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‘Assist and Protect’
Yoongi doesn’t normally take the subway, but his car is currently in the shop getting its alternator fixed. He’s riding the train home from his shift that afternoon when he notices an omega sitting in the corner of the priority persons’ seat, oozing the scent of heat. The young omega—possibly only twenty or twenty-two at most—is trying to make himself as small as possible, avoiding the stares of several alphas in the train car. He has his head ducked down, only his soft, round cheeks and small nose visible past his limp ash-blond hair. His arms are pressed tightly against his sides, hands hidden in between his legs where his thighs are squeezed together.
Yoongi doesn’t like the way some of the alphas are staring, lips peeled back and nostrils flared, a couple of them already with their hands pressing down against erections. He moves to stand directly in front of the omega, and lets his pheromones curl around the omega in a protective bubble. The omega looks up at him, startled, and clearly frightened, but Yoongi doesn’t make any other move. He just shakes his head, and looks out of the window as he holds onto the hanging loop by his head. He doesn’t have to look to know that, while most definitely angry, the other alphas settle down to mind their own business, blocked off from the heat’s stench.
Yoongi may be off duty, but if any alphas give him trouble for blocking the omega from them, he still has his badge in his wallet and his tranquilizer gun to shut them up.
The omega seems to calm down once he realizes Yoongi isn’t going to do anything to him. He sits silently, drenched in sweat, cheeks rosy, chestnut brown eyes hazy. Only Yoongi can smell the omega now, and it’s twofold stronger now. He takes a deep breath, lets the scent settle, and then releases the lungful of air. Growing up with an omega half-brother, he’d learned to control and resist the animalistic urges that so many alphas use as excuses to take advantage of omegas. He can’t deny that the smell is absolutely delectable right now, but it also doesn’t bother him as much as it does the other alphas on the train. He can control himself.
They reach Yoongi’s stop, and he steps back with a nod of apology to the omega, before hopping off of the train. He’s barely a couple of meters down the platform when he hears a breathy voice.
“Wait. Please, wait.”
He turns, only to see the omega, clutching at his shoulder bag which has slipped off of his shoulder, his large olive-green jacket completely a shambles around his tiny form. Yoongi backtracks a little. No, the omega isn’t actually that much smaller than Yoongi. It’s just in the way he’s holding himself. Shoulders and elbows drawn in submissively, head ducked a little, looking up hesitantly through his soaked bangs.
“What are you doing?” Yoongi asks, eyes shooting toward the train as it begins to leave the station, leaving the omega behind. He’s sure that this isn’t the omega’s stop.
“Please.” The omega inches forward, reaches for the edge of Yoongi’s sleeve. His small, slender fingers brush delicately against the side of Yoongi’s thumb briefly, and although Yoongi isn’t affected by the touch, he hears the omega’s breath catch. He sees his eyes widen, and haze over for a moment before clearing and glistening with tears.
“Will you help me?”
Yoongi shakes his head. “You don’t know what you’re asking,” he says. “Go home, omega. Go home and have someone there take care of you.”
He isn’t expecting the swift shake of head. “I can’t. It’s not…home isn’t safe for me. I can’t go home like this.”
The alpha frowns. “Not safe?” He wonders if he’s going to have to call in an entry warrant request.
If possible, the omega shrinks in on himself even more. “They hurt me. They’ll hurt me until I can’t, can’t feel anymore. Please don’t tell me to go home.”
Yoongi can’t say that he’s too surprised to hear something like this. Although most people treat omegas with love and tenderness, there are of course the select few who believe—quite inaccurately—that alphas are the ones in charge, and have the right to do whatever they want to the weaker of their kind. It’s not uncommon for the omega in a house to be abused, whether physically or verbally. Yoongi has to deal with these kinds of situations on a regular basis.
He sighs. “I don’t know what you want me to say, then. I’m not going to take advantage of you.”
“Jimin.”
“What?”
“My name is Jimin.”
Well, fuck. Now he knows the omega’s name. This isn’t good. The guilt he’ll feel from abandoning someone he knows the name of will eat at him. It would have been easier if he didn’t have a name to place with his face.
“Jimin,” he says, and hears the omega’s breath catch again. He knows why; he knows that anything he does is affecting the young man’s body. “My name is Yoongi. I’m not going to touch you. If you insist, I can give you a place to wait this out. But I won’t touch you.”
Tears leak down Jimin’s flushed cheeks. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” He glances at Yoongi’s hand, suspended awkwardly in the air due to Jimin’s grip on his sleeve. “Can I at least hold your hand?”
That seems innocent enough, so Yoongi acquiesces. He can feel the shudder that runs through the omega’s body as the small fingers slip through his longer ones. He hears a soft whine, and chooses to ignore it.
“Can you,” Jimin is positively breathless now, “can you use your pheromones again? Please. It really helps.”
“All right.” Yoongi releases his scent, letting it wrap around the both of them, curling around Jimin’s neck, slipping between all of the folds of his clothing. The hand in his squeezes tightly, and he hears a slightly louder sound, halfway between a moan and a relieved sigh.
“Thank you,” Jimin whispers.
Yoongi leads him out through the gates—luckily the omega has a smart pass on his phone to get through the gate—and they begin the walk back to Yoongi’s apartment. He’d been intending to stop by the grocery store on his way home, but that is out of the question now. Sure enough, a few minutes away from his apartment, Jimin’s legs collapse, and Yoongi manages to catch him just in time. The poor omega is shaking, and when Yoongi scoops him up in his arms, he can feel the warm wetness of slick seeping through the omega’s jeans. He tries to not think about how it’s going to get into his own clothes and onto his own skin.
Jimin softly whimpers and wraps his arms around Yoongi’s neck, pushing his face right up against Yoongi’s scent gland. He can feel wet lips and a tongue against his skin, and he tenses.
“Jimin, no,” he says sternly, hating how he has to use his voice pitch to his advantage. It’s for the omega’s own good, though. Jimin ducks his head, burying his face into Yoongi’s jacket instead.
He doesn’t know who this omega is, where he came from, or even how old he is. But he knows Jimin needs to be protected. That’s the one thing he knows for sure. Yoongi carries the omega up the stairs and just barely manages to unlock his door before moving inside. He sets Jimin down, leaning up against the wall for a moment. He helps him out of his shoes, and then picks him up again.
Yoongi’s apartment isn’t that big; he only has one bedroom off the main room, and although he has a sofa, he knows it’s not particularly comfortable on a good day; he can’t imagine it would be good for an omega in heat. So he carries Jimin into his bedroom and sets him down on the bed. The sheets are still a little messy from this morning when he was too exhausted to properly make his bed before leaving for his shift—but Jimin doesn’t seem to mind. He instantly keens and begins gathering them around himself, pressing his face into them. They probably smell heavily of alpha; of Yoongi.
“Do you have any extra clothes?” he asks the twisting figure on his bed. “Something more comfortable, I mean? Those jeans are going to chafe you.”
“Uh uh,” Jimin grunts negatively, turning at a strange angle to look up at him. His mouth is open, tongue hanging loosely against the corner of his mouth.
“Do you want something of mine?” Yoongi offers. “You can borrow some clean pajamas or whatever.”
“Oh. Please,” Jimin nods, so Yoongi goes to his dresser to pull out a pair of cotton pajama pants and a t-shirt. He knows it’s probably useless to give the omega fresh underwear, but he asks anyway just in case. “Do you want boxers, too?”
“Uhhhn,” Jimin whines, rubbing his face against Yoongi’s pillow, now. “No.”
“Okay. Here; you can use these. I’ll let you get changed. I need to run to the store; will you be—”
“Don’t leave me,” Jimin shoots up, and throws himself at Yoongi, startling the alpha.
“I’m not,” he assures him, petting down the omega’s hair instinctively. “But I don’t have anything to eat or drink here, and I’ll only be a little while. It’s only a block down from here.”
He eventually convinces Jimin that it’ll be fine, and he leaves the omega while he jogs down to the small co-op store five minutes away. Three by running. He quickly moves through the store, picking out a pack of electrolyte drinks specifically designed for heats and ruts—although athletes also prefer them over the normal electrolyte drinks on the market; he also grabs a few packs of red meat, both steak and ground, an armful of vegetables, and then stops by the dairy section to pick up a jug of milk. He’s heading toward the register when he walks past the ice cream section, and sees a vanilla, dark chocolate and cherry ice cream. He doesn’t know anything about Jimin’s food preferences, but he feels like maybe the omega would appreciate something cold and sweet. If he didn’t like it, then Yoongi could just save it for another time. He also pulls one of the long, frozen suckers from the freezer—specifically for unmated omegas in heat—and hopes the cashier doesn’t judge him too harshly. He’s a regular here, and everyone who works in the co-op knows not only that he’s an alpha, but also that he’s an officer of the law. Lack of privacy in his purchases is something he’s long had to get used to, but Yoongi still feels a little self-conscious on occasion.
When Yoongi gets back to the apartment less than half an hour later, he finds Jimin changed into his clothes, rolling around on the bed with the blankets and sheets a complete mess around him. He seems to like Yoongi’s pillow a lot, rubbing his face against it and sniffing deeply. The entire room reeks of omega.
“Alpha,” he trills when Yoongi walks into the bedroom with a bottle of the electrolyte drink, and the still packaged sucker.
“Hey, how’re you doing, Jimin?” he asks softly. The omega seems to like his tone, arching his back and staring heavily at him with his mouth hanging open. His shirt rides up to reveal his smooth stomach. Yoongi automatically reaches to tug it back down. The gesture is simply routine; when they come across omegas in heat on shifts, their instructions are to Cover, Assist, and Protect. Cover up bare skin. Assist the omega in getting hydration and staying as comfortable as possible. Protect the omega from other alphas or potential unwanted sexual activity.
Jimin catches his hand before Yoongi can draw it back. The omega brings it up to his face, nuzzling his cheek into his palm. Yoongi has to pull his hand back when the omega takes his long thumb into his mouth and begins to suck.
“Hey, don’t do that, okay? I’ve got you some stuff to help.” Yoongi sits down on the bed, and Jimin immediately scoots closer so he can climb onto Yoongi’s lap. The officer gently pushes him back off as he breaks the seal on the drink, popping open the sports nozzle. He lifts Jimin’s hands to wrap around the bottle, but the omega is too distracted by the way Yoongi’s hands cover his that he’s forced to continue supporting the bottle as Jimin sucks quite lecherously at it, eyes never leaving Yoongi’s face.
It really is difficult to push his instincts down, but Yoongi has so many years of training that he is relieved when he is successful. The omega on his bed is beautiful; extraordinarily so, and Yoongi would love nothing more than to wrap him in his arms and kiss him all over. But it is not his place, and the omega has no control over his body at the moment.
When Jimin’s downed half the bottle, Yoongi pulls it away and sets it back down on the bedside table. Jimin’s eyes have cleared a little, and he smiles sweetly as he lies back down onto the mattress.
“You’re so nice,” he murmurs, catching Yoongi’s hand and lacing their fingers together.
Yoongi shrugs. “I just want you to be safe,” he explains, letting the omega play with his fingers. He knows that contact is important to an omega in heat, and this is the one kind he’ll allow. “You don’t deserve to be hurt.”
Abruptly Jimin tenses and arches, spreading his legs as he cries out. Yoongi is hit with a strong wave of pheromones, so musky that he nearly chokes. He brings his free hand up to cover his nose and mouth. Jimin’s hips fall back down onto the bed as he breathes heavily, and in the momentary quiet, Yoongi can hear the wet sound of slick gushing from the omega’s entrance. He sees the crotch of Jimin’s pants darken.
“Touch me, please,” Jimin begs, tears leaking out of his eyes. “Please, Yoongi, I need it.”
The alpha pulls his hand away from Jimin’s grasp, and the omega positively whines in protest. The sound hurts Yoongi’s inner alpha; he wants to take the omega out of his misery. He stands up as Jimin plunges his hand into his pants and there’s a muffled squelch as he pushes his fingers into himself. His hips lift up off of the bed again. Yoongi realizes his own heart is racing, and his hands are shaking. He needs to find his mask. Where did he put it? His head feels swollen, and he can feel the beginning of arousal hit him.
No.
He quickly leaves the room, shutting the door hard behind him, and hears Jimin sob at his departure. He takes a few seconds to catch his breath, and then goes to the kitchen sink to splash his face with cold water. Then he grabs one of his face masks from his bag and straps it on.
He hears a loud thud from the bedroom, and quickly returns, throwing the door open to find Jimin struggling to get up from the floor, completely naked. Sweat is streaming down his body in rivulets, and Yoongi can see wet footprints smudged on the hardwood floor where Jimin has slipped on his own sweat.
Jimin looks like he’s been in an overheated sauna for too long; his skin is too flushed, and his eyes are out of focus as he tries to stand.
“Too hot,” he gasps, voice hoarse. “I’m b-burning. I’m dying, please!” His voice cracks on the last word, and then his eyes roll back in his head. Yoongi catches him before he can hit the ground. He flinches when he makes contact with the omega’s skin. Jimin is right; he’s far, far hotter than is normal. Something’s wrong.
Yoongi heaves the unconscious omega up into his arms and quickly carries him into the bathroom where he deposits him into the tub. Then he takes the showerhead down from its hook and sprays Jimin with cold water. His body convulses with the cold shock, but then settles back. Yoongi doesn’t want to chill him too much, so he turns the water back off and places a folded up towel behind Jimin’s head before getting up and going to get another bottle of electrolytes.
Jimin hasn’t moved when he gets back to the bathroom, but he is awake and blinking weakly. Yoongi sighs and releases a heavy cloud of pheromones to wrap around the prone omega. Jimin takes a deep, shaky breath, arches up for a moment, before settling back and smiling softly up at Yoongi with barely open eyes.
It’s a long-believed myth that an omega needs an alpha to break the heat, but Yoongi knows that to not be true. He’s sure the myth was started by alphas trying to excuse their inappropriate behavior; the old, ‘I only fucked him because I was trying to help,’ argument. But heats and ruts work pretty much the same way as women’s menstrual cycles—although they don’t occur nearly as often nor last as long, thank goodness. When the body is finished expelling all of the built-up hormones and sexual fluids, the balance of the body goes back to normal, and the heat is broken.
The only part of the myth that is true is that alphas’ pheromones and semen act like painkillers for the omegas; and that is what has kept the myth alive for so many centuries despite modern medical research proving otherwise. Yoongi also knows that heats are more painful for unmated omegas for this very reason, and due to the pain, omegas often let their bodies be taken advantage of to keep the pain at bay. It is only later, when the omega’s heat has broken, when they can think clearly and feel the consequences of their actions, that they experience the trauma.
This is why, although he will not touch Jimin in any invasive way, Yoongi doesn’t hesitate to heavily wrap the omega in his pheromones. It mutes his pain just enough.
“Let’s get some more liquid in you,” Yoongi says, keeping his voice low and gentle through the mask on his face. He holds the bottle up to Jimin’s mouth and has to nudge it between his lips, squirting just a little in to get him to drink. Jimin doesn’t raise his hand to hold the bottle, but he does close his lips around the nozzle and begin to drink on his own. “That’s it, that’s good. Drink as much as you can,” Yoongi encourages. “You’ve lost a lot of hydration.”
Jimin drinks nearly the entire bottle before letting go with a pop. Yoongi sets the bottle down on the floor.
It’s silent for a few minutes as they just stare at each other.
“Something’s wrong with your heat,” Yoongi says, finally, voice even.
Jimin nods. “I know.”
The alpha blinks. He hadn’t expected that. “You know?”
“Mmhm.” Jimin tries to push himself up. He seems to be between waves right now, and Yoongi takes advantage of his lucidity to find out as much as he can. He helps Jimin out of the tub and dries him off with a clean towel before carrying him back into the bedroom.
“What’s wrong with your heat?”
“I’ve been on suppressants for…I don’t remember how long,” Jimin replies. “Because I was staying in a mixed boarding house.” He pauses and grimaces; he must feel another wave building. “But—I don’t know exactly who—somebody stole my suppressants and switched them out with enhancers.”
Yoongi tenses. While suppressants were shrouded with controversy, enhancers were actually illegal, and for good reason. True to their name, enhancers enhanced omegas’ heats to the point of making it so powerful that the omega would become unable to resist the urges; would beg and beg to be fucked, no matter whether they truly wanted to be or not, no matter whether they were in the privacy of their own home, or in the middle of a crowded grocery store. The drug is popular on the black market mostly for couples wanting to spice up their sex life, and for those kind of people, Yoongi couldn’t care less about their use, but as with all drugs, there are also the abusers; the people who use the drug to take advantage of others without their consent.
“I didn’t realize it at first,” Jimin continues. “The pills look exactly the same, and they even filled up my bottle with the same number of pills. I only started—ughhh—” he cuts himself off as he’s hit with a surge of heat, but then he grits his teeth and resumes. “I only started to notice when I began waking up with my thighs covered in slick on a regular basis, when I began getting aroused in the shower more often than usual. I—aghh—I realized something was definitely wrong one evening when I actually climbed into the lap of an alpha I hate, and began rubbing against him, begging him to touch me. Luckily a fellow omega boarding mate knew I wasn’t acting myself, and she pulled me away before he could do anything to me. I don’t even—I barely even remember it. I think he pushed me down onto the sofa and started feeling me up. But I can’t really reme—ehhgh!”
Jimin cries out and begins writhing on the bed. His heat is back. Yoongi belatedly remembers the frozen sucker he’d bought. It’s still sitting on the bedside table, melting away in its package. He breaks open the package now, looks at the frankly phallic shape dripping in his hand, and then shrugs as he holds it out to Jimin.
“Here,” he says. “Suck on this; it’s supposed to help. It’s nice and cold.”
The omega twists to look at him, panting. He lifts his hand into the air to take the sucker, stares at it for a moment, and then proceeds to drag it down his body, clearly aiming for his nether regions. He gasps at the coldness on his torso, and Yoongi snatches it out of his hand.
“No, it doesn’t go down there,” he dodges the omega’s grabby hands for a few seconds before giving in and allowing him to take it back. But he doesn’t let go this time. “You’re supposed to suck on it,” he sighs, scooting closer on the bed. He’s thankful for the medical mask, because he’s sure that Jimin’s body is reeking the scent of heat. The omega pulls himself to his knees, thighs spread wide as literally steaming slick drips down onto the bed, as his hard cock oozes thick, milky white substance.
Jimin brings both the sucker and Yoongi’s hand to his mouth. His eyes are hooded as he keeps eye contact with the alpha and teases his own lips with the tip of the sucker. Yoongi has no idea what the sucker’s supposed to taste like, but apparently it’s good, because Jimin moans around it and pushes it right into his mouth. Yoongi lets go and watches as he twists it and pulls it out again, tongue slipping out of his mouth with it before going right back in. The omega tilts his head back and pushes it in deep, as if he’s a sword swallower at a circus. Yoongi can see the outline of it enter his throat, and his eyes widen.
“Don’t—you might suffocate yourself,” he objects, and reaches to pull it out. Jimin chases it, gargling and shoving it back in. It exits his mouth with a loud pop when Yoongi gives it one hard tug.
“It feels so good, do it again,” Jimin breathes, falling to his hands and crawling toward Yoongi. The alpha doesn’t react fast enough, and suddenly he has a lap full of hot, dripping omega. Jimin tears off the mask and kisses him.
“Fuck!” Yoongi shoves Jimin away from him, but not until after he’s already gotten a mouthful of sweet, heavenly tongue, and had his thigh covered in a mixture of slick and cum. The musky smell of heat chokes him.
“I’m sorry,” he bursts out as he nearly falls off of the bed. He can feel his body reacting strongly, and it’s all he can do to suppress it. Jimin tasted so good, the most amazing taste he’s ever experienced, and he wants more. He stares at the omega’s soft, plump lips as he sucks on the frozen treat, pumping in and out of his mouth as if it’s a cock he’s blowing. Yoongi shakes his head when he realizes he’s imagining those lips around his own cock.
No, no. No.
He realizes suddenly that Jimin’s breathing is raspy and dry, like he’s hyperventilating—or over-dehydrated. Where did he leave the drink? Bathroom. He immediately grabs it from the bathroom floor and is back before Jimin really notices. The omega polishes off the last two gulps and then drops the empty bottle on the floor. It’s not enough.
“I’ll be right back,” Yoongi forces out, still fighting his own instincts to claim. He accidentally slams the bedroom door on his way out, and cringes at the broken wail that leaves Jimin’s throat.
“Don’t leave me!”
Yoongi takes several deep breaths of fresh air as he picks up the rest of the pack of drinks. He might as well just bring the whole thing back into the bedroom.
When he opens the bedroom door, he finds Jimin fucking himself with the sucker. Yoongi bites his lip and tries not to breathe as he moves back to the bed. He quickly snatches the discarded mask from the bed and puts it back on. The omega thrusts the sucker in hard and deep, gasping around his moans. If he had been Yoongi’s omega, the sight would be one of the most arousing things, but Jimin is not his omega, and so the sight only makes Yoongi feel uncomfortable and concerned. He is worried that Jimin will hurt himself.
Abruptly the omega’s body seizes up, and several thick spurts of cum shoot up his torso. He falls back onto the bed, limp and panting heavily. Yoongi breaks open another bottle and holds it out to the spent man on his bed.
Jimin limply takes the bottle and lifts his head just enough to drink. He stops two-thirds’ of the way down because he needs to breathe. Yoongi can’t help but notice that Jimin is still hard despite being covered in his own semen.
“Thank you,” Jimin whispers, eyes closed. His diaphragm is rising and falling slowly. He sounds and looks exhausted.
“I’m sorry,” Yoongi says again. “I really can’t—”
“I know,” the omega interrupts him. It’s the most aware he’s seemed so far. “I understand. And I appreciate it.” He falls silent, and Yoongi wonders if he’s fallen asleep, but then he speaks again, voice rasping a little. “Can you give me a little more…a little more scent?” Jimin groans slightly as he tries to shift on the bed, to put his head up on the pillow. Yoongi leans over him to help slide it underneath his head. He lets his scent wrap around Jimin once more, and he can see the way the omega’s body practically melts into the mattress as all of the tenseness is drawn out of him
“You smell…so good,” Jimin mumbles sleepily. “So…so good.”
Yoongi smiles sadly down at him, and then stands up. His clothes are a mess; he really should change. He’ll need to wash these clothes thoroughly, that’s for sure.
.
.
.
Jimin’s heat breaks sometime after three in the morning. Yoongi hasn’t stayed with him the entire time, but he was with him more often than not. He’s sitting out on the sofa, blearily scrolling through his phone because there’s no way he can sleep with the sounds in the other room, when the door to the bedroom quietly clicks open. He hears the soft pad of bare feet on the floor. He looks up at the slightly pale omega, who is wearing a fresh pair of Yoongi’s boxers and a simple t-shirt. He must’ve gone through Yoongi’s dresser to find them, but the invasion of privacy doesn’t bother the alpha.
“Hey,” he greets, voice a little bit hoarse as he locks his phone and sets it down on the arm of the sofa.
“Hey.” Jimin doesn’t smell like heat anymore, although he does smell faintly of Yoongi, now. He moves slowly around the edge of the sofa and sits down beside the alpha. “Thank you.”
Yoongi brushes off the thanks. “How are you feeling?” he asks instead.
“Much better. It broke a few minutes ago. I don’t feel anything anymore. Just tired.”
“I bet.”
Jimin seems to be struggling with something internally, like he wants to say something, but keeps stopping himself.
“What is it?” Yoongi prompts him.
“I…I know we’re just strangers—”
Yoongi snorts, and then apologizes. “Sorry; it’s just—I don’t really feel like strangers anymore. After that.”
Jimin blushes. “Yes. Well.” He flounders a little. “I mean, we don’t know each other. I, I only know your name…and that you’re pretty much the kindest alpha in the entire world. Shut up; it’s true,” he scolds when Yoongi laughs again. “Anyway, I know we’re strangers, and you said you wouldn’t touch me, but would it be all right—I mean, I’m not in heat anymore, I know what I’m asking for—”
“What are you asking?” Yoongi heads him off, having a feeling he knows where this is going.
“Can I just—will you hold me?”
Ah. Yoongi knows about this. Omega’s often get like this after heats. The sudden absence of everything leaves them shaky and in need of innocent comfort. He takes in the way Jimin keeps his head down, his legs together, small hands clenched at his knees. Yoongi likes the way he looks in his clothing, and even though he knows it’s a very alpha thing to think, he still can’t help the pleased feeling from filling his insides.
Jimin glances up at him when he’s silent for too long, and Yoongi is struck for the second time by his beauty. Because Jimin is not just beautiful; he’s gorgeous. And his post-heat aura is nearly overwhelming. He is a little pale and sickly, but the calmness about him and the overall softness of his features draws Yoongi in.
The alpha raises an arm and runs his fingers through Jimin’s slightly damp hair, catching on his earlobe and stroking around it on his way down.
“Okay,” he says.
Jimin lets out a long breath of air and practically melts against him, molding his body to Yoongi’s and burying himself against his chest as the alpha wraps his arms around him. Yoongi is mildly surprised at how right it feels to finally hold the other man.
“I wish you were my mate,” Jimin murmurs against his neck, tracing his fingernail around Yoongi’s scent gland without actually overstepping the boundary.
“We don’t even know each other,” Yoongi points out. He runs his fingers through Jimin’s hair, and shifts on the sofa so that they can lie down more comfortably. He’s exhausted; he can’t even imagine how Jimin must feel.
“I know enough. I know I can trust you. I know you are gentle. I know you are kind. I know you will protect me.” He pauses briefly. “And I’m sure it wouldn’t take much more for me to love you.”
Yoongi pushes Jimin up just enough so that they can see each other’s faces. He wants. He wants so much. He imagines it now; waking up to this beautiful, sweet face every morning. He doesn’t know the first thing about the omega. That’s the human side of him speaking. But he knows…he knows that the more he learns about the omega, the more he’ll want to protect him, spend time with him, love him. That’s the alpha side of him speaking. And the thing about their species; their inner instincts are not often wrong. They may exaggerate the urgency of situations at times, might trick them into taking action too quickly, but in the end their instincts are nearly always true.
His instincts tell him to keep Jimin, to claim him, to be his alpha. They also tell him that the omega is already his in spirit. He can feel it, in the way Jimin leans down to nuzzle against his temple, breath hot in his ear.
“You’re sure you’re not in heat anymore?” Yoongi can’t stop himself from joking; he needs something to take away from the seriousness of the situation. This will change his life, if he follows through with it.
“Yes; I’m sure,” Jimin says, turning his head the other way and nuzzling the other side. Yoongi realizes that both of them are letting their pheromones pour out and mix with each other until it’s not two scents, but one full, rich scent. Yoongi gently pushes Jimin away again, reaching to take his chin between his thumb and forefinger.
He draws the omega down slowly and claims his lips.
Jimin opens his mouth against the kiss, but neither one deepens the kiss for a while, just moving their lips against each other, sucking lightly and carefully. Jimin lets his body rest down upon Yoongi’s, arms curled around the alpha’s shoulders. They break the kiss with a soft pop and smile at one another. Jimin suddenly blushes and giggles softly, shifting to lie down against Yoongi’s side.
“What?”
The omega’s hand walks up his chest, and Yoongi catches it, lifting it up and comparing their hands before lacing their fingers together and squeezing lightly.
“I just…I was thinking about the way you’ll take care of me, and it made me…it made me feel so safe. It made me feel happy.” He squeezes Yoongi’s hand, and says more quietly, somberly, “I haven’t felt happy in a long time.”
.
.
.
A month later, on the morning after their official mating bite and consummation, Yoongi leans against the kitchen counter as he pauses for a moment between preparing their breakfast—it turns out Jimin is pretty hopeless when it comes to cooking—and gazes at his new mate. Jimin is sitting at one of the bar stools, ankles hooked around the legs as he leans his elbows on the counter to watch Yoongi. The alpha loves the way Jimin hides his hands inside the long sleeves of Yoongi’s long-sleeved t-shirt, resting his chin on top as he meets Yoongi’s eyes with a happy expression. His hair is fluffy and sticking up a little in the back from the way he’d slept the night before.
“I never would have imagined my broken alternator would be the key to me finding my mate,” Yoongi shakes his head as he laughs at himself. Jimin grins up at him, eyes turning into crescents.
“Yeah. I really believe none of this was a coincidence. You were meant to find me.”
Yoongi, being the realist he is, doesn’t know if he agrees, but he’s certainly not complaining.
.
.
.
The End.