Chapter Text
For once, there is peace in the dorms.
Youngjae lounges in bed, letting the afternoon sun filter through half-closed curtains in long stripes across the floor. They’ve had a long week of choreo practice and vocal lessons and discussions about their upcoming comeback in April, having just wrapped up their fanmeeting a couple days ago– and a Saturday off like this is rare. It should be treasured, really.
On top of that, things are quiet; Junghwan is away at some solo shoot that’s a two-hour drive away, leaving Youngjae to enjoy the luxury of solitude in their usually shared room. He rolls onto his side, enjoying the absence of pheromones mixing in the air, and reaches out lazily for his cell phone.
(Don’t get him wrong– Youngjae loves his roommate. Junghwan’s a great guy, amicable and easy to get along with, especially for another Alpha, and they have never really fought over anything big. In fact, Youngjae would say that out of his five groupmates, Junghwan probably just gets him the best.)
But peace and quiet is, well, peace and quiet.
Drifting through that pleasant haze between sleep and waking, he’s closing his eyes– right in time for the door to slam open, crashing against the wall.
“The hell?” Youngjae blinks through his exhaustion, pushing himself half-up in bed.
“Emergency, hyung.” Jihoon’s standing in the doorway, face pale and panting hard like he’s just run a marathon or some shit. Almost as if he’s seen a ghost, maybe. “Youngjae-hyung, we need–”
“What happened?” demands Youngjae, scrambling out of his sheets despite the way his tired body protests.
Jihoon just grabs him by the arm, yanking him out. “Hurry up!”
In the dorm living room, it’s fucking chaos. Youngjae stares at their manager, who’s on the phone and speaking rapidly to someone, beside three of their usual management and– for some strange reason, medical staff from the company that Youngjae vaguely recalls meeting once or twice before debut. They all happen to be clustered around Dohoon and Jihoon’s bedroom door, and the entire atmosphere of it is wrong.
What the fuck?
“What’s going on?” asks Youngjae into the disarray. Across the room, he spots Kyungmin and Hanjin, both barely awake with messy hair and rumpled pajamas, but their eyes are similarly wide and panicked.
“Dohoon-hyung went into heat.”
“Suddenly?” Youngjae turns to Jihoon, who’d responded to his question so softly Youngjae had actually doubted his ears. “That’s– he said– the schedule– wasn’t it supposed to be Wednesday? It’s Saturday–”
“I know, I know! Oh my god, what do we do?” Jihoon responds frantically. He runs a hand through his already-messy hair, shaking his head. “Junghwan-hyung won’t be home until late tonight cause he’s filming way out in the fucking countryside or some shit, I don’t even think he’s got his phone on– fuck, what the hell?”
Of all the days Dohoon’s heat could’ve hit, it’s the one day that Junghwan– his mate-slash-boyfriend of five months– isn’t anywhere near fucking Seoul at all.
Youngjae watches, dazed, while a middle-aged man in a white coat speaks urgently to their head manager, face grim as he shakes his head. He takes a few steps closer, some instinct prickling at the back of his neck when he catches the first whiff of Dohoon’s scent bleeding into the living room: overly sweet, syrupy caramel. It makes Youngjae dizzy immediately, invading his senses terrifyingly fast.
“... it’s just not working,” the doctor is saying, voice carrying just barely over everything else. “His Omega is rejecting the usual suppressants, and the fever is spiking too fast.”
“What does that mean?” asks their manager.
“Well, if he doesn’t get a compatible Alpha to help him through his heat– quickly– to stabilize his hormone levels…” Pausing, the doctor rubs his temples, and Youngjae can make out the beads of sweat on his face. “We’re looking at severe complications. Hypoxemia, neurogenic shock, long-term damage to his reproductive system… his Omega is trying to force a full-on mating cycle that his current body can’t support, I believe. If we can’t calm his Omega down, he could end up in critical condition in just a few hours.”
Oh. Oh, shit.
Besides Youngjae, Jihoon is just as pale, having clearly heard the doctor’s words. The thought of Dohoon– lying in that room with his body burning up from the inside out, pheromones screaming for a mate that isn’t currently available– makes Youngjae shiver. If only he could help Dohoon in any way, but Dohoon has Junghwan.
Or rather, he’s supposed to.
Frantically, Youngjae reaches for his phone and is halfway to clicking on Junghwan’s contact to call him, when the manager taps him on the wrist and shakes his head. “He isn’t picking up,” he tells Youngjae, sighing heavily. “We’ve already called ten times, and even tried to contact the filming crew. No service out there.”
“What can we do?” asks Jihoon desperately. His gaze darts between the manager, the closed door, and the remaining three members. “We can’t just leave Dohoon-hyung like that…”
The room falls into a suffocating silence– distraught sounds of staff on the phone and panicking managers fading as the doctor shoves his hands into the pockets of his coat. “I know,” he says simply. “We won’t let that happen to Dohoon-ssi.”
“Then what?” Kyungmin speaks up from beside the couch, clinging to Hanjin like he’s a lifeline.
“We need a compatible Alpha. Not even the Alpha– just the scent. Enough to calm Dohoon-ssi’s Omega down until Junghwan-ssi is back,” the doctor answers. “As soon as possible, too.”
Strangely enough, Youngjae gets the sense that everyone– the manager, Jihoon and Kyungmin and Hanjin, the medical staff, that doctor– seems to be looking at… him?
Me?
Then the realization hits him.
“What?” Youngjae breathes, his throat going suddenly dry. “Me? You want me to– no. No, no way.”
“It could work,” muses the doctor, ignoring Youngjae’s protests like he doesn’t hear them. “You two have rather compatible scents on paper, and I’d assume you two are close enough for his Omega to be familiar with your pheromones. It might be enough to stabilize him–”
“I can’t.” The words are half-choked, spilling out of Youngjae before he can process the thought. “He’s– Dohoon and Junghwan are mated. How could I– I shouldn’t–”
It’s wrong. It’s dirty. It goes against everything we’ve built as a group. Dohoon would never be able to see me the same way. Hell, Junghwan-hyung would never see me the same, either.
But even as Youngjae shakes his head, pale skin flushing red under the collective stares of everyone present, a new wave of scent hits him. It’s even stronger now, pouring into the living room, smelling of desperate need– thick and cloying, like burnt caramel that’s been left on the fire too long.
He’s hurting. He’s fucking dying in there, and I’m just… out here.
“Youngjae-ssi,” the doctor says softly, bringing a hand up to rest on his shoulder. “This is about medical necessity. If… if you don’t help him, we might not be able to save him.”
“Isn’t there anything else we can do?” questions Youngjae desperately, but he knows it’s a shot in the dark. They wouldn’t be discussing this as even a possibility if there was any other option. “Not at all?”
The doctor just shakes his head. “Nothing that would be enough in time.”
Youngjae looks over at the closed door, then back at the panicked faces of the people he’s worked with for years. How can I even think of doing this to Dohoon? he thinks. But already, his Alpha is responding to Dohoon’s heat scent, cock half-hard and twitching against his sweatpants.
There won’t be any going back from this. I’ll ruin everything. I shouldn’t.
But he needs me.
No– he needs this.
The pheromones intensify again, making Youngjae’s mouth water and his vision briefly blur. “Fine,” he whispers. “Fuck. Fine. I… I’ll try.”
“It’s what we can do to save him, in this moment,” reassures the doctor.
“But on my terms,” Youngjae adds, jaw clenched so tight it aches. Control yourself. He’s your friend. And he’s Junghwan-hyung’s mate. He isn’t yours. You’re doing this for him. “Give me something. Whatever heavy suppressants you have. I– I don’t want to feel anything.”
Blinking, the doctor stares at him. “Youngjae-ssi, those are meant for emergency rut management. They’re not going to feel good. Are– are you sure you want to put yourself in that state?”
“I don’t want to hurt him,” Youngjae admits. The words taste rotten, like blood in his mouth. “I’m scared that I could. If… if I lose control.”
I’m just scenting him, right? That’s all it’ll be. Nothing will happen.
After a few tense seconds of studying him, the doctor turns to one of his assistants, who returns moments later with a loaded syringe. “Be careful,” he warns, but Youngjae’s already reaching for it. He’s taken more than enough of these rut suppressants over the years, familiar enough with how they feel– numb, floating detachment and the chemical cold of nothingness.
Without hesitating, Youngjae jabs the syringe into his forearm. He grimaces as the needle pierces his skin, the burn of suppressants desensitizing his body almost instantly as the world softens at the edges, panic blurring into dull sensation. The lingering arousal in his system doesn’t quite fade– Youngjae’s still hard, obviously, but it feels like an out-of-body experience. Like distantly watching things happen to himself.
For good measure, he takes another dose. And another.
Cautiously, Youngjae takes two steps toward Dohoon’s bedroom door. I won’t touch him. I won’t do anything. The words repeat like a mantra as Youngjae raises one trembling hand to the doorknob, pushing it open slowly.
It’s the temperature of the room that hits him first– burning hot, so much so that sweat’s already beading on Youngjae’s forehead. And the smell of the room, too. Thick, almost nauseatingly sweet caramel, which only grows stronger when Youngjae approaches the curled-up figure in the bed.
Under the blankets, Youngjae can see only glimpses of Dohoon shifting around, but he can hear the sounds. High, broken whimpers pierce through the chemical-induced haze.
“Dohoon-ah?” Youngjae calls out, voice sounding muffled to his own ears.
The movements stop instantly. “Please…” Dohoon sounds unlike any time Youngjae’s heard him before, practically sobbing with need. “God, please… please just come here…”
Youngjae obliges, swallowing hard. “I’m just here to help you, Dohoon-ah, okay? I’m just going to help you calm down.” He raises his hands in a placating gesture, releasing a faint whiff of his own coffee pheromones– hopefully it’ll help to ground Dohoon, temporarily, until this can all be over.
Suddenly, the blankets are shoved away. Youngjae freezes as he takes in the sight of Dohoon– looking wrecked with his cheeks flushed crimson, fully naked, hair plastered to his forehead. His eyes are glassy, unfocused and teary.
And despite the fact that Youngjae does his best not to look, his gaze drops lower to the sight of Dohoon’s cock, already fully erect. A clear stream of precum leaks from the tip, pooling in the space between his thighs. He looks… obscene.
God, he’s fucking beautiful. Look at how wet he is.
Then– snap out of it, Youngjae. You’re not here for that.
“Let me… let me scent you, okay?” Youngjae whispers shakily. “Is that fine? Just scenting.”
“Please…” Dohoon arches his back, eyes fluttering shut as he lets out another whimper. “Need you… inside me… please…”
But Youngjae can’t– shouldn’t– do that. Instead, he moves to the edge of the bed, letting his knees sink into the mattress to frame Dohoon’s waist, and leans down. He’s careful enough to avoid touching Dohoon’s bare skin with his hands, because that would be a terrible fucking idea. Where Dohoon’s neck meets his shoulder, Youngjae presses his nose and exhales deeply, flooding Dohoon’s system with his pheromones.
In one sudden move, Dohoon throws his head back. A guttural moan escapes him, vibrating through the heat-hazy air, loud enough to be heard beyond the door. “Fuck– please…”
And before Youngjae can react, Dohoon’s hands shoot out to find Youngjae’s back, gripping firmly as if to never let go. The Omega’s legs then tangle around Youngjae’s waist– Youngjae finds himself pulled flush against the heat of Dohoon.
“Dohoon-ah, wait–” Gasping, Youngjae startles at the contact. I need to move away. He has to re-establish that distance he promised that he would keep– but Dohoon isn’t having it. As Youngjae jerks away from his neck, Dohoon surges upward, his mouth finding Youngjae’s with bruising force.
It isn’t a gentle kiss, either. They collide violently, Dohoon’s tongue crashing against Youngjae’s lips and tasting of salt and sweet caramel, all hot and demanding and shameless.
Without thinking, Youngjae pushes Dohoon back down to try to shove him off. But with Dohoon’s arms and legs wrapped around him, it only pulls his body on top of the Omega, sending them both crashing into the bed. Dohoon takes advantage of that surprise to kiss Youngjae again, deeper this time while he nips at Youngjae’s lower lip, moaning into it. His tongue sweeps into Youngjae’s mouth, hands bunching in the fabric of Youngjae’s shirt carelessly.
“Fuck, please, Youngjae– please,” Dohoon begs against his lips. The words are broken by ragged breaths. “I need it. Fuck, I need you. I fucking need your cock inside me right now. Please, fuck– just fill me up. It hurts so bad.”
Despite the suppressants that he’d taken, Youngjae’s Alpha still responds to that, his entire body going rigid. It’s something about the feeling of Dohoon’s sweat-slicked, hot skin against his own, the Omega all needy and pleading underneath him, their hard cocks pressing together through the fabric of Youngjae’s sweats.
It’s strange. Youngjae hasn’t seen Dohoon like this, not once. Well, not since–
Fuck. He’s… he’s just gone. He’s out of his mind.
Still, it’s getting harder and harder to hold back. The drugs might keep Youngjae clear-minded and won’t let him slip into a heat-induced rut, but that does nothing to prevent him from wanting to wreck Dohoon. Especially not when Dohoon’s in this state, full-on begging for it.
“Dohoon-ah,” exhales Youngjae slowly, forcing himself to push their bodies away, to create even an inch of distance. “Stop. Listen to me. You’re not… in your right mind. You’re in heat. We just– have to hold on until Junghwan-hyung gets here, okay? He’ll take care of you. I know he will.”
The mention of his mate triggers something volatile in Dohoon. The Omega’s hips buck upward, and the swollen heat of Dohoon’s cock grinds against Youngjae’s own erection. That contact does little but send a lightning bolt of pure arousal straight to Youngjae’s Alpha.
“I can’t… wait…” Dohoon cries out, head thrashing against the pillow. His eyes are rolled back, the pupils barely visible beneath half-lidded lashes, wet with tears. “It– hurts too much. Everything hurts. I need… more… fuck, Youngjae, can’t you do something? Please?”
God, Youngjae should be responsible. He’s always had to be the responsible one– the stable best friend, mature, the one to make good decisions when they’re difficult.
But Dohoon just has to make everything so much harder, tempting Youngjae by arching his back higher while Youngjae does his best to soothe Dohoon’s Omega with his scent.
Youngjae brings his face back to the crook of Dohoon’s neck, and the Omega tilts his head to expose his throat, like an offering. “It’s not enough,” he whines, the sound so raw and pathetic it makes Youngjae dizzy. “Your scent… I just… need– more, please. I need you to fill me up. I need to feel you inside me. Until I can’t breathe.”
I can’t do that, Dohoon. If you weren’t already mated to somebody else, if we weren’t in this mess, I’d help you in any way I could.
Gradually, one second at a time, Youngjae can tell he’s starting to lose control. His Alpha is beginning to claw at the walls of his consciousness, screaming at him– to just fuck this Omega in heat, claim him, protect him from the pain by giving him what he needs. Because it is obvious, that Dohoon needs an Alpha. And the pheromones only make Youngjae’s cock throb in his pants, painfully hard.
Dohoon shifts, legs sliding higher and hooking his ankles behind Youngjae’s back to lock them together. His dick brushes against Youngjae’s erection, the tip dripping fresh precum that seeps into the fabric messily.
“Please, Youngjae-yah,” Dohoon whispers. His voice is a filthy, desperate murmur in the darkness. “Fuck me. Just once. Just to make the pain stop. I can be good– I can, fuck, be your fucking slut. Just fuck me, fill me up.”
Really, Youngjae is trying his best to hold back.
But maybe it’s just not enough.
Vision swimming white, Youngjae senses his own scent beginning to change– fuck, he thinks distantly– darkening and turning bitter as his Alpha fights against the chemicals in his bloodstream. He’s on the verge of breaking; it would only take one more touch to lose control.
“You’re so hard,” mumbles Dohoon, hand sliding down to find the thick bulge in Youngjae’s pants. “I know you wanna fuck me so bad. Fuck, please. Let me feel it inside me. I need it– Youngjae-yah. Please.”
Then Dohoon bucks his hips up once more, and Youngjae’s reason loses to instinct.
The dam that had been previously holding everything back finally breaks, suppressants that once promised numbness failing under the relentless pressure of Dohoon’s heat. There’s no restraint left in Youngjae– no memory of the fact that Dohoon’s mated, that this is so fucking wrong, that he promised himself that he wouldn’t do this.
Fuck, I’ll– I’ll give him exactly what he’s begging for.
“You want it?” Youngjae growls– his own voice sounds unrecognizable to himself, rough and raspy and an octave lower. “You want me to fuck you that bad?”
Dohoon can only nod frantically, grinding desperately against Youngjae’s thigh. “Yes… please, yes– fuck!– yes, I need it!”
Shakily, Youngjae finds the waistband of his sweats and pushes them down, freeing his own hard cock. It springs free, an angry shade of red and swollen, standing out starkly against the pale sin of his stomach. His inner Alpha preens at the way that Dohoon’s eyes lock onto the length of him, pupils blown wide.
“God, please,” whimpers the Omega. “Please, Youngjae-yah, fuck– put it in me. Fuck me. Until I can’t feel this fucking heat any longer.”
“I will,” Youngjae promises, crawling fully on top of Dohoon and pushing him flat on the bed.
He reaches down to find Dohoon’s own cock, already leaking a copious amount of precum from the tip and hot to the touch. Dohoon himself is feverish, inhaling shaky and desperate breaths as Youngjae touches him.
“I’ll make you feel good, okay, Dohoon-ah?” murmurs Youngjae against Dohoon’s ear, his teeth grazing the skin unintentionally. “You’ll be so full of me when I’m done with you.”
“Please,” Dohoon moans, eyes rolling back in his head when Youngjae picks up the pace, working his hand around Dohoon’s cock faster. “Just… I need you inside, right now– ah, fuck, please!”
I’m going to ruin him, is the thought that finds its way into Youngjae’s head, unwanted but not quite one he can push away. He’s all mine for tonight, just a perfect Omega begging for it. Through the haze of feverish heat, Youngjae registers that it’s more of his inner Alpha talking than anything, but he has no control left over that voice.
Keeping one hand wrapped around Dohoon’s length, Youngjae brings his free hand to Dohoon’s entrance, swiping a handful of Dohoon’s own precum as makeshift lubricant before spreading the Omega open with two fingers. Dohoon opens up easily– far too easily– locking his legs around Youngjae’s waist even tighter, heels digging into Youngjae’s back.
“I need it,” gasps Dohoon breathily, hands clawing at Youngjae’s shoulders and leaving behind red marks that will definitely linger tomorrow. “Please– please just, anything…”
“Shh, shh,” Youngjae circles his fingers inside Dohoon, adding a third and pushing deeper until he finds that sensitive spot deep inside. “I’ve got you, okay? Just open up for me.”
“Your cock,” Dohoon mumbles, half-decipherable. “Want it.”
So Youngjae obliges, pulling his fingers out of Dohoon’s slick heat. He’s about to search for a condom in Dohoon’s nightstand when suddenly, the Omega’s legs tighten around him and yank him down.
“What the hell–” Youngjae lands almost on top of Dohoon, who has his head tossed back. “Dohoon-ah, one second, okay–”
“No!” The Omega whines, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. “I wanna feel you… please, you– just, fuck me!”
“I just– I can’t, give me a moment, okay?”
“Can’t you just fuck me? It… fucking hurts…”
And really, who is Youngjae to deny an Omega in heat?
(Distantly, he does know the answer.)
With a heavy sigh, Youngjae settles himself back on top of Dohoon, letting the head of his cock rest against Dohoon’s stretched entrance and grinding his hips in slow, torturous circles. “I’ll put it in now, okay?” he whispers, pushing forward just an inch.
It’s the most intense sensation Youngjae has ever experienced, a million times better than all the nights he’d jerked off alone in the shower with only his hand for relief. Dohoon is hot and tight, his inner walls squeezing around Youngjae’s dick with a desperate hunger, impossibly soft and yet incredibly firm too.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” pants Youngjae, watching more of his cock slide into Dohoon, hands flying to Dohoon’s waist. I could stay here in him forever– fuck, I want to.
“Ah– yes, fuck, that’s–” Dohoon’s words turn into incoherent moans, chest heaving. “More, please–”
And there is nothing Youngjae can do but surrender to the feverish heat of Dohoon’s body and his own Alpha instincts. The consequences of this all– that he and Dohoon aren’t mated, that Dohoon has a mate, that he promised himself it wouldn’t ever come to this again– have vanished from his mind. They’ve been replaced by thoughts of how tight Dohoon is, hot and wet enough to make every thrust echo obscenely.
Youngjae finds a steady rhythm to fuck Dohoon, pushing in slowly enough to let Dohoon take his full length, bottoming out with each thrust before withdrawing until only the tip is still barely inside. “Ah– ah, fuck! Youngjae, please, fuck–” Dohoon’s voice cracks as his face flushes a deeper shade of red. His hands tighten on Youngjae’s shoulders, nails digging into skin through the fabric of his shirt. “More… deeper, fuck, please… don’t stop, don’t you fucking ever stop–”
God, he’s so wet. Every time I slide in, I can hear it. It’s like he’s fucking starving.
One of Youngjae’s hands leaves Dohoon’s hip to wrap around the Omega’s swollen cock, stroking in sync with his thrusts. “I won’t stop, Dohoon-ah,” he growls, teeth bared in a half-snarl. “I want you to fall apart under me– fuck, you’re doing so well, baby.” The pet name slips out, unbidden, but Youngjae ignores it in favor of smearing more of Dohoon’s precum over the sensitive head of his dick.
“I’m– I’m gonna, fuck– I’m close, I’m so close–” Dohoon suddenly goes rigid under him, spine arching violently as the dual stimulation proves to be too much for his Omega, especially not at the peak of his heat. “Fuck, you’re– so good, ah– Youngjae!”
Dohoon cums hard, hot spurts of his semen landing on his own lower body and Youngjae’s hand; simultaneously, his inner walls spasm around Youngjae’s cock, milking him and nearly sending Youngjae over the edge instantaneously.
“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” Youngjae gasps, steady thrusts faltering as he feels his release building deep inside him. He’s about to pull out, vision white at the edges.
Only for Dohoon’s legs to clamp down around him like a vise, keeping Youngjae buried inside with no way to move.
“Don’t you dare pull out, Youngjae-yah,” hisses Dohoon, eyes wide and bloodshot– so fucking desperate for it all. “Don’t even think about it– fuck, just cum inside me! Fill me up, whatever, I just– just need it… please…”
I can’t– Youngjae is shaking with the effort of not letting go, of losing control. It’s wrong. I can’t do that, Dohoon.
“Dohoon-ah, wait, just let me–” Youngjae struggles against Dohoon’s hold on him; the Omega is delirious with heat, grinding his hips upward against Youngjae’s cock. He leaves Youngjae with no choice but to physically force Dohoon down, pinning his legs onto the bed to thrust into him two more times.
Moaning loudly, Dohoon lets out a high-pitched whine of displeasure. “What the fuck… no, please,” he sobs, his body convulsing as Youngjae pulls out. Almost instantly, Youngjae climaxes with a shaky groan, painting Dohoon’s heaving stomach white.
For several, agonizingly long minutes, the only sound in the room is their combined ragged breathing. As the last waves of pleasure recede from Youngjae’s mind, reality comes crashing back in– and suddenly, Youngjae takes it all in. The sight of Dohoon, shaking and tearful, laying atop rumpled bedsheets soaked with sweat and slick.
What have I done?
“One more–” whispers Dohoon, reaching a trembling hand up to touch Youngjae’s cheek. “Please, Youngjae… just one more round. I’m still– I need–”
“No,” Youngjae tells him simply, his voice far steadier than how he actually feels– shaken to the core. “No, Dohoon-ah. We can’t.”
With a huff, Dohoon turns his face away from Youngjae, curling up on the bed dejectedly, and Youngjae feels a pang of something sharp in his chest. He shouldn’t fuck him again– he won’t betray Junghwan, not any longer– but he also can’t leave the Omega in this desperate state.
So gently, almost tenderly, Youngjae begins to stroke Dohoon’s cock again, touch light but still firm enough to give Dohoon pleasure. “Shh, it’s okay. I’m here,” he murmurs softly, pressing his face back into Dohoon’s neck to flood the Omega with his scent– perhaps to offer him relief from his heat with comfort, rather than lust.
And then, the sound comes.
The heavy thud of the front door. The unmistakable sound of rapid footsteps.
Face still buried in Dohoon’s neck, Youngjae freezes. His heart hammers against his ribs as he smells it– the familiar pheromones of Junghwan, chocolate mixing into something darker and angrier.
“Dohoon-ah?”
Junghwan’s voice, from somewhere behind the door, growing closer. Youngjae vaguely registers that he’s still holding Dohoon’s now-softening length in his hand, and the way their scents tangle together in the air feels like an accusation now. Beneath him, Dohoon is already halfway to falling asleep, body still twitching with aftershocks, but his eyes flutter shut as his breath evens out.
“Dohoon? Can hyung come in? I can smell you from the hallway– why does it smell like Youngjae in there?”
Fuck.
Youngjae can taste Junghwan’s pheromones flooding into the room, sharp and laced with both panic and jealousy. He fucking knows. God, I’m so fucked. On the other hand, Dohoon lets out a few soft whimpers in his exhaustion, a mess of saliva and semen drying on his skin as he drifts off. His lips are still swollen from where Youngjae had tugged and bitten them moments ago.
Scrambling to put any semblance of distance between them, Youngjae clumsily finds his pants on the floor and tucks his half-hard dick back into his boxers– it’s still leaking precum, a humiliating reminder of what he just fucking did. He wipes a layer of sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, some useless attempt to clean himself up.
“Youngjae-yah? Are you in there?” Junghwan’s voice drops lower, dangerously soft. “Open the door, will you?”
God, there’s no hiding any of it– not the way Youngjae is naked from the waist up, with Dohoon lying on the bed as a ruined, beautiful mess. Not with the soaked sheets and the heat-hazy air, thick with the smell of sex and Dohoon’s heat pheromones, and how Dohoon’s legs are still slightly spread open to reveal his stretched entrance.
Still, Youngjae finds the doorknob and twists, letting Junghwan step into the room.
Junghwan’s face is flushed crimson, eyes widening as he inhales the scent of coffee and caramel tangled together in a way that can only mean one thing. The fury in his expression shifts into something more complicated– shock, betrayal, maybe disgust. It makes Youngjae’s stomach turn with guilt as he watches the other Alpha take in the scene. Dohoon lying asleep on the bed, wrecked; Youngjae standing there half-naked and sweating.
“What the fuck…” Junghwan’s voice is barely above a whisper, but it carries more bitter spite than any scream. His hands curl and uncurl into fists at his side, knuckles turning white. “What the fuck did you do, Choi Youngjae?”
Swallowing hard, Youngjae only stares at him. He wants to fucking explain: it wasn’t his choice, he tried, Dohoon was the one who begged for it until Youngjae couldn’t hold his Alpha back any longer. But looking at Junghwan– this Alpha who he’s trusted, his best friend– the excuses die in his throat. After all, the room reeks of their sin, and there is no coming back from this.
“I–” Youngjae starts, his voice cracking. “Hyung, I–”
“Don’t,” whispers Junghwan, stepping further into the room. “Don’t you fucking dare speak to me. Are you out of your mind?”
“I didn’t choose this!” Youngjae shoots back. “This– this wasn’t my fucking choice! The managers, the staff, the fucking doctor… it had to be done, for Dohoon’s sake! You think I wanted to do this?”
“Maybe, I don’t fucking know!” snaps Junghwan, eyes burning as he scowls. “How could you even think of doing this to him? When he’s in his fucking heat?”
That’s the point, hyung, Youngjae sighs internally. Out loud, he simply says, “I– I’m sorry, hyung. It wasn’t supposed to get this far– it was Dohoon who was beg–”
Junghwan’s hand shoots out, and he slaps Youngjae across the cheek, hard.
Fuck. I deserve that, don’t I?
“Don’t you even say his name,” the other Alpha hisses. Junghwan’s eyes are tinged reddish-brown at the edges, possessive and furious. “Just– get out of here.”
“I’m sorry, hyung,” Youngjae repeats, for what it’s worth. “I didn’t mean–”
“Just go, Youngjae.”
Youngjae leaves Dohoon’s room with his head down. The last thing he hears is Junghwan whispering sweet nothings to a sleeping Dohoon, all comforting whispers of “Hyung is here for you, baby” and “It’s okay now”. He feels sick with guilt, shaking his head as he rethinks the last few hours.
Selfishly, Youngjae wonders if Dohoon is alright.