Work Text:
For a world that allowed the male species to have a self-lubricated ass and pop children through said cavity, Jisung thought he wasn't having that much fun.
Sex was pleasurable and heats were… an intense experience to say at least, but the spicy spark of living a great adventure—provided by three more gender roles—was missing.
He wanted the surprising inconvenience of finding out he belonged to the wrong category and popping a knot on a random Tuesday. He wanted to hide that he was a flimsy, fruity-smelling omega and join the army, proceeding to have more balls than any alpha alive. Or, falling in love with a prohibited omega and having a sticky-delicious secret relationship.
However, Jisung lived a pretty average life.
Son of Miroh's beta duke and duchess, his family's role was to maintain balance in the royal court. Very basic if you ask Jisung. And, on top of that, he wasn't the next in line for the title; his older brother was.
The greatest adventure in his twenty-five-year-old life was the day a mystical winged creature (a bug) bit him in the ass and left a heart-shaped scar in its passing.
But he wanted more.
No, he needed more.
So when the sun grew warmer and spring approached, an opportunity to leave the Miroh kingdom arrived by text message on said random Tuesday.
He didn't grow a knot and flung his dick at the first omega he could find, but Felix and Hyunjin had invited him to watch the flowers bloom in the neighboring kingdom, Levanter.
Hyunjin was cousin of the royal family, which provided an exciting ride there—on a Rolls-Royce with plenty of makgeolli and omega screaming.
But Jisung only deemed it the start of his grand adventure when the car stopped and they placed foot on the white marble steps of the castle's entryway, which had turned golden in the late afternoon. The prince was there to welcome his very drunk guests.
Minho—the next in line Prince Charming—was dressed in a white suit. He was a stunning figure bathed by the sunlight, face half shadowed by the tall columns perched on the strong foundation of a kingdom so great. He bowed politely before them.
“Long time no see, Hyunjin.” Minho's eyes were sharp and challenging. “I can't remember the last time I made you eat tissues.”
Hyunjin tsked, but bowed back in respect all the same.
Then, the side smirk that curled on Minho's perfectly red, plump lips eased. Jisung watched the ruffling of his eyelashes like gracious butterflies on his high cheekbones while he acknowledged the presence of two other omegas. It took his breath away.
“It's a pleasure meeting you, Felix and Jisung,” he said, voice sweet like the first bite of a fresh plum on a particularly hot morning.
Jisung was mesmerized, standing there for a moment, afraid his wobbly knees would give up and he would kiss the guy's boots before he muttered the first word.
“It-it's a good… An honor…” Jisung's slurred speech and slowed brain had no idea how to greet the beautiful prince.
Instead, his stomach coiled in inner turmoil, and his heart thrummed in his mouth.
If Jisung weren't as drunk as a sailor in an unruly tide, he would see it coming.
He didn't, though.
On the next beat of the clock, he opened his mouth and all the makgeolli rushed through his throat, knees giving out. But he didn't fall to kiss his boots. No. Jisung was puking all over Minho's shoes.
And this was the grand entrance of an adventure that neither of them saw coming.
To say Jisung was mortified was an understatement of his current state of utter emotional discomfort.
He puked on the prince’s boots. He passed out before entering the castle. He had to be escorted by the royal guard to his room—and he couldn't pay his respect to the queen and the king of Levanter.
On top of that, Minho was stunning. Crazy beautiful. Carved by the Gods. And he had made a fool of himself in front of the alpha.
“Do you think Minho could ever forget it?” Jisung winced after Felix had told him the full story.
The three of them were in pajamas, the sun waking up along with the birds and nature past the balcony of the guest chamber. While the day didn't start, Felix and Hyunjin rested on Jisung's bed.
“Well, no. But he gave a feeble laugh at the scene. He might forgive you.” The blonde omega tried to comfort him, petting his arm.
Jisung hid his face behind a pillow and screamed like a sad teenage girl movie. Because that's what he was. Behind the build of a full grown man, he was Lindsay Lohan in a low-budget production.
He wanted to die.
“Okay, Mr. I-don't-take-my-alcohol-well, stop mopping, it's time for us to get ready for breakfast.” He felt Hyunjin rising from his spot.
Suddenly, cold dread licked at Jisung's guts, and he removed the pillow from his face the next second.
He couldn't face the prince ever again, especially not hungover, with bags under his eyes and a swollen face.
“I'm not going,” he stated, shaking his head from side to side—regretting it instantly as his temples protested with a painful thrumming. “I'm not ready to see Minho after yesterday.”
If there was a next time Jisung would have to be face to face to those sharp, yet sweet eyes, he wanted to look like fucking Cinderella—after the rats and fairy godmother's makeover.
Felix also rose from the bed, throwing his arms up in a very-cat like stretch, the early morning light behind him creating a perfect halo on his blonde strands and calm figure.
“Don't worry, silly, Minho is already on prince duty by now. It's just us.”
All of Jisung's newly created worries dissipated, but still left a hollow in his chest. There was a part of him who really wanted to see the charming prince again and humiliate himself some more.
Maybe Jisung was discovering a humiliation kink. And he was honestly fine with it. As long as he could witness—while fully conscious this time—Minho’s lips curling on an easy smile, he would become the court jester for all he knows.
The following events of the day were just as nerve-wrecking as the first time he set foot in the kingdom.
To begin with, he forgot his underwear and had to borrow some from Felix, who loved to wear a size smaller because he said it lifted his butt. And then Jisung was also having a butt lift—against his will.
Breakfast was okay. The three omegas delighting themselves with sticky-sweet pastries, most of them already having fresh fruit on top from the first batch of spring.
The following event was the formal greeting of the king and queen, where he had to profusely apologize for his young and foolish behavior. Fortunately, the couple were in high spirits and dismissed him with a fling of nonchalant hands.
Which led him next to the garden for what he came to do. Watch nature re-birth, tan in the warm—but not scorching hot—sun, smell the flowers, feel the wind blow his hair.
It was great. They throwew a blanket partly under the shade of an apple tree, partly by the sun. Hyunjin sat in the shade, a sketchbook in one hand and a pencil on the other—and his eyes set on Felix's closed ones, resting in the sun with hands behind his head.
Jisung had a tendency to always stay in the middle. Not sunshine-materialized like Felix, welcoming sunlight like he was born from it; not a dramatic, shadowy soul like Hyunjin, hidden in a corner to portray the world's beauty from a distance.
In a way, Jisung felt like nothing and everything at once. Waiting for the perfect time to bloom like the rose bushes they passed earlier—waiting for his grand adventure.
Fortunately or not for him, his grand adventure seemed to muster himself from an open hole on the ground, scaring the shit out of Jisung.
“Jesus,” he put a hand on his chest, feeling his heart thrum like a rabbit's.
Minho stood a few feet away, taking the path to meet them by the tree, head tipping down to hide a playful smile.
“Well, definitely not Jesus. It's just me.” Apparently, every time he opened his mouth, his voice dripped in a slow, melodic tone, sweet and gentle.
Jisung had forgotten for a second what the conditions that they had met for the first time. He could only lie there, stunned by the prince's beauty.
Just like yesterday, he wore a white suit, tailored to hug large shoulders and seemingly thick thighs, ending with knee-high boots.
“I hope you guys didn't wander by the wine cellars today.” He dared to joke.
What he didn't expect was that Jisung was a clown—with a new acquired humiliation kink.
“Watch your boots, your Highness. I might still be feeling sick.”
Minho's shy waver of tight lips was cute. Jisung wanted to rub himself on it.
“I'm afraid we would have to take you to the infirmary if that were the case.”
“Only if you would personally care for me, your Highness.”
On top of a humiliation kink, Jisung apparently had no shame anymore. His wolf took control to claim the young prince as his without even taking a whiff of a scent yet.
Behind the confident smirk, Jisung wanted to run in circles and set his ass on fire.
“I'll have to refuse, your Grace. I'll be hosting a bachelor competition soon. I can't be caught playing doctors in the meantime.”
He was so polite and the words rolled out of his mouth were so smooth. Jisung wasn't even sad for being rejected. Just horny, very horny.
Hyunjin and Felix eyed their shared moment without adding in, probably sensing the feeble spark going on between them. He was glad for it, both of them waiting until Minho excused himself right after to bombard him with a bunch of questions.
“What was that?”
“What competition?”
They talked on top of each other, but Jisung had no brain left for forming thoughts besides how much he wanted to sit on that knot.
Later that day, they found a bar. Not the wisest decision after Jisung's start in the Levanter kingdom, but it was beer this time. No way Jisung was getting dead-drunk with a glass of beer.
Wrong.
A few sips in, and he sang The Ballad of Mona Lisa from the top of his lungs. The crowd of equally dead-drunk alphas cheered him on.
And yet it wasn't enough to wipe from his head the interaction with the prince.
When the yelling died down and he ungraciously climbed down from the table, Hyunjin and Felix were on their phone, googling about the said competition.
“Apparently, there's a tradition in the Levanter kingdom. Until the alpha prince is taken, he has to hold a bachelor competition each year to meet new potential candidates for the next queen omega.”
“Seems interesting,” Jisung hiccuped, but didn't pay much attention. Although he was an omega, queen wasn't a position he could take.
“There's a catch though. It doesn't say you need to be a female omega to participate. It just says the candidate needs to have a noble title and be an omega.”
Jisung's eyebrows reached his hairline as he stared from Felix to Hyunjin, proceeding to think of imaginable ways of searching for his grand adventure.
It would indeed be big, he concluded. First male omega to join the event, to stand there among ruffled skirts and pompous cleavage cuts. All for a chance at Minho's pants.
Did he want a royal position or did he want a hot make-out session in the throne room?
Curiosity spiked in him and he wet his lips with another sip of beer, “How does the event work?”
Felix couldn't hide his knowing smile, glad to see Jisung didn't reject the idea at firsthand. “Well, nothing much. They participate in tasks to prove their worth as a noble, capable of running a country and the prince's heart.”
Jisung had etiquette and peace strategies classes during school. Nothing like his brother had as he was trained for an actual royal position, but he read Machiavelli. The prince's heart, though; that prince book didn't teach him.
He hesitated. “I bet the registration period is over.”
“Until midnight.” Hyunjin was the devil on his shoulder, literally, as he stayed perched on his side, showing him his phone's screen.
Jisung hid his scorching hot cheeks in his hands. He was in no state of making such a big decision. What if he actually won and had to rush back to his father and tell him he accidentally became the next omega queen of another kingdom?!
… But he wanted to know if his lips tasted as sweet as the words that left his mouth, reaching his ears in a velvety melody.
“We should play darts,” Felix proposed. “If you win, you don't register. If I win, I'll register your name.”
For Jisung's foggy brain, it seemed wise to let fate decide whatever his grand adventure would be.
They left the table to gather around the board and the few darts stuck there. Felix managed to catch them all in one go, Hyunjin staying by the side to count their points.
None of them were stable enough to aim, but what could go wrong, right?
Everything, when you're Han Jisung.
The first throw he sent on the wall made a curve and hit a glass of beer on the corner.
Jisung laughed, Felix joined.
“That’s actually way more fun,” Felix purposely aimed further and hit a bottle of vodka on the counter, reckless by the rushing of alcohol that colored his cheeks.
From behind the bar, the mixologist sent him a dirty look. Felix giggled in return, mouthing an ‘opsies’ that melted the most stoned heart.
“What if you two bet on it instead?” Hyunjin was partly hidden by the wall to avoid a dart on his forehead, but the devious dare remained on his sharp tongue. “The first who hits an alpha and gets away with it, wins.”
So they did. Each carrying three more darts between small hands and delicate palms. Ready to cause havoc to kill the boredom that came with the daunting subgender they belonged to.
The adrenaline of a dare mixed with the taste of alcohol in the tip of a tongue that peaked out to focus on their target was enough to fuel the challenge.
Jisung was the first to send a dart flying, passing an alpha's shoulder a millimeter too far. He grimaced when the guy tried following the trajectory of the dart with his eyes, but Jisung looked innocent enough with a beer glass in his hand, pretending to chat with Felix.
The blonde omega was next, his dainty fingers curling on the body of the dart, looking around for the perfect target—an alpha passed out on the counter, his butt sticking out on the stool he was sitting on.
It lasted a second. He threw it in a blink of lazy eyelashes, the alpha in question jumping up in fright as it hit his rear. Bingo.
The guy looked behind, but Felix was smiling from ear to ear and sending him a flirtatious wave. He immediately forgot what the matter was, removing the pointy object from his butt before passing out again.
“Not fair, Lixie is like the god of love. Of course he's gonna charm all the alphas.” Jisung crossed his arms, sulking. Felix patted his back.
“Best out of three? We still have two shots.” Besides the god of love, he was also an angel, ready to please his Jisungie.
Little did they know four more darts thrown in the direction of buzzed alphas would end up in a massive fist fight—that they had to run from, laughing their asses off.
The clock was thirty minutes from midnight when they reached a plaza. They sat on a bench to rest and watch the sounds of glass clattering and angry shouting from afar.
“Maybe it wouldn't be that bad to participate in an event full of desperate noble omegas chasing a crowned knot. You know, cause chaos, have fun.”
“You're gonna compete unseriously?” Felix already had the phone in hands, looking at him over his shoulder, stunned.
“Yeah. And try to make out with Minho in the throne room.”
“Kinky.” Hyunjin shrugged, deeming an okay answer. He helped Felix fill in all of Jisung's information on the entry Google form.
Days passed in the beautiful castle of the Levanter kingdom. Nature bloomed each one of those days, the smell of newly-born flowers lingering in the air, mingling with the natural musk of trees and wet grass.
Jisung had never witnessed such beauty. Miroh's spring was brief, giving way to the unbearable waves of summer heat, the sweet smell of the omegas turning rotten in such a climate.
Not here, though, it heightened the flowery, fruity scents. They clouded the alphas’ judgment as, in a harsh intake of breath, it filled their lungs with stunning, fresh spring.
This may be was why the science books have called it the mating season, being almost unbearable to stand the wind passing by and leaving their mouths watering with the aftertaste.
Minho was nowhere to be seen. And Jisung pondered if he was also affected by them, if his alpha couldn't control itself near a sweet scent and an even sweeter smile.
He imagined the prince hidden, going partly nuts at the lack of aroma in the air, his primal instincts begging him to act.
But the crown prince was so contained, so polite, so elegant—in his moves and in the way he curved his lips to faintly smile at them. It wouldn't be easy to make him break free from the high morals of a soon-to-be monarch.
So Jisung waited. A week to be exact. Thinking of what the prince would smell like when they were close to each other, dancing, or doing whatever it was needed during the competition.
He had a plan. Of course Jisung had a plan. It wouldn't be him if he didn't think previously on a way to fuck things up with his greatest adventure.
With a piece of paper under his arm, a formal suit, and a lot of confidence, he made his way to the large ballroom where the event would take place.
Felix and Hyunjin got him ready—with Felix's extra tight underwear to lift his butt and a bit of makeup, courtesy of Hyunjin. They gave him the thumbs up to go.
Little did he know he wouldn't even pass the doors before trouble started…
The royal guards, the ones in charge of the prince's personal safety, held him in place, away from the room filled with colorful dresses and loud chatter.
“Excuse me, sir, this is a private event—for omega nobles only,” the tallest one started, the muscles visible through his shirt.
It didn't faze Jisung, his eyes dropping to the name embroidered on his uniform. ‘Bang Chan’, it read.
“I am a noble and an omega,” Jisung was waiting for this moment, smugly smiling as he got his title paper from under his armpit and shoved it on the man's face.
The poor piece had gotten more than necessary of his scent on the way there, after a powerful walk through the guest wing up until the main doors. The alpha sniffed it against his will while his eyes squinted to read Jisung's son of Miroh's Duke title.
Changbin, the other guard, also gazed over the words written, mouth partly open in surprise.
Jisung honestly understood their reaction. Never in the history of the Levanter kingdom has a male omega participated in the competition.
First, male omegas were a small part of the population. Miroh’s had a few more—especially in the royalty hierarchy, but still as rare as a supernatural appearance.
Second, on top of being a male omega and a noble, Jisung was also a raging homosexual. So yes, Jisung was a fairy emerging right before their eyes.
“Hum/” The bulkier of them hesitated, cheeks turning a faint color of pink. “Your grace, y-you need to be on the list to enter.” He was clearly trying to keep Jisung from breaking the society's norms by passing through that door.
Jisung chuckled. “I'm on the list. You can check it.” The smug tone didn't leave him, crossing arms on his chest.
They pulled a board with the list attached, stopping their search when they came across with his name there, looking lost as their eyes went from the paper to Jisung and vice versa.
It was time to intervene then. “You are not about to be misogynistic towards a man, right?”
He was smiling politely, but on the inside, Jisung was rolling around, laughing his ass off at the pale faces before him.
The guards stepped away from the entrance.
“That's what I thought.” Jisung's nose was high in the air as he side-eyed them. “If you two excuse me, I have a prince to charm.”
And a knot to sit, Jisung completed in his head.
In the palace’s ballroom, tables were set across the dance floor. The white linen contrasted with the salmon-pink flowers that decorated the top. Most of the noblewomen had already arrived, adding to the light colors of the room.
The only men were guards, standing on the corners; or the prince's advisor, who was up on the last steps of the stairs that led down to the room, looking taller than most.
Jisung wasn't wearing a dark suit, which a symbol of the castle's workers. The attention fell on him more easily, especially when his feet hadn't marched to join them—but instead, led him close to the sweet-smelling omegas.
It lasted a second. His eyes scanned the tables for an empty chair. Jisung sat down. All women stared at him as if he had completely lost his mind.
Maybe he did indeed. And the only antidote was Minho's knot, which he planned to sit on whether he became his omega queen or not.
He didn't mind the whispered chitchatting about him, his focus staying solely on the table's snacks. He understood his mere presence was as if the pope had joined ‘Say Yes to the Dress’ show.
And Jisung was 100% ready to play the pope—that is until the moment his chastity vow had to be broken by Minho's blessed knot. It was what Jesus wanted. How could he deny it?
While it didn't happen, Jisung stuffed his mouth with sticky pastries.
Seeing the commotion, the advisor’s eyes also went to Jisung, who became even more distracted as a waiter with makgeolli glasses passed by.
He never learned. No.
Fortunately for him, before the brown-haired man approached him, the doors closed to indicate the event was about to start.
Like a mirage from a dying, innocent child, Minho descended the stars gracefully, in a white suit and recently-bleached silver hair—his stature so immaculate he could be an angel sent from the above…
And Jisung had to stop the catholic guilt trip in his brain to envision Minho as something heavenly—if he was actually to sit on that knot.
But back to the ballroom, where noblewomen silenced completely as they too sat there stunned to see the great prince of Levanter kingdom.
He was a sight to behold indeed, with hitched breaths and gasping out loud. His beauty was unmatched and his greetings entered their ears softly, a composition made by the Gods.
“It's a pleasure receiving you in our castle for our annual run for the crown.” He stopped on the last step, bowing humbly at the omegas.
A people-pleaser, Jisung concluded with a bite of his lip, promptly swallowing the food down with the rest of his makgeolli glass. He wondered if he also enjoyed pleasing his lovers, or if the prince was a menace hidden behind the restraints of his title.
There was only one way to find out…
Jisung took a big bite of a raspberry puff, watching as the prince approached the center of the room in sure steps, shoulders rolled back, a predator in a room filled with easy, willing prey. If Jisung strained his ears, he could hear the wolves howling in the omegas’ core, his own panting in desire-induced delirium.
“I see we have a few contestants from last year's event.” His smile was as well-trained as his sharp eyes, finding each one of them, bowing with his head. “And a few new ones.” He purposely avoided Jisung, his gaze falling on young-looking duchesses and marchionesses.
He took a glass of makgeolli from the table, not caring who it belonged to. The women around him didn't care either, too busy thirsting over Minho. Jisung was thirsty, too—he downed the liquid in one go.
“Seungmin, my advisor, will go over the rules in a moment, followed by the missions you ladies will receive for the length of this lovely week.” He kept going, speech rolling off his tongue in a delicious rhythm, swooning every and each one of them.
Jisung didn't look fazed, busying himself with food. He refilled his cheeks with more tasty bread. On the inside, though, he thought he might break into sudden heat.
Minho stepped back to put them all under his sharp gaze, the combination of omega scent almost becoming a pink cloud in the air.
“I look forward to getting to know you.”
He had this thing, this incredible charm under perfectly done hair and a smug smirk. It made them desperate, ready to run around like headless chickens.
“May good luck be on your side,” he continued, bowing again. “I'll leave now. Enjoy the food and drinks, but not too much.” Minho's eyes connected with Jisung's for a fleeting moment, winking.
In answer, Jisung, with his cheeks stuffed to the brim with the kingdom’s goods, raised his glass and smiled disgustingly at him—getting an immediate reaction, the prince lowered his head to hide a sudden urge to laugh.
Minho could be Cinderella's dream guy, drawing collective sighs behind his graceful steps, but Jisung was funny. He would charm him in return with a few bad jokes and his purposely clumsy way.
With alcohol swirling peacefully in his blood, Jisung enjoyed the ceremony.
Seungmin, Minho's advisor, stepped into the center of the room. He was equally as elegant and precise, but he carried a seriousness that the prince didn't. He talked business, not romance. His words anchored them in reality after Minho’s cloudy smiles and dreamy pleasantries.
A guide of the event was explained while they were still recovering from the hundred sad sighs their lungs let out after Minho left, climbing the stairs back to whatever alternative universe charming princes went.
Basically, the event would last five full days. They would have missions during the day and, as the sun was devoured by the impending night, they would retire to freshen, returning for a ball.
The following event for the day was to mingle among themselves, trade names, titles, smiles, gossip.
Jisung was ready to serve them, with tea and biscuits as side dishes—all noblewomen eyeing him suspiciously.
“Who let you in?” The first one tried.
Jisung, on the other hand, rolling the pearly liquid around the glass, just shot a, “Chan and Changbin, like everyone else.”
He didn't know if they were jealous or if they didn't get the memo that female rivalry was not in fashion anymore—which was hilarious, because he wasn't a girl, just a fellow omega.
“What are you even doing here?” He heard another one whisper.
“Well, I didn't come here for cream puffs and makgeolli, that's certain.” He giggled. “We should bet on the circumference of his knot, though. I think that would be a way more interesting challenge.”
A less venous noble rested her face on her hand, cleavage bulging out on her emerald green dress. “I heard his family has a history of being well-endowed.”
Jisung’s boredom vanished in a clink of crystal against a plate. “Can you inherit a big dick?! Is that possible?!” His eyes were wide as saucers.
She chuckled, proceeding then to shrug her shoulders. “Only one way to find out.”
The words haunted Jisung after the ceremony. He really looked forward to that make-out session. He just needed to find a way to finally break the prince's composure.
Meanwhile, he asked Hyunjin for the lore behind this piece of very interesting gossip.
“Oh, it started with Minho’s grandfather. There's a tradition in the court—to enter the sauna before a grand decision, so they can be relaxed to make it. Rumors say it doesn't skip generations.”
“I can't believe I was trying to get him naked in the throne room when they have a sauna here. Ugh,” Jisung threw his hands up, exasperated. “Why didn't anybody tell me this? I'm living among traitors.”
The next day came sooner than expected, and Jisung was once again ready to enter the ballroom. He was stalling, perched on the colossal wooden doors of the place, watching nature following its course undisturbed.
In the distance, he saw a white horse crossing the garden in rapid, thunderous trots, almost missing who was riding such a beast.
Of course it was his grand adventure, holding back the restraints of the animal's face and squeezing his thick thighs on its back for a quick stop. His silver hair shone in the daylight along with the embroidery on his white suit.
The horse seemed feral, shaking from side to side, raising his front paws from the ground with a relish. Minho powered through it graciously.
Prince Charming was able to tame the white and silver beast eventually, forcing it into submission. He patted its mane with sure words Jisung couldn't hear.
Jisung was hard. And for the wrong reasons.
While the equine struggled to follow the commands, he noticed it resembled Minho. The colors, the rebellion behind elegant, rehearsed steps. But, more than just aesthetic, Jisung wondered if Minho's dick was as big as the animal's.
Maybe there wasn't a wolf in his core, whining in pure lust like Jisung's. Perhaps it was a horse, trotting and relishing and sporting a magnificent dick.
Before he was drooling on the palace's front doors, Jisung decided it was time to enter the ballroom and face the noblewomen.
Yet, he couldn't stop thinking about rendering himself into partial submission for the man and the beast he hid in his pants.
Well, well, well, who would've thought Minho was indeed a prince on a white horse—a thick, colossal white horse…
Upon entering the ballroom, where the ladies were seated, Jisung was in high spirits, and, apparently, so were they.
No weird glances from sharp-tongued nobles or Seungmin, who stood in a corner waiting for the clock to announce the right time for the beginning of the contest.
“I almost thought you had given up,” the woman from yesterday, with dark curls and an emerald green dress, smiled.
“And lose the chance of discovering how big the prince's knot is? That's no fun,” he replied, returning her smile.
“Don't you desire the queen position as well?” A third omega joined, small breasts in a pastel pink dress, her long dark hair curled to perfection, just as the first woman.
Jisung hesitated. Did he desire the responsibilities of such an important title?
“I don't know,” he said honestly, “I haven't had the chance to ponder further on the subject.”
Seungmin clapped his hands, stopping the hushed voices going around the tables. The clock had struck the right time.
He greeted them cordially, apologizing for the prince's absence. He had a crown emergency, but he would make it up for the time lost at the ball later.
The tooth-rooting omega smell in the air acquired a tinge of acidic undertone, the horny noblewomen—and Jisung—unhappy with the news.
Never in his twenty-five years had he been affected emotionally by a combined omega scent. Maybe they were sensitive due to the blooming spring and the mating season that came with it—and Jisung was part of it, feeling his usual bergamot and patchouli turning acid in his mouth.
There were no drinks or snacks on the table to distract him from the overwhelming scent and Seungmin's long speech about the rules of the contest. But he survived—against all odds and his wolf's insistent urge to leave and only come back at night to humor Minho with a very slick joke.
Then, they were being escorted to a study room in a straight line. Jisung did feel like he was young-adult Lindsay Lohan playing a part in a low-budget school movie.
Equally as airhead as most of her characters, Jisung was too busy having knot-induced thoughts and how much he could physically fit in his mouth to pay attention to Seungmin's explanation.
It wasn't the best idea, he realized as he came face to face with a tall shelf filled with pumps—as in shoes, not the sex toy.
“Ahn… What are these for?” He hesitated while the other women just picked their size and left for their seats.
The small breasts, pink dress lady from earlier blinked at him. “For the first task: to test our balance on queen attire, carrying the equivalent weight of the crown on top of our heads,” she spoke slowly as if he was an idiot (he was).
Too much of an idiot to think decisions through before making them. If he did, he would have never joined the contest.
He did want a grand adventure, though…
Jisung picked the largest shoe size—still way smaller than his normal oxfords—and returned to his place. He didn't put them on like the other omegas.
The first noble on the line of seats rose, heel clinking on ceramic, taking a stack of books from a servant to balance on her head.
Bergamot turned acidic in his mouth as he searched for a way to complete the task. Jisung had never worn pumps—as he was a man who tended to stick to society's gender roles. Maybe he shouldn't, seeing how he needed it now.
Well, at least he could still have fun.
He cheered for the other omegas when they managed to stay in position longer than ten seconds, producing sorry sounds when gravity eventually pushed the books to the floor too soon.
The sitting ladies joined him, clapping and laughing as they rooted for each other. It was indeed fun, resulting in more women completing the task.
That is, until Jisung's turn came and he had to stand. He wore his pair of white oxfords and held one of the shoes in his hand like a foreign object.
Making his way to the center of the room, he said, “Sorry to break it to you.” He smiled at Seungmin and the other two court advisors. “But I'm no Cinderella. I'm more of a Big Foot.”
His newly-acquired friend in a green dress was the first to crack her composure, resounding a loud snort at the statement—a few other omegas following right behind.
Seungmin blinked rapidly, probably stunned at his public behavior and the rendezvous he caused.
It was short-lived, though, the advisor quickly replying, “You won't be wearing heels if you take the throne, yet, you will be carrying the crown. Please, drop the shoe and take the books to complete the required task.”
Jisung wanted to break him too, but, unlike Minho, he seemed way more in tune with his duty and place at the castle.
For now, he listened well, leaving the item on the floor and accepting the handful of books the servant handed all the women.
It was pretty heavy, verging on the five-kilogram mark if he had to take a guess. He had no idea how those flimsy noble omegas could balance this much weight on top of their heads—only if they were doing an F1 neck workout before the contest.
Jisung laughed, imagining them at the gym or a royal study, doing push-ups with their heads propped on a flat surface and their hands behind their backs.
Pitifully, his share of the challenge lasted at most two seconds. Jisung had the balance of a baby deer learning to stand.
The other tasks were similar in nature, stuck in a stereotypical gender box he didn't belong in: graciously serving tea, waving politely at their people, sitting down in pompous queen attire.
This was a gender-reveal party for Jisung, causing him to ponder how society dealt with female and male omegas. But unfortunately, he wasn't a baby, and he had to stay there as the living meme of buff Godzilla in a pink dress.
The highlight of this shit show of a day was when Minho, white suit covered in bits of mud and sweaty hair, passed by the door of the study to peek at the contest.
An etiquette teacher was showing them how to wave a hand-fan to convey emotion with their body instead of untrained words. A task expected of the next queen.
Jisung, on the other hand, was using said fan as a stage prop to hide himself behind and then come up with the ugliest face expressions he could muster—of course, away from the teacher.
He didn't see Minho immediately, too busy sticking his tongue on the inside of his cheek and doing a blowjob motion with his other hand. On the next second, he emerged from behind the fan for his grand reveal.
Their eyes met.
At first, the prince widened his eyes in surprise at the unexpectedness of the act, but then, he lowered his head, obscuring his face from view, shoulders shaking in what Jisung assumed was laughter.
With cheeks pink from embarrassment, Jisung hid his chuckles behind the fan, exactly like the teacher had taught.
The rest of the room noticed the sudden commotion, turning their heads and finding Minho at the door. Luckily, nobody paid him any attention.
“Your Highness, what a pleasure having you here.” The teacher bowed politely, Minho mimicking her.
“I could say the same.” Although he was muddy and sweaty, the prince spoke elegantly and squared his shoulders like a royal alpha should—clearly well-trained in etiquette. “I was just passing by and wanted to greet you all properly.”
A heart-throb, a slick-inducer, a sweet-scent enabler, prince charming. And, on top of that, with an allegedly white horse under his belt.
“Have fun without me, but not too much fun.” He winked. “We still have a ball to enjoy later.”
Jisung was red for other reasons now.
Each ball would have a theme and a specific dress code. The first one was about the animal kingdom, and Jisung deemed it hilarious.
He spent the whole day pondering about Minho having a humongous, horse dick—and now they were having to submit their wolves for a round of furry exhibition and pet play. He was having a blast.
Seungmin took them to a well-organized costume room so they could find the right addition to their ball attire. Jisung picked up a box filled with animal headbands.
Between the usual cat ears and pointy ladybug antenna, he pulled a cloudy headband with low, pink ears. It took him a long while to realize it was a sheep one.
A wolf in sheep's clothing. That would be a good joke to tempt Minho.
He retrieved the item and went back to his room, where Felix and Hyunjin were lazily making out.
“Geez, and I thought I was horny.” Jisung clutched his chest after his initial jump scare. He would be scarred forever for seeing their friends making out.
The smell of Felix's peach and vanilla scent, combined with Hyunjin's grapes and jasmine, was intoxicating. He tried waving his hand around to dissipate the fruity, dense fog in the air.
“It's mating season, darling. It's affecting all of us,” Felix shrugged while he smoothed his suit. “How was today?”
Jisung forgot all about his traumatic experience to tell both of them about the tasks. Then, he showed the sheep headband. They burst out laughing.
“I think Minho will love it. We can pair it with a white suit and black loafers to resemble hooves. Also, how do you feel about making a sheep snout with makeup?” Hyunjin was excited.
In the end, Jisung descended the stairs looking rather silly in his velvet, pearl suit and floppy, pink ears. Luckily, he owned silliness. From the iridescent makeup on his eyes to the ridiculous black snout Hyunjin painted on him, he looked good.
The other ladies in the ballroom looked way more fitting for the event. They had chosen big, imposing animals that called out to their wolves. The headband, though, looked like a sore thumb in all of them. The tiara was hidden under their pompous hairstyles, but the soft, low-quality fabric still clashed with the noble outfit.
Jisung wanted to kiss whoever had the idea of bringing a tinge of humor to a serious court ball.
He sat down at his designated table, lady in green and lady in pink already present. The first was a panther, trading green for pitch-black with blue details; the second wore lion ears, a fluffy brownish-orange shawl, and a golden dress.
“Well, you look rather interesting,” his first acquaintance there smirked at him.
“You too, your Grace,” he replied, returning her smirk with an exaggerated bow.
Prince Minho was nowhere to be found, fashionably late as always, waiting for them all to arrive before making his magical appearance.
While they waited, Jisung drank makgeolli and snatched a tray of appetizers from a castle’s servant. The women eyed him weirdly as he filled his cheeks with canapés.
He understood that tight corsets and the intrinsic female role in society meant starving themselves, but that's where he drew his personal limit for acting outside of his gender box. This sheep was very hungry, for food and for—
Jisung's grand adventure descended the stairs right on time. Their breaths were immediately caught in their throats.
The palace's stylist wasn't the most creative, dressing Minho for what he really was: a wolf.
A big, bad, imposing wolf.
With his silver hair partly slicked back and only a few strands falling onto his face, his sharp gaze could razor cut them open. Levanter’s warrior mark was done on his left side, a black stripe from the top of his eyebrow to the high of his cheekbone, white contact lens on said eye.
His face was worth stopping wars for. But his body… God, his body was worth committing crimes for.
The visceral want in their animalistic cores called for him, wordlessly, helplessly.
It was the first time they could ogle his muscled arms. He wore a short-sleeved, deep gray vest—also part of their army attire—combined with a black harness looped on his bicep and tight leather pants suffocating his thick thighs. Over it all, white fur covered his shoulders.
Every step he took was heavy and sure, eyeing them personally so they all felt afraid and desired at the same time.
Jisung couldn't muster any joke, his throat dry. Rooted to his seat, mouth half open, eyes unwavering as the prince bowed in greeting.
“It's a pleasure having you on this lovely night.” The velvety, polite tone didn't match the scary way he presented himself—and yet, the melody fueled the lava in the omegas’ cores.
Jisung needed that man, carnally, mentally, spiritually. He would drag Jesus himself to fulfill his wish of pursuing Minho if he had to.
“The advisors measure your capability of turning into a great commander of this land during the day,” he continued in the same cadence of sticky-sweet fruit juice running down his throat—Jisung turning sticky-sweet too, in his pants. “But, at night, I evaluate your ability to be my omega queen.”
The pheromones in the air heightened, all of them reduced to wet underwear in a blink of long lashes against high cheekbones.
“Today, I'll dance with each one of you, so we can test our chemistry.”
Anxiety ran through Jisung's bones like a cold bucket of water, coming back to reality too soon as he realized he was never led during the waltz. And he was sure the alpha prince wouldn't like his omega to put a hand on his waist and try to order his movements around.
Jisung proceeded to put more food in his mouth, resembling more of a chipmunk than a sheep.
Minho kept speaking about the general rules. Seungmin was by his side to add whenever he saw fit. But Jisung didn't hear a single thing, busy with the crisis at hand.
If Jisung was actually Lindsay Lohan in a low-budget production, what would he do?
Probably nothing—waiting for the universe (the script) to set the situation right.
Maybe she wouldn't down three glasses of makgeolli in one go and, when it was her turn, knock her knees together while getting up. He didn't know if it was the alcohol or the embarrassment flushing his cheeks a deep pink color.
Jisung walked to him anyway, focusing on putting one foot in front of another—hopefully not raising any suspicious glances from those around him.
He didn't even stumble on the process. He was counting his wins.
The crown prince was waiting for him at the center of the dance floor, a delicate hand extending as he watched Jisung approach him like a trembling sheep going to slaughter.
“Don't worry, I don't bite.” Minho's lips curled in a smug half smile, lazily eyeing him down.
If Jisung had downed a glass more, he would have fallen to his knees purposefully, offering his mouth to keep the heavy weapon in Minho's pants safe.
Instead, his lips curled in a grin too, wavery from the alcohol, but intentionally wicked. “What if I want you to?” He took the prince's hand. “Have you ever eaten bergamots, your Highness?”
Minho used the hold on him to bring him closer, placing Jisung's hand on his shoulder—showing him he didn't need to worry about his inability to dance.
“I have.”
There was still a reasonable gap between them as Minho eyed him down from a short distance, but Jisung could still take in the first whiff of his scent. It was cinnamon and something woody he couldn’t decipher from how horny it was making him feel.
Heat built in Jisung's core, bergamots turning sweeter, the patchouli undertone vanishing completely—for the sticky aroma to reach Minho in a fog that told him exactly what Jisung needed.
“What about ass? Have you eaten it before?” Jisung was a purposeful clown, biting his bottom lip as he waited for the prince's reaction.
Minho allowed himself a controlled, well-mannered laugh.
“I have,” he replied at last, ears becoming pink.
He didn't let Jisung comment on it, though, delicately tracing his fingers over Jisung's other arm to clasp their hands in a tight hold.
“Aren't you gonna place your hand on my waist?” He said instead, challenging.
Minho took the bait. “Can I?” His eyes scanned down to take in Jisung's whole figure.
It was so hard to play nicely. Jisung was a bad lamb, wanting to go against God's timing and pursue this big, bad wolf.
(The heavenly jokes about Minho were still, unfortunately, everlasting.)
“I bet my waist is smaller than half these noblewomen. Don't you want to find out?” Jisung grasped the prince's wrist, placing his hand exactly where he wanted. “But don't go easy on me, your Highness.” The wicked smile was back. “You must know I like it rough.”
Minho shook his head disapprovingly, but there was a trace of a smile wanting to make itself known—and, of course, the tightening of his hold as the music started.
Jisung decided he needed a better strategy for his plan, so, after the ball, he started studying…
And, by studying, he meant binge-watching Disney princess movies.
It wasn't his first choice in—ever if he were honest. Jisung thought Asia was dominated enough by Western culture, meaning that, in normal circumstances, he didn't enjoy indulging in more.
But desperate times called for desperate measures. And Jisung’s slick ass was desperate enough—making him swallow back his own words as he first thought only the other omegas would reach this low on the level of despair.
Jisung was sure Minho was his grand adventure, though, and he would pursue him—in the throne room, in a sauna, in the garden of Eden for the hell of it.
The morning came sooner than expected, and Jisung groaned when the alarm went off. He was tired from “studying” at night, having only a few hours of rest before another big day.
Felix and Hyunjin, who had helped him study (with the addition of popcorn from the kitchen and snarky comments at the archaic social display of the female gender), slept in—leaving Jisung to suffer on his own.
The noblewomen were gathered in the ballroom again. Seungmin explained the tasks for the day. Yada, Yada. Jisung was too tired to care about any of them, sulking in a corner, hungry and exhausted like a three-year-old.
Apparently, the task was to find the kingdom’s missing jewelry by following the clues scattered around the castle's garden and left wing. They wanted to ensure the next queen knew the palace well in case of emergencies.
On top of that, Minho was nowhere to be seen.
Jisung deemed he had other emergencies at hand.
When the bell rang, signalling the beginning of the race, all noblewomen raised their dresses to start running. Jisung started running too. Away from the garden. Away from the left wing.
Seungmin could honestly shove his difficult tasks right up his little beta ass because Jisung was not going to stay under the sun to find pretend items so that he could sit on the prince's knot.
When he said he wanted to pursue Minho in the Garden of Eden, he didn't mean it literally. Ugh.
Fortunately, nobody saw him leaving the place. Even the castle's servants were there to watch omegas running around like headless chickens.
Jisung stole a basket filled with pastries and fruits from the kitchen, grumpily munching on a sweet treat as he made his way to God knows where.
Marching on heavy steps, he eventually found tall doors that read ‘library’ on the wood. He thought that incredibly Belle scripted, waiting for his cursed prince with a beast in his pants to find him while he read a great piece of literature…
Jisung quickly laid eyes on the erotica section, bread still between his teeth.
He was no Belle, though; he loved a good book about dicks and holes—quickly scanning the shelves for one he hadn't read yet.
He deemed it was time to de-stress—unfortunately, without the help of the sauna, he hadn't found that room yet.
Nothing like good food, a good book, and a good snooze to keep a knot-headed omega like Jisung sated. He was sleeping in less than five minutes into the story—cheeks still filled to the brim with bread.
It didn't last, unfortunately.
After an hour in dreamland, Jisung heard the creaking of the doors opening—his eyes fluttering open too, revealing who he least expected.
Jisung choked on bread, hard.
With wide eyes and frantic movements, Minho came closer—way less graciously than he usually carried himself. He was too busy grabbing Jisung by the arms and manhandling him to do the Heimlich maneuver.
The devious piece of bread was dislodged from his throat after some rough punches to his diaphragm, his back pressed against Minho's firm chest.
If Jisung hadn't sagged on the couch like a sack of very sad, very humiliated potatoes—sporting short breath and a sore throat, he would certainly have made a joke about Minho using his alpha strength on him.
Instead, he couldn't do much besides lying there helplessly, catching his breath.
Well, if Snow White died from a bite of an apple and Sleeping Beauty from a cut on her finger, Jisung was sure he wasn't entirely an idiot for almost crossing the rainbow bridge because of yeast and a layer of sticky fruit jam.
Would Minho kiss him back into life if they were a fairytale?
“Jesus, Jisung.” It was all the prince said after the initial shock was over.
Jisung, regaining his senses and the power in his vocal chords, smirked, “I'm starting to think our mutual kink is religious guilt. We can't seem to stop calling for Jesus.”
Minho, taken by surprise, let out a deep chuckle under his breath.
Jisung continued. “Should I kneel in your presence to ask God for forgiveness?” His eyes slowly traced down the prince's body, stopping at his white slacks. “Or would you prefer to punish me instead? I could use some spanking over your knee.” He bit his lip.
Not even a despicable piece of bread in his throat could kill Jisung's rising lust for Minho—the older also having trouble keeping his composure as he stood there before him… So close to giving in.
“Weren't you supposed to be at the contest?” Minho cleaned his throat, changing subjects so he could keep his polite prince standards.
Jisung pouted. “I gave up. Too hard.”
It was a partial truth. He found it incredibly difficult to stay in the sun and search for pretend lost objects. In addition, he also wanted a place to rest since he spent the hours after midnight watching Disney movies.
Minho curled his lips into a teasing grin, muttering with a breath of mock sympathy, “Was it too hard for you?”
Jisung nodded, eyes jutted in—equally fake—distress. “It was. Nothing sticks in my knot-filled head. That's why I'm here, reading a great piece of literature.” He showed him the book, a couple kissing on the cover.
Blinking rapidly at the information given, Minho stood there speechless, the tip of his ears slowly turning crimson. Jisung giggled.
“You're impossible,” the older replied at last, defeated.
“I'm very much possible for you, Mr. Prince Charming. Just say the word and I'll come running.”
Jisung was starting to think his obsession was more than just the intrinsic will of having a horse knot in his ass.
Later on, when the warmer-by-day sunlight gave way to a beautiful full moon, the night set alight by the pretty star, the ballroom filled again with the desperate noblewoman—and Jisung.
He sat with lady in green and lady in pink again, all of them in white clothing—as expected from today's dressing code.
Hyunjin and Felix put extra effort into his outfit for the day, choosing a sheer, glimmering shirt under pearl-white jacket and a golden collar on his neck. He looked stunning.
Seungmin showed up, announcing that Minho couldn't attend, but the prince's brother returned from a work trip and would join them. Then, said brother descended the stairs to reveal that they were indeed alike.
“It's a pleasure meeting you.” His bow was as polite as Minho's, humbly curving to a ninety-degree position. “I'm Jeongin.”
Jisung didn't know if the royal genetics were deeply modified to only birth handsome men, but, God, Jeongin was beautiful—a younger, brunette version of Minho.
While the eldest had a sharp, predatory expression, cutting through their cores with a tough desire they couldn't run away from—the youngest smiled, dimples on his cheeks, melting their hearts only to hit them deeper when his gaze sharpened.
The other omegas were sold easily, sighing at Jeongin's mere presence in the room. Jisung wanted to call them posers. They saw another pretty man and got distracted. Pff. He could never. He was loyal to his alpha prince.
Which led Jisung to ponder if he only wanted Minho for the katana he carried in his pants…
It was an essential trait Jisung couldn't argue with—and the sheer thought of Jeongin not inheriting the throne, but being crowned with a humongous dick as well… Was tempting. But Minho was more than his knot and the polite armor he wore.
Minho’s ears flushed red when he was embarrassed. Minho laughed when Jisung was a professional idiot. Minho was quick-witted in answer to Jisung's flirting. But, mostly, he could feel getting to know Minho personally would only make him want him more.
Jisung danced with Jeongin, testing their brotherly chemistry—as expected from the next omega queen. A bullshit task if Jisung were honest, trading the absence of his prince for the next better option.
Jeongin smelled like peppermint and a musky undertone that brought overwhelmed tears to Jisung's eyes.
He was cute, but his scent didn't go well with bergamots–nor their awkward conversation about the weather. No flirting, no joking. Just the boring world he lived in before the start of his grand adventure.
The realization Jisung had about liking Minho was daunting.
He was thrilled to finally live a grand adventure, but reality was a bit less floaty than he had hoped.
Hobbes, Rousseau and Locke didn't provide enough knowledge for Jisung to rule a country. Set hundreds of years ago, living in the early days of capitalism, they were important for the beginnings of political science, but there was so much more.
Unfortunately, none of his CEO and the secretary spicy romances helped too. The authors had more knowledge about synonyms for dicks than the contemporary means of production and how they translated to political power.
Disney princesses weren't rulers either. They were trophy wives who happened to marry a beautiful man—a very tempting role if you ask Jisung.
And, on top of it all, he would have to make a dreadful call to his father to explain he was accidentally running for a queen position at a neighboring kingdom—and he had a chance of winning.
It all boiled inside Jisung, causing an upset stomach the next day. He was lazing through the morning classes on the history and geography of Levanter.
He might joke about frivolous tasks such as dancing with the prince and using a hand fan, but a queen actually needed knowledge for more than drinking tea in the royal court.
Ugh. Gender roles were so confusing.
In the afternoon, the prince finally made his heavenly appearance. Jisung's stomach quickly settled upon his angelical aura. Just like Jesus, he healed the poor souls around him.
He stopped caring about the religious comparatives. He might be into it—religious guilt and humiliation weren't that far from each other.
“I missed you all in my absence,” he said cordially to the whole room, igniting their wolves like feral animals.
Jisung was royally fucked—only metaphorically for now, he was still working on the literal aspect of it.
The task for the afternoon was to have a one-on-one talk with the prince. They had five minutes to show him their assets and convince him they could be his perfect omega queen—Jisung's favorite moment.
In front of others, Minho's prince title was safe. But Jisung was a wolf in sheep’s clothing after all. He knew what to do.
They waited patiently for their turn in a grand hall, being guided to a private little study to get intimate with the prince.
If Jisung was lucky, five minutes would be enough to suck the prince's dick.
“What are you going to tell the prince?” Lady in green, in one of her beautiful dresses with too much cleavage, asked.
Jisung shrugged. “I'll make it on the spot.” It was true. He was busy mentally preparing his jaw to be destroyed in the foreseeable future. “And you?”
She smiled smugly. “First, I'll lean over the table to show him my biggest assets.” They both looked down, concluding with a chuckle that yeah, her boobs were hard to forget. “Then, I'll show him my solutions for the current issue in healthcare and education.”
Lady in green was smarter than most, including Jisung. She would be a great queen if Minho happened to choose her.
He felt silly only planning to stick a knot in his ass, compared to her—but again, he didn't practice his whole life for the moment he would become important for the kingdom. Instead, he read enemies to lovers, focusing on the bad boys who would ask for the ride of their lives.
When his time had come to talk to the prince, lady in green had already joined the other omegas in the lounge room to snack and gossip.
As he was entering the study, Jisung's stomach grumbled at the thought of seasonal fruits and cream puffs.
Minho snorted. “I guess you're not the only one happy to see me.”
Jisung's cheeks flushed, but the lopsided smile remained on his face, taking it as his cue to say, “Well, you should see who's really happy to see you too.” He looked down at his pants.
The prince gave a feeble chuckle at that, dropping his chin to his chest in the process. He was so polite. Jisung wanted to ruin him.
“First, you should sit down and tell me about your assets as my possible omega princess—prince.” He quickly regained his composure.
Jisung pouted, but did as told. He sat in front of Minho, a table separating them.
“You can begin,” he ordered, their gazes locked.
With fingers beating a rhythm against the wood of the table, Jisung hummed lazily.
“Hmmm, I cannot talk to dragons or fishes or rats... Animals in general. Not that kind of princess. Speaking of which, isn't it insane that all of them can talk to animals?” His empty head poured through his mouth.
Minho had difficulty keeping a straight face. Good. Straight didn't suit this alpha prince anyway.
“But if I had to choose a Disney prince for you, it would be Shang from Mulan.” He brought his hand under his chin, pretending he was discussing serious matters.
“Do I want to know why?” Minho was audacious enough to question.
“Shang likes his princesses in female and twink form. You do too,” Jisung shrugged, smugly so.
This time, Minho let out a chuckle, his head dropping back, different from the way he hid his lack of composure so far. His shoulders shook and his throat bobbed with a melodic laugh. Jisung's omega preened.
“Although I enjoy your sense of humor, let's get back to your assets,” he sighed after his round of giggles.
The clock was ticking, and Jisung didn't have any opportunity to suck Minho's dick. He licked his lips, trying to come up with a better solution for his knotless throat.
“Hmm, my ass…ets, yeah,” Jisung wiggled his eyebrows. “ I never thought about running for a queen position, but I am a quick learner.” His eyes slowly traveled the prince's body, his foot coming to find his ankle under the table. “For anything you might need, my alpha.”
Minho's plump lips opened, partly in surprise and partly in lust—as Jisung could smell cinnamon and musk filling the room in burning waves. Instantly, his omega dropped in submission in his core, whining.
He was sure Minho would have broken right there, just as bergamots filled the air too, humid and desperate. But then the doors opened to reveal Seungmin.
“God, it stinks here.” He pressed his thumb and index fingers to his nose.
They smiled sheepishly at him.
Jisung was frustrated.
Sexually. Mentally. Emotionally.
He was just a frustrated, flaming ball of omega pheromones rolling down a hill of royally fucked decisions he made along the way.
Coming to Levanter was a mistake. Letting Felix fill out the Google Form was a mistake. Participating in this stupid event for a stupid crown was a mistake.
Jisung wanted the contest to go to hell, Seungmin along with it, and Minho too!
He dramatically sat down on a chair in the kitchen, Felix and Hyunjin eyeing him warily. His eyebrows jutted in a scowl, his lips in a permanent pout.
A full day of learning about military, international politics, and the thriving commerce of fruits and vegetables of the kingdom got Jisung asking for mercy. He had begged for the frivolous tasks. He wanted his hand-fan and his heels back. This was torture.
“What's wrong?” Felix tried to comfort him by caressing his arm.
Jisung crossed his arms on his chest, not fazed. “You got me into this, and the only thing I have now is blue balls!”
Felix tried to smile apologetically. “Look, you said you were competing for fun.”
“Do I look like I'm having fun?!” Jisung snapped. The blonde omega's eyes widened, not expecting to be the target of Jisung's rage.
Jisung wanted to cry. He couldn't believe he had become this affected because of a stupid knot.
Tears cascaded down his face.
“I bet his dick isn’t that big. No way dude's been hiding the great wall of China in his pants and nobody got a taste of it,” he sobbed uncontrollably.
Hyunjin, only looking at this pitiful interaction until now, snickered. “Was this a Mulan reference?”
“Yes, I've been studying so hard. And still have no knot in my ass,” Jisung lamented.
“If Minho's Shang and you're Mulan, does that make us Mushu and Cri-kee?” Felix thought out loud.
Jisung cried harder because he hadn't thought about this joke, and it was a good one.
After the ball, Jisung had enough food in his body to feel like himself again. He didn't cry or ruin his red suit, and had fun gossiping with the noblewomen.
Minho was there briefly to greet them, dressed in red and yellow—like the burning fire in them. But he had to attend a meeting with the commercial committee soon, so he left. Jeongin stayed with them.
Jisung actually liked his witty, smiley brother after he realized he didn't need to feel the hots for him to enjoy his company. This was a toxic behavior, he admitted it.
Then, he made his way back to the kitchen for drinks—Felix and Hyunjin were already there, cheeks flushed and giggling oddly like animal sidekicks in Disney movies.
“Are you feeling better?” The blonde tried to check on him. Jisung was tired, but pleasantly so. He had cried the sexual frustration out of his body, hopefully.
“Yeah, I was just hungry and in need of a good crying session.” Jisung sat down with them and was immediately served a glass of makgeolli.
“Here you go, Levanter’s next omega queen.” Hyunjin singsonged teasingly.
“I don't know about becoming Levanter's queen, but I would love to be crowned the prince's official size queen.” Jisung downed his whole glass in one go, eliciting more giggles out of his friends.
“I'm sure the prince is just as eager for this coronation,” Felix patted his back.
Jisung had been so busy with the contest all week that he didn't have time to spend with his friends. He had missed it.
Apparently, while he had classes on how to be a queen, Hyunjin and Felix were courting the prince's closest guards—Changbin and Chan.
The mating season was affecting all of them, bringing them closer to their animal core. And Jisung’s omega friends really wanted bulging muscles and a thick knot to keep them company during this time of the year.
It started with the two alphas finding Hyunjin and Felix making out in the garden, under a fruit tree. They had been just as surprised as finding Jisung was an omega noble about to participate in the run for the crown.
The duo found the guards to be an easy, beautiful prey—tempting them while they were on duty. All the stories about their not-so-impromptu meetings around the castle, followed by flimsy touches and melodic flirting, were told while they emptied three more bottles of alcohol
“You should have seen Chan's face as Hyunjin gave me a hickey in front of him.” Red faced, Felix giggled uncontrollably.
Jisung joined him, throwing his head back. Silver entered his line of sight. He blinked a few more times, adjusting his hazy vision to see red and yellow too glowing under the warm light of the kitchen.
What was he doing in there so late at night?
Hyunjin and Felix quickly noticed him too, their giggles dying to change their posture to something more polite.
“Prince Minho,” Felix bowed, his movements clumsy.
Minho bowed back, a smirk tugging his lips as he raised his head. “I see you have found the wine cellars.”
“You can't blame us. They taste the best during spring.” Hyunjin took the bottle with one hand and an empty glass with the other, pouring it. “Have some too, your Highness. You need it.”
With a sigh, the prince accepted the glass, eyelashes ruffling on his high cheekbones as he took a generous sip.
“Thank you,” he said at last, pushing a chair to sit with them.
Jisung's blood boiled under his skin, rising goosebumps on his arms and nape. Minho was so close to him.
The prince analyzed the white liquid. “Did you know Levanter's makgeolli sells the most during mating season because it's considered an aphrodisiac?” His lips found the rim of glass, downing the milky alcohol.
Jisung really wanted to blame the drink he consumed for the hot, sticky sensation on his belly, running in waves. But he knew better. The glistening lips after Minho placed the glass on the table were the real reason. He wanted to be devoured by them.
He couldn't pay attention to the conversation going on between drinks. He sat there mesmerized by Minho's melodic voice and easy smiles.
Hyunjin and Felix kept the prince's glass full and his ears entertained with their double trouble adventures. By each glass, his ears got flushed a deep red, the color spreading to his neck. Jisung knew it would be so hot to the touch.
His scent started to bloom like the flowers in the garden as Jisung couldn't contain his wolf, panting inside him. Minho turned to him, blinking long lashes, sharp eyes knowing.
On cue, Minho released pheromones back, cinnamon so musky and woody he might as well be in a forest.
“I-I need some fresh air,” Jisung stated, vision hazy and judgment clouded by the smell. One more minute spent there and he would start producing slick in the middle of the kitchen.
He ran away, stumbling on his chair and on the door, looking for the first way out to the backyard.
The scents of bergamots blended in the air with moonflowers and fresh apricots. The light of the stars illuminating a garden that never slept.
Jisung breathed in as he grabbed the rails leading down, trying to anchor himself on the vivid spring.
Still, cinnamon didn't leave his nose, coming back so fiercely he almost tumbled down the steps to the grassy infinity beneath.
A firm hand grabbed him before he fell, fingers curling on his wrist. Jisung collided with a rock-hard chest.
Jisung wasn't imagining Minho's scent, his eyes quickly finding the prince again as he held his surprised figure close. Jisung's breath came out in short pants, Minho's lips also parted in a harsh intake of breath.
“I feel like I have to save you every time we stumble on each other,” he laughed and Jisung's heart stopped.
“Isn't that your job, prince charming?” Although Minho could feel his erratic heartbeat from their merging chests, Jisung held his ground, leaning on silliness to keep himself sane.
Their teasing smiles matched each other, as much as their scent did too, cinnamon and bergamot powering through the night air.
“You think you're slick, huh?”
Jisung was impressed to hear Minho speak with no formality. It spiked the boiling of feelings inside him, his wolf running in circles, wanting to form slick even before they shared kisses.
“Oh, I know I'm slick.” His gaze didn't leave the prince's. “But probably not in the way you’re thinking.”
Minho let go of Jisung's waist to laugh.
“Jesus, Jisung, you don't miss a chance.”
The younger considered he was winning the prince's heart already, the crumbling composure being the first sign.
“Nothing like religious guilt to set the mood, huh?” He shrugged, a drunk smile forming on his face. The alcohol and the pheromones enticed Jisung to continue. “But I think we need more.”
“Oh, you're using this moment to convince me of choosing you?” He raised an eyebrow, leaning on the rail like Jisung had earlier, looking so fucking big with his square shoulders and intimidating gaze.
“Not for the next omega queen role, don't get me wrong. Some ladies there are way more fit for it,” Jisung quickly explained, stumbling on his own words. He just wanted a knot, he didn't want to be mistaken as a social climber.
Minho snorted, crossing his arms on his chest in a playful manner. “What do you want then?” He was bracing himself for an unhinged answer.
Jisung, trying to seduce him, dropped his gaze to those plump, pink lips, licking his own in the process. “A kiss.”
Minho did the same, eyes following the movement of Jisung's tongue wetting his bottom lip. “Did you think I would give in so easily?”
Jisung's eyes were back on the prince's in no time, taking a few steps closer to crowd him against the metal of the rail. “I would be disappointed if you did.” Each word was slowly muttered, his hot breath fanning on the prince's face.
The alcohol only pushed them further, giving him clarity at the same time as obscuring his judgment.
“You know, I've been studying,” Jisung took a step back, making sure Minho's eyes never left him. “In princess movies, all of them have a low moment where the prince needs to help them and they fall madly in love.”
Minho didn't seem fazed by his line of thinking. “Weren't Disney princesses invented in the rise of fascism before World War II, following nazi's protocols for dissemination of political ideology—the propaganda as a way to soft power the population?”
“I–it doesn't matter!” Jisung threw his hands up in a frantic manner. “What I'm saying is, is this our moment?” Then, he smoothed Minho's blazer to distract him. “Should I throw myself down again and, this time, along with holding me with your alpha strength, will you kiss me?”
Minho's eyes narrowed. “You’re kidding.”
Jisung took it as a challenge, only mumbling, “Watch me,” before dramatically tipping his body backwards.
He knew the prince would catch him again, even though his reflexes were delayed by a thick layer of alcohol. His arms rounded Jisung's waist in a tight hold, their bodies tipped down still.
Jisung looked him in the eye as they stayed bent under the moonlight, like an actual movie.
Pheromones danced in the air, along with the smell of makgeolli, flowers, and ripe apricots. Jisung felt like breathing for the first time as he looked up to Minho's glowing facial features.
“Are you madly in love yet?” His arms snaked around Minho's neck, grinning.
Minho smiled too, giving in. “Maybe just mad, as in completely insane.”
Jisung shrugged. “That works too.”
And then he brought the prince's face closer and their lips found each other in a brief, gentle touch.
Jisung's body tingled with the intimate contact, sighing into it as he finally had a taste of what he really wanted.
It was more than just a knot. It was a touch into his soul. A grip so powerful it grounded him into reality, no more dreams, no more wishes. This was his great adventure.
Minho brought them to full height, arms never leaving his waist, head leaning sideways to kiss him deeper, locking their lips wetly.
The spike of their pheromones happened as they closed their eyes, desperate hands finding purchase on each other's bodies as they moved their mouths in something that was as much wanted as it was needed, their tongues merging. Physically, emotionally, psychically. They were truly connected.
Reality was a heavy weight that dragged them down to the firm land of wolves and leviathans.
Minho was part of the central power of the estate, sealed under the unfair, imposed social contract between the dominant bourgeoisie and the dominated working class.
The prince knew the rules he was under and, although he gave in to temptation every once in a while, he recovered his senses easily—meaning that their moment under the stars lasted until their lungs inevitably burned for air. As oxygen filled his brain again, Minho fixed his suit and bid Jisung goodbye.
As a result, his balls were permanently blue.
Jisung had thought kissing the prince would somehow extinguish the fire burning in his core, but it only spurred it on. He was set ablaze by his wolf, restless inside him, wanting, needing, pleading, submitting.
He woke up the next day and, along with a dull ache behind his eyes, bergamots were sugary in the air, smelling like fresh fruit jam after a ripe harvest. His skin was tacky with a fever that simmered low in the pit of his stomach.
Cursing under his breath, he concluded the obvious: a heat was due soon for him. Probably a direct result of the sexual tension between him and the prince, since his heat usually struck by the beginning of summer.
That being said, he was deadbeat as he reached the ballroom for the last morning of the contest. His limbs were sore, his head pounded and the combined omega smell was causing an insistent nausea to wash over his stomach.
And, besides it all, Jisung was grumpy. He couldn't think of simple jokes,like how he wouldn't need seven dwarfs and a prince if he had one Minho. Not after Minho killed all Jisung’s fun the day before, pouring his knowledge about contemporary colonialism and the concept of biopolitics into the manipulation of society's way of thinking.
Seungmin was also particularly annoying in the morning; he realized with a huff. The man guided the omegas to the library to use political theory to write a speech about the queen's views on Levanter and what were their ideas to improve the kingdom if they got the crown.
“I take back what I said, I wanna go back to having tea serving evaluations.” Jisung whined to the whole room, dropping his lazy ass on the same couch he snoozed the other day—and Minho saved him from an evil piece of puff pastry.
“We're not in the nineteenth century anymore, the omega role doesn't only apply to pleasing the court.” Seungmin crossed his arms on his chest.
“Stop mansplaining to me!” Jisung crossed his arms too, a petulant pout on his lips.
“You're also a man! I can't mansplain to you.” He threw his hands in the air, clearly done with the conversation.
He turned away to leave before Jisung could say that mansplaning or betasplaning, the royal counselor was a pain in the ass.
It left Jisung with nothing else to do besides the task given. He hated it.
His pre-heats were emotionally intense and he honestly felt like a toddler for arguing with Seungmin, but, well, he couldn't undo his actions.
Instead, he joined the ladies around the big round table that the court discussed strategies. Funnily enough, it was what they were doing at the moment.
Although spending a long time together in the span of one week, they still eyed Jisung suspiciously, gossiping behind glasses of champagne and old book covers.
Maybe he couldn't redo his brief arguent with Seungmin, but he could avert the female rivalry—that not in a million years Jisung would guess would happen to him, a man—and start a bonding experience.
Jisung sighed. “Look,” he said, loud enough for the noblewomen to suddenly stop. “I know you guys don't find it ideal that I'm competing.” He honestly tried not to say they despised him for the sake of his now fragile emotions. “But it won't help if we keep showing hostility to one another.”
Not a word was muttered, big, blinking eyes waiting for him to continue. He relented.
“Regardless of the winner, we will have to meet in court events in the future.” Perhaps not Jisung as he would have to go back to Miroh and keep his dad from an early grave. “Isn't it better if we get along and find solace in each other's company? Or do you guys actually enjoy living afraid of being stabbed in the back?”
He could see the judging gaze softening in most of them. Not all. Some of those omegas were born evil.
Unsure of what else to say, lady in green stood up, walking to his side.
“He's right. Regardless of the winner, we will see each other. And, being friends means we can squeeze our wants and needs into the ear of our next queen.”
Jisung and lady in green looked at each other, sharing contained, but genuine smiles. He was grateful for the backing of his points in this awkward conversation, because he was certain the other noblewomen wouldn't let it go so easily.
Lady in pink was next, standing by Jisung's other side, the three of them forming a strong wall against those who still weren't convinced.
“As Seungmin has said, we're not in the nineteenth century anymore. Female rivalry is so out of fashion. We should team up to guarantee our rights as female…” She looked at Jisung for a brief moment, completing, “And male omegas.”
One of them raised from her seat around the table and clapped, a smile forming on her face. Then, another joined. One after the other, they stood, faces bright with the sun and spring coloring the room, the happy, fruity omega scent in the air.
“That's it, girls!” Jisung cheered. “Omegas who stick together, slick together!” His mouth ran freely and, as they realized what he said, they all stopped again, eyeing him confusedly.
Jisung's cheeks colored pink as he too thought of his words. Ew, the mental image was disgusting.
Mortification caused his cheeks to turn pink and his mouth to run faster than his brain.
“I-I mean, that wasn't it.” He was so embarrassed. “How does the saying go?! Let's stick together like slick?” He was the master of making things worse. “Fuck. Okay.” He gave up. “Omega power, ladies, let's show them!”
In a feverish stupor, he put his hand in the middle for a huddle, lady in green and lady in pink helping by putting their hands in too, the others following soon after.
They raised it, yelling ‘omega power’ like a team of angry footballers ready to enter the field. Fortunately, they could return to the emotional vibe pretty easily after Jisung broke it with his no-brain-to-mouth filter.
The room was free of any hard feelings towards each other, which helped with their given task. Instead of working separately for a speech, they worked together to discuss ideas and find the right pages of the books to back their points.
Some of them knew about the reality of the people of Levanter, some of them knew about the economic aspects of the palace. Lady in green had solutions. Jisung had a big mouth that never stopped running.
“You should go up and do the speech for all of us,” lady in pink said when the clock was approaching the hour Seungmin would come back to pick them up.
Jisung's scent soured. No way they would trust their amazing speech to him and his ability of making a fool of himself in front of the prince.
“You bonded us with your words.” Her eyes were kind when she noticed his insecurity. “No other contest run by the crown felt like this—fun, light and comforting.”
The male omega didn't know what to say; his eyes were unable to leave the others, who just nodded or shrugged.
All this time thinking he was in just to discover the size of the prince's carry-on sword, but there he was, making friends, having allies. He held his tears—the pre-heat symptoms not helping in such a soul-deep moment.
“Stop,” Jisung whined. “I can't do it. I'll fuck everything up.”
Lady in green chimed in. “We're not asking for you not to fuck everything up. We're asking for you to impress the prince with our combined efforts.”
Jisung did shed a few tears upon hearing it.
When Seungmin finally came to collect them, they were happily drinking makgeolli and stuffing their stomachs with the best of Korean cuisine. Even the royal counselor was impressed at the sight of the contestants hitting up so well.
“Did everybody finish their speech?” The incredulous beta asked, a quirked brow aimed directly at Jisung.
He didn't blame the man for being suspicious of him. Jisung was pretty vocal about his hatred towards the day's events.
“Like you wouldn't believe…” Jisung rose from his seat, dusting powdered sugar from his hands and standing next to the beta.
From up close, Seungmin was taller, but Jisung had something none of them had: no shame, no fear of humiliation, no intact dignity. He smiled at the guy, disarming him with the total smugness etched on his face.
“Are you ready, girls?” Jisung called.
They gathered in the real strategy room. A big, imposing place like any other in the castle, but this one carried so much meaning.
The disposition was similar to the ONU's General Assembly, a smaller recreation. Shaped in a semi-circle, with rows of tables—where the ladies took place, quickly filling the room to the brim.
Minho and Jeongin entered, positioning themselves in the first row of tables along with Seungmin. Chan and Changbin stood by the door, revealing a mop of blonde hair he could recognize in the depths of hell.
Felix and Hyunjin were sneaking into the room too, opting for a distant row, close to the door, but still waving excitedly at Jisung.
It was now or never, he guessed.
Jisung's heart thrummed in his ears as he made his way to the front platform, standing in front of all of them.
He was glad the king and the queen weren't there to witness his pity party.
“Are you the first to start?” Minho asked, his eyes glimmering with curiosity.
Like always, he looked like God was his personal stylist. Gold flickered in his pristine white suit and his hair was freshly dyed—a blonde tone that suited well with his skin tone.
Jisung couldn't stop looking at his soft lips, remembering the night before, how velvety-pillowy lips met his own, their mingled taste still lingering on his tongue.
He had to blink a few times to rationalize what had been said to him.
“I-yeah.” He replied, not as confidently as he wanted, sounding rather dumb to his audience of highly educated individuals.
Jisung cleared his throat to try again.
“Actually, there will be only one speech, your Highness.” He loved to pronounce the title, rolling off his tongue slowly, wanting to cause a reaction in the well-composed prince.
In answer, Minho tilted his head, waiting for him to elaborate.
The simmering of Jisung's hormones stayed down for now.
“Instead of each one producing a speech, we combined our efforts to write the best speech, taking in consideration the reality of Levanter's people and the royal duty of the next queen. I'm here to represent all the contests’ views on contemporary society.”
Jisung—and the whole room—was impressed by his ability to be eloquent since most of the time he was joking about princesses and knots.
“Okay.” Minho's honey voice rolled off, breaking the brief silence set into the room. “You can start.”
His hands were sweaty as he gripped his blazer to ground himself, trying not to let his emotions or the urge to kneel by Minho's feet take over.
Without the time to rehearse his speech, Jisung did what he did best, improvise until something inevitably turned wrong.
He remembered the first part, where one of them addressed the sickening population caused by a healthcare system that was under private conglomerates; the housing issue in a city that has nowhere else to grow—paired with the real estate speculation; and students who couldn’t go to university without spending a lifetime in debt with a student loan.
… And then, his brain started failing from there.
While the ladies took care of the books to back their points, Jisung was gossiping—which meant he had to almost physically squeeze his brain for anything.
In his next breath, he started with the only information he overheard. “For Rousseau, the conflicts of the people are caused by private property. The solution should be strict boundaries for it in the form of regulation laws to avoid the discrepancy in wealth and the poor distribution of the means of production.”
Jisung looked at his audience for a reaction. Past the first row, he saw them all with wide, worried eyes.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Wrong answer.
“Are you suggesting we end the bourgeoisie as a social class, your Grace?” Seungmin crossed his arms on his chest. “Wrong book.” The incredulous look never left his face.
By his side, Minho's lips twitched, a crack in his immaculate prince suit. He was having fun.
Jisung might not be the smartest, but he was a good court jester.
On the other hand, Seungmin was not having it. “Is your Grace aware we live in a monarchy? And the monarch holds the most means of production? There's no castle and puff pastries for you if people and royals are equals.”
The court counselor had the right intentions, but he was a pain in the ass. Unfortunately for him, Jisung didn't give a single shit.
Instead of correcting himself, Jisung played coy, bowing his head in mock embarrassment, only to rise with a playful smile dancing on his lips.
“Oops, my bad.” He wasn't the slightest bit sorry. “Well, I might not know about the means of production, but a queen knows how to worship the future Levanter king, on their knees, with their mouth open."
Seungmin facepalmed. Minho dropped his head in a surprised, contained laugh. Jeongin actually chuckled, open and unrestrained. The ladies in the audience were having mixed feelings, but most of them were at least grinning at his idiotic answer.
The best reaction, though, was Felix and Hyunjin in the back, hugging each other and doing blowjob motions with their hands, celebrating his win.
Jisung found his speech to be a success.
On the same day, after the ball, Jisung was having a low moment again.
He knew it was pre-heat symptoms catching up to him, but he wallowed in self-pity all the same.
With a basket full of pastries and fruits, he sat on the steps he had kissed Minho on the night before. Inside him, the giddiness of having the prince for a brief second turned cold, leaving Jisung blue-balled and overall down.
Additionally, he was hungry. Crazily so. And with an overpowering urge to cry his heart out.
Which led him to his current situation, sobbing over his food basket, with apricots stuffed in his cheeks.
He felt like an idiot. The day had been good. The omegas had joined forces to produce a good speech. Minho has enjoyed it as much as they did. Why was he crying?
Without a reasonable answer, the tears kept pouring under the starry night, the trees swinging side to side with the force of the wind, bringing to his nostrils the utter smell of spring.
A different scent hit him at some point, cinnamon—woody and musky. Warmth pooled in Jisung's stomach even before he heard Minho's steps on the stairs’ marble.
Great. Just what he needed. A reason to cry harder.
Jisung had never felt like this. His shoulders shook with the sheer force of his sobbing—all the while his stomach twisted hotly, a minute away from starting to produce slick.
“Ahn…” Minho was confused to see him like this. “Did something happen?”
Just as the clacking of his oxfords came to a halt, Minho's answer came in the form of a heavy cloud of sticky-sweet bergamots. It was an intense smell, the prince's words dying in his throat before he could console Jisung.
He thought Minho, the ever composed prince of Levanter, would turn on his heels and leave Jisung to attend to his pre-heat symptoms by himself. It was what etiquette called for. An unmated alpha, especially a royal one, shouldn't stay near an omega during the most vulnerable state of their cycle.
Minho stayed, though.
The sound of steps was followed by the alpha sitting close to him, their thighs almost touching.
Jisung's desperate sobbing was slowing down, and now he could actually see the blurred shape of the prince through his tears.
His blonde hair glowed warmly under the silver moonlight, the strands tousled by what Jisung supposed was a stressful day. His white suit was partly undone, the tie hanging loosely on his neck, the top buttons of his dress shirt open.
The omega wanted to have a bit of composure to flirt with him, but he couldn't stop falling apart.
Between worried glances and the spike of musk in the air, Minho gathered his thoughts to distract Jisung.
He lifted a hand in an elegant, careful way to reach for the basket, taking the only inedible fruit from there—bergamot. Then, his hand found his pants’ pocket to retrieve a knife and cut it in half.
If Jisung were anywhere more stable, he would have joked that the prince could fit two weapons in there, always prepared, with a knife and a big sword.
Instead, he tried to wipe at his eyes and sniffle the snot back into his nose. A bit disgusting, but Minho didn't mind.
With the fruit now open, Minho reached down to swipe his tongue over it, looking Jisung in the eye while doing so.
His lips wrapped around the furled middle, the sound of a wet smack—a suckling motion—invading Jisung's senses and leaving him frozen. He could only watch as Minho enjoyed a tinge of sour and acid.
“I've never been a fan of overly sweet smells.” It was the only thing the prince muttered as Jisung's pants were ruined by the slow, but sure spurts of slick coating his ass, his hole fluttering—so envious of a poor, abused fruit.
The tears had stopped only enough for him to whine, “You can't do this if you're not going to choose me.” Jisung covered his face with his hands, so fucking frustrated.
Yet, he could sense Minho lifting the other half and doing the same to the open bergamot in his hands as if it were a banquet he was eager to feast on.
Little by little, Jisung's consciousness was returning, trying to make him survive the big, bad, teasing alpha prince.
He could be sitting in a little pool of his own desire, but Jisung was equally as wicked.
“I don't know about your intentions,” he started as his red-rimmed eyes finally met Minho's. “But my heat is due soon, as you can see.” He lifted the leg closer to Minho to show him the wetness clinging to his behind. “I hope you're ready to make your choice, because, look, my dude, your royal knotness, I'll be sitting on a knot, royal or not, when it happens.”
Minho's eyebrows reached past his bangs in surprise at his straight-forwardness.
Jisung continued. “Be quick. Time is ticking and I'll start crying regardless of the winner. And I would much rather be crying on your wiener.”
It was Jisung's turn to leave Minho speechless.
He hugged his basket and got up despite the disgusting wet pants clinging to him or the pounding headache wanting to form because of his endless tears.
“If you excuse me, I'll be furiously masturbating and thinking of you, my prince.”
And, then, Jisung was walking back into the castle, holding in his urge to laugh at the prince's red ears and wide eyes.
Jisung wasn't feeling any better the next day.
He did masturbate furiously, thinking of Minho's sinful tongue in his mouth and in his hole, with bergamot dripping onto his cheeks, his chin, his neck. Jisung came to the thought of Minho's horse dick breaching slowly into his already puffy rim.
Pre-heat was a bitch he was well-acquinted with. And it didn't help that his mind was set on having a certain alpha prince.
The only thing on his mind as he got ready for the finale of the contest was how much his ass craved a dick, which was rather pitiful for Jisung's subgender.
On this very day, Minho would choose his omega princess, soon-to-be queen to rule the great kingdom of Levanter by his side. Meanwhile, Jisung was slicking to the thought of it, fucking in the crown room where all of Minho's lineage would witness.
By the time he reached the main hall, Jisung's cheeks were pink from the heat rising within him. Sweat coated his skin, and the formal clothes he was wearing were uncomfortable.
They were told to wear gala attire since any of them could receive the crown, so Jisung sat there, in three layers of clothes and knee-high boots, resembling the nutcracker—which was a bit funny since Jisung's nuts were cracking too with the unclaimed lust he was feeling.
“Please, stand up to receive the crown prince of Levanter, Lee Minho.” Seungmin announced from the bottom of the stairs.
The combined omega smell was anxious with a tinge of desire underneath as they clambered to their feet, hands politely posed on their fronts to bow as soon as Minho reached the final step.
White boots graciously descended each step, the golden buckles shining in the morning light—revealing the prince little by little.
His pants were next, clinging to his thick thighs, another golden buckle shining on top of his thigh, a harness attached to his waist and leg to hold the royal sword.
No dick jokes comparing it to the real thing in his pants could form in Jisung's head. His brain was empty, anticipating each part of Minho.
The shimmering white blazer was a perfect fit to his strong torso, hugging the right places, showing how his alpha could care for their people and his queen.
(The toxic show of masculinity in Jisung's brain was a courtesy of the hormone party in his bloodstream. In normal circumstances, he knew the power of a king came from the capital the monarch held against the people, be them a man or a woman.)
Then, his head came into view, and all of them held their breath.
Minho was breath-taking on a normal day, but dressed up with the heavy, royal crown on top of his blonde hair and the fluffy cape on his shoulders was a new level of choking on their breaths.
“Good morning, my lovely ladies.” He bowed.
Jisung couldn't get mad that Minho wasn't addressing him by gender as he fought his body not to get down on his knees and beg for his knot.
“I see you all ran an amazing contest. For the ones who have participated before, congratulations on the well-done work such as the last years; for the new contestants, congratulations on your gracious first attempt.”
He was so polite. Jisung wanted to sit on his face.
“In all the six years the selection for the next in line to the throne happened, my Grace gave their all, and I'm grateful for having dedicated omegas in the royal court.” Minho looked at each one of them as he spoke, like the first day. “However, this year was special. We had some rules being changed by the combined force of the participants; we had laughter and the joyful spirit of solidarity accompanying us until the end.”
Jisung's heart rabbited in his ribcage. He knew these were partly his additions, and he didn't know if it was good or bad.
“I had fun too,” Minho continued, and the omega sighed in relief. “I thank you for entertaining me for the week.”
Another ninety-degree bow followed, and the sweet scent in the air spiked. Jisung's wolf snarled at the other omegas for wanting Minho as well.
“I'm not going to prolong it further and keep your hearts beating in your throats,” he smirked. A pity they knew how that beautiful bastard loved to have them as prey. “It wasn't my plan to fall in love and choose my princess so young, yet my heart was held hostage by this contestant, who stood out for being a wild, clumsy rebel, with the right heart but not always the right mind.”
A beat of silence hovered in the air as Minho kept the suspense going, but, suddenly, his eyes were set on Jisung and it felt as if the world had stopped.
“Congratulations, Han Jisung. You are the next in line for the Levanter kingdom as my omega princess—prince.”
Two weeks before, Jisung had wished upon a star for a great adventure to make it worth living in a world that allowed the male species to have creaming pants and an inconvenient pregnancy.
Then, he was here, learning that Minho was Prince Charming himself, and the white horse, and the seven dwarves, and the Great Wall of China, and also the sword against enemies.
He had fun, like Minho said. He shared laughter, and tears, and frustration with the other girls. He had looked his great adventure in the eyes and told him that he was going to masturbate furiously while thinking of him. He had no regrets.
But, in all honesty, the result was unexpected. Jisung had no idea what he would do in the near future as the queen.
Static filled his brain as he stood there, frozen in place as gasps resounded around him.
“Let's all congratulate the winner, ladies.” Seungmin stepped in, the ghost of a smile wanting to make itself known on his face.
Although a pain in the ass, the counselor seemingly agreed with the prince's decision—which was a surprise in itself considering how they clashed a few times during the contest.
The gasps turned into clapping—Jisung waiting for a camera to point at him and realize he was actually in an episode of the royal version of ‘The Office’ and none of this was real.
It didn't happen.
Jisung blinked repeatedly as the realization set in.
“Do you wanna share a few words with the other contestants?” Minho asked, offering a hand for Jisung to take.
As he was walking to the prince, he was reminded by the slick sensation on his behind and, suddenly, none of it mattered. He had the go-to consent to finally ride Minho's horse. He wasn't going to waste it.
A grin colored Jisung's face as he turned to look at the noblewomen.
“It was a pleasure meeting you all,” he started while his heart was frenetic and his stomach was coiling in anticipation. “I look forward to sharing amazing moments with all of you in the court.”
Some of them looked displeased by the situation, truly evil inside, but he would deal with the matter after he had a very intense sword battle with the prince—preferably in a bedroom, lying down, on top of each other.
“I promise to take into consideration every issue my fellow omegas have and try solving them to the best of my ability.” He bowed. “But as for now, I'll retreat with the prince.”
Jisung knew they could smell sticky-sweet bergamots overpowering any scent in the vicinity, even Changbin and Chan becoming uncomfortable by the door.
He squeezed the prince's hand firmly, bringing his wrist close to his lips to kiss his scent gland, his senses clouded by a delicious musky cinnamon—eyes never leaving the prince's, their pupils so dilated it felt as if they were actual predator and prey, cornering each other, ready to pounce.
“If you ladies and gentlemen excuse me, I have a knot to test.”
And then he was guiding the prince to the door, not caring about the gasps and wide eyes that followed them out.
Jisung's vision was a blur.
The harsh grip on Minho's hand grounded him just enough in reality, but the rest of him was lost in a cloud of crazy, sticky anticipation for what he was about to do.
Pre-heat, obsession, curiosity… He honestly didn't care to label what his purpose was, but he wanted. Like never before.
He didn't know where he was taking Minho, his wolf guiding the two of them blindly. The older just went along with him—probably sensing Jisung's primary instinct taking control.
A door was pushed open. There was fortunately a bed and enough privacy in the empty corridor. Jisung sighed and quickly shoved Minho in, locking them with no chance of escaping.
A few minutes before, he was joking about Minho enjoying the predator-prey exchange between an alpha and a room full of omegas, but here, he was just a servant to Jisung's core omega.
In the depths of hormones, lust, and bergamots in the air, Jisung was dangerous if things didn't go his way. Any omega was. A heat was a ritual they followed rigorously.
“Strip.” Dropping all the octaves to practically growl at the alpha, Jisung commanded.
Minho obeyed soundlessly.
He first dropped his cape by Jisung's feet; then, the buckle on his leg, getting rid of the sword with it; followed by his blazer.
While undoing the cuffs of his dress shirt, he held their gazes captive, the buttons of the garment next—opening it to reveal the hard planes of his stomach. His skin was pale and unblemished besides a scar that crossed it.
The shirt joined the growing pile of clothes on the floor.
If Jisung had any brain cells working that weren't related to his wolf, he would have asked about the story behind a cut that was so deep on the beautiful prince of Levanter. But he couldn't
Realistically, it wasn't ideal that their first moment together, he would spend boiling in a lust that felt unbearable and uncontrollable.
And yet, he felt safe to do it with Minho.
Slick dripped as the older reached for the buttons on his trousers after putting his boots on the side. The prince could smell it in the air, the calm patchouli of his scent impossible to catch under the overpowering, sweet bergamots—or the musky cinnamon that increased by the second.
Pants dropped to the floor with a little clinking of his belt against the marble floor. Jisung's eyes followed as it went down. His gaze was crawling up the older's shins, knees, and of course his strong and thick thighs.
In the white underwear he wore, Minho's balls looked heavy. Jisung's mouth watered at the sight, at the scent. They invaded his senses as his eyes kept going up, watching the way his half-hard cock already reached the waistband.
His knees failed, his whole body dropping to the floor. The first instinct his being was born to have—submitting to the sight of the right alpha—guided him down.
Jisung wasn't afraid, sitting by his feet, looking up at the growing cock in Minho's boxers. The older placed a hand on the top of his head, his fingers gently massaging his scalp.
“Good boy,” he praised, knowing full well it caused Jisung's cock to harden instantly and the constant drip of slick to go down the swell of his ass to coat his inner thighs.
Under Jisung's skin, his blood boiled, the surface tingled, his core was set alight.
The inherent issues of civilian society outside the castle, noblewomen, duty, the freaking social contract—nothing mattered because Jisung was burning.
His heat broke, and the fog of his own scent could kill the weakest of hearts.
“What do you want to do, my queen?” Minho's velvety, honey voice was a beacon in the incredibly dark pit of Jisung's relentless desire.
The younger had to blink a few times to make sense that words were said, a question was asked.
What did he want to do?
He had dreamed for two weeks of the moment he would finally take the last piece of garment from Minho's body and hold a sword so powerful it could be the fucking Thor's hammer for all he knew, able to cause thunder and strike him dead.
So he reached for it. If he were the chosen one, he would grip it and claim it as his own.
Minho helped him remove his boxers and add to the pile.
Jisung looked the giant in the eye, unafraid by its size or the imposing presence or the humid cloud of cinnamon and musk.
It was his, he concluded deliriously, moaning when the fingers that wrapped at the base didn't meet halfway around the girth.
Fuck the white horse Minho was mounting that day; it was so much better than his imagination.
He wished he had the mental capacity to joke about it, but the heat was too strong, slick forming a puddle under him as he stroked that monument up and down.
All the kingdom's grandiosity didn't do justice to the one right in front of his eyes. The real crown on top of it, because that thing was his king, his ruler, his commander.
“What are you thinking about?” Minho's hand was back on his head, caressing.
Jisung looked up reluctantly. “How thoughtful of our king to carry a sword with him at all times.”
Apparently, Jisung didn't need his brain to joke.
Minho chuckled, his dick shaking in his hold. Jisung's grip tightened out of reflex, afraid it would use its willpower to escape him. The prince's laughter turned into a moan.
“Were you sword-trained in Miroh?” Without anybody close, Minho could joke back, and the playful glint was beautiful in his dark eyes.
“Only for the sword swallowing trick.”
They smiled at each other, relishing in the intimacy, enjoying a silly moment in between the waves of Jisung's heat.
“I would love a demonstration.”
Jisung didn't need to be told twice, kneeling properly to wrap his lips around the head, no teasing or a warning notice. He just sank on it, a third of it going in before it reached the back of his mouth.
He tried to relax his throat and go down on it, but only half fit before he started worrying about his respiratory system.
Minho moaned as Jisung swallowed around him, the sound reverberating on his trembling skin, dragging him back to the worst of his insane desire.
On instinct, he started bobbing his head and, surprised by the instant pleasure, Minho growled.
His wolf was released, with no shackles from his prince position or the morals of a society ruled by gender and subgender. Completely unrestrained.
Jisung's wolf whined in answer, equally shocked, followed by a shudder so strong he came in his pants, skin rising in goosebumps at the intensity of it resounding in his brain.
A litany of little sounds escaped his full mouth as his cock twitched in his hold through his pants, riding his orgasm.
Maybe Minho's cock was indeed Thor's hammer, striking him with thunderous growls, not able to kill him, but to fall apart under ministrations.
He noticed Jisung's state beneath him, leisurely sucking, trembling—not able to let go just yet, eyes unfocused, head full of cotton, the pleasure still washing over him.
“Are you okay?” The soft caress on his hair strands was a balm to his feverish skin, only a sigh able to leave his full mouth.
It took a few more seconds for Jisung to let go of the emotional support cock between his lips.
He sighed again, already missing it as he looked at the now wet appendage standing proudly between thick, delicious thighs…
Jisung couldn't contain himself; he leaned in again. This time, it wasn't for his dick, but to bite the prince's inner thigh.
Minho jumped back from the contact, fingers in his hair gripping instead of caressing. He pushed Jisung's head back.
“Naughty,” his husky voice caused shivers on Jisung's sweat-coated skin once more.
“I'm just having fun,” Jisung looked up, big eyes rounding, feigning an innocent look.
Minho snickered, but didn't answer. Jisung licked his balls to draw his attention back to himself.
Never in his twenty-five years of living did he act like this. Not quite a brat, but a rebellious good boy, wanting an alpha to keep his eyes on him at all times. A deep feeling that he would die if Minho ever stopped looking at him.
“I need you in a nest.” His whole body tingled, another wave coiling in the pit of his stomach, “Right now.”
In another moment, he would ponder about his feelings for Minho, how hard he fell, so quickly—the void in his core that craved for an adventure filled in a fleeting glance before Jisung was emptying his stomach onto his boots.
Not now, though. He needed a nest and he needed a knot. His body was physically aching for it, his wolf running in circles, whining in pure desperation.
Begruntly, he got up and collected Minho's clothes from the floor. His nest was a clear map in his head, run by instincts but also by his personal sense of aesthetic.
Each omega did it differently. Felix opted for fairy lights and extra-soft blankets; Hyunjin went for scented candles and flowers; and Jisung needed clothes dripping with cinnamon and musk to have enough peace of mind.
He stripped the bed of its covers, blankets, pillows; throwing it in Minho's general direction—an order that didn't call for actual words.
Jisung was patient, though. He didn't rush Minho's process of rubbing each piece of fabric on his scent glands. Instead, he busied himself by getting rid of his soaked clothes, shoulders relaxing as his pants stopped clinging to his rear.
In no time, the prince was in front of him, providing an armful of bedding for his nest. Jisung's heart swelled with his sweetness. Minho didn't question him, but soundlessly took care of him, going at his pace, ready to please him just as he wanted to.
Taking the bundle from his arms, Jisung placed a gentle kiss on Minho's lips.
It was so different to kiss him now, being sure the prince wasn't going to run away the second after. He was his to have and enjoy forever.
Minho let his body speak. His arms circled Jisung's waist, dropping another kiss to his sensitive lips. He licked at the seam, opening them up to have a taste of the younger.
His instant hum of contentment before letting go made Jisung's stomach curl in hot lava again.
“My good alpha,” Jisung praised like the older had done to him earlier. “Listens so well.”
Minho, in a similar state of dancing on the edge of an active volcano, leaned forward and bit Jisung's bottom lip, evil flickering on his sharp eyes.
“Oh yeah? You think you got me tamed?” His words rolled off in an extra melodic cadence, mocking Jisung.
“I don't think I got you tamed, I know. And you're gonna be a good alpha and wait until I finish my nest.” Jisung whispered against his lips, placing a peck there before getting to work.
In the ballroom, between horny omegas, Minho had the upper hand, playing cat and mouse—wolf and sheep—to his heart's content. But Jisung knew an alpha belonged to an omega as much as an omega belonged to an alpha.
Without many supplies for his nest, Jisung had it done quickly, circling the fabric on the edges of the bed so they could fit inside. In the middle, a pillow resided along with Minho's white boxers.
He could see Minho's lips opening and closing, probably refusing to ask what Jisung wanted him to do next after the younger so directly told him how much of an obedient dog he was.
Trying to avert the situation, Jisung dropped to his hands and knees in front of Minho, arching his back, offering his ass.
“What are you waiting for, alpha? It’s yours.” Jisung's voice was the song of a siren, Minho unable to resist the pretty notes his heart knew so well. “Or would you rather I give you a basket of bergamots to dive in?”
When Minho chose to maul a fruit under Jisung's watchful gaze, he had screamed and masturbated alone in his room—Felix and Hyunjin nowhere to be seen, probably tormenting the royal guards. It was time for Jisung to finally have his cake. He wasn't going to eat it, though; Minho would.
Unable to resist a dripping hole and an omega in need, Minho's alpha relented.
He gripped Jisung's hips. The younger could feel his eyes roaming over him like he was an actual dessert to be thoroughly enjoyed. His heart soared, proud.
Then, Minho opened his mouth to say, “Itadakimasu,” and brought his face closer to the omega's ass.
Jisung cackled.
“Aish, don't say that before licking my hole.” His chuckles were compromised by a tongue that collected slick from his inner thighs.
“What can I say? I am thankful for this meal.” Minho was laughing too as he placed a gentle kiss on his butt cheek.
In the end, Minho was perfect for him. Horny with a tinge of silliness—and sporting the great wonders of Levanter between his legs.
Jisung would never get over it, but maybe he could get on it instead.
The heat in his lower belly became impossible to ignore.
“Hurry up, Minho.” He pleaded, closing his eyes, wiggling his ass side to side for the alpha to actually do something.
In answer, Minho went back to tracing the path of sweet and acidic bergamots from his balls, humming along the way.
The sound of his voice on Jisung's skin calmed him down a bit, although his hole was clenching around nothing, desperate for a knot.
Sensing the agonizing wait Jisung was in, the prince licked up and dipped his tongue inside, sighing at how easily it gave in under his ministrations. Jisung's whole body was preparing to get filled.
It was good. Minho knew what he was doing, and Jisung's omega appreciated his way of taking it slow despite every fiber in his being screaming for a knot at the first opportunity.
Jisung brought Minho's boxers to his nose, hating how far cinnamon and musk were now. He needed it to anchor himself in reality, to keep his wolf sated, to fucking live.
When Minho added a finger along with his tongue, Jisung's eyes rolled back, slick coating the prince's tongue while he was sucking his rim.
Jisung's dick wept at the thought of Minho having bergamots straight from the source. His whole body was pulsing hotly, ready for another release.
At any time, he would be embarrassed for filling the older's mouth without warning, spurting slick on his tongue like the filthiest courtesan in the kingdom. But he knew if he was kinky, Minho was kinkier, the two of them bonded by the insane desire hovering in the air of their combined pheromones.
Another finger followed the one already inside him. Jisung gasped, soundlessly trembling, so fucking sensitive as the digits rubbed his walls.
Minho removed his tongue to watch as it got swallowed wetly, the younger so worked up he was dripping again.
“Tell me what you want, Jisungie.”
He whined in answer, eyes shutting. It was so hard for him to think, his brain filled with the sound of Minho wetly fucking his fingers in him—purposely avoiding his prostate.
Jisung was spoiled. He didn't like waiting for what he wanted.
Mustering all the mental capacity he still had, he growled, “Knot. Gimme.”
“Hmmmm, is that how you speak to your alpha?” Levanter's prince was evil materialized behind him, leisurely thrusting to keep him worked up, but not stimulating him enough to come.
“Please,” Jisung sobbed, only realizing now tears were running down his temples. Everything was so intense that he thought he would peak regardless of Minho's order.
He was a good boy, though. Minho confirmed with another ‘hum’ and a third finger breaching.
“See? It wasn't that hard.”
The condescending tone, the feeling of being stuffed full of Minho's skin and bone, the reward… Jisung couldn't take it, torso shaking with a second untouched orgasm, his dick uselessly spurting on the sheets as more slick ran down his legs.
He collapsed under his own weight, unable to do anything but whine in the silent room, Minho's fingers remaining inside him.
This was the best heat he ever had, and it was only the start.
“Can I get into the nest?”
“Please,” Jisung mumbled, unable to stop begging—he didn't know what for. He was spent, and his cock was still throbbing against the sheets.
This was also the most exhausting heat he had ever had.
Fresh cinnamon and musk were calming when it was paired with Minho's warm presence, the prince maneuvering his body sideways and pressing himself behind him. No expectations, no rush.
Jisung sniffled. The tears were a constant stream, impossible to contain. He was emotional and overstimulated.
Minho stayed there with him, wrapping an arm around his torso to caress his lower belly, knowing it was where it hurt the most.
“You're doing so well,” Minho praised.
The difference from minutes before was a good whiplash, proof they blindly knew each other's pace—the right time to bite and the right time to love…
Love sounded like such a big word for somebody Jisung had met two weeks prior, but he guessed there were no protocols when soulmates were found.
The thought had Jisung softly rutting back on Minho's still hard cock. Nothing like a passionate declaration for him to climb up the walls, utterly horny.
“Hmmm, alpha,” Jisung was tired, but the feeling of Minho's lethal weapon so close to his hole had his omega panting in anticipation. “Need your knot.” He really needed to be cut in half by it.
Minho chuckled. “What about your manners, my omega?” He kissed Jisung's shoulder. “Will I have to teach you how to ask politely for what you want?”
Unluckily for the prince, Jisung had enough of a clear mind at the moment. “Hmmmm, I don't care about being the winner, I can always go searching for another wiener to sit on if you won't please me. Hurry up.”
Hands gripped his hips to halt his movements. “You wouldn't.” Minho's tone was a hissing warning Jisung loved.
He moaned. “If I knew all it took for you to get rough with me was hinting about another alpha, I would have done it sooner.”
“Alright, you little brat.” Minho slapped his ass before guiding his dick to Jisung's puffy rim. “I'll make you take it.”
A gasp left the omega's lips at the contact. Jisung couldn't believe it worked.
The hand gripping his hip helped to anchor the younger down as he was trembling again, anticipation a hot-cold rush in his bloodstream.
Minho didn't wait, feeding his length to Jisung's hole steadily—slowly but surely, igniting their bodies into combined flames, starting a fire with the sheer force of love and pheromones.
Maybe Jisung was dead all this time because he had never felt life like this.
Everything—from the sheets around him to the smell, to the day happening outside—was heightened, Jisung so close to the primal nature of his wolf.
A growl was out of his throat as Minho never bottomed out, his dick fucking huge as it went in.
“I know, I know.” The prince placed gentle kisses on his shoulder as his hips never came to a stop. “It'll be over soon.”
Jisung didn't know shoving Thor's hammer in his ass would be this overwhelming. But, Gods, he could feel it in his throat, clogging his airways, settling in his bones.
It felt like forever until Minho's hips finally met his cheeks. Jisung tried to breathe in a sigh, but a single movement and he would choke inside out.
Minho sighed instead, turning into a moan as he tried to adjust his position. Jisung almost blacked out just from his dick pushing the whole lot of useful and useless organs a male omega had.
The prince took the task of rearranging his guts so seriously. He loved it. He feared it. He couldn't live without it.
Heat coiled again in Jisung's guts, and he let out a few grunts, his body actually molding around the beast in him.
“You can move,” Jisung announced, not able to do much besides lying there. Taking a dick this big was already too much work.
Minho complied, thrusting experimentally and moaning in Jisung's ear.
It was a lot. The pushing against his prostate, the humid and hot reverb of Minho's little sounds, the peak of their combined scents. Jisung came again, having half a mind to hold his dick not to let it lie there like a pointless appendage in the male omega anatomy.
He was glad heats allowed his cock to stay up and proud for a long while. Otherwise, he would have cried for mercy at having such a hot man making him come endlessly.
Minho kept going, pushing Jisung through oversensitivity, holding him when he started to thrash around, kissing his neck to soothe him.
Jisung wanted him to bite down, mark him as his own. But realistically, he knew they would have to talk about it first.
Then, suddenly, Minho's knot started to inflate, and the little sounds in his ear turned into full growls, Minho's alpha taking control again.
The difference in pace was crazy. Minho was a relentless beast behind him, using the grip on his hip to meet his movements halfway. The wet sound of slapping skin was almost unheard under the whines bubbling deep from Jisung's omega in return to the call of his alpha.
They were gone so easily, trusting nature to take its course and lead them into another dimension.
Minho's knot was big. A giant coming from the depths of the ground, slapping against Jisung's rim, wanting to break through but needing a bit more.
Jisung could only whine and writhe in a pleasure never known before—taking it.
He thought it wasn't going to fit in him. He would cry if it didn't. He wanted to be the chosen one for Thor's Hammer so bad.
Only when Minho spread his cheeks apart and thrust in with all the force in his body did his knot slip inside, a scream leaving Jisung's lips as a final orgasm hit him.
The bed broke, Minho's knot popped, and Jisung blacked out. All at the same instant.
Getting knotted by Minho completed Jisung's mission and the bed's. They were both gone, sent to heaven or hell or whatever existed beyond their reality.
The next time he woke up, there was no bed, only a mattress on the floor. Minho said it was safer if they stayed like this for the duration of Jisung’s heat, or the staff would think they weren't fucking, but actual sword fighting in there.
They shared laughter when Jisung was conscious enough, moans when the heat became unbearable.
Once, Jisung climbed him and sat on his dick, joking, ‘You know how the saying goes, save a horse, ride a cowboy.’ Minho didn't understand, and he whined at the prince for having too much work and not enough Twitter time.
Then, after three days, Jisung was completely spent and starving for something else that wasn't cum and spit.
He didn't let Minho leave to grab food, though, clinging to him with his arms and legs.
“How am I supposed to get you food if you won't let me go?” Minho sighed, accepting defeat and just lying on top of Jisung, naked and covered in fluids, like the day he was born.
Jisung never wanted the prince to wear clothes again; it was blasphemy to have his dick covered.
… And maybe his heat wasn't over yet.
“Come on, get your phone and order people around like a normal prince.” Jisung rolled his eyes, frustrated that he had to be the brain between them. It was Minho's duty; Jisung wanted to be a headless chicken for the time being.
Minho complied, trying to find his pants in Jisung's nest and receiving a snarl as he moved the fabric around to get the device.
“Do you want food or not?”
Jisung stayed quiet. Minho asked Chan and Changbin to leave a basket of fruits and pastries at the door, everything Jisung liked best. His omega preened at being taken care of.
Somewhere between being fed and being licked clean, Jisung actually felt loved.
“Would it be too much if I said I love you?” He asked when his belly was full, and his heart was warmed by Minho's head on top of it.
“Only if it's too much if I said I love you back.”
They smiled.
Jisung started feeling like a person again the morning after.
He wasn't to walk since Minho's knot obliterated his ass, but he and his omega were sane enough to wash the heat away—meaning, Minho washed the heat away because he loved him dearly. Jisung kissed him as a reward, deep and slow, enjoying the moment without the cloud of busting pheromones controlling him.
Minho went searching for a charger for both of their phones, and soon Hyunjin and Felix rushed inside to gossip.
“Don't spare me the details.” Felix was so excited as the duo joined him on the mattress, careful to avoid the clothes on Jisung's nest. “This room smells filthy enough to have a good story.”
“Well, let's say I finally found the fun in a world that allows the male species to have a self-lubricated ass and pop children through it.” They laughed together.
“I don't know about having pups,” Hyunjin started, a hand on his chin. “But we were definitely rightfully knotted too.”
Jisung's eyes widened. Chan and Changbin had caved to their charms.
Before he could ask about it, too, Minho and the two guards were entering the room.
Chan and Changbin were each carrying trays with food, surprised to see the omegas there, blush spreading on their cheeks. Minho stepped from behind them, two chargers in hand, blinking confusedly at the whole scene.
With a wicked smile, Jisung sighed. “In the end, all it took for the beginning of everybody's great adventure was a good, fat knot and a slick ass, huh?
It wasn't by any means easy and Jisung might have cried over said knot, but he was so happy to finally reach his goal.