, Felix is the furthest thing from subtle,” Jisung shot back, shaking his head, though he was still grinning. “Honestly, I should’ve expected this the moment he didn’t let me look inside.”

There was another brief pause as they tried to calm down, though the amusement still lingered, sitting warm between them.

“…No condoms, though,” Minho added after a second, giving him a very questionable wink, if you could call it that.

Jisung stared at him for half a second, and then lost it all over again.

Once they’d finally recovered, they set everything up properly, arranging the food between them as they sat cross-legged on the blanket. The conversation flowed easily, slipping into something comfortable and familiar as they picked at the food, sharing bites here and there, brushing fingers occasionally without pulling away too quickly.

Eventually, the moment settled.

There was a small pause in the conversation, the kind that wasn’t awkward, just quieter, and Jisung straightened slightly, clearing his throat as he gathered his thoughts.

“I think you might be wondering why you asked me on this date,” he started, but before he could finish, Minho reached out and gently took his hands, pulling them into his lap.

“No, jagi… let me,” Minho said softly, his expression shifting into something more serious, though still warm.

Jisung stilled.

“I know we didn’t really start off on the right foot, and that’s completely on me,” Minho continued, his thumb brushing lightly over Jisung’s knuckles as he spoke. “But getting to know you - really getting to know you, and not just the version I thought I saw that first day - has been the best part of my days.”

“You’re… easy to be with. And I don’t mean that in a simple way. I mean that being around you feels right. Like I don’t have to second guess every step I take.”

Jisung’s heart stuttered in his chest.

“So I asked you on this date,” Minho added, a small smile returning, “to ask if you’d do me the honor of becoming my boyfriend.”

There was a beat.

“Wait, really?” Jisung blurted, tightening his grip on Minho’s hands without even realizing it.

Minho huffed out a quiet laugh. “Yes, really-”

“Of course I want to be your boyfriend, are you crazy?!” Jisung cut him off, the words spilling out before he could stop them.

And then he moved.

He threw himself forward, knocking Minho back onto the blanket with a surprised sound, straddling his hips as he leaned down to kiss him. The kiss was anything but slow - it was bright and messy and filled with laughter, both of them still riding the high of the moment as their lips met again and again, making them breathless.

But slowly, it shifted.

The laughter faded into something quieter, the energy softening as the kiss deepened, becoming slower, more intentional. Minho’s hands settled on Jisung’s waist, holding him there, grounding him as their breathing changed, growing heavier, more in sync.

Jisung felt it - the shift, the line they were about to cross - and as much as part of him wanted to ignore it completely, he wasn’t planning on being arrested for public indecency in the middle of a park, so he pulled back first, just barely, his forehead resting lightly against Minho’s.

They were both flushed, both smiling brightly.

Minho reached up, brushing Jisung’s hair away from his face, his thumb trailing gently along his cheek, his expression so openly fond that it made something in Jisung’s chest ache in the best possible way.

After having some snacks and feeding each other strawberries - Jisung very deliberately holding one just a hair too far away before letting Minho take a bite - they eventually shifted, lying down side by side on the blanket, their shoulders brushing. 

The sky above them stretched wide and blue, dotted with slow-moving clouds that drifted lazily across their view, and for a while, they simply existed like that, talking about nothing and everything all at once. They pointed out shapes in the clouds, arguing over what each shape was supposed to be, bickering in that easy, playful way that had become so natural between them, neither of them willing to admit when the other might be right.

At some point, they both turned onto their sides, facing each other instead of the sky. The ground beneath them wasn’t exactly comfortable, a little too firm, but neither of them made any move to adjust. It didn’t seem to matter - not when the view had changed to something far more distracting.

They fell into conversation again, this time about a new anime that had just come out, something they had both been meaning to start. Jisung was halfway through explaining why he thought the innocent looking character might turn out to be evil when a sharp, sudden ache curled low in his stomach, making him wince before he could stop himself.

It was subtle.

But Minho noticed immediately.

His expression shifted, concern settling in just as quickly as his body tensed, his tail giving a small, restless flick behind him. “What’s wrong?” he asked, already pushing himself up slightly, his voice quieter now, more focused.

Jisung waved a hand lightly, forcing a small smile as the discomfort faded just as quickly as it had come. “It was just a cramp,” he said, brushing it off. “Stupid preheat. Nothing to worry about.”

“Heat?!” Minho repeated instantly, sitting up properly now, his brows pulling together. “Do you need to go home? Do you need to nest?”

The shift from relaxed to genuinely worried made something warm bloom in Jisung’s chest, and he slowly pushed himself up as well, unable to hide the soft, fond smile that spread across his face.

“Calm down, love,” he said gently, the endearment slipping out without much thought. “I’m not going to go into heat in the next five minutes. Sometimes preheat can last a couple of days.”

Minho exhaled, his shoulders lowering slightly, though the concern didn’t fully leave his expression. “Oh,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Okay. But tell me if you’re in pain. Or if you need to go home. Or if I can help.” The words started to come faster, a little more scattered. “Sorry, I don’t have any omegas in my family. I’m a bit new to this.”

And just like that - Jisung felt it.

Suddenly Jisung stood at the edge of a cliff, far too high to see the bottom clearly - only the promise of something waiting there, something that felt unmistakably like love. And he was already leaning forward, already past the point of hesitation, ready to dive headfirst with no parachute, no safety net - just straight down. 

He let out a small breath, steadying himself, before explaining, “I have heats more often than most omegas,” he said, his tone lighter, though there was honesty threaded through it. “The whole stereotype about bunnies being insatiable didn’t exactly come out of nowhere.”

Minho’s gaze darkened slightly at that, something shifting behind his eyes as he looked at him. “That sounds like the furthest thing from a problem,” he said, his voice dipping just a fraction lower.

Jisung huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “I’d agree, if it didn’t hurt so much half the time,” he admitted. “It’s not exactly fun when your body decides to ruin your week.”

That wiped the hint of teasing right off Minho’s face, his expression turning serious again. “Does anything help?” he asked, leaning in just slightly, his attention fully fixed on Jisung now.

Jisung hesitated for a second, then shrugged lightly. “Another person can, in theory,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “An alpha, specifically. But I’ve never really… gone for that. I haven’t had the time, and flings were never really my thing.” His nose wrinkled faintly. “A lot of people don’t really see omegas in heat as people in need of care. More like an opportunity.”

Minho nodded slowly, his jaw tightening just slightly, but he didn’t interrupt, letting Jisung finish.

“If I needed comfort, I could always ask Felix,” Jisung added after a moment, his tone softening again.

That earned him a small frown. “Chan isn’t territorial?” Minho asked, tilting his head slightly. “Wolf hybrid and all.”

Jisung snickered at that, the sound bright and easy. “Chan? Please. He’s basically a big puppy,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “They trust each other. A lot.”

Minho hummed softly, nodding again, and for a moment, the conversation fell into a quiet lull. Not awkward, but softer, more settled.

Then Minho’s lips twitched.

His expression shifted, something mischievous slipping back into place as he glanced at Jisung. “So,” he started slowly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “how often do you think they roleplay the whole ‘big bad wolf and helpless kitten’ act?”

Jisung stared at him for half a second, before he burst out laughing.

“Hyung,” he said through it, shaking his head, “you do not want to bet against me on that one. Because I know the exact answer.”

Minho’s expression immediately changed. “...Actually, never mind,” he cut in quickly, holding up a hand. “I don’t want to know.”

That only made Jisung laugh harder, the sound loud and unrestrained as he tipped back slightly, his shoulders shaking. And Minho, despite himself, ended up laughing too, softer but just as genuine.

The moment lingered there, warm and bright and just a little bit breathless.

And somehow, everything felt exactly where it was supposed to be.

~~~

It started getting darker, the golden warmth of the afternoon slowly giving way to softer, cooler hues as the sun dipped lower in the sky. The air followed suit, a gentle chill settling in, making it clear the day was winding down. 

Most of the food had been thoroughly demolished, leaving behind only crumbs and empty containers, and both of them were pleasantly full, their limbs feeling heavy and relaxed. 

Jisung stretched slightly as he stood, a quiet groan escaping him as he unbuckled his belt with a small, sheepish grin. “I might’ve overdone it,” he muttered, though there was no regret in his voice, only contentment.

Minho watched him with a soft, amused look, his tail flicking once in quiet acknowledgment, though his gaze lingered perhaps a second longer than necessary.

Packing up the car didn’t take long, falling into an easy rhythm between them. But once everything was put away and the doors shut, something shifted. The air between them felt thicker somehow, charged with something unspoken.

Jisung leaned casually against the car for a moment before glancing at Minho, his expression shifting into something more playful. He bit his lip and tilted his head slightly, lashes lowering in a way that looked anything but innocent. 

“Do you wanna come over?” he asked, voice light but laced with suggestion.

Minho’s eyes darkened almost instantly, something sharp and instinctive flickering behind them. His ears twitched, tail swaying slowly behind him. “Yeah,” he said simply, but there was weight behind it - something that made Jisung’s pulse skip.

The drive was quiet, but not in an awkward way. It was the kind of silence that pressed in, thick with anticipation. The closer they got to Jisung’s apartment, the more palpable it became, settling over them like a second skin.

Jisung kept his eyes mostly on the road, but every now and then, he’d glance sideways. And every time, he caught movement - Minho’s tail, swishing slowly. Not restlessly, no.

It was focused.

Intent.

It sent a shiver down Jisung’s spine, one that had nothing to do with the evening chill.

By the time they pulled into his reserved spot and the engine cut off, the silence felt almost deafening. For a brief moment, neither of them moved.

Jisung’s fingers tightened slightly around the steering wheel as a thought crossed his mind - he imagined throwing himself across the space between them, pressing Minho back into the seat, kissing him until neither of them could think straight anymore.

But the thought alone made something coil tight in his stomach, and he knew that if he started here, they might never make it upstairs.

So instead, he turned, flashing a grin that didn’t quite hide the heat behind it.

“Come on,” he said, voice lighter than he felt, punctuated with a small wink and the faintest bite of his lip. “Let’s go upstairs.”

The walk to the apartment was deceptively calm, their hands occupied with bags that kept them from touching, though the absence of contact only seemed to heighten the awareness of it.

Every step felt measured, every glance fleeting but loaded, the quiet between them stretching thinner and thinner until it felt like it might snap at any second. 

When Jisung finally keyed in the code to his door and stepped inside, the familiar space of his apartment felt different - smaller, warmer, filled with the same thick tension that had followed them all the way home. 

He toed off his shoes absently and moved toward the kitchen, setting the bags down as he exhaled, but something made him pause before he could say anything, a subtle awareness prickling at the back of his neck.

Jisung realised just how quiet Minho had been, and when he turned around, the sight of the fox made his breath hitch.

Minho stood near the entrance, shoes off, the bags he had carried placed neatly at his feet. But everything about him - his posture, his gaze, the stillness of his body - felt anything but calm. His eyes were locked onto Jisung with a sharp, unwavering focus, tracking every small movement with precision.

His tail was no longer lazily swaying but cutting through the air with sharper motions, and his ears were pinned back - not in fear nor anger, but in something far more instinctual.

Recognition settled in Jisung’s chest, sharp and thrilling.

This wasn’t agitation.

This was a hunt.

And he was the prey.

A jolt of adrenaline shot through him, quick and electric, but it didn’t bring fear. It brought heat - low and coiling, pooling deep in his stomach and tugging at his groin.

Instead of backing away, Jisung leaned into it, slowing himself down deliberately as his fingers slipped to the edge of his jacket, tugging it off inch by inch, dragging the moment out in a way that felt almost indulgent. 

He could feel Minho’s gaze on him, heavy and consuming, following every inch of exposed skin as the fabric slipped down his shoulders, revealing the ink beneath - tattoos that stretched across his shoulders and down his arms in intricate patterns, disappearing beneath the edge of his tank top.

The jacket hit the floor with a soft thud that sounded far too loud in the charged quiet.

Minho froze completely, his tail halting mid-motion, his gaze sharpening further as it traced the lines of ink along Jisung’s arms.

When Jisung looked back up, the change in him was impossible to ignore - the slight parting of his lips, the unmistakable flash of fangs, the hunger that had settled openly into his expression now. 

Jisung’s tail twitched behind him, betraying the rush of excitement curling through him, and he pushed just a little further, taking a slow step back towards the bedroom. 

Minho’s gaze snapped to the movement instantly, and Jisung barely managed another step before instinct kicked in and he turned, bolting.

He barely made it into the bedroom before he was caught, lifted effortlessly as though he weighed nothing and tossed onto the bed belly down in one fluid motion, the impact knocking a breathless sound from his chest.

A second later, Minho was over him, pressing him down, caging him in completely, his weight settling heavy and solid as a low growl rumbled through his chest and into Jisung’s spine. It vibrated through him, deep and possessive, and Jisung shivered under it, his body reacting instantly, his cock twitching below all the layers of cloth.

“Where do you think you’re going, little bunny?” Minho’s voice was rough against his ear. 

The brush of his lips - then his tongue - against the shell of it made Jisung gasp, a soft whimper slipping out before he could stop it.

His body was already reacting, already too aware of everything at once - the weight, the closeness, the way Minho held him like he wasn’t going anywhere.

Like he couldn’t.

Jisung realised he was already hard, painfully so, slick slowly starting to gather between his cheeks.

Minho inhaled sharply, and the rumble that followed was deeper now, richer, threaded with satisfaction.

“You smell so good.”

His breath came quicker, uneven, his fingers curling into the sheets beneath him.

When Minho’s hands began to move, they weren’t hesitant, mapping him out with a confidence that made every touch feel intentional. 

The moment his fingers brushed against Jisung’s tail, the reaction was immediate - a soft, helpless moan escaping him as his body arched into the touch.

“So soft,” Minho murmured, more to himself than anything as he popped the button to free the bunny's tail, running his hand through it again, slower this time, making Jisung moan again, his thoughts blurring at the edges. “And so sensitive…”

When Minho lifted off him, the absence of the steady weight left Jisung cold and breathless, a quiet sound of protest slipping free.

“Roll over, baby.” The command was gentle, but firm, the kind of tone that didn’t need to be raised to be obeyed.

Jisung moved before he could even think to hesitate, his breathing still uneven as he turned onto his back just in time to see Minho pulling his shirt off in one smooth motion.

The sight made his stomach flip.

He’d seen the photos, looked back at them many times - the tight compression shirts, the droplets of sweat clinging to the tips of his hair, the teasing glimpses Minho had sent without comment - but this was different. There was nothing in the way now.

Broad shoulders, solid pecks, the subtle curve of a soft belly that made something in Jisung’s chest tighten rather than lessen. His mouth went a little dry, his gaze dragging, lingering, like he couldn’t quite decide where to look first and he definitely didn’t want to miss anything.

“Enjoying yourself?” Minho smirked, like he knew exactly where Jisung’s thoughts had gone.

Jisung huffed a quiet laugh, pushing himself up just enough to hook his fingers under the hem of his own tank top. “You’ve been sending me previews for weeks,” he shot back, voice light but edged, a challenge tucked neatly underneath. “What, am I not allowed to appreciate the full version?”

Minho’s eyes flicked to him then, sharp and intent, and something in them darkened even further.

“Careful,” he said softly. “You’re starting to sound a little greedy.”

Jisung only smirked at that, before pulling his tank top off and tossing it aside. 

Minho stilled - not frozen, but caught, his gaze dropping to Jisung’s chest and staying there, tracking over bare skin, more ink, over every line and curve like he was committing it to memory. 

And then it dropped lower, to the small glint at Jisung’s navel. The delicate chain. The subtle sway of it as Jisung shifted under the weight of Minho’s attention.

The charm caught the light.

A fox.

The sound that left Minho’s chest was a low, deep rumble - much deeper than before, something instinctive, something pleased, something that settled heavy in the air between them.

“...Now what,” he started, stepping closer, his voice dipping into something rougher than before, “made you wear something like this, jagiya?”

Jisung’s lips curled, pleased - too pleased, considering the way Minho was looking at him now.

“Well,” he said lightly, tilting his head just enough to expose more of his delicate neck to that gaze, “someone’s been taking his sweet time.” His eyes flickered up, meeting Minho’s without hesitation, the tease sharp and intentional. “Figured I had to get a little creative, you know, to make sure people knew I’m taken.”

A slow, dangerous look spread across Minho’s face. 

His hand came down on Jisung’s waist, firm enough to keep him exactly where he was. The fox leaned in without breaking eye contact, the space between them disappeared slowly, until Jisung could feel his breath hot on his skin. And then Minho pressed in, his nose brushing against Jisung’s stomach, dragging lower until it settled at his navel.

The contact was possessive.

A slow inhale. Another low rumble followed, vibrating against Jisung’s skin as Minho lingered there, nudging lightly against the piercing, the small fox charm catching against his skin.

“Is that so?” Minho murmured against him, voice muffled slightly but no less dangerous, his grip tightening just a fraction. “And pray tell, who exactly are you showing off your belly to, hm?” His nose brushed along the curve of Jisung’s stomach again, slower now, more deliberate.

Jisung’s breath hitched, but he forced the smirk to stay, even as heat coiled tighter in his gut. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he shot back, softer now, but still teasing, still pushing.

It lasted exactly two seconds.

Because Minho’s teeth sank in - not enough to break skin, but enough to pull a sharp, helpless whimper from Jisung’s chest before he could stop it. The sensation shot through him, sudden and electric, his back arching under the contact.

Minho pulled back just enough to look at him, his fangs on full display, his expression dark with something that looked dangerously close to satisfaction.

“I won’t ask again, little bunny,” he said quietly, the words almost gentle if not for the way they settled between them. His tongue brushed once over the spot he’d just bitten, slowly, soothing something he’d caused on purpose. “So think carefully.”

Jisung didn’t answer.

Couldn’t.

The first press of his lips against Jisung’s stomach was gentle.

The next wasn’t.

Minho lingered, nuzzling, mouthing, kissing, working his way upward with unhurried precision, like he had all the time in the world and every intention of using it. By the time he reached Jisung’s chest, the air between them felt thick, every nerve in Jisung’s body pulled tight and waiting.

Minho paused there, just for a moment, just long enough to let the silence settle again.

Then he leaned in close, his lips brushing Jisung’s ear, his voice dropping to something softer, but no less dangerous.

“Tell me if it’s too much, baby,” he purred, the faintest trace of a grin threading through his tone, something almost playful.

Whatever control Jisung thought he still had slipped clean through his fingers then.

Jisung’s back arched the moment Minho’s mouth closed around one of his nipples, a sharp, unrestrained moan tearing from his throat before he could even think to hold it back. His hands flew up on instinct, fingers tangling at the base of Minho’s fluffy ears, gripping just enough to earn a low, startled groan in response - the vibration sending another jolt straight through him. 

The fox kept abusing Jisung’s nipples until they were bitten red and swollen, even soothing licks felt fiery hot. Jisung couldn’t help squirming under him, moaning with abandon now. 

“So sensitive,” Minho murmured against his skin, amused in a way that made heat flare sharper in Jisung’s chest. 

His jeans were getting so uncomfortable, his cock straining the front of them with nowhere to go, his slick slowly soaking the back of them, seeping into the bedsheets below.

“Minho-” he started, but it broke apart into another soft cry when teeth pressed a little harder again, when lips followed to soothe in a way that only made everything worse.

“Mm,” Minho hummed again, like he wasn’t the least bit concerned. “Use your words, baby.”

Jisung couldn’t. Not properly. Not when his body was already ahead of him, reacting faster than he could keep up with, tension coiling tighter and tighter with nowhere to go. 

Minho must have taken pity on him, eventually starting a slow descent downwards, leaving fiery kisses in his wake.

When he reached the piercing again, he slowed further, the brush of his breath alone enough to make Jisung tremble.

“You really did this for me?” Minho breathed out, softer now, his fingers hooking lightly at Jisung’s waist to keep him still as he leaned in again. “Or were you hoping someone else might notice first?”

Jisung let out a shaky breath, his head tipping back. “You’re the one who took too long,” he managed, though the words lacked their earlier bite, sounding much needier at the edges.

Minho’s response came as a quiet huff, something between amusement and warning, as his fingers moved to the button of Jisung’s jeans. He paused there, just long enough to glance up, to catch Jisung’s expression, his pupils blown wide, his breathing uneven.

Jisung swallowed, nodding, the motion small but unmistakable.

That was all the permission Minho needed.

“Look at you,” Minho smirked. “So worked up already.”

The button came undone slowly, followed by the zipper, the sound loud in the charged quiet. His hands lingered at Jisung’s hips as he pushed the fabric of both his jeans and underwear down, dragging it away inch by inch, unhurried in a way that made Jisung’s breath catch again, anticipation twisting tighter with every second he was made to wait.

The cold air hitting his cock made him shiver, but it was nothing compared to the look on Minho’s face.

It wasn’t just hunger.

It was downright predatory.

“So perfect,” Minho sighed, his gaze dragging slowly over him, taking in every inch, as if Jisung were a four course meal, like he was something to be devoured.

And then Minho started moving again, back towards Jisung.

“No-” Jisung blurted out, the word leaving him sharper than he intended, immediate enough that Minho froze mid-motion, his brows pulling together in confusion.

Jisung huffed, something almost petulant slipping through despite everything, lifting his foot just enough to nudge at Minho’s jeans. “Those,” he said, breath still uneven. “Off.”

For a second, Minho just stared at him.

Then he laughed - low, quiet, pleased in a way that sent another shiver down Jisung’s spine.

“Bossy,” he purred, but there was no real argument in it, only amusement. “Alright. If that’s what you want.”

He didn’t rush.

Of course he didn’t.

Every movement was intentional, unhurried, like he was giving him a show to enjoy. 

And Jisung enjoyed every moment of it.

Saliva started rapidly gathering in Jisung’s mouth at the sight of his boyfriend’s undressed form. His cock was so hard, flushed a deep red, and a pearly drop of precum was already gathering at the tip, making Jisung lick his lips, a move that didn’t go unnoticed by the fox.

“See something you like?” he teased, a smirk curling into his voice as Jisung couldn’t take his eyes off the large cock in front of him.

He needed it inside him. Desperately.

Jisung swallowed, his tongue darting out briefly over his lips before he could stop himself.

That was answer enough.

Next thing he knew, Jisung was moving without thinking, turning to face the wall, and pressing his sensitive chest down into the mattress, presenting himself without hesitation, his tail twitching behind him in restless anticipation.

A rough groan sounded behind him, much closer than he expected, followed by the sudden warmth of Minho’s presence at his back.

“What a good bunny,” Minho rasped, voice dropping lower, closer, his hand sliding along the line of Jisung’s spine before settling at the base of his tail. “Look at you… presenting so nicely for me.”

Jisung let out a soft, broken whine at that, his body reacting instantly, his tail flicking again in response.

Minho’s fingers brushed along it softly, running a hand down its length before giving it a light tug at the end.

The sound Jisung made this time was completely uncontrolled.

“Yeah?” Minho asked, more purposeful as he did it again, just a little firmer this time. “You like that?”

Another pull.

Another helpless sound.

Minho exhaled slowly, something almost reverent threading through his tone. “Goddess,” he breathed, fingers curling lightly at the base. “I’ve been wanting to play with this tail for so long, baby, you have no idea… and you’re even more sensitive than I imagined.”

He tugged again.

And again.

Until Jisung was left a trembling, shaking mess beneath him, his slick flowing in thick rivulets down the backs of his thighs.

Minho moaned softly at the sight. “So good for me,” he hummed in delight. “Already falling apart for me so beautifully…”

Jisung hid his face, his floppy ears spilling over his folded arms and the pillow he pressed into, trying to muffle the loud moans he couldn’t control anymore. 

He was going to die tonight, he was sure of it. Nothing has ever felt like this before.

Jisung’s head snapped up with a sharp cry as Minho bit into his ass cheek, twisting to glare back at him over his shoulder. 

“Don’t hide your pretty sounds from me,” he purred, gently soothing the mark he’d left behind. 

Talking was too difficult, so Jisung could only whine in response, the sound breaking helplessly from his throat. But he didn’t hide again, lowering the pillow instead so his face stayed uncovered. 

“Such a good bunny.” 

The words sent a shiver through him. He was a good bunny. 

Minho’s hands kept drifting back to Jisung’s thighs, his hips, the soft curve of his ass like he couldn’t stop touching, squeezing, admiring. Every teasing touch made Jisung twitch harder beneath him, already sensitive enough that even the smallest touch felt overwhelming in the best way. 

He felt ridiculously hard, but something was stopping him from even trying to get a hand around himself. He wanted to be good.

Then, without warning, heat bloomed against him - a slow, wet glide of Minho’s tongue dragging right through the center of him in one long line.

The startled cry that tore out of Jisung was instantly answered by the low, pleased groan Minho gave against his skin. The vibration from it nearly made Jisung collapse forward.

“You taste so sweet.” The fox breathed into his skin.

The praise made Jisung shudder, his fingers curling uselessly into the sheets.

Minho hummed softly, almost smug, before diving back in with renewed enthusiasm, tongue slow one second and relentless the next, teasing broad licks up the length of him before focusing exactly where it made Jisung squirm the hardest. Every now and then Minho’s fingers brushed against his tail, tugging lightly just to hear the sharp little noises it pulled from him.

Jisung already felt so far gone. His entire body felt overheated, warm slick trailing down his thighs in thick rivulets while Minho kept him spread open beneath the relentless attention of his mouth. It was overwhelming - too much and nowhere near enough at the same time. The room felt too hot. His skin felt too tight. His brain felt nothing but pleasure, completely surrendering itself to the fox.

Minho finally pulled back enough to look at him properly.

“Baby,” he murmured, brushing damp hair away from Jisung’s forehead. “You’re burning up.”

Jisung only blinked at him slowly, dazed beyond reason.

Minho’s mouth curled faintly at the expression. “Are you going into heat?”

“Huh?” Jisung managed oh so eloquently as he shifted his hips restlessly, looking for friction.

Minho chuckled under his breath, entirely too entertained. “You’re getting really sensitive, and you’re very hot to the touch.” His hand slid down Jisung’s spine soothingly. “Is it your heat, sweetheart?”

“Maybe,” Jisung mumbled after a moment, but it was hard to focus on anything except the heat curling under his skin. “You’re really, really hot,” he complained weakly, eyes glassy as he looked back at Minho, pouting. “It’s your fault.”

The accusation was so pitiful that Minho laughed quietly again, leaning down to press a slow kiss against Jisung’s forehead.

“Is that so?”

“Yes,” Jisung whined instantly. “You started it.”

“Poor thing.” The sympathy in Minho’s voice would have sounded more convincing if he didn’t look so pleased with himself. “Does it hurt?”

Jisung huffed out an impatient sound and pushed his ass back shamelessly toward Minho again. “Not if you stop teasing me and actually do something.”

Minho raised an eyebrow. “You’re a bossy little thing, hm?”

Another frustrated wiggle of his ass was all he got in answer. Minho planted a quick peck on Jisung’s shoulder and dove back down. Then his fingers joined in.

One at first - slowly, carefully. Jisung gasped at the feeling, muscles tightening before gradually relaxing under Minho’s steady touch. Minho praised him through it constantly, telling him how good he was doing, how pretty he sounded when he whined like that.

A second finger followed eventually, stretching him further while Minho kept kissing along his thighs in between teasing licks that made Jisung’s cock leak precum helplessly.

By the time a third finger joined in Jisung could barely think at all.

Especially because Minho was teasing him on purpose - every brush of his fingers came painfully close to where Jisung needed him most before slipping away again at the last second. Close enough to make him hopeful, but never there.

“Minho,” Jisung complained, nearly breathless. “Please-”

“Please what?” Minho asked innocently, though his voice was laced with amusement. “Use your words, jagiya.”

Jisung pouted again, realising that his boyfriend was having fun with this. “You know what.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

Jisung made a wounded sound into the pillow. “Mean.”

Minho laughed softly and leaned down beside his ear. “Maybe. But you’re my good bunny, aren’t you?”

That only made Jisung whine louder, his breathing heavy, legs shaking from all the attention.

Minho kissed just beneath his ear, voice dropping lower. “Does my sweet bunny already want to cum?”

“Please,” Jisung breathed immediately, sounding desperate and wrecked. “Let me cum.”

Minho’s hand smoothed up his side almost comfortingly. “How many times do you think you can cum, jagi?”

Jisung blinked slowly, trying very hard to gather his words, his cloudy brain getting even more fuzzy now that he was aware of his heat.

Finally, he whispered, “However many times you want me to.”

Minho went still for half a second.

Jisung swallowed shakily before adding in a tiny, ruined whine, “Alpha…”

The reaction was immediate.

A low growl rumbled from Minho’s chest, deep enough that Jisung felt it everywhere. It sent a violent shiver through his entire body, his thighs trembling harder as Minho’s grip tightened possessively on his hips.

“There’s my good bunny,” Minho said roughly.

Then finally - finally - his fingers pressed against Jisung’s prostate, massaging it in relentless circles.

The pleasure hit so hard it stole the breath from his lungs.

Jisung cried out helplessly, colours bursting behind his closed eyelids as an intense orgasm crashed through him all at once, sharp and overwhelming and endless. It rolled through his whole body until he could barely feel where he ended and the pleasure began, leaving him trembling violently beneath Minho’s hands.

When his awareness slowly returned, everything felt soft around the edges.

Minho was gentler now, softly kissing and licking along his thighs, lapping away at the slick that had dripped out, murmuring sweet little praises against his skin.

“So pretty when you fall apart for me,” he whispered.

Jisung could only answer with a weak little sound, limbs limp and useless beneath him.

Minho stroked soothingly up his side. “You did so well, baby.”

For a few seconds, the only sounds in the room were their uneven breaths.

Then Jisung shifted restlessly beneath him with a small, unhappy whine. “Hurts,” he mumbled.

Minho stopped immediately, his fingers withdrawing carefully as his expression shifted into one of concern as he leaned closer. “Jagi?” he asked softly. “What hurts?”

The sudden loss of contact only made Jisung whine harder instead. “Empty,” he admitted miserably.

The expression on Minho’s face softened so quickly it almost hurt worse. He brushed his thumb over Jisung’s cheek gently. “Oh, sweetheart.” Minho tipped his chin up carefully until Jisung looked at him. 

“Tell me how to make it better, darling.”

Jisung swallowed hard before mumbling, “Lie down.”

Minho obeyed immediately and laid down for his bunny, his face swimming in interest.

Jisung climbed onto him slowly, still shaky, thighs trembling from exhaustion. 

Up close, Minho looked devastating - sandy blond hair damp at the temples, lips swollen red, pupils blown wide and fixed entirely on him.

Jisung knew he looked just as ruined. His chest was flushed all the way down, tattoos stark against heated skin, lips swollen and shiny, some spit glistening at the corner of his mouth. He caught the way Minho’s gaze dipped lower and lingered there, hungry enough to make his stomach twist.

Because somehow, despite everything, Jisung was already hard again.

“Goddess,” Minho muttered under his breath, almost sounding frustrated by how much he wanted him. “You’re unreal.”

Jisung leaned down to kiss him before he could get too shy under the attention, the kiss turning messy immediately.

Minho kissed like he did everything else - thoroughly, intensely. His hands settled on Jisung’s hips, holding him steady while their tongues moved together hot and slow. Jisung could feel the pleased hum that vibrated in Minho’s chest every time he whimpered into his mouth, every time his hips twitched involuntarily.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them breathing harder than before, Jisung pressed a hand against Minho’s chest and pushed him back down lightly.

Jisung shifted above him and lined himself up slowly, shivering at the anticipation of finally getting Minho’s cock inside him. Then, suddenly struck by curiosity at just how much power he really held in this moment, he glanced down at Minho and said softly, “Put your hands above your head.”

“Keep them there,” Jisung added, voice quieter, but no less firm.

Minho’s eyes darkened as the corner of his mouth curled upward in a slow, dangerous smile.

“Oh?” he murmured. “My bunny wants to give orders now?”

Jisung’s face burned, but he nodded anyway.

For a second Minho simply stared at him, clearly savoring the sight of Jisung trying to act brave while visibly shaking from anticipation. Then, without argument, he lifted his arms and rested them against the pillow, fingers curling tightly into the fabric.

Minho looked dangerous even while listening - his fangs pressing against his lower lip, eyes fixed on Jisung with an intensity that made him feel hunted despite technically being the one in control.

The power of it went straight to Jisung’s head.

He sank down slowly, breath catching immediately at the stretch, both of them groaning at the sensation. Minho tipped his head back against the mattress with a low curse, jaw tense as he forced himself not to grab him.

“That’s it,” Minho rasped, voice rougher than before. “Take your time. Doing so well for me, sweetheart.”

Jisung moaned softly, hands braced against Minho’s chest while he adjusted inch by inch, the copious amount of slick helping him smooth the way. The praise made everything worse - or better. He couldn’t tell anymore. Especially not when Minho kept looking at him like that, completely captivated.

Jisung’s head dropped forward with a broken sound, overwhelmed by how full he felt already.

By the time he fully settled into Minho’s lap, he was already trembling again, pleasure crashing through him so suddenly it stole the breath from his lungs. He came with a choked sound, collapsing forward against Minho’s chest while the fox swore softly beneath him. 

“There you go,” Minho murmured soothingly despite the obvious strain in his voice. “My pretty bunny.”

Jisung barely needed a minute before he was moving again.

When he sat back up, flushed and glassy-eyed, Jisung started up a quick pace, chasing friction with greedy little gasps, his cock bobbing along with the motions. Minho looked at him with open disbelief, his eyes fixed on every movement like he couldn’t believe Jisung was real.

“Look at you,” Minho groaned quietly. “So gorgeous like this.”

The praise made Jisung dizzy with confidence. As did the realisation that the predator beneath him was letting him lead, didn’t touch just because Jisung asked him not to.

Jisung picked up the pace and noticed how tightly Minho was gripping the pillow now, knuckles pale against the fabric, his breathing rougher than before. The fangs pressing against his lip looked as if they were about to break skin every time another moan escaped him, and Jisung loved it - loved seeing him so visibly affected.

But eventually his energy started to falter. His movements slowed, thighs trembling from exertion as he tried his best to keep himself upright.

“There you are,” Minho purred softly, his voice teasing again as he reached up to grip Jisung’s hips. “Knew my bunny would get tired eventually.”

The sudden shift in control made Jisung shiver.

Minho bent his knees and thrust upward sharply, stealing a startled cry from Jisung before setting a brutal pace that made the entire bed creak beneath them. Jisung immediately folded forward against him, overwhelmed by how easily Minho took over.

Every thrust was deep and precise, those strong thighs setting a relentless rhythm that stole every coherent thought from Jisung’s head.

“Oh my goddess- Minho!”

“That’s it,” Minho groaned against his ear, voice wrecked just as his. “You’re doing so well, jagi.”

He was completely lost in the heat of it, in Minho’s hands gripping his hips hard enough to leave marks, when suddenly he felt a new pressure against his rim.

Jisung’s breath caught as Minho’s gaze dropped down to where his cock was entering him, pupils blown wide.

“Is that-” Jisung gasped.

“Yeah,” Minho groaned roughly. “Gonna knot you. You want it?”

Jisung nodded immediately, too overwhelmed to form words at first. He’d never been knotted by anything other than his toys before. “P-please,” he finally managed, his voice wrecked.

“Good,” he whispered. “Such a good bunny.”

The pace somehow became even faster after that. Jisung’s vision blurred at the edges as Minho held him down against his chest and drove into him relentlessly, both of them trembling from how close they were. 

Jisung was just hanging on the edge of another orgasm when he felt Minho’s breath against his ear.

“My sweet bunny,” Minho growled, low and possessive. “My mate.”

Everything blurred together as Minho finally pushed his knot into him, the overwhelming fullness making Jisung cry out loudly as pleasure crashed through him in blinding waves, cumming all over himself and hitting Minho up to his chin. 

Minho followed right after with a deep growl against Jisung’s neck, filling Jisung up with warm cum, the feeling making his already spent cock spurt out a few more ropes.

The fox immediately wrapped both arms tightly around him, one hand sliding slowly through his sweaty hair while the other rubbed soothing circles against his back.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured softly, pressing a lingering kiss against Jisung’s temple. “You did so well for me.”

Jisung could only make a sleepy little sound in response before burying his face in his boyfriend’s neck, too exhausted to form actual words, making Minho laugh quietly. Never before had he felt such a deep sense of fullness and satisfaction. So much so that he started softly chirping into Minho’s neck, purring up a storm.

‘Mate’ he thought to himself dreamily as he let himself drift off.

~~~

Jisung woke slowly, the kind of slowness that came with being thoroughly, completely worn out, his body heavy against the mattress. The first thing he registered was the soreness, making him groan quietly into the pillow as he shifted, spreading through his hips and thighs in a way that made him want to melt further into the mattress rather than keep moving. 

It wasn't unpleasant, not really. Just… heavy - a reminder of last night, of how thoroughly he was fucked, of every sound and reaction Minho had drawn out of him.

The memory made a shiver run down his spine.

And yet… he didn’t feel sticky. Or overwhelmed. There was no burning urgency clawing at him from the inside like usual, lingering for days, leaving him exhausted and begging to be filled. His heat-

Jisung frowned faintly as he tried turning his awareness inward. His heat wasn’t gone, not entirely. He could still feel a low warmth simmering inside, coiled loosely in his belly like embers instead of a wildfire. It didn’t claw at him, didn’t hurt the way it usually did. It was manageable, soft in a way it had never been before.

“…weird,” he mumbled under his breath, voice rough with sleep.

He was just about to roll over to look for Minho when the sound of the toilet flushing reached him from the hallway. A moment later footsteps followed, and Minho appeared in the doorway looking like he hadn’t just completely rearranged Jisung’s guts the night before.

It was really unfair how Minho could look like that after the night they shared - his hair was still slightly mussed from sleep, his underwear sitting loose on his hips, naked torso on full display - looking like something straight out of a dream. Or a very naughty magazine.

Jisung felt heat curl low in his stomach, his cock stirring back to life.

Okay, so his heat definitely wasn’t gone yet.

Minho noticed him then, his expression softening as his gaze settled on Jisung. “You’re awake,” he said, voice still rough with sleep.

The mattress dipped beneath Minho’s weight as he climbed back into bed. Before Jisung could prepare himself, strong arms slid around his waist from behind, pulling him back against a warm chest. Minho immediately buried his face into the crook of Jisung’s neck, his nose freezing cold against overheated skin.

Jisung flinched, shoulders jumping. “Hyung!”

Minho inhaled deeply anyway, completely unapologetic, a low, satisfied sound rumbling out of him as he lingered there. “Mm.”

“Your nose is freezing,” Jisung complained, though the protest lacked any real force. He could practically feel the smugness radiating off the fox. 

“You smell good,” Minho murmured, his lips replacing the cold touch now, brushing slow and warm over the same spot as if to soothe it away. “How are you feeling, jagi?”

Jisung considered it honestly for a moment before sighing. “Sore.”

Minho hummed, thumb tracing slow, absent-minded circles against his tattoo’s. “Yeah?”

“...and horny.”

That made Minho laugh quietly against his neck.

“Oh no,” he said flatly, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “What a tragedy.”

Then, just to make things worse, he rolled his hips forward enough for Jisung to feel exactly how hard he already was too, making the bunny moan softly.

Minho laughed softly under his breath before shifting again - this time guiding Jisung onto his back with careful hands. The movement was slow, but it still drew a soft sound from Jisung, his body protesting the change.

“Easy,” Minho murmured, already leaning over him, both arms braced beside his head as he kissed his forehead. “I’ve got you.”

Jisung blinked up at him, momentarily caught in the closeness, in the weight of Minho’s gaze.

“You don’t have to push yourself,” Minho added, quieter now, watching him closely. “Not if you’re too sore.”

Jisung narrowed his eyes slightly. “What do you mean? You realise there’s probably gonna be another wave soon.”

“I know,” Minho admitted easily. Then, after a beat, his tone shifted - still teasing, but edged with something else. “You can take your time.”

His ears flicked before casually adding, “Or you can fuck me instead.”

Minho watched the exact moment his brain short-circuited with obvious delight.

“You’re kidding,” Jisung whispered.

“I’m not.”

“You’re serious?”

“Very.”

Jisung stared at him with wide eyes and his mouth hanging open slightly, utterly stunned.

Minho burst into laughter almost immediately, dropping his forehead against Jisung’s shoulder as his entire body shook with it.

“Baby,” he wheezed between laughs, “close your mouth before flies get in.”

“You said that so casually!”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“That’s somehow worse!”

Minho lifted his head again, eyes bright with amusement. “Is that a no?”

Jisung’s entire face burned hotter as he made a helpless little noise. Honestly, he didn’t know what kind of divine being had looked at his trainwreck of a life and decided to gift him this man, but he was never going to question it.

Instead, he reached up, threading his fingers into Minho’s hair, as a slow grin spread across his face.

“You should really be kinder to me if you’re gonna be calling me your mate.” Jisung pouted.

Minho blinked at him, brow furrowing slightly in confusion.

Jisung’s smile curled wider. “You called me your mate last night.”

He watched in delight as Minho’s eyes went wide as saucers.

“You said, and I quote, ‘My sweet bunny. My mate,’” he repeated, far too pleased with himself now. “As you shoved your huge knot-”

Minho groaned, the tips of his ears flushing pink as he shut Jisung up with a kiss. “Okay, okay. I get it.”

“Oh my god,” Jisung whispered dramatically. “You’re blushing.”

“I am not.”

“You are!” Jisung looked genuinely delighted now, like this was the greatest discovery of his life.

Tilting his head slightly, he peered up at Minho with bright, curious eyes. “Do you take it back?”

“…No,” Minho admitted instantly.

Minho exhaled, clearly resigned, though he still refused to properly meet Jisung’s eyes. “Don’t make it a whole thing.”

Jisung’s smile softened, something warm and unbearably fond settling in his chest as he softly cupped Minho’s cheeks with both hands.

“I won’t,” he promised softly.

A beat passed before his grin returned in full. 

“…my mate.”

“Why you little-”