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It was a "tradition," the brochures said, a vestige of the Old World brought into the modern age to celebrate "compatibility and the spirit of the chase."
"Think of it as matchmaking," his mother had said, her voice airy and dismissive as she sipped her tea. "The right Alpha will find you. It’s biology, Jisung-ah. It’s how your father and I met, and it’s how you’ll find security."
Personally, Jisung thinks it’s bullshit.
The only one who had stood up for him was Chan.
His parents had been immovable. Jisung could still hear the shouting match that had erupted in the dining room three nights ago. Chan, usually the golden child, the calm and protective older brother, had nearly lost his voice arguing with their parents.
"He’s not a prize to be chased through the dirt!" Chan had argued, his scent spiking into something sharp and burnt. "It’s not the 1800s, for God's sake. He’s only twenty-one! If he wants to find a mate, let him do it on his own terms. Not like this."
Jisung had looked up from his homework, surprised by the venom in his brother’s voice. Chan was usually the peacemaker, the golden Alpha who humoured their parents' traditionalist streaks with a polite smile. But Chan’s scent, usually warm and comforting, had a bitter undertone that made Jisung wrinkle his nose.
Even Felix, who usually had the power to calm Chan down with just a touch, had looked devastated for Jisung. Jisung still remembered the way Felix had sat beside his mate, his hand tucked firmly into Chan’s, his sweet, calming scent of brownie batter and vanilla trying to soothe the room’s jagged edges. Felix had looked at Jisung with such pity that it had made Jisung’s throat tighten. The silver mating bite on Felix’s neck caught the light, a reminder that Felix was one of the lucky ones; he and Chan had found each other naturally through mutual friends, a bond built on years of soft whispers and genuine choice.
"It’s our legacy," his father had replied, not looking up from his meal. "You found your mate through choice, and we allowed it because Felix is from a good line. But Jisung is... sensitive. He needs the structure of the tradition to find an Alpha who can actually provide."
"I can provide for myself!" Jisung had cut in, his voice cracking.
"He’s not a trophy," Chan continued, gesturing toward Jisung. "He’s my brother, your son. You’re pulling his suppressants and throwing him into a forest full of Alphas who haven't been taught how to take ‘no’ for an answer. It’s dangerous."
"It’s supervised, Christopher," his father countered, finally looking at Chan. "And it’s expected. Our family doesn't bow out of tradition because of modern sensitivities. Plus, it’s too late to put him on suppressants, even if your ridiculous little rebellion had somehow managed to convince me."
"We can take him home with us," Felix had offered softly, his deep voice soothing the static in the room. "Jisung can stay in our guest room through his cycle. He doesn't have to be a part of this."
But the decision had been final. His parents had cited the "family legacy" and the "social standing," effectively shutting Chan down. Jisung would never forget the look on Chan’s face; the sheer, helpless frustration of a brother who wanted to protect his sibling but was being blocked by the very people who were supposed to be his first line of defence.
Chan had pulled Jisung aside afterwards, his grip on Jisung’s shoulders tight.
"I can't stop them, Sungie. I'm so sorry," he’d whispered, his eyes scanning Jisung’s face. "But I'll make sure you're safe."
Jisung had just nodded numbly, wishing he had half of his brother’s fire. He didn't want Chan to fight his battles; he just wanted to be back at their apartment, watching Felix bake brownies while Chan hovered over him like a giant, protective shadow. He wanted the kind of love they had, quiet, chosen, and safe.
Jisung stands near the starting line, his fingers restlessly twisting the hem of his shirt. He keeps his head down, eyes fixed on the grass, trying his best to blend into the crowd of Omegas. The last thing he wants is to draw the attention of any of the Alphas. He just hopes that whoever ends up chasing him is someone slow. Someone he can outrun or outsmart.
He tries to check out, to imagine himself wearing his favourite stolen hoodie, being buried under a pile of three duvets, with a bag of sour gummies and his headphones turned up loud enough to drown out the rest of the world.
But no matter how much he tries, he can’t escape from reality. He’s still stuck at the edge of the college treeline, the air heavy and clashing with the bittersweet scents of thirty other Omegas all vibrating with the same pre-run terror.
Jisung keeps his focus narrow, but the weight of the hungry gaze of the group of Alphas he can feel boring into him is impossible to ignore
He’d spent the last week mentally preparing himself to be chased by some random knothead looking for a trophy or someone desperate, unable to find a mate for themselves, anyone but the one person he actually wanted.
Because Lee Minho had made his stance on the mating run very, very clear when Minho had scoffed at the news that Jisung was being forced to take part, his lip curled in a look of disdain.
"It’s barbaric," Minho had muttered just two weeks ago, leaning against the kitchen counter at Chan’s place while Jisung tried to focus on his homework. "A bunch of Alphas acting as if they’ve never seen an Omega before, chasing them through the dirt for a mate? It’s archaic. It’s an embarrassing relic for Alphas who can't hold a conversation. If you want to court someone, you take them to dinner, you don't hunt them like a piece of meat."
Chan had scowled, nodding in agreement, and Jisung had felt a heavy, cold weight settle in his chest. Minho thought the run was beneath him. Minho thought the tradition was a joke. Which meant Minho would never, ever be the one chasing Jisung.
Then he smells it.
It’s a scent he knows better than his own: the rich, velvety depth of bittersweet dark chocolate, finished with the sharp, bracing hint of espresso. It’s a scent that means safety. It means movie nights on Chan’s couch and being teased about his awful sleeping habits. He thinks for a moment that his mind is playing tricks on him.
Jisung’s head snapped up. Standing near the Alpha staging area, leaning nonchalantly against a fence post. Lee Minho.
He isn't wearing his usual oversized hoodie or the soft expression he wears when he’s playing with his cats. He’s dressed in dark, form-fitting clothes that emphasise the lethal power in his thighs and the broadness of his shoulders. His hair is pushed back beneath a hat, sweat already glistening on his forehead from a warm-up. His eyes, dark, focused, and utterly predatory, are locked directly on Jisung. He looks lethal, his scent so dense it feels like a physical weight in the air.
"Run, Jisungie," Minho mouths, and Jisung feels the phantom press of teeth against his neck before he’s even taken his first step.
Bang.
The starter pistol fires.
Jisung doesn't hesitate. He bolts.
Jisung's heart slams against his ribs as he breaks into a sprint. The crowd of Omegas surges forward, a mass of panicked limbs and frantic breathing. He knows he's smaller, knows he can't outrun the larger Alphas for long, but he refuses to be caught immediately. He’s pushing for speed, but the world is starting to tilt, his vision blurring at the edges as his body tries to force him to stop, to succumb, to simply lie down in the dirt and wait.
He forces himself faster, legs burning, lungs screaming. Trees blur past. The forest swallows him.
Jisung breathes through his mouth, shallow and sharp, heart hammering behind his ribs like a frantic creature begging to be let out. The scent of pine needles and wet dirt fills his nose, and beneath that, the edge of something sharper, something musky and Alpha and wrong.
It’s close. Too close.
He doesn’t look back. Looking back is how prey gets caught, and he refuses to be the "good little Omega" his father wants him to be.
Leaves snag at his hoodie as he ducks under low branches, legs burning from the sprint. His parents had been relentless, pulling his suppressants three days ago to ensure he’d be "receptive" for the event. He feels raw, over-sensitised, and utterly exposed; the sensation is nearly unbearable. Even the feeling of his favourite oversized hoodie against his chest sends a jagged bolt of lightning straight to his core, making his breath hitch in a pathetic, broken sound. His parents told him it was time to "step into adulthood." As if being hunted down like a piece of meat was some kind of rite of passage. They hadn’t mentioned the way the Alphas lined up like wolves at a buffet, their eyes tracking the Omegas with a hunger that made his skin crawl.
Jisung doesn’t want to be found. Not by some knothead Alpha who only wants a pretty Omega trophy to please a family legacy. He doesn't want to be the "traditional success story" his father demanded.
He wants to be found by him.
He wants to see those dark, feline eyes narrowed in pursuit. He wants to know that for once, he isn't just "Chan’s little brother" or the "annoying kid who needs help with his homework."
But wanting Lee Minho was a death sentence for his pride.
When Jisung had presented as an Omega four years ago, he’d been so sure things would change. He’d waited for Minho’s scent to sharpen when they were in the same room; he’d waited for a lingering look, a protective tilt of the head, a shift in the gravity between them.
He’d steal Minho’s hoodies when they accidentally got left behind in Chan’s apartment, saturating them with his own developing scent, hoping that when he handed them back, Minho’s pupils would blow wide. He’d lingered in doorways, laughed a little too loud at Minho’s dry jokes, and waited, desperate, for the shift. For the moment where Minho’s eyes would darken with something other than exasperated affection.
It never happened. Even after Jisung presented, when his scent bloomed into something sweet enough to make other Alphas turn their heads in the street, Minho had remained a fortress. He’d ruffled Jisung’s hair, called him a brat, and stayed firmly on the other side of a line Jisung was dying to cross.
The unknowing rejection had hurt worse than even the worst heat cramps.
Jisung steers clear of the main trails. He knows these woods; he’s spent years hiding from rowdy crowds in these very thickets, but today the silence he usually finds here is gone. He can hear the distant shouts, the heavy thud of boots, and the high, sweet distress calls of Omegas being claimed further back.
Jisung stumbles slightly as a root catches his foot, but he recovers instantly, pushing himself harder. His lungs burn, sweat slides down his back, but he doesn't slow down. Not yet. He needs to put distance between himself and the worst of the pursuers. The ones who would try to grab him from behind like a sack of rice, the ones who would pin him against the first available tree and claim him without a word.
No, if he's going to be caught, if, it has to be Minho.
He can't stop thinking about it. Minho, out there in the trees, moving like some predatory cat, his scent thick in the air.
He’s been running for fifteen minutes. His legs burn. His scent, something usually light and citrusy, is beginning to sour into the smell of overripe oranges.
Thump.
A branch snaps behind him. Not the accidental crunch of a clumsy runner. A deliberate, heavy weight hitting the earth.
It’s not Minho’s rhythmic, controlled stride.
These footsteps are heavy, crashing through the underbrush with a lack of finesse that screams of entitlement rather than the hunt. The scent hits him a second later: stagnant water and cheap, spicy musk. It’s putrid.
The Alpha is catching up. Jisung can hear the wet, heavy breathing, the snap of branches closer than before. His heart stutters, a cold lick of genuine, unadulterated fear spiking through his system.
He takes a sharp, jagged turn at the creek bed, his sneakers skidding on loose shale as he banks hard toward the steeper ravine. It’s a risky move; the terrain is uneven, and the roots are treacherous, but he’s hoping the sudden shift in direction will throw the pursuit off his scent trail as he runs through the small stream.
If he can throw the Alpha off for just a second, maybe—
The wind shifts.
And it carries Jisung’s scent.
He’s gasping now, the citrus of his scent sharpening into something jagged and frantic. And then, he hears it.
"Found myself a pretty one!" a voice shouts, raspy, unfamiliar, and laced with an edge of cruelty that makes Jisung’s stomach drop. His inner Omega whimpers in fright, the sound small and pathetic in his own ears.
He pushes his legs harder, his vision blurring at the edges as he tries to scramble up a steep, root-choked incline. Where is Minho? The thought is a desperate sob in his mind. Where is he?
A terrifying, guttural snarl rips through the trees, a sound so primal it makes Jisung’s knees give out for a fraction of a second. He hears the stranger lunge. He hears the snap of a twig right behind his heels. Jisung braces for the impact of a hand on his ankle, for the weight that will drag him down into the dirt.
There’s a sickening thud, followed by a choked-off yelp of pain. The ground beneath Jisung seems to vibrate with the force of the collision.
Jisung risks a glance over his shoulder, his heart in his throat. The sight that greets him is seared into his mind forever.
Minho, his usually calm and composed expression wild, is pinning the other Alpha to the ground. The sound of flesh hitting flesh echoes through the forest as Minho's fist connects with the stranger's face again and again. His scent is overwhelming, a storm of dark chocolate and coffee and something sharp and dangerous Jisung has never smelled on him before.
Jisung turns away, his feet tangling in the undergrowth. Every instinct he possesses tells him to keep moving, to use the distraction to vanish into the grey-green shadows of the ravine. But he can’t. His boots skid to a halt, the loose shale clicking under his heels as he freezes.
The sound of the struggle behind him is violent; a chaotic symphony of snapping branches and the dull, heavy thud of impacts. He knows he should keep moving; he knows Minho is more than capable, but a frantic, illogical fear grips his chest. What if there are more of them? What if Minho needs help? What if Minho gets hurt because he was trying to protect Jisung?
Jisung’s feet feel like they’ve taken root in the damp earth. He stands there, trembling, his ears straining.
He hears a snarl. It’s not human. It’s a deep, chest-rattling vibration that shakes the very leaves on the trees. Then comes the sound of a fist connecting with bone, a wet, crunching thwack, and a high-pitched yell of pain from the stranger that is quickly silenced by the sound of someone being slammed into the earth. Hard.
A heavy silence follows, broken only by the rush of the nearby stream.
Jisung’s heart is in his throat, his citrus scent turning jagged and sour with worry. He’s about to turn back, about to call out, when he sees Minho stand up from the wreckage of the other Alpha, his usually neat hair dishevelled and wild, wiping a smear of the stranger's blood off his knuckle with a terrifyingly calm expression.
Within seconds, Minho is across the clearing. His hands catch Jisung by the waist, hauling him upright and slamming him back against the rough bark of a tree, pinning him with the sheer heat of his body.
"I’m going to give you a choice, Jisungie," Minho murmurs. His voice is hauntingly soft compared to his scent, which has curdled into something thick and intoxicating that makes Jisung’s head swim; the smell of dark chocolate, bitter and rich, exactly like he does when he’s close to his rut. It’s so dense it feels like it’s coating Jisung’s tongue. "If you don’t want this, if you don’t want me, then stay here. I’ll walk you out of these woods myself. I’ll make sure not another Alpha so much as breathes your air today. I’ll be your brother’s friend, and we can go back to how things have always been."
"And if I do want you?" Jisung whispers, barely able to force his voice out.
Minho’s grip on his waist tightens, just for a second, a flicker of the possessive beast he’s holding back.
"If you want me? If you want me to stop pretending that you don’t drive me insane?" Minho leans in, his nose brushing against the pulse point in Jisung’s neck, inhaling the sweet, frantic scent of him, before forcing himself to step back. "Then you run. You run as hard as you can, and you make me earn every inch of you."
He doesn't want to go back to being invisible. He turns on his heel and runs, his sneakers kicking up dirt and shale as he bolts back into the thicket. His heart is still pounding, but the fear is gone, replaced by a thrumming, primal heat.
He hears Minho’s laugh follow him into the brush, a high, delighted sound that tells Jisung he’s made the exact choice the Alpha was praying for.
Jisung keeps running. It’s not long before he hears the steady, rhythmic beat of feet hitting the earth again. These don’t belong to a stranger. These are lighter, faster, and more precise.
Jisung’s pace doesn't slacken, but his entire body chemistry shifts. The fear is still there, but it’s sharpened now, honed into a fine point of exhilaration.
Jisung pushes harder, his legs burning, but he can’t stop the grin spreading across his face. This is what he wanted. He wanted to be the only thing Minho looked at.
He’s coming, Jisung thinks, a breathless, hysterical laugh bubbling up in his throat. He’s actually coming for me.
"Did you think I'd let anyone touch you, Jisungie?"
Minho’s voice carries through the trees, effortless and melodic, even as he gains on him. There’s a note of dark amusement in it, a lethal sort of playfulness. "He was messy. He didn't deserve to be on your trail."
Jisung’s lungs are on fire, but he keeps running. This is what he wanted. He wanted the Alpha to stop ruffling his hair like a child and start wanting him.
The scent of dark chocolate is getting stronger, warmer, turning into something thick and molten in the cool forest air. It wraps around Jisung like a promise: bitter cocoa and the sharp, roasted kick of espresso, layered with something darker and more intoxicating that claims the very air he breathes before Minho even lays a finger on him. He hears the brush of wind against fabric. Minho is close. Close enough that Jisung can hear the Alpha’s steady, deep breathing.
"You're doing so well," Minho purrs, and the sound is right at Jisung's shoulder now. "Keep running. I want to see how far you'll go before you beg me to catch you."
Jisung laughs, a sharp, breathless sound, and leans into the sprint. He loves it. He loves the way his scent is spiking, the way his body is humming, and the way Minho is chasing him down like he wants to devour him.
The chase is exquisite. Every second is a new thrill, a new rush of adrenaline. Jisung's breath comes in ragged gasps as he pushes himself to the limit. The forest blurs around him, a green smear of trees and roots and dirt. His heart pounds so hard he can hear it in his ears, but it's not fear driving him now; it's exhilaration. Minho is right behind him, his presence so close Jisung can almost feel his body heat.
The ravine is a treacherous mess of slick shale and tangled roots, and Jisung is moving too fast, his head too light with the intoxicating rush of Minho’s scent. His coordination is fracturing, the syrupy haze of his heat making his brain lag a second behind his feet. He’s looking for a path that doesn't exist, his heart singing so loud he barely hears the snap of the branch beneath his foot.
His ankle gives a sickening wobble. It isn't just the branch; his muscles are trembling, finally yielding to the exhaustion and the fire burning under his skin.
"Shit—!"
Jisung goes down hard, the world tilting as he skids across the damp earth. The impact jars his teeth, and for a second, the only thing he can hear is the rush of the stream and his own panicked, shallow gasps. The air in the ravine is biting, a sharp contrast to the fever burning under his skin, but it does nothing to cool the frantic pulse in his throat. He feels the hot, shameless trickle of slick soak into his clothes, a physical mark of his body’s total surrender to the heat building up inside. He scrambles to his knees, palms stung raw and coated in grit, but the shadow is already over him.
"Poor baby," Minho’s voice is a low purr that seems to travel through the ground and straight into Jisung’s bones. "Did you really think I’d let anyone else touch you?"
Jisung scrambles to stand up, but his limbs are like jelly. He’s shaking, his citrus scent now thick with a heady, sweet edge of arousal that makes the air feel heavy. As he struggles to find his footing, his knees give way again, but Minho is there, catching him by the waist and hauling him up until they’re chest to chest.
Minho’s eyes are blown wide, a thin ring of amber the only thing left of his self-control. He looks like he wants to bite; he looks like he wants to swallow Jisung whole.
Minho looks different like this, his gaze burning with something feral, his lips parted slightly with bunny teeth showing, his face flushed with exertion. There's sweat at his temples and a smear of dirt across his cheekbone where he must have caught himself on a tree branch during the chase.
"Hyung," Jisung gasps, his hands clutching at the dark fabric of Minho’s shirt. "I—"
"You’re so messy, Jisungie," Minho interrupts, his thumb moving to swipe a smudge of dirt off Jisung’s cheek. His touch is searing. "And you’re slow. But I think you’re doing it on purpose."
Minho leans in, his nose brushing against Jisung’s scent gland, a deep, shuddering inhale that tells Jisung exactly how much effort this self-restraint is costing him. His fingers tighten in the Alpha's shirt as Minho exhales hotly against the sensitive spot. A whimper escapes before he can stop it, his entire body arching into the contact.
Jisung's breath hitches as Minho's teeth scrape lightly over the junction of his neck and shoulder, his body responding before he can stop it.
The reaction is visceral. The cold dampness of the ravine air hits the sweat on his skin, but it’s nothing compared to the hot, shameless trickle of slick that slides down his thighs, soaking the fabric of his underwear in seconds. His scent shifts, turning into something thick, sugary, and ruinous.
Minho’s eyes darken even further as the new, honeyed note hits him, his nostrils flaring. "Oh," he hums, a smirk pulling at his lips. "So that’s how it is."
Jisung's breath comes in short, ragged bursts as Minho's tongue drags a slow, wet stripe up the side of his throat. The Alpha's hands slide down to grip Jisung's hips, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise as he pulls him flush against his body.
Minho's breath is hot against Jisung's ear as he drags his nose up the side of Jisung's neck, inhaling deeply. His teeth graze the sensitive skin just below Jisung's ear, and Jisung's entire body jerks in response, a sharp gasp escaping his lips.
"But you're not done. I didn't wait five years to catch you because you tripped over a branch. Run again, little deer," Minho coos; the words a command. "I’ll give you thirty seconds. I want to see how far you get before I decide I’m done being patient."
Jisung’s eyes widen. His heart isn't just hammering now; it’s soaring. He feels the predatory intent radiating off Minho, the raw, possessive claim that he’s been starving for since he was seventeen.
Minho pulls back just enough to look him in the eye, his smirk returning, sharp and dangerous. "One. Two..."
Jisung doesn't wait for three. A frantic, giddy energy surges through his limbs, and he dives under Minho’s arm, his sneakers kicking up dirt as he bolts back into the thicket. He’s still running, his lungs are still burning, but the fear is gone, replaced by a thrumming, primal heat. Jisung takes a jump over a mossy log, his citrus scent exploding into something sweet, sticky, a desperate trail for Minho to follow.
He can hear Minho counting behind him, like a countdown to a collision he’s been waiting for since he presented.
The forest blurs around him in a riot of green and gold, the dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy like a strobe light as Jisung darts between trees. His pulse pounds in his throat, his skin flushing with every ragged breath. The dampness between his thighs is a constant distraction now, his sweatpants clinging to him as his body prepares for the end of the chase.
Twenty-seven.
Jisung swerves around a thick oak trunk, its bark rough under his fingertips.
Twenty-eight.
His feet skid slightly on the damp earth, but he recovers, pushing harder.
Twenty-nine.
His muscles scream, but the rush of adrenaline drowns it out.
Thirty.
He veers toward the high ridge, the part of the woods where the canopy is so thick the light barely touches the forest floor. He wants to see if Minho will follow him into the dark. He wants to know exactly what Minho plans to do now that thirty seconds are up and see the "patience" finally snap for good.
Jisung doesn’t even make it sixty seconds.
He’s barely found his rhythm, lungs wheezing as he pushes deep into the claustrophobic shadows of the high ridge, when the air behind him simply changes. The steady crunch of leaves isn't a distance away anymore; it’s a vibration right under his heels.
"Time's up, Jisungie."
The voice is right at his ear, a hot, playful purr that sends a bolt of liquid fire straight to Jisung’s gut. Before Jisung can even gasp, a heavy weight slams into his back, and for a second, he’s actually flying. His stomach drops, the world tilts, and he’s prepared to eat a mouthful of dirt, but a hand suddenly cups the back of his head. Fingers lace through his hair, cupping the back of his head to cushion the blow as they hit the ground in a tangle of limbs
Minho’s body presses close, one arm cradling the back of Jisung’s head, the other still curled around his hip, pinning him into the dirt like he’s worried Jisung might try to bolt again.
They’re both panting, the sound of their combined, ragged breaths the only thing filling the silence of the ridge. Jisung stares up, his vision swimming, and finds Minho looking down at him with a terrifying, singular focus. The Alpha’s pupils are blown so wide the amber of his irises has been swallowed whole, leaving only two dark, hungry voids. It’s a look that makes Jisung feel stripped bare and utterly consumed.
Jisung’s eyes flutter closed for half a second, his breath catching as the weight of Minho, solid and dependable, finally sinks in. He can feel the grit of the forest floor against his back and the furnace heat of his heat building up inside.
"You—" Jisung starts, but his voice is a wrecked thing, catching on the lump of sheer disbelief in his throat. "You told me to run. Why?"
Minho leans in, his face inches away, a strand of dark hair damp with sweat brushing Jisung’s forehead. A single bead of perspiration falls from Minho’s temple, branding Jisung’s flushed cheek
"You needed to know I was choosing to chase after you," Minho murmurs, raising his thumb to wipe the bead of sweat away. "I’m not here because anyone asked me to protect you, Jisungie. I’m here because if anyone else touched you today, I would’ve killed them."
The air leaves Jisung’s lungs in a pathetic little puff. He stares up at Minho, his brain struggling to process the flat, terrifying sincerity in the Alpha’s voice. His brain, usually a non-stop track of overthinking and frantic “what-ifs,” goes terrifyingly quiet for once. He’d spent a thousand nights wondering if he was too loud, too small, too much.
But looking at Minho now, his hair a bird’s nest, knuckles raw, and eyes so dark he feels like he could fall into them, Jisung realises with a sudden, dizzying jolt that he’s been a total idiot.
“Why did you wait?” Jisung gasps, his hands clutching at the dark fabric of Minho’s shirt. “Why today?”
“Because if I didn’t hold myself back,” Minho growls, the sound vibrating right through Jisung’s spine, “I wasn't going to stop. I wasn't going to be 'the nice family friend' anymore. I was going to be the Alpha who marked you before you even graduated high school.”
Jisung lets out a shaky, half-hysterical laugh that catches in his throat. "You’re—you’re crazy,” he wheezes, his fingers digging into Minho’s shoulders because if he doesn't hold on, he might actually float away. "Years, Minho. You let me think I was a nuisance for years.”
Minho’s smirk is sharp, a flash of white bunny teeth that makes Jisung’s inner Omega let out a high, pathetic whine.
"I acted like a man who didn't want to lose his best friend's trust," Minho counters, his voice dropping to a dangerous pitch. He shifts his weight, the movement dragging his thighs against Jisung’s, making the Omega’s breath hitch in a sharp, ragged inhale. "I was going to do this right. Ask you out, court you. But then your parents decided to throw you to the wolves. They pulled your suppressants and put you out here like bait. Did you really think I was going to let anyone else follow the trail I’ve been dreaming of since before you presented?"
Jisung's mouth parts, but no sound comes out. His fingers twist in Minho's shirt, pulling him closer, desperate for some kind of solid proof that this is real. Minho's breath is hot against his mouth, the Alpha's exhale ghosting over his lips in a way that makes his entire body tighten.
"You—you were going to ask me out?" Jisung finally manages, his voice thick with disbelief. Minho's smirk deepens, his hand sliding from Jisung's hip to the inside of his thigh, squeezing just enough to make Jisung's breath stutter.
"You act like you don't know how long I've wanted you," Minho murmurs, his lips brushing Jisung's earlobe as he speaks.
"I... I thought you didn't want me," Jisung whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "I thought I was just being pathetic, pining after someone who didn’t want me and never would.”
“I had to act like that,” Minho whispers, the scent of dark chocolate and bitter espresso deepening, turning thick and overwhelming in the best way as he settles his weight more firmly between Jisung's thighs. “If I'd let myself look at you for more than a second, I would've lost my mind. You think those hoodies you ‘stole’ were a secret? I let you wear them because I liked knowing you were walking around smelling like me, smelling like you belonged to me. You didn’t make it easy for me, you were such a brat, Jagi.”
Jisung whines again, his cheeks flushing at the reminder. "I was not a brat," he protests weakly, squirming underneath Minho. The movement only serves to grind their hips together, and Jisung lets out a startled gasp as he feels the hot, hard length of Minho's arousal pressing insistently against his own rapidly filling erection.
"See?" Minho practically growls, the sound reverberating through his chest and vibrating against Jisung's. "Still being a brat. Still making me crazy."
Minho punctuates his words by rocking forward, deliberately rubbing against Jisung in a way that steals the Omega's breath and makes his eyes roll back. Jisung's head thrashes from side to side as Minho works him, his fingers scrabbling at the Alpha's back, unsure whether he wants to pull him closer or push him away.
Jisung rolls his hips experimentally, gasping at the delicious friction. Minho groans, the sound rumbling through his chest and vibrating against Jisung's lips.
“A tempting, gorgeous little brat who had no idea how close he was to getting claimed on his brother's living room floor.”
Jisung gasps as Minho's teeth graze his collarbone, his entire body shuddering at the sharp sting of it. The Alpha's hands are everywhere at once, one gripping Jisung's thigh hard enough to bruise, the other sliding up his side to tangle in his hair and yank his head back. The way Minho pins him down makes Jisung's pulse hammer in his throat, his arousal intensifying until it feels like his skin is too tight, like he might come untethered right here.
"You smell so good like this," Minho groans, his breath hot against Jisung's exposed throat. "All worked up and desperate. Tell me you want this."
Jisung's entire body trembles as Minho's words send a rush of heat straight to his core. The Alpha's grip in his hair tightens, pulling just enough to make Jisung gasp, his hips bucking up instinctively. Minho lets out a rough chuckle, the sound knowing at Jisung's reaction.
"Words, Jagi," Minho murmurs against his throat, the heat of his breath mingling with the dampness from Jisung's sweat-slick skin. "I need to hear you say it."
Jisung swallows hard, his lips parted as he tries to catch his breath.
Jisung's fingers dig into Minho's shoulders as he struggles to form words, his body arching under the Alpha's weight. Every nerve in his body feels alight, his skin hypersensitive to the way Minho's rough hands move over him, the Alpha's heat surrounding him like a living thing.
"I... I want this," Jisung finally breathes out, the words sounding rough even to his own ears. "Please, Minho hyung—"
Minho hums, a sound deep in his chest, and Jisung feels the vibration ripple through him like a current. It’s a low, possessive frequency that makes his inner Omega go completely liquid in the dirt, all the fight draining out of him to be replaced by a needy, heavy heat.
"Look at you," Minho murmurs, his free hand sliding up to grip the back of Jisung's neck. His thumb presses firmly into the sensitive dip beneath Jisung's jaw, a silent command for him to tilt his head. "All flushed and out of breath. You ran so well for me, baby."
The Alpha's knee slots between Jisung's thighs, nudging them apart with unmistakable purpose. Jisung gasps as Minho fists in his hair, tilting his head back to expose his throat more.
Jisung's pulse jumps wildly as Minho drags his nose along the column of his throat, inhaling deeply. The Alpha's tongue flicks out to taste the salt on Jisung's skin, his teeth scraping lightly over the frantic flutter of his pulse point. A full-body shudder wracks Jisung as Minho hums appreciatively, the sound vibrating against his heated skin.
"Your scent is killing me," Minho murmurs, the words thick and low. His hand slides under Jisung's hoodie to grip his waist hard, fingers pressing into the soft flesh there. "I can feel how wet you are already. You're dripping for me, aren't you, Jagi?"
Jisung's breath hitches as Minho's fingers brush against the waistband of his sweatpants, his body tensing in both fear and anticipation. The Alpha's teeth graze his earlobe, a sharp nip that sends a jolt straight to his cock. Minho's hand on his waist moves, rough fingers skating up his abdomen, stopping just below his pecs.
"Of course I am, you jerk," Jisung whines, his lower lip trembling in a full-blown pout. He squirms against the heavy weight of Minho’s thighs, his frustration peaking. "Whose fault do you think that is? You’ve been hovering for years, smelling like... like that, and now you're just going to stand there and narrate? I didn't realise I was being hunted by a documentary filmmaker."
Minho’s eyes flash, his grip tightening. "Tell me," he growls. "Say it for me."
"I want it! God, you're so annoying," Jisung wails, a high, needy sound that’s half-shout and half-sob. He arches his back, digging his heels into the dirt. "I want Hyung to stop being a tease and actually do something. Just for you! It’s only ever been for you, so hurry up!"
"Fuck," Minho groans, the sound rough and ragged as he grinds his cock against Jisung's thigh. His teeth sink into the tender skin of Jisung's shoulder, not enough to break skin, but enough to make the Omega cry out and clutch at him. "You're perfect like this."
Jisung’s head falls back against Minho’s arm, his eyes unfocused and swimming with a hazy, gold-tinted heat. The air in the ridge is thick enough to swallow, tasting of dark chocolate and the salt of his own skin. He’s never felt more exposed, more raw, or more utterly safe.
He looks up at Minho, seeing the way the Alpha’s chest heaves, the way he looks ready to devour the world just to get to the core of Jisung. But even with the weight of that possessive hunger pinning him down, Jisung feels a sudden, childish spike of longing. He doesn't want just the teeth and the grit; he wants the man who makes sure he’s eaten and listens to his rambling rants about music.
Jisung’s lower lip trembles, poking out into a small, defiant pout, and he lets out a tiny, soft sound that wasn't a whine, but a plea for comfort.
"Hyung," he murmurs, his voice losing its rough edge and turning soft, almost small.
Minho pauses, his nose still buried in the crook of Jisung’s neck. He pulls back just enough to look at him, his expression still dark and feral, but his gaze softens at the sight of Jisung’s face. "What is it, baby?"
"You're being so mean," Jisung whispers, his hands back from Minho's shoulders, his fingers trembling as he reaches up to cup Minho’s face. His thumbs brush over the sharp line of Minho’s cheekbones, feeling the heat radiating off the Alpha’s skin. "Talking about claiming me and making me run... and you haven't even kissed me yet."
Minho’s breath catches. For all his talk of marking and killing anyone who touched Jisung, the request for something so sweet and simple stuns him. The heavy, suffocating scent of dark chocolate and espresso seems to mellow, turning into something warmer, like a cup of cocoa by a fireplace.
"Jisungie," Minho breathes, his expression softening into something so tender it makes Jisung’s heart ache. "My beautiful, bratty Jisungie."
"I've waited years," Jisung grumbles, his eyes searching Minho's with a vulnerable honesty that cuts through the adrenaline of the hunt. "I want... I want you to kiss me. Properly. Like you mean it."
Minho’s expression crumbles for a second. He lets out a soft, shaky exhale that smells like dark chocolate, espresso, and home, and he leans down.
It isn't the rough collision Jisung expected.
When Minho’s lips finally touch his, it’s like the world goes quiet. It’s impossibly soft and gentle, a slow, lingering press that feels like an apology and a confession all at once. It’s the taste of dark chocolate melting on a tongue, warm and rich and sweet. Minho’s hand, the one that had been fisting in his hair, relaxes, his fingers now gently tracing the curve of Jisung’s ear.
Jisung lets out a shaky, broken sob into the kiss, his eyes fluttering shut. This is what he’d dreamed about during those movie nights on the couch. This was the safety he’d been terrified of losing.
Minho hums against his lips, a tender, soothing sound, and tilts his head to deepen the contact. It’s a slow, rhythmic pull, his tongue just barely grazing Jisung’s lower lip in a silent question. Jisung opens for him instantly, a soft moan escaping his throat as the kiss turns from a tentative touch into a deep, soul-searing claim.
It’s everything. It’s the five years of longing, the fear of the ravine, and the promise of a future all wrapped into one quiet moment on the forest floor.
When Minho finally pulls back, just an inch, he rests his forehead against Jisung’s. Their breaths mingle in the cold air, two puffs of white steam joining together.
"Better?" Minho whispers, his voice thick with an affection so heavy it makes Jisung’s heart ache.
Jisung nods weakly, a dazed, happy smile tugging at his mouth. "Yeah," he breathes, his hands sliding up to cup Minho’s cheeks. "Better. Now you can fuck me."
Minho lets out a surprised chuckle, his eyes crinkling at the corners with genuine amusement. The sound is warm and rich, like the first sip of coffee on a cold morning. "Bossy little omega," he teases, shaking his head fondly. "Always so impatient."
He leans in again, capturing Jisung's lips in a second kiss that steals the omega's breath away. This one is deeper, more demanding, a claiming that sends tingles down Jisung's spine. Minho's tongue sweeps into his mouth, tasting him thoroughly, staking his claim with every pull and stroke.
When he finally pulls back, Minho nips playfully at Jisung's bottom lip before releasing it. "As you wish," he purrs, his voice low and husky with lust. He starts trailing open-mouthed kisses along Jisung's jaw, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin.
Jisung shivers, a needy whine escaping his throat at the rough, possessive touch. "Please," he begs, tilting his head to give Minho better access to his neck. "Please, Minho... I need you."
Minho doesn't need to be told twice. The playfulness is back, but it’s sharpened by an edge of possessiveness that makes Jisung’s toes curl into the forest floor.
"I've got you, Jagi," Minho murmurs, his voice a low vibration against Jisung’s skin. He shifts, his weight bracing on one hand while the other hooks under the hem of Jisung’s hoodie. With one slow, deliberate tug, he bunches the fabric up, pulling it all the way to Jisung’s collarbone. The bite of the cold ridge air hitting Jisung's heated skin makes his nipples ache and his breath hitch, but the way Minho stares at him makes the cold feel like a distant memory.
“I’m going to have to kill them,” Minho mutters, his voice dropping into a dark, playful growl that vibrates against Jisung’s sternum.
Jisung blinks, his head spinning from the sudden exposure. “Wh-who?”
“Everyone who’s ever seen you like this. It’s a real problem, Jisungie. My brain is already making a list of people who need to disappear because they’ve laid eyes on what belongs to me.” He digs his fingers slightly into Jisung’s waist, staking a claim in the soft skin. “This is for my eyes only, Jisung. I don't share.”
Despite the heat pooling in his gut, Jisung can't help the little huff of laughter that escapes him. He looks up at Minho, his beautiful, territorial, completely insane Alpha, and feels a mix of mischief and desire.
"Wow, hyung," Jisung teases, his voice shaky but playful. "You’re going to be busy then."
Minho’s grip on his waist tightens, his brows snapping together. "What?"
"The list," Jisung says, reaching up to trail a finger over the bridge of Minho’s nose. "The list of people who’ve seen me like this. It’s going to be a real short hunt for you, Minho-yah."
Minho stills, his gaze narrowing. "How short?"
“Actually, I think the list only has one name on it. Yours.”
Minho freezes for a second. The realisation that he’s the only one, the first and only one to see Jisung like this, to touch him like this, seems to hit him like a physical blow. His scent spikes, the dark chocolate note turning incredibly sharp and intoxicating, drowning out the smell of damp earth and pine.
“Just me?” Minho asks, his voice barely a rasp, his fingers trembling where they’re dug into the soft give of Jisung’s waist.
“Always just you,” Jisung confirms, his heart swelling so big it feels like it might bruise his ribs.
Minho doesn't laugh this time. He freezes, his pupils pulsing as he stares at Jisung like he’s seeing a miracle and a meal all at once. He soon lets out a low, guttural sound and dives back in, his mouth finding the sensitive skin of Jisung’s nipples.
“Good,” Minho mumbles against his skin, his teeth grazing the soft flesh. “Because I'm not just going to see you, Jisung. I'm going to ruin you for anyone else. By the time I'm done, you won't even remember what it's like to not have my hands on you.”
Minho punctuates his words with actions, his hands roaming over Jisung's newly exposed skin with a hunger that steals the omega's breath. Every touch feels electric, igniting sparks under Jisung's skin and making him arch into the Alpha's caress.
"Minho..." Jisung moans, his head falling back against the tree trunk as Minho trails open-mouthed kisses across his chest. "Oh fuck, Minho..."
Minho hums in approval, the sound vibrating through Jisung's body. "You're so sensitive, baby. I'm going to take my time with you. Make you feel so good you forget your own name."
He latches onto a nipple, sucking and nibbling until Jisung is keening, his fingers fisting in Minho's hair. The alpha's hands slip lower, teasing over the omega's lower stomach before cupping him through his sweatpants.
He can feel his arousal dripping down his thighs, the scent of his slick mixing with Minho's own heady pheromones to create a dizzying aroma.
"Minho," he whimpers, his hands fisting in Minho's hair. "Please... please don't tease me. I need you inside me."
"Not yet," Minho murmurs, trailing open-mouthed kisses down Jisung's sternum. "First, I'm going to taste you properly."
He seals his promise with a fierce nip that makes Jisung cry out, arching into the touch. Minho grips the omega's hips, holding him in place as he explores the smooth expanse of skin.
"I'm going to know every inch of you," Minho murmurs, continuing his torturous path down Jisung's body. He nips and licks at the omega's skin, leaving behind red marks and bruises that will undoubtedly linger long after this night is over. "Every mark, every freckle, every scar. I'll commit them all to memory and worship them like the altar they are."
Jisung trembles under the onslaught of sensation, his fingers curling into the cold earth beneath them. He's never felt so wanted, so utterly possessed and consumed. It's terrifying and thrilling all at once.
"Yes, Minho," Jisung gasps. He tangles his fingers in Minho's hair, tugging sharply as he tries to pull him closer. He watches as Minho’s eyes flutter shut at his hair being pulled. "Please, I need—"
But he doesn't get to finish his thought, because Minho has moved, his mouth crashing against Jisung's in a bruising kiss that steals the breath from his lungs.
Jisung melts into the kiss, his body moulding against Minho's as if they were made to fit together like this. He parts his lips, allowing Minho to deepen the kiss and explore the warmth of his mouth. Jisung's tongue meets Minho's, stroking along it languidly as his fingers tighten in the Alpha's hair.
Minho's hands, those strong, capable hands, roam across Jisung's body possessively, mapping out every curve and dip. He pulls back from the kiss to pull off Jisung's hoodie completely. His lips graze Jisung's jaw and down the column of his throat before venturing down to Jisung’s nipples.
Jisung gasps as Minho's teeth scrape against his sensitive nipples, his fingers digging into the Alpha's broad shoulders. "Minho, please..." he whimpers, arching into the touch, craving more of that delicious sting. "I've waited so long..."
Minho growls quietly, the sound reverberating through Jisung's chest. "I know, my little love," he murmurs, his hot breath fanning over the damp, flushed skin. "I've been dreaming of this for years. Wanting you, needing you..."
Jisung whines at the admission, emotion welling up in his throat. All this time, Minho had wanted him too. Had dreamed of holding him, of touching him like this... Jisung doesn’t just hear the words; he feels them in the way his lower stomach tightens, a fresh wave of slick making him feel heavy and desperate. His brain is a mess of dark chocolate and the terrifying, beautiful realisation that he finally, finally has what he’s wanted since he was a teenager.
Minho's hands roam over Jisung's body with a possessiveness that makes the omega shiver. He grips the flesh of Jisung's thighs, squeezing almost painfully as he grinds his hardening erection against the omega's hip.
Minho's hand sneaks into the waistband of Jisung's sweatpants, fingers combing through the slick-wet curls at the omega's groin. He brushes his thumb over the sensitive crown, smearing the pre-cum leaking steadily from the tip.
"Yes, fuck, you're dripping," Minho groans into the kiss, his voice deep and gravelly with desire. "Your little cock is so hard for me, leaking all over my fingers. You want this so bad, don't you, baby? Want me to touch you, stroke you, make you come?"
His fingers wrap around the hot shaft, squeezing and pumping in a tight fist.
Jisung's body trembles as Minho worships every inch of him with his hands and mouth. The omega's slick drips steadily down his thighs, the scent of his arousal heavy in the air and mingling with the earthy musk of the forest.
"You smell so fucking good," Minho growls against Jisung's skin. He grips the omega's hips, kneading the flesh and leaving blooming finger-shaped marks in his wake. "Like ripe fruit, ready to be devoured."
Jisung mewls weakly, his head lolling to the side in submission. His hands scrabble for purchase on Minho's strong back, nails raking down the skin and drawing answering rumbles from deep in the Alpha's chest.
Before Jisung can react, Minho’s hands slip under the waistband of Jisung's sweatpants, pushing them down the omega's thighs and exposing him completely to the cool night air. The slick coating his skin makes the fabric stick to him for a moment before giving way. He nudges Jisung's thighs apart, settling between them with a predatory gleam in his eyes.
"You're absolutely soaked, Jagi," Minho murmurs, inhaling deeply and shuddering. "I can practically see you throbbing for it."
Jisung’s head thumps back against the mossy earth, a ragged, airy gasp escaping him as Minho’s teeth graze the sensitive skin of his thighs. The anticipation is a physical weight, a coil in his gut tightened so far it’s starting to ache. Minho is vibrating against him, radiating enough heat to melt the frost off the ridge, but he’s still lingering; still tasting, still worshipping, still stalling at the finish line.
Jisung’s fingers, buried deep in the Alpha’s hair, suddenly tighten into a firm, demanding grip. He gives a sharp, impatient tug, forcing Minho to pull back just enough to look him in the eye.
“Are you actually going to do something, hyung?” Jisung rasps, his lower lip poking out in a defiant, wet tremble. “Or are you just gonna keep talking until my heat ends and I die of old age?”
Minho freezes. The low, rumbling growl that follows is the most dangerous thing Jisung has ever heard. Minho pulls back just enough to look at him, his eyes dark, his jaw set so tight the muscle jumps in his cheek.
“You’ve got a big mouth for someone currently pinned in the dirt,” Minho murmurs, but the smirk playing at the corners of his lips is lethal.
“It’s the only part of me you’ve bothered to touch,” Jisung shoots back, his voice rising into a high, needy whine as he squirms beneath Minho’s weight. He deliberately grinds his hips up. "You spent five years watching me, didn't you? Well, I'm right here. I'm literally naked in the dirt, Minho. So either shut up and ruin me like you promised, or I’m going to start calling for someone who actually knows how to finish a chase."
The air around them doesn't just get heavy; it turns electric. The scent of dark chocolate and espresso spikes, turning sharp and burnt as Minho’s patience finally snaps like a dry twig.
“You really are a brat,” Minho smirks, but there’s a heat in his eyes now that makes Jisung’s breath hitch in a way that isn't teasing at all. “You want me to stop talking? Fine.”
Minho’s hands move with a sudden, violent urgency. He doesn't just nudge Jisung's thighs apart; he manhandles them, hooking them over his shoulders to expose the omega completely to the biting ridge air.
"Since you're in such a hurry," Minho purrs, his voice dropping into a register that makes Jisung’s core turn to liquid. He doesn't go for the hole first. Instead, he leans down and nips, hard, at the sensitive skin of Jisung’s inner thigh, right where the slick is starting to pool.
Jisung lets out a startled, high-pitched shriek, his back arching off the ground. "Hyung! That—"
"Quiet, Jisungie," Minho mumbles against his skin, his tongue dragging over the mark he just made. "You wanted me to stop talking. Now lay there and take it while I taste exactly how much of a mess you've made for me."
Jisung cries out sharply as a finger brushes across his hole. Minho presses his finger, threatening to push inside him as more slick gushes around the digit.
“So wet,” Minho groans appreciatively.
Jisung whimpers and squirms, trying to press back onto Minho's teasing fingers. The Alpha continues his slow, torturous exploration, circling and probing without ever delving deeper.
Jisung watches, transfixed, as Minho brings his slick-coated fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean with a low groan of satisfaction. The obscene sound, combined with the sight of Minho's tongue swirling around the digits, has Jisung's body tightening every nerve like a plucked string.
"Mmm," Minho hums around his fingers, pulling them out with an obscene wet sound. "You taste even better than I imagined."
Jisung's breath catches. His skin burns where Minho's gaze drags over him, lingering on the way his cock twitches at the Alpha's attention, his hole clenching around nothing and more slick dripping down the cleft of his ass. "Please," he whimpers, no longer caring how desperate he sounds. "Minho, please..."
But the Alpha seems intent on teasing him further.
Minho leans down, tracing the tip of his tongue along the crease of Jisung's thigh, licking the slick that covers the skin there.
Jisung can feel every nerve in his body stretched taut, every synapse firing and screaming for more. Minho's gaze alone is almost enough to push him over the edge into oblivion. The anticipation is agonising. Delicious. Infuriating.
"Hnngh... Minho... Please..." Jisung's begging sounds broken even to his own ears. The Alpha has him so thoroughly worked up that every shift of his hips against the rough ground sends sparks of pleasure rippling through his core.
"Fuck, you smell like heaven," Minho rumbles, hot breath ghosting over Jisung's dripping hole. "I'm going to devour you, little deer. I'm going to have you begging me for mercy before I even begin to fill you up."
Jisung arches into the teasing touches, a choked moan spilling from his lips. Minho hooks his hands behind Jisung's knees and pushes them back, exposing the omega completely. Jisung's cock bobs against his stomach, glistening with pre-cum, and Minho licks his lips hungrily.
Minho lowers himself between Jisung's legs, nuzzling into the omega's groin with a low hum of approval. His hands grip Jisung's hips tightly, keeping the younger male in place as he begins to lick a slow stripe up the length of Jisung's cock.
"Oh fuck," Jisung gasps out, his fingers spasming in Minho's hair.
Minho's lips wrap around the head of Jisung's cock, sucking hard and swirling his tongue around the sensitive flesh. Jisung practically convulses at the sudden intense sensation, hands flying to grip the Alpha's hair as he cries out. "F-fuck! Minho, oh god..." Tears prick the corners of his eyes from the overwhelming pleasure.
Minho makes a pleased noise that vibrates around Jisung's sensitive flesh before he takes the omega's cock into his mouth, easily swallowing him down to the hilt.
Minho releases him with a wet pop, smirking up at him wickedly. "That's it, Jagi. Don't hold back. Let me hear you." His hands slip under Jisung's ass, squeezing the firm cheeks and encouraging him to open wider.
"Look at you," Minho praises, his voice rough with want. "So desperate for me already. I bet this pretty little hole is just aching to be filled."
Jisung can only whimper in response, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.
"I want to taste you properly," Minho murmurs, his breath hot against the sensitive skin of Jisung's inner thigh. "Want to bury my face between these pretty legs and drink down every drop of your sweetness."
Jisung shivers, a whimper catching in his throat. His fingers curl around Minho's broad shoulders, nails digging into the firm muscle.
"Please, Minho..." he breathes. "I need you..."
Minho tilts his head, a low, melodic hum of a laugh vibrating in his chest. It’s a dark, pretty sound, the kind that makes Jisung wonder if he should run or stay perfectly still. "Patience, baby. I'm not done tasting you yet."
He leans down, pressing open-mouthed kisses along Jisung's trembling inner thighs. The omega shivers, fingers fisting in Minho's hair once more as the Alpha's breath ghosts over his sensitive flesh.
"You're so perfect," Minho murmurs, his voice rough with desire. "Spread out before me like an offering. I'm going to worship this pretty little body of yours. I can’t wait to learn how to make you fall apart."
He nudges Jisung's thighs further apart with his shoulders, settling between them. The first swipe of his tongue along Jisung's dripping rim has the omega keening, his back arching off the ground.
"Minho!" Jisung cries out, his fingers tugging sharply at the Alpha's hair. Minho moans in response, the vibrations adding to the overwhelming sensation.
"Delicious," Minho purrs, voice dripping with desire. "I knew you'd taste like heaven."
He ducks back down, licking a slow stripe up Jisung's perineum and over his fluttering hole. Jisung sobs, hips arching off the ground as much as Minho's grip on his hips allows. The heat, wetness, and pressure are too much after his prolonged need, and he can feel his orgasm already building at the base of his spine. His thighs tremble on either side of Minho's head, muscles quivering with the strain of holding back.
"You've been tasting me for ten minutes!" Jisung shrieks, his legs kicking out in a fit of overstimulated exasperation. "If you don't put a finger in me right now, I’m going to bite you, and I won't be gentle about it!"
Jisung's head falls back with a broken moan as Minho's tongue delves deeper, probing at his entrance and stroking over his twitching rim. The Alpha takes his time, alternating between long, broad laps and deep thrusts of his tongue, seemingly unaffected by Jisung’s temper tantrum.
Oh, so he’s ignoring me now, Jisung thinks, his fingers curling into the moss. Typical. Lee Minho, the most stubborn Alpha in the northern hemisphere. I’m literally begging for my life, and he’s just... god, that actually feels incredible. No, stay mad. You're mad.
For one heart-stopping second, Jisung thinks Minho might ignore him, tease him further, but then a finger prods at his quivering entrance. Jisung cries out sharply as Minho eases it inside, the stretch bordering on burning but soothing that deep, hollow ache.
"There we go," Minho hums, pressing his tongue flat against Jisung's oversensitive rim as he pumps that single finger inside him. "Was my sweet boy getting restless?"
Jisung’s eyes roll back, a broken, pathetic keen escaping him as he finally feels that pressure. Finally. God, finally. "Yes! Yes! Oh fuck, yes!" Jisung babbles, his hands scrabbling for purchase in Minho's hair, tugging with a frantic, white-knuckled grip. "More. Don't—ah!—don't you dare stop now, you jerk."
Minho’s smirk is a sharp, dangerous thing. Jisung's mouth hangs open, forming a continuous chain of needy whimpers and mewls as Minho finally, finally, adds a second finger, then a third, his hand moving with a ruthless, rhythmic precision that turns Jisung’s world into white noise.
"You want more, Jisungie? Still so greedy," Minho murmurs, his voice a condescending purr that vibrates against Jisung’s damp skin.
Jisung doesn't have the breath to answer before he feels the blunt, heavy pressure of a fourth finger seeking entry. It’s a sudden, punishing stretch that forces his oversensitive muscles to accommodate the sheer width of Minho’s fingers. A ragged whimper escapes Jisung’s throat, his body locking up instinctively against the sharp, stinging shock of it.
"Wait—hyung, wait," Jisung gasps, his chest heaving as the sting of the stretch momentarily eclipses the heat of his desire. He squeezes his eyes shut, fingers digging into Minho’s shoulders with a desperate, white-knuckled grip.
He feels Minho still instantly. The Alpha’s heavy weight remains a grounding anchor, his hand staying firm and unyielding to keep Jisung from snapping shut. Jisung is still gasping, trying to find his rhythm through the burn.
Minho leans forward and captures Jisung’s cock in his mouth.
The movement is so sudden that the air is punched out of Jisung’s lungs in a startled, choked-off "Oh!" The searing, wet heat of Minho’s mouth, swirling and pulling with a rhythmic desperation, sends a bolt of pure electricity straight to Jisung’s brain. The sharp sting behind him doesn't vanish, but it’s suddenly drowned out by a wave of drowning pleasure that makes his vision go white at the edges.
Jisung’s head thumps back into the moss, his whimper of pain morphing into a long, trembling moan of disbelief. He’s being pulled in two directions at once, stretched to his limit while being worshipped by Minho’s tongue.
Jisung’s head thumps back into the moss. I’m going to die. He’s actually going to kill me, and I’m going to die looking like a total mess in the dirt, he thinks distantly, his whimper of pain morphing into a long, trembling moan.
"F-fuck, Minho!" Jisung cries out, his hips giving a helpless, jerky buck. Under the onslaught of the dual sensation, his body finally begins to yield. The tension in his thighs melts away, his internal muscles fluttering and finally relaxing, drawing Minho’s fingers deep inside.
Minho makes a vibrating, satisfied sound against his skin, a low hum that Jisung feels in the very marrow of his bones. Even as the Alpha maintains the suction, he begins to pump his hand, his fingers sliding in and out with a wet, rhythmic squelch that echoes through the quiet ridge.
Minho pulls back just enough to look up at him, lips glistening, eyes dark and terrifyingly focused. "There he is. All stretched out and dripping just for me. You’re not in pain anymore, are you, Jagi?"
Jisung wants to say something snarky. He wants to tell Minho to stop being so full of himself. But his brain is currently a puddle.
Jisung shakes his head frantically, his brain a soup of pleasure and Minho-Minho-Minho. The stretch from Minho's fingers has morphed into a deep, pulsing ache that radiates out from his core. Combined with the wet heat of Minho's mouth engulfing his cock, Jisung feels like he's being pulled apart and put back together in a new shape, one that belongs wholly to Minho.
"No, no pain," Jisung gasps out, his voice ragged and thin. "Just... just so full. Oh god, Minho, please, I need..." He trails off with a choked moan, his fingers scrabbling desperately against the Alpha's scalp as Minho's tongue flicks over the sensitive head of his cock.
"You want more, hmm? Want me to split you open on my cock and fill you with my cum? Want me to knot you and leave you dripping with me?"
"Yes, God, yes," Jisung babbles, too far gone to care about his dignity anymore.
Jisung's body arches violently off the ground as Minho's lips close around his cock again, sucking hard as his fingers press deep, curling in a way that makes his eyes roll back. A ragged, broken sob spills from Jisung's lips as the sensation of Minho's mouth and fingers drives him higher and higher, his thighs quivering and his toes curling in the moss beneath them.
Minho hums around Jisung's cock, the vibrations sending tingles up Jisung's spine. He sucks harder, taking Jisung deep into his throat as he curls his fingers just so, stroking that sensitive spot inside that makes Jisung see stars.
He’s being pulled in two directions: Minho’s fingers curling deep inside him, hitting that one spot that makes his vision go static, and the wet, rhythmic heat of Minho’s mouth.
Jisung's back arches off the ground, a strangled scream tearing from his throat as he comes undone. Minho doesn't let up, swallowing around him and pumping his fingers with ruthless precision, wringing out every last drop of pleasure from Jisung's shaking body.
As the aftershocks subside, Minho slowly releases him, licking his lips, withdrawing his fingers with a slow, agonising drag that makes Jisung let out a pathetic, wounded groan. His empty hole pulses as Minho wipes his fingers off with his sweatpants, leaving streaks of spit and slick on the fabric. He shifts his weight, the hard ridge of his cock pressing insistently against Jisung's thigh.
Jisung's breath comes in ragged gasps as he sprawls beneath Minho, his body still twitching from the overwhelming pleasure. His hole clenches around nothing, aching to be filled again, his oversensitive cock twitching weakly at the feel of Minho's heated skin pressing against it. He looks up at the Alpha looming above him, his dark eyes alight with hunger and awe.
"You came so prettily for me," Minho murmurs, his thumb brushing over Jisung's still-flushed cheek.
Jisung whimpers, his body instinctively arching up towards Minho, seeking more contact. The Alpha's soft praise sends a fresh tremor through him, his cock twitching pitifully against Minho's thigh. He's so empty, so achingly aware of the void that only Minho can fill.
"Jisungie," Minho starts, his voice dropping into a low, uncharacteristically hesitant register. He searches Jisung's face, his eyes darting between Jisung’s blown-out pupils and the flush of his cheeks. "This is... It's a mating bond, baby. Once I knot you, bite you... There’s no going back. Are you absolutely sure? I don’t want you waking up tomorrow and regretting this."
Jisung blinks, his brain struggling to process the sheer audacity of the question. He’s spent years pining, twenty minutes being hunted through the woods, and just had his soul sucked out of his body on the forest floor, and Minho is asking for clarity?
Jisung’s expression shifts from dazed to utterly incredulous. He looks at Minho like the Alpha has just asked him if the sky is blue, a sharp, disbelieving laugh huffing out of his nose.
"Are you—are you actually stupid?" Jisung huffs, his lower lip poking out in a fierce, tearful pout. "told you there’s no one else, never been anyone else. I told you it’s always been you. And you’re seriously going to ask me if I’m sure while I’m literally leaking into the grass? Do you want me to write it in blood, hyung? Do I need to file a formal application?"
Jisung doesn't wait for a response. He reaches down, his fingers trembling but determined, and fists his hands into the waistband of Minho's sweatpants. He gives a sharp, impatient yank, his fingers trembling but determined as he tries to pull the fabric down over the Alpha's hips.
"Shut up," Jisung whines, his voice rising into a needy, frustrated pitch. He tugs again, trying to manhandle the fabric down the Alpha’s thick thighs. "Shut up and get in me. If you ask me one more question, I’m going to bite that stupidly pretty face of yours. I feel so empty, Minho. I’m so empty, and it hurts, so just... please."
The "please" breaks at the end, turning into a desperate sob as he continues to fumble with Minho's clothes, his legs wrapping around the Alpha's waist to pull him closer, trying to force the contact himself.
Minho lets out a surprised, breathy chuckle, the sound rich with a mix of relief and burgeoning hunger. The fire in his eyes burns hotter as he yanks off his shirt and pulls down the waistband of his sweatpants, freeing his thick, leaking cock. Jisung's breath catches. He'd known Minho was big, but seeing it fully hard now sends a jolt of both terror and dizzying anticipation through him.
"Wait," Jisung gasps, his hands moving from Minho to his own trembling thighs. He swallows hard, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. "Hyung... I don't—it’s not going to fit. You’re too... there’s no way."
The doubt in his voice is thin and reedy, laced with the raw edge of his heat. He tries to shift, a small, instinctive movement of retreat that only makes his sensitised entrance brush against the cool air, making him whine at the loss of heat.
"Jisungie," Minho murmurs, his voice a soft, quiet coo that vibrates through the ground and straight into Jisung’s marrow. He reaches down, his fingers wet with Jisung’s own slick, and begins to work them slowly against the tight, puckered entrance. "Look at me."
I am looking! I am seeing the problem very clearly! But Minho pins him down, his weight pinning Jisung firmly into the soft earth, his hands sliding beneath Jisung’s knees to hook them around his waist. The position is vulnerable, utterly exposing, and it leaves Jisung staring up at the Alpha with wide, frantic eyes.
“I'll make it fit, Jisungie,” he murmurs, his thumb catching a stray tear on Jisung’s temple. “I’ve waited too long for this. I’m going to make sure you take every single inch of me until you forget how to breathe.”
Minho doesn’t give him another second to overthink. He grips Jisung’s thighs, his fingers digging into the soft, flushed skin with a bruising possessiveness that anchors them both to the earth.
Then, he pushes.
The first inch is a physical shock that wipes every thought from Jisung’s mind. It’s a slow, relentless invasion, the sheer size of Minho’s cock forcing a stretch so much deeper and more uncompromising than his fingers had been. Jisung's back arches off the ground, a strangled cry tearing from his throat as Minho sinks into him. It burns, god, it burns, but beneath the pain is something far more intoxicating. The stretch is obscene, overwhelming, and perfect.
“Oh god—Minho!” Jisung wails, his head thrashing from side to side. It’s a terrifying, beautiful fullness that borders on pain, making his inner muscles spasm and clamp down in a frantic, rhythmic panic.
Minho doesn't stop. He pushes through the resistance with a slow, grinding pressure that makes Jisung’s toes curl into the mossy earth until they ache.
“God, Jisung,” Minho groans, his forehead dropping against Jisung’s shoulder as he panted, his entire body vibrating with the effort of not losing control the second he’s fully seated. “I'm never letting you go. Do you hear me? You're stuck with me forever.”
Jisung can't answer. He’s vibrating, his legs trembling where they’re wrapped around Minho. The feeling of being full, of finally having that agonising void erased by the one person he’s ever wanted, is so overwhelming it brings fresh tears to his eyes. He feels stretched to the absolute limit, his skin flushed a violent pink, his scent of ripe fruit turning sweet and heavy as it tangles with the bitter, dark smoke of Minho’s dark chocolate.
Every time Jisung thinks he’s reached his limit, Minho sinks a fraction deeper, his weight pinning Jisung into the dirt until there is no gap left between them. The sensation of their skin meeting, sweaty, slick, and burning, is a sensory overload that makes Jisung’s vision splinter into sparks of white light.
Minho groans, a quiet sound of pure agony and bliss. He freezes, his arms shaking as he braces himself over Jisung, his face buried in the crook of Jisung’s neck. “Fuck, Jisung... breathe. You have to relax for me, baby.”
Jisung can't answer. He can only sob, a messy, overwhelmed sound, as he wraps his legs tighter around Minho’s waist, locking him in, his heels digging into the Alpha's lower back as if he's afraid Minho might disappear if there's even a fraction of an inch between them. The burn has morphed into a soaring, unbearable pressure, a localised sun radiating from where they’re joined.
“There,” Minho pants, his forehead resting against Jisung’s as he finally bottoms out. “You took it all. You’re so tight, baby. So perfect.”
Finally, his inner Omega whimpers, all the snark finally dying out to be replaced by a soft, warm hum of belonging. Finally, finally, finally.
“Don't... don't move,” Jisung whimpers, even as he arches his back, begging for the exact opposite. “Hyung, it's—so much—s’full.”
Jisung's body trembles uncontrollably, overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensation. Tears stream down his flushed cheeks as he clings to Minho, his nails digging into the Alpha's sweat-slicked back. The burn of the initial stretch has begun to ebb, replaced by a deep, aching throb that radiates through every nerve ending.
"Shh, I've got you," Minho soothes, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through Jisung's chest. He peppers Jisung's face with gentle kisses, tasting the salt of his tears. "Just breathe for me, baby. You're doing so well."
Jisung can’t even find his own lungs. He lunges upward, his arms wrapping around Minho’s neck with enough force to pull the Alpha down flush against his chest.
He buries his face in the crook of Minho’s neck, his nose dragging frantically over the skin until he finds the source of that intoxicating scent and inhaling until his lungs burn. The skin there is scalding, damp with sweat, and the scent of espresso and dark chocolate is a physical wall here, thick and strong; it makes Jisung’s brain go fuzzy.
He nuzzles into the crook of Minho’s neck, in a silent, needy plea. As he breathes in, filling his chest with nothing but Minho, the panic in his chest finally begins to subside. The oppressive fullness doesn't go away, but it stops feeling like he’s being split and starts feeling like he’s being completed.
Soon, he loosens his grip around the Alpha’s waist; Minho takes it as a signal to start moving. He gives Jisung time, circling his hips, rocking into the stretch. Slowly at first, testing Jisung's body's response to every deep roll of his hips. The initial thrust is almost painful; Jisung can feel himself being dragged open around Minho's cock, but then his body adjusts, his entrance yields before catching that beautiful, impossibly full stretch just right.
"Good boy. You’re so good for me, Jisungie."
The praise hit Jisung like a physical blow, a fresh wave of slick gushing between them. He tightened his arms around Minho’s neck, his teeth grazing the Alpha’s skin in a tiny, desperate nipping motion, mirroring the way Minho had tasted him earlier.
"Ah!—Fuck!" Jisung whimpers, his back arching sharply off the ground. The forest around them trembles with his rapid fluttering against Minho, the birds silenced but something wild growing even there between Jisung and the Alpha.
"A-Alpha!" Jisung cries out, his entire body seizes when Minho's thick cock drags across that sweet spot inside him, his toes curling into the moss as a broken sob tears from his throat. His entire existence narrows to the places where Minho touches, hips pressed into the moss, nails leaving pink crescents on broad shoulders, his own muscles tightening around Minho's thick cock.
"Fuck, that's it," Minho growls, his hands tightening on Jisung's hips as he thrusts again, deliberately angling to hit that spot again and again. "You're taking me so well. Look at you, fucking dripping around my cock."
Jisung's face burns even hotter as Minho's words sink in, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. He can feel how wet he is; how slick gushes around Minho's thick length during every thrust, coating both their thighs. It's humiliating and intoxicating all at once.
Another sharp thrust rocks him, and Jisung's back arches violently as the sensitivity overwhelms him. Tears bead at his eyelashes. He mewls brokenly as Minho surges inside at just that perfect angle, hitting nerve endings like lightning bolts straight to his nerves. He hears Minho swallow hard beside his face, feels that restraint from the Alpha grinding into him more deeply.
Jisung thinks he might lose his mind.
The sensation of Minho’s cock sliding against his prostate with every deep, agonisingly slow roll is too much to process.
Minho’s thrusts are deliberate, measured, and frankly, a total form of torture. He’s taking his sweet time, grinding that thick cock against Jisung’s prostate with a slow, heavy pressure that makes Jisung’s brain feel like it’s vibrating out of his ears.
He’s doing this on purpose, Jisung thinks through a haze of white-hot pleasure. He’s got to be.
"Fuck—" Jisung gasps, his hands scrabbling for purchase against Minho's sweat-slicked shoulders. "Minho—ah—Minho, please—"
Minho bends down, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of Jisung’s neck. "Please what?" he murmurs, sounding far too satisfied with himself. His fingers dig into Jisung's hips, anchoring him. "Use your words, Jisung."
Use his words? Jisung can barely remember how to use his lungs right now.
“More,” Jisung gasps, his hands finally coming up to catch Minho’s face, pulling him down for a messy, desperate kiss. “Don't stop... please, Minho, don't ever stop.”
Minho groans into the kiss, and for a second, the pace stays the same, slow, dragging, and agonisingly thorough. Jisung’s frustration peaks. He’s spent five years waiting for this, and he’s not about to let Minho make him wait any longer.
Jisung's fingers dig into Minho's back as the Alpha changes the angle slightly, dragging his cock along his inner walls in slow, unbearable thrusts. Every movement sends sparks of sensation through Jisung's body, making his toes curl into the moss beneath him. His breath comes in ragged gasps, mingling with Minho's rougher exhales.
Jisung pulls back from the kiss, his lower lip poking out in a defiant, trembling pout even as a fresh sob breaks from his throat. “H-Hyung,” he whines, his voice high and needy. “Stop... stop being so slow. You’re—ah!—you’re doing it to be mean!”
Minho pauses, his pupils so blown they’ve swallowed the amber of his irises. “I'm being mean?” he purrs, a dangerous smirk tugging at his lips. “I thought I was being careful with you, Jagi. You were crying about the stretch two minutes ago.”
“I changed my mind!” Jisung shrieks, his legs wrapping tighter around Minho’s waist, his heels digging into the Alpha's back. “I’m not a fragile doll, Minho! Ruin me! You promised you'd ruin me, so just—fuck!—stop talking and do it!”
"Bossy," Minho hums, but the teasing stops. He shifts his weight, pinning Jisung’s wrists above his head with one hand, his eyes flashing with a sudden, lethal hunger. "You want it faster, Jagi? You want me to stop being gentle?"
He doesn't just thrust; he slams home, his entire weight behind the movement. It knocks the air out of Jisung's lungs in a startled, high-pitched “Oh!” and for a second, he actually sees stars.
Finally, Jisung thinks, even as his back arches sharply off the ground and his vision splinters.
The slow, measured rolls are gone, replaced by a raw, driving hunger. Every thrust bottoms out with a wet, heavy sound that echoes through the quiet trees. Minho is relentless, hitting that sweet spot with every downward stroke until Jisung is nothing but a mess of tangled limbs and broken keens.
“Is this better?” Minho pants, his voice a low, rough snarl against Jisung’s ear. He doesn't wait for an answer, driving into Jisung again and again, his grip on Jisung’s wrists bruising and perfect. “Is this enough for you, baby?”
"Alpha—Minho!" Jisung sobs, his fingers lacing together behind Minho’s neck, trying to pull him closer even though there’s not a fraction of an inch left between them.
Jisung's breath catches as he looks down, his stomach rising and falling in time with Minho's thrusts. The thick Alpha cock stretches him obscenely, every inch pressing insistently against his inner walls. The bulge is unmistakable, shifting beneath his skin as Minho moves inside him.
"Look at you," Minho growls, watching where their bodies join. His hands slide up Jisung's torso, fingers tracing the outline of his cock through Jisung's stomach. "Taking every inch of me like you were made for it."
Jisung whimpers, the words sending fresh heat flooding his body. His fingers clutch at Minho's shoulders, nails biting into the Alpha's skin. "I... I can feel you so deep," he gasps, words breaking as Minho rolls his hips in a slow circle, grinding against his prostate.
The pressure at the base of Minho’s cock is changing, widening. The knot is starting to pulse, stretching Jisung to a point that should be impossible. It’s an overwhelming, terrifying fullness, and it’s the exact trigger Jisung’s body has been screaming for.
"Minho—ah!—Minho, please," Jisung babbles, his head thrashing against the moss. He can feel his orgasm building, a tidal wave just seconds away from crashing. "Hyung, now. Please, do it now!"
Minho’s breath is a scorched rasp against Jisung’s ear. He’s feral, his movements losing their measured precision and turning into something desperate and deep. "Do what, baby? Tell me."
"Bite me," Jisung babbles, his voice breaking into a desperate, tearful sob. He lunges upward, baring his neck, his scent of ripe fruit turning so sweet it’s almost cloying. "Minho, please. Mark me. Don't—don't just leave me. Bite me!"
Minho lets out a guttural, vibrating growl and lunges forward. He doesn't hesitate. One hand fists in Jisung’s hair to tilt his head back, exposing the frantic, pulsing heat of his scent gland, while the other anchors Jisung’s hips to receive the final, punishing thrusts.
As Jisung’s body finally shatters into a million sparks of white-hot pleasure, he feels the sharp, stinging pressure of Minho’s teeth.
It’s a different kind of pain; clean, hot, and possessive. Minho sinks his teeth deep, breaking the skin at the exact moment his knot fully expands, locking them together.
The sharp, stinging shock of the bite merges with the soaring high of his orgasm, creating a sensory overload so intense his vision goes completely black.
Minho doesn't pull away. He stays buried in Jisung’s neck, his own body trembling as he finds his release, his scent of espresso and dark chocolate exploding until it’s the only thing Jisung can breathe.
The world is a haze of gold and espresso. Jisung is vibrating, his body still twitching with the dying embers of his climax, while the heavy, anchoring weight of Minho’s knot keeps him pinned to the earth. The sting in his neck is a beautiful, pulsing heat, the mark of a claim he’s wanted for years.
Minho’s teeth slowly retract from Jisung’s neck, but he doesn't pull away. He licks at the mark, his tongue soothing the wound as he breathes a heavy, ragged sigh against Jisung’s skin. The bond is there now, a thin, silver thread in the back of Jisung’s mind that thrums with Minho’s overwhelming protectiveness and a love so sharp it almost hurts.
But then, the thread shifts. Minho’s emotions spike with a sudden, desperate resolve.
Minho pulls back just enough to look at Jisung. His face is a mess: sweat-slicked, eyes dark with lingering pheromones, and his lips and teeth stained with Jisung’s blood. He looks feral, but his hands, cupping Jisung's face, are trembling.
"Jisungie," Minho rasps, his voice sounding like it’s been dragged over gravel.
"Mmm?" Jisung hums, his brain currently 90% soup. He feels heavy, claimed, and smug. "You finally... finished the job, hyung. You can stop... stop being all intense now."
Minho doesn't smirk. Instead, he shifts his weight, tilting his head to the side and baring his own neck.
"Bite me," Minho commands.
Jisung’s eyes fly open. He blinks, the fog of his heat clearing for a split second as he stares at the offered skin. "What?"
"Bite me back," Minho repeats, his fingers digging into the moss as he fights the urge to pull away from the sheer vulnerability of the request. "I marked you. I made you mine. Now... I want everyone to know I’m yours, too."
Jisung’s heart hammers against his ribs. This isn't how it works. Alphas mark Omegas to show the world they’re off-limits, to claim their prize. Omegas don't... they don't leave marks on Alphas.
He wants to be mine, Jisung realises, and the thought sends a rush of heat through him that has nothing to do with his biology and everything to do with Lee Minho.
Jisung’s inner brat flares up one last time, a watery, happy smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You're... you're so weird, hyung," he whispers, his voice trembling. "Always have to be... extra."
"Just do it, baby," Minho groans, his hips giving a small, involuntary twitch where they’re still locked together. "Claim your Alpha."
Jisung doesn't need to be told twice.
He lunges. He doesn't go for a gentle nip; he sinks his teeth into the junction of Minho’s shoulder and neck with everything he has. He wants to taste the salt of Minho’s skin, the copper of his blood, the reality of his surrender.
Minho lets out a loud, choked-off groan, his fingers fisting in the moss so hard he uproots the earth. His entire body locks up, his scent spiking into something sweet and scorched as Jisung’s mark takes hold.
It’s not the practised, instinctive bite of an Alpha. It’s messy and desperate and fiercely possessive. Jisung bites down hard, his hands fisting in Minho's hair to hold him still. He tastes the salt of Minho’s skin and the sharp, metallic tang of blood, and suddenly, the bond snaps.
It’s no longer a one-way street.
The thread turns into a bridge. Suddenly, Jisung isn't just feeling Minho’s emotions; Minho is feeling his. The Alpha lets out a loud, pained groan that quickly turns into a huff of pure, unadulterated relief. He collapses against Jisung’s chest, the weight of him finally feeling right.
Mine, Jisung thinks, his jaw aching as he holds on, feeling Minho’s heart drumming a frantic rhythm against his teeth. Mine. Mine. Mine.
Minho collapses against him, his forehead resting in the crook of Jisung’s neck, right next to the fresh mating bite. He’s shaking, his breath hot and ragged.
"There," Jisung whispers, his voice returning to that smug lilt even through his exhaustion. He runs a hand through Minho’s messy hair, patting it condescendingly. "Now everyone knows you’re my Alpha. You happy now, hyung?"
Minho lets out a wet, breathless laugh, his nose nuzzling into Jisung’s scent gland. "Yeah," he murmurs, the bond humming between them like a live wire. "Perfect."
The walk back from the high ridge is a blur of swaying trees and the rhythmic, steady thud of Minho’s heart against Jisung’s ear. Minho hadn't even let him try to walk; the moment the knot had subsided enough for them to move, Minho had hauled himself up and scooped Jisung into his arms like he weighed nothing at all.
Minho had refused to let Jisung’s feet touch the ground. Despite the Omega’s half-hearted, sleepy protests about being "perfectly capable of walking, hyung," the Alpha had simply growled, a low, possessive rumble that vibrated through Jisung’s chest, and scooped him up.
Jisung is a disaster. His hoodie is ruined, his legs are shaky and covered in a drying cocktail of forest grit, slick, and cum. His neck and Minho’s are branded with raw, pulsing marks that practically scream with the scent of a fresh bond.
Jisung is tucked securely against Minho’s chest, his legs wrapped around the Alpha’s waist and his face buried in the crook of Minho’s neck. He’s draped in Minho’s discarded hoodie, the scent of espresso and dark chocolate now permanently laced with his own ripe-fruit sweetness. The bond in the back of his mind is humming, a warm, golden glow of safety-mine-safe.
As they break through the final treeline near the pack-house trailhead, two figures come into sharp focus against the orange glow of the setting sun.
Chan is pacing, his movements tight and jagged, while Felix is perched on a stump, his eyes red-rimmed and scanning the shadows. The air around them is thick with anxiety, a sour, metallic scent that only begins to dissipate the moment Minho steps into the clearing.
"Jisung!" Felix shrieks, scrambling to his feet.
Chan lets out a long, shuddering exhale, his head bowing for a second in pure, unadulterated relief. When he looks up again, his eyes are wet, focusing on Jisung.
"You found him," Chan rasps, his voice thick. "God, Minho... you found him."
Minho doesn't stop walking until he’s right in front of them. He doesn't loosen his grip on Jisung for a second, his arms tightening possessively as Felix rushes forward.
"Jisungie!" Felix cries, reaching out to touch Jisung’s hand, but he stops dead two inches away. His nose wrinkles, then his eyes go wide as saucers. He looks from Jisung’s neck to the matching, jagged mark on Minho’s. "Oh... oh."
Chan’s eyebrows shoot toward his hairline. He looks from the mark on Minho’s neck to the possessive glint in Minho’s eyes, and a slow, weary smile finally tugs at his lips.
"You really don't do anything by halves, do you, Minho?" Chan rasps, his voice rough with lingering worry.
Jisung, despite being half-asleep and entirely spent, manages to poke his head out from Minho’s chest. He looks at his brother, then at Felix, and his lower lip pokes out in a tiny, exhausted pout.
"Took him long enough," Jisung croaks, his voice wrecked from the ridge. "He’s a real slow learner, Chan-hyung. I had to basically do all the work."
Minho lets out a low, vibrating huff of a laugh, his chest rumbles against Jisung’s back. He looks at Chan, his dark eyes filled with a new, quiet settledness.
"Stop hovering," Jisung mumbles, his voice raspy and full of that familiar, bratty edge despite his exhaustion. "And I’m hungry. Someone tell me there’s cheesecake in the fridge or I’m biting Minho again."
Chan shakes his head, rubbing a hand over his face as he steps aside to let them pass. "Get him to the car. There's cheesecake, Jisung. And plenty of blankets. We’ll talk in the morning."
Minho nods once, a silent thanks, and begins to carry Jisung toward the pack house.
“Hyung,” Jisung whispers as they pass the threshold, his fingers fisting in Minho’s shirt.
“Yeah, baby?”
“Does this mean I get to keep all your hoodies now? Like, legally?”
Minho lets out a soft, huffed laugh, pressing a kiss to the top of Jisung’s messy head. “Legally, Jisung. Every single one.”
As Minho carries him past the threshold, Felix scurries ahead of them like a frantic bird, babbling about warm blankets and hot soup. Jisung lets his eyes flutter shut for a moment, sinking into the thrum of the mating bond and the steady, unbreakable strength of the man holding him. The air finally smelled right, a mix of his sweetness and Minho’s signature bitterness balancing each other.
Home, he thinks. Finally.
But as they hit the foot of the stairs, a sudden spark of realisation clears the fog in his brain. Jisung pulls back, squinting up at Minho with a suspicious, sleepy pout. He takes in the wild hair, the dirt-smudged jaw, and the very prominent, very deep bite on Minho’s neck that Jisung had claimed for himself.
"Wait a second," Jisung croaks, his voice still wrecked. "Hyung. You’re a total hypocrite."
Minho’s eyebrows shoot up. "I just carried you three miles through the forest, and this is what you say?"
"No, listen," Jisung whines, looking over Minho’s shoulder toward Chan for backup. "When my parents said I had to join the Run, you were completely against it. You called it 'barbaric.' You said it was a 'disgusting excuse for Alphas to act like animals.' You told me you’d rather go into exile than participate in a 'primitive tradition.'"
Jisung pokes a finger into Minho's chest, right over his thudding heart. "And yet... who was the first person to tackle me into the dirt? Who was the Alpha acting the most like an animal? You're a hypocrite, Lee Minho."
Minho’s mouth opens, a rare flush of sheepishness creeping up his neck, but he doesn't have an answer. He just looks at Chan, a silent plea for help in his dark eyes.
Chan lets out a soft, huffed laugh, stepping forward. He reaches out, ruffling Jisung’s messy, leaf-strewn hair with a hand that is finally steady.
"Minho wasn't lying, Jisungie," Chan says, his voice dropping into that heavy, sincere tone that makes everyone stop and listen. "He did hate it. He hated every second of the idea of you being out there."
Chan looks at Minho, a silent look of gratitude passing between the two men.
"When I couldn't convince our parents to change their mind about the run, I went to the person I trusted more than anyone to keep you safe," Chan says, looking back at Jisung. "The one Alpha I knew would rather burn the entire forest to the ground than let another man lay a single finger on you. I told Minho that if he didn't get to you first, I wouldn't be able to protect you from whoever did."
"Plus, I never said I was against the Run, Jisungie," Minho corrects him, his voice dropping into a low, smooth purr that sends a shiver straight to the Omega’s newly marked neck. "Hunting is a perfectly fine instinct. I’m an Alpha. The idea of chasing you through the dark until you’re too breathless to run anymore? I've been dreaming about that for years."
Jisung blinks, his pout faltering. "But you said—"
"I said I was against you being forced into it," Minho interrupts, his grip tightening just a fraction. "I hated the idea of you being out there, scared and cornered, because your parents decided it was time."
He leans down, his nose brushing against Jisung’s, his gaze intensifying.
"If you had come to me on a random Tuesday and told me you wanted to run so that I could catch you? I would have given you a ten-minute head start and enjoyed every second of the hunt," Minho murmurs, the vibration of his voice sending a fresh shiver down Jisung’s spine. "The tradition isn't the problem. The problem was that you were being forced into it. I hated that your parents forced you to be a part of something that you didn’t want.”
Jisung’s mouth parted in a small, stunned 'o'.
A smug, dangerous smirk tugs at the corners of Minho’s mouth. "But the hunt itself? Making you run for me until you had to beg me to catch you?" He leans down, whispering against Jisung’s heated ear. "That was the best sixty seconds of my life."
"Oh," Jisung whispers, his inner brat finally, momentarily, silenced by the sheer scale of Minho’s possessiveness.
"Yeah. 'Oh,'" Minho mimics, his smirk softening into something more tender as he nudges his nose against Jisung’s. "So, no more talk about me being a hypocrite. I don't like sharing what's mine."
Jisung stares for a moment before a cheeky smile curls at the edge of his lips, "I understand now, Minho-yah. You were just mad that you had competition."
Minho stands frozen on the stairs for a long moment. The silence stretches until Chan, still standing by the door, let out a dry, barking laugh.
"He’s got you there, Minho," Chan calls out, leaning against the doorframe with a grin.
Minho’s ears turn a violent shade of red. He doesn't look back at Chan. Instead, he looks down at Jisung, who’s looking back with a look of pure, unadulterated triumph.
"Competition?" Minho repeats, his voice dropping into that dangerous, velvety territory that almost makes Jisung want to start running again. He squeezes Jisung’s thighs, hitching him higher against his chest with an effortless, showy display of strength. "I don’t have competition, Jisungie. I have obstacles. And I think I made it very clear what happens to anyone who tries to get in my way."
"Sure, hyung," Jisung chirps, wrapping his arms around Minho’s neck and settling back in for the ride. "Whatever helps you sleep at night. You're a big, scary Alpha. You just needed a reason to tackle me into the dirt."
"I am going to bite you," Minho threatens, though there was no heat in it, only a deep, simmering affection.
"You already did," Jisung reminds him, tapping the fresh mark on his own neck. "And I bit you back. So technically, I’m the winner here. I claimed the big, scary Alpha."
Minho doesn’t argue. He kicks the bedroom door open and carries his mate inside, the bond humming with the quiet, undeniable truth: Chan was right. Minho would have burned the entire forest down to find him, but he’d much rather keep Jisung right here.
"Hyung," Jisung whispers, his fingers playing with the hair at the nape of Minho’s neck. "You can put me down now. I’m not going anywhere."
"I know," Minho murmurs, though he still looks reluctant. He finally lowers Jisung onto the soft duvet, but he doesn't pull away. He stays braced over him, his eyes tracing every inch of Jisung’s face as if he’s memorising him.
As he starts to pull back to find some clean clothes, Jisung reaches out, fisting his hand in Minho’s ruined shirt. "Where are you going?" Jisung whines, trying to pull him closer.
Minho catches Jisung’s hand, kissing the knuckles. "I'm staying. But I was thinking..." He pauses, a rare, thoughtful look crossing his face. "I just... I hate that this is how it happened."
Jisung reaches up, his fingers brushing against the fresh, jagged mark on Minho’s neck. "I told you, I’m the winner. I’m fine."
"No," Minho says firmly, his thumb stroking over Jisung’s cheekbone. "It was a mess. It was loud and dirty and forced on you."
Jisung blinks up at him, the exhaustion starting to pull at his eyelids. "I chose you at the end, didn't I?"
"You did," Minho murmurs, his thumb tracing the line of Jisung’s jaw. "But that’s not how I wanted to start this."
Jisung arches an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk returning. "Are you saying you didn't enjoy the part where I screamed your name in the forest?"
Minho’s ears go pink, but his expression stays serious. "I enjoyed you. I didn't enjoy the circumstances. So, here's what’s going to happen." He sits back on his heels, his hands resting on Jisung’s knees.
"What now? Are you going to deny the 'animal' allegations again?" Jisung teases.
"No," Minho says. "But just because we’re marked... just because the Run is over... don't think you’re getting off that easy. I’m still going to do this right."
Jisung blinks, the snark dying in his throat. "Do what right?"
Minho lets out a soft huff, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks down at Jisung. "The Run is over. The bond is done. But I’m still going to court you."
Jisung lets out a sleepy laugh, propping himself up on his elbows. "Courting? Hyung, you literally have your teeth marks in my neck. I think we skipped the 'dinner and a movie' phase."
"We skipped the order, maybe, but we’re not skipping the effort," Minho counters, his jaw setting in that stubborn way that means he’s already made a mental list. "That was the Run. But I’m still Minho, and you’re still Jisung; the Omega I’ve been trying to figure out how to ask out for years without looking like a loser."
Jisung’s heart does a slow, dizzying roll. "Are you... are you serious?"
"Friday," Minho says, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I’m taking you to that terrace restaurant you keep showing me on TikTok. The one with the rooftop garden and the cheesecakes you always talk about. I’m going to pick you up at the front door of the pack house. I’m going to bring your favourite flowers, daisies, and I’m going to court you properly."
Jisung feels a flush that has nothing to do with his heat creep up his cheeks. "Hyung... you don't have to. I mean, we're literally mated."
"I don't care," Minho says, finally crawling onto the bed and pulling Jisung into his lap, his nose buried in the fresh mating mark. "I don't want you to just be my mate because a tradition forced us together. I want to be your boyfriend because I’m good at it. I want to earn the right to see you look like this every day."
Jisung feels the prickle of happy tears behind his eyes. He reaches up, cupping Minho’s face, his thumb stroking over the mark on the Alpha’s neck.
"You're such a sap," Jisung whispers, a watery laugh breaking through. "The big, scary Alpha is actually just a romantic."
"Shut up," Minho mutters, though he is smiling against Jisung’s skin. "If you tell Seungmin I said any of this, the date is off."
"No, it isn't," Jisung chirps, wrapping his legs around Minho’s waist and pulling him down into the pillows. "You’re obsessed with me. You’d take me to get cheesecake even if I told the whole world."
Minho groans, resigning himself to his fate as he pulls the blankets over them both. "I really am. Ugh, what have I done?"
"Shut up and sleep, hyung."
"Goodnight, Jisungie."