Chapter Text
Thursday morning starts like every Thursday morning has started before. Minho wakes to his alarm, rubs a hand over his face to chase whatever dream he was in away, and shuffles out to the dorm kitchen. As usual, Seungmin is already awake and brewing coffee - they shoot each other a mutual grimace before sitting and having their first cup of the day in silence. He’d never admit it, but this ritual is one of the only things that has got him through his last three years of Thursdays.
“You’ll be over at the other dorm tonight, hyung?” Seungmin always asks. Yes Minho wants to snap back of course I’ll be at the other dorm, because I’m the world’s biggest masochist and need my weekly dose of Jisung blasting me with his pheromones.
He shrugs. “We’ll see.” It’s not a convincing performance, especially since both members of the conversation know it’s a lie. Minho has been uncomfortably honest with Seungmin about his feelings, to both of their chagrins, but the other man rarely calls him out on Thursday mornings.
Thursday evening has, for the past three years, been “Minho and Jisung’s Almost Weekly Movie Night”. It was born out of what Minho likes to think is a shared desire to have more alone time with each other, and a selfish desire on his side to remove a night that Jisung could be going out. Finding someone who isn’t Minho, getting his scent on them and - this is where Minho stops himself. He doesn’t own Jisung. He just wants to, at least one night a week.
Minho has gotten really good at pretending to watch movies. When he gets lost in the plot, Jisung has a tendency to stop regulating his scent. He’d apologized once, years back, for “ just being so comfortable about hyung that I don’t think about the…how you’re. How you feel about it.” Minho had pinched his cheek until he yelped, and replied “I have a pretty bad sense of smell.”
This lie, crafted from a desire to hear Jisung say he was comfortable around him, has haunted him ever since. It’s based in truth - Minho struggles to identify when other people’s scents flare and change. When pressed, he shrugs and says something about how it runs in the family. (It doesn’t - his parents are both omegas with the sharpest sense of smell he’s ever met.)
The truth is that Minho smells the world through a thick blanket of ripe strawberries. If Jisung has so much as stepped foot in a room within three days of Minho arriving, his brain can’t focus on anything else. He nearly went into rut once, just from drinking from the same glass preheat Jisung had set down minutes earlier. Every member is a blend of Jisung, which means he tends to read people through two lenses - when Jeongin smells like burnt popcorn and soured strawberry, Minho asks Jisung what did you do to him . When Changbin walks into the gym smelling like a fruit salad, Minho knows a recording session must have gone well.
They’ve never talked about it - Jisung has never mentioned the way Minho regulates his scent around him, keeps him tucked under his arm but never squeezes him too close to his neck. Never mentioned the way they both leave each other gifts. Never mentioned the way they avoid any mention of their respective heats and ruts, but leave clothes soaked in their scent in the other’s rooms when they know it’s close.
Never mentioned the fact that when Jisung found out Chan had spent his first heat with Minho (five years ago) he didn’t speak to him for a week. Never mentioned that Minho once saw Jisung go out on a date and had spent so long in the gym his knuckles had split down to the bone. Never mentioned -
Anything. They don’t talk about it.
They talk about other things - worse things, maybe. Jisung says have you ever thought about getting a piercing? and Minho barely gets out a “sure” before he says I think I’d look hot with nipple piercings and leaves the room. Jisung likes to put his head on Minho’s thighs and say crazy how these are bigger than my waist , and then start talking about a new place he wants to visit while Minho does everything in his power to not get hard. Jisung openly brags that Minho’s scent is the best in the group, and whines under his breath that he’s not allowed to get to the really juicy parts of Minho.
(Minho had reluctantly bared his neck to Jisung after that exact complaint, once, only for Jisung to wink and whisper not the part I was talking about . Like that was something Minho could compartmentalize without going insane.)
The compartmentalizing is great practice for Thursday evening. When he climbs into Jisung’s bed and pretends to watch a movie, while he holds his breath and keeps his hands above the blankets. He endures it, lets himself kiss a sleep pliant Jisung on the forehead when he leaves, and goes home to jerk off before spending the next week mentally preparing himself to do it again.
(Changbin had asked him, more recently than he’d like to admit, what he was waiting for. I’m not waiting for anything he’d replied, sharper than he’d meant to. I know how to read the room when someone doesn’t want me. He hadn’t really meant anything by this, but the way Changbin’s scent soured (strawberry lemonade left out in the sun) made Minho mutter an apology regardless. For the record, Changbin had said into the silence before he left. You’re a huge fucking idiot. )
Thursday evenings start with Minho punching the door code into the other dorm, with maybe more force than necessary. Then, he waves at whoever is eating dinner, slides his shoes off, and shuffles to Jisung’s room. The door is always open, but it doesn’t matter - Minho has that privilege.
Something is immediately different this evening. When he pushes the door open he hears a muffled conversation stop, and Hyunjin scuttles out from the kitchen. He looks a little guilty, but his pillowy strawberry marshmallow scent doesn’t give anything away.
“Hey hyung, I’m out of here. Going to go…hang out with Yen-ah.” He throws a look back over his shoulder, to where Jisung is leaving the kitchen. “Be safe!”
Strange. “We’re watching a movie, Hyunjin. There’s nothing to worry about, the things on the screen can’t hurt us.” Hyunjin gives a nervous giggle at that, before swooping out the door. Jisung has made it to his room by now, shut door taunting Minho with its wrongness . Something is off. He hesitates in the common area, straining to hear or smell any other signs of life in the dorm, but can’t pick up anything beyond the gentle sounds of Jisung’s television.
He isn’t aware of the fact that he’s moved until his hand is on Jisung’s doorknob, and he feels the way it trembles before he pushes in. The smell hits him like a physical blow, and when Jisung smiles sweetly at him from the bed he feels the way his jaw shakes with the effort to not scent the air like a snake. Something is very off. Jisung pats his side of the bed, inviting him like everything is normal, and Minho feels his feet take him there.
“Where-“ his mouth is dry. His mouth is so wet he can’t swallow. “Where are Changbin and Chan hyung?” They’re always here. They’re always present in the dorm, tarnishing Jisung’s scent with mangos and lemons. Minho needs them here, to remind him of everything he has to lose.
“They’re out tonight,” Jisung pulls him down, tucks himself into his normal position. Not quite, though - he’s closer, somehow. His thigh is higher on Minho’s hip, his fingers tighter on his waist. “Hyung wanted to have a gym session before they went to the studio tonight, he’s chaperoning to make sure Channie hyung doesn’t work himself too hard.”
Everyone is gone tonight. It’s only Jisung and Minho, and the strawberries and cream mixing in the room. He should’ve taken something, put on a patch before coming, but he’s never been so unable to regulate his scent. Jisung doesn’t say anything, but the way his nose dips towards Minho is proof enough that he can tell.
“Great.” He’s going to die here. “Put on the movie.”
🍰
He’s not sure how far into the movie they get before he notices that Jisung’s scent is smothering him, more than it ever has. It’s like he’s being held down into his scent glands, mouth and nose and tongue pressing against him, pressing against his neck, his thighs, his -
His hip, he suddenly realizes, is wet. Oh , he thinks deliriously, that’s Jisung’s slick . The feeling of suffocating, of drowning, is thrown into sharp relief when he realizes that Jisung is slicking through both of their pants.
He must know, right? He has to know that he’s leaking, soaking them in his smell and his slick, driving Minho crazy with the strawberries and cream and the strawberries and the strawberries and the strawberries.
Jisung whimpers, breaking his train of thought (if it could even count as such) and dragging him back into the present. He’s frozen in the moment, brain and body disconnected, and Jisung whimpers a second time. Oh he thinks again, my fingers are wet. When he yanks his hand back to look, Jisung’s heady strawberry scent turns into panic.
Neither of them move. Minho watches the way his fingers shine in the light of Jisung’s room and, before he can make the conscious choice, he sticks his fingers in his mouth. Jisung’s breath catches beneath him, eyes blown as he watches Minho press in to the second knuckle.
Jisung’s slick is…heavenly. The sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. He never wants to taste anything ever again - instead, he’s struck with the thought to sit up, push Jisung off, and bury his face directly into the source. He could die like this, would gladly let this be his last moments. Jisung says something, then, his mouth moving but unheard beneath the blood rushing in Minho’s ears.
“-taste good?” His ears pop. “Do I taste good? Tell me, baby.” Minho doesn’t know how to tell him that he tastes like everything good, the sweetest taste in the world. The only thing he’s ever tasted. Instead, he sets his hand back into the wet patch on Jisung’s sweats and presses down. Once he’s collected enough on his fingers he drags his hand away, up to Jisung’s mouth, and waits. When he doesn’t open fast enough, Minho pushes in and spreads his fingers until he’s almost holding Jisung’s tongue.
“Try it for yourself.” His voice sounds wrong. He’s back underwater, drowning, letting the smell of strawberry fill his nose as Jisung shuts his eyes and sucks on his fingers. It’s too much. He’s hard in his sweats and he’s drowning, he’s dying, he’s alone in the dorms with Jisung and he’s choking on it. When Jisung opens his mouth, lets his fingers fall from his teeth, he looks at him like he’s waiting for something. Minho doesn’t know what he wants. Minho knows exactly what he wants. Everything is wrong. Everything is right.
Before he can do something he regrets, he pulls Jisung tight to his body. Something else is happening to him now, and he feels all of his energy leave him in a rush. He says something, then, something like I need to close my eyes for a minute and he hears Jisung turn off the TV. The last thing he feels before he’s out like a light is Jisung’s mouth, wet and hot against his scent gland.
🍰
On Friday morning, Minho wakes up. It’s dark in his room, and he feels awful . He’s hot, nauseous, and his teeth hurt but when he takes a breath the sweet scent of strawberries chases it away. He’s in Jisung’s room, then. He never left. Did he want to leave? When he tries to sit up, a weak complaint by his ear stops him and he quickly realizes why he’s so hot.
Jisung is on top of him, mouthing along his jaw, grinding down onto him.
Oh. When Jisung’s teeth scrape over his scent gland he shivers, lets his hands fly to Jisung’s hips to still them. To push him away. To hold him down. He grinds up into them before remembering why he touched him in the first place.
“Baby,” his mouth is full of cotton. He’s about to combust. He remembers the taste of Jisung’s slick from last night (it’s still night, a part of his brain realizes, you’ve only been asleep for an hour or two) and thinks that maybe he’d feel better if he could get that again. When his fingers curve around Jisung’s ass, he realizes he never said anything. He tries again.
“Baby, what is this? What are we…why are we…” it’s a lost cause, then, because he’s finally touching him again. Jisung’s hips kick as much as they can, while they’re still being held. He’s gripped with the urge to flip them, to see Jisung spread out underneath him, and he lets his instincts take over.
When he’s above Jisung, he has a moment of clearer thinking. He’s in bed with his omega - no he’s in bed with his best friend, his soul mate, and they’re rutting against each other like dogs in heat. What is happening to him?
“Got tired of waiting,” Jisung grins beneath him, canting his hips upward in search of Minho. “Tired of waiting for alpha to get his head out of his ass and into mine. So I decided to play dirty.” His scent rolls over Minho again, tangy and sweet, mixing so well with the vanilla he can feel himself pumping out in response.
Everything makes sense, all at once. “You’re in heat.” It’s not a question, not really. He can smell it in his scent, in the way his body reacts to everything Minho does.
“I’m in heat. And, this was my bad, you’re in some kind of rut.” Ah. That would explain why he feels like he’s about to explode. “I think you’re in a flash rut in response to my heat. I was kind of beaming my most fuck me pheromones possible straight into your brain an hour ago.”
The world feels syrupy. Minho digs his fingers into Jisung’s hips in response, and the noise he makes wipes any sarcasm from Minho’s mind. “You want me to fuck you?”
“I need it. I’m tired of being able to look without touching.” Jisung manages to look a little bashful, under the smugness he’s radiating. “I talked to. I talked to some people and decided you were too much of a gentleman and an idiot to make a move, so I…did this.”
For a long moment, Minho tries to decide if he’s mad about it. Fuck it , of course he isn’t - he’d have done it too, if he had thought to. He can tell Jisung is about to panic when he starts to shimmy backwards, and lets his scent roll out of him as thickly as he can to freeze him in place.
“M’not a gentleman,” he says, tongue thick in his mouth. “Just thought you didn’t want me.” He ducks his head to Jisung’s crotch and sucks the soaked material of his sweats into his mouth. “Not gonna be a gentleman if you want me, though.”
Jisung writhes around him, before kicking him in the shoulder. “Wanted you for five years. Want you now. Need you now.”
The rational part of Minho’s brain knows that this is probably not the best idea, fucking for the first time during a shared cycle while feelings are involved. It’s immediately drowned out by the part of his brain screaming to take , and he rips Jisung’s pants off. Literally, down the side.
He hears Jisung say something that sounds like “I wanna see you lose control” before he’s finally, finally face first in his slick. It’s so much better than before, concentrated and potent, coming out of Jisung in thick gushes. He’s got his tongue buried inside before Jisung can say anything, getting as much of it into his mouth as possible and bucking forward into the mattress.
He feels the way Jisung shakes around him when he comes, and hooks his arms around his hips when he tries to pull away. He’s not done, wants to drink from him until he’s too full to move, and when Jisung keeps struggling he feels himself growl. It shocks them both, but Jisung goes pliant in his hands.
“Thought you weren’t being serious about not being a gentleman,” he feels Jisung tangle a hand in his hair, hears the smile hidden in his reproach. “Gonna hold me down and knot me? Fuck a baby into me on our first heat? Mate me?” All of the above , he thinks, he doesn’t even know .
He makes sure to hold Jisung down, and sinks his teeth into the scent gland on his thigh. The gush of slick he gets from it makes him do it again, and again, and again until Jisung is coming all over his stomach. The taste of blood is mixing with strawberries on his tongue, and for a second he thinks we can stay like this forever. I’ll never let him go .
Jisung is weakly pawing at his head, tears streaming down his face when Minho finally looks up. His heat is clearly crashing over him now, and when he gasps out “alpha, please, I need you” Minho feels the way his body moves without his input. He’s sure that Jisung is on birth control, since all of them are, but for a second he imagines it - knotting him while he’s in heat, while Minho is in rut, is a certain recipe for pups. Jisung can smell it on him, maybe, and he sees the way his eyes darken.
“Thinking about breeding me, baby? You didn’t even want to court me five hours ago and now you’re thinking about putting your babies in me?” He’s talking a big game, but Minho can see the way his pupils shake in arousal.
He doesn’t bother responding, knows if Jisung riles him up further he’ll hurt him. He unzips his pants, not bothering to push them down, and gathers as much slick as he can hold in his hand. When he gets a hand around himself, the feeling of slick around his swelling knot nearly makes him come on the spot. Which would be embarrassing, but more importantly would be a waste of come that he needs to get Jisung pregnant.
Jisung watches Minho stroke himself with hungry eyes, fingers flexing on the bed sheets like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. This is the first time they’ve seen each other this naked, Minho realizes, hard and flushed and leaking. It reminds him to take a moment to just observe Jisung, now that he’s allowed to.
He’s gorgeous - perfect, and Minho says it out loud before he can stop to think. Jisung looks suddenly shy at that, blushing and ducking his head. Minho lets his thumbs press into the divots of waist, watching the way his pretty cock jumps and drools at the pressure. “Don’t think I’m gonna fit in you, baby. You’re too small.”
Jisung smiles. “I’ve taken a knot before, alpha,” he’s almost purring, now. “I’m not some blushing virgin.” The reminder makes Minho more angry than it should.
“You’ve never taken my knot,” he bites back, and lets himself grin at the noise Jisung makes when he presses the head of his cock right up to his hole. “I know how to fuck an omega stupid, made sure I’d know how to for you.”
That’s the truth he realizes he wanted to be good for Jisung, even when he never thought he would get him this way.
“Hurry up and do it the-“ the keen Jisung lets out when he snaps his hips is obscene, spit choking him mid taunt. If he wasn’t in heat, he’d be worried about hurting him - as it is, his body should easily let Minho in. He’s saying that out loud, if the moan Jisung lets out is any indication.
“Should’ve known,” he pants “should’ve known you wouldn’t shut up. You’re so mouthy. I love it.” I love you I love you I love you I
Jisung comes so easily in heat, clenching around Minho’s cock and sending waves of slick down their legs. It’s helpful, because for all his talk Jisung is small - the way he stretches around Minho’s cock is sinful, and a part of Minho’s brain knows he’s going to see himself through his stomach once he finally knots him.
Speaking of which, he can feel his knot starting to catch on Jisung’s rim every time he pulls back. Flash rut is not nearly as potent as a full rut, and he’ll be lucky to pop two knots tonight. He’s got a suspicion that he won’t need a second, as Jisung starts babbling need it alpha need your knot please please and gasps when he gets it inside for the first time.
“Fuck, baby, it’s not going to fit. What the hell, why do you have this much dick , who have you been fucking ?” Minho grins.
“Thought you’d taken a knot before? Maybe you are a virgin, after all. You’ll probably get pregnant, since it’s your first time.” Jisung’s eyes roll back into his head, at that, and Minho feels him shudder through another orgasm before he’s talking again -
“Mate me,” his knot slips in, out, and they gasp in unison. “ Mate me , I’ve waited for years. Make me yours, claim me, bite me, please.” They shouldn’t. He knows they shouldn’t, and he says as much. Jisung doesn’t say anything, just rolls his eyes and sinks his nails into Minho’s back.
“We should and we can and we will , I know you want it, I can taste it on you. Always could.” There’s a vulnerability in the air, as Minho stills, and Jisung looks up at him with tears in his eyes. “I want you. I want you so bad it hurts and I want to be yours forever, if you’ll take me.”
We haven’t kissed yet , Minho thinks, and leans forward to remedy that before thrusting again. His face is wet. He’s going to die if he doesn’t mate Jisung, but he gives it one more try as they break for air.
“If you regret this,” he whispers, shushing Jisung as he opens his mouth “If you regret this, it’s going to destroy me. All I have ever wanted is to be yours, and I will claim you tonight if you can promise me it’s not just the heat talking. That it’s real. Forever.”
Jisung bites his finger, before pushing up to kiss his cheek. “Forever. I’m yours.” For a long moment, Minho has to make sure he doesn’t come from hearing that. He’d never live it down. Instead, he pushes Jisung’s legs back as far as he can and thrusts until they’re both about to fall apart. Huh he thinks, looking down I can see it and that’s enough to lock his knot in place. He comes longer than he ever has before, and keeps coming as Jisung surges upward to sink his teeth into his mating gland.
If he thought tasting Jisung’s slick was euphoria, this sensation is divine. It’s uncomfortable, moving his knot enough to bend down and reciprocate, but the rush of blood and strawberry that floods his mouth more than makes up for that. He doesn’t let go until their racing hearts start to even out.
“I don’t know how long we’ll be here,” his voice is hoarse, fragile. “So I want to let you know I love you. While I can’t get scared and leave.” Jisung is a wreck beneath him, bloody and bruised and covered in come. He smiles gently, Minho’s blood on his canines, and weakly grabs his hands. “I love you too. Now flip us around so we can get comfortable.”
🍰
On Friday morning, for real this time, Minho wakes up. He’s sore from his shoulders to his ankles, throat aching and cock heavy where it’s buried in the man cradled in his arms. Huh he thinks, tracing the shape of Jisung’s muscles along his back I feel weird. His teeth ache, gums throbbing when he swallows, and his knot is- his knot is still inside Jisung. It can’t be the same knot. It can’t be a new one. He’s not in rut. He’s not in -
"Alpha,” he hears from below him. Below him? He’s bracketing Jisung with his forearms, holding his wrists above his head. The sweet smell of strawberries clouds his senses, and when he’s finally able to pry his eyes open he’s met with Jisung’s wide gaze.
“Fuck, are you-“ he chokes on his words for a moment, as Minho thrusts unthinkingly into him “are you in rut? Like, actually fully in rut?” He shouldn’t be. Knotting once should’ve taken him out of it, should’ve broken Jisung’s heat and calmed them both down. There’s sweat in his eyes, blood on his tongue. Blood? Strawberry. He must’ve let go of Jisung’s wrists because they reach down, tangle in his hair, and gently pull him from where he’s sunk his teeth back into Jisung’s throat.
They’re looking into each other’s eyes when Minho’s knot locks into place, and he watches as Jisung’s eyes visibly glaze over. Something is wrong. Jisung shouldn’t be able to take a knot so easily after his heat breaks, which it should’ve as soon as he was knotted the first time.
Jisung clenches around his knot, fucking gently up into him almost on instinct. He still has a faraway look in his eyes, and his scent feels… distressed? Before he can open his mouth, Jisung whispers “baby. I don’t think-”
Minho’s thoughts are fraying at the edges the longer he talks, still grinding into his knot, panting for breath. They’re both panting. Minho watches spit drip from his open mouth into the groove on Jisung’s chest.
“I don’t think my heat broke.”
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