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For an alpha, Park Seonghwa had a lot of self-control.
Always a fact of his nature, he never felt it was something he needed to pride himself on. From the day he presented, Seonghwa knew his scent, posture, and presence were never an excuse to snap at or overwhelm other people, which wasn’t often the case for his same subgendered counterparts.
Even in human-dense environments like airport departure halls or green rooms packed shoulder-to-shoulder with other artists, he’d always been composed and respectfully aware of his surroundings. It helped, of course, that his omega was the easiest person in the world to love, and so keeping the not-so-docile add-ons from his biology was more than easy.
For an omega, Kim Hongjoong had a lot of control over his alpha.
His position as leader did put him at an advantage, but even prior to their debut, sweet Seonghwa had made it clear that there was no reason to even try their hand at success unless the omega was there to chart their course. Despite lacking a ‘strong’ physical presence, Hongjoong had a cadence of authority that demanded respect from even higher-ups in the company and others in the industry.
Naturally (or not so much as it took four years and the help of 6 exhausted friends), Seonghwa and Hongjoong ended up in a romantic relationship. It was difficult not to fall in love with one another, for they’d already known it better than anyone else, and when it finally did happen, it felt less like a confession and more like a conclusion that everyone around them was waiting for. All the years of back and forth meant that when they finally met in the middle, they would make it work and disagreements would be rare- if they did arise, they never festered, and apologies would be given freely with affection returned tenfold- a partnership in every sense of the word.
The sex was great too.
Seonghwa was attentive in bed the way he was everywhere else. He drew pleasure out of his boyfriend with patience and adoration, driving them both over the edge even when the sole goal was making only his partner feel the best he could.
Hongjoong, on his part, was expressive and shameless. He liked being touched, making Seonghwa blush, and he especially liked how his alpha would sometimes go breathless just from the sight of him presenting his neck or walking away.
Hongjoong’s heats came every three months like clockwork, and Seonghwa handled them well and without fail, whether that meant bringing clothes for his nest, stocking up on electrolytes, or keeping Hongjoong fed, fucked, and comforted until it passed. Not once in their relationship had he faltered to ensure Hongjoong’s comfort and safety when his omega grew reckless.
They still hadn’t shared a rut yet because it just hadn’t come up. After all, Seonghwa’s ruts were rare: usually once a year, sometimes not at all, and when they did hit, they were extremely private. He’d grown used to managing them on his own, locking himself in his room and living it out with no fuss. No drama, no mess (arguably), and absolutely no outside help- even if it were as simple as someone knocking on the door to check in or leave him some food outside. It was regrettable enough that he nearly grew violent when his members- who had been trainees at the time- tried to convince him he at least needed to eat. Seemingly, that single incident was all that was needed to assure everyone they knew better than to bother him and trust he could handle himself.
His last rut had been a year and a half ago, back when he and Hongjoong were still circling around what they really wanted from each other. All before the late-night conversations turned into ‘accidentally’ falling asleep in the same bed and the ‘You smell good’s turned into full scenting, so he knew deep down that another one was bound to come soon. His body was overdue, and this time he (probably?) wouldn’t be alone to handle it.
Even if he wasn’t quite ready to share it with someone he protected so dearly, their relationship was steady, built on years of trust and well-deserved effort- they loved each other to bits, and almost everything about them worked.
Nothing is perfect, though, because if there is a single complication on Seonghwa’s end, it was that Hongjoong is a wild card. A little like a cat, one moment he’d be climbing into Seonghwa’s lap and demanding to be touched, and the next, he’d be baring his teeth and claws. Not literally, of course, but he might as well have been, with the way his usually upturned lips would press into a flat line and his little black-polished pinky finger would deliberately scritch against the thin skin between Seonghwa’s knuckles when irritated.
But Hongjoong in his ‘touch-me’ phase was what Seonghwa could only describe as completely evil. There would be a particular way he’d drag out his words with a lilt when he was horny but lazy to get himself off, a particular way he’d arch his back when stretching in a room full of people and glance over at Seonghwa with ‘the eyes’ like he knew exactly what he was doing, a particular way he’d remember and bring up little details about his heats in broad daylight, blissful and longing, and then grin afterwards when Seonghwa was left painfully aroused from the memories.
Seonghwa knew he was at least a little aware of his antics, but Hongjoong was too sly for it to be named outright, and so he never brought it up. That was just the dynamic they’d settled into: Seonghwa, blissfully in love and trying very hard not to combust, and Hongjoong, also blissfully in love but happy to watch Seonghwa suffer at the expense of his teasing because, truthfully, he liked the reaction. He liked the way Seonghwa folded around him and how flustered he could make his usually composed alpha- maybe especially so because he never had to try very hard at all.
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Summer in Seoul was hot, sticky, and horrifically humid.
By mid-July, breathing air felt more like filling the lungs with thick fumes, and even just walking between subway stations left nearly everyone sweat-slicked and dizzy.
Hongjoong noticed the symptoms first. Seonghwa was constantly flushed, downing bottle after bottle of water, zoning out during conversations, and sweating at night even with the AC on full blast and the fan pointed directly at him. It looked a lot like heatstroke and he was relentlessly worried, but Seonghwa would say he was fine, and so he figured the man would know and do something about it if something was seriously wrong. His alpha had always been responsible and very diligent with his self-care.
Seonghwa thought the same, or at least, he tried to. He told himself it was just heat-induced delirium, but the more he ignored it, the more he started picking up on things he usually tried not to notice.
When he did the laundry, he found himself pausing over Hongjoong’s undergarments. Handling briefs, panties, or anything soft and worn-in like socks or leggings meant he had to physically stop himself from pressing them to his nose like a pervert.
When they went to the gym (after much begging on his part), the sounds of exertion- breathy little huffs, soft curses, and the way Hongjoong’s sweat made his shirt cling to his skin all drove Seonghwa to the edge of reason. He would end up spending the entire session pretending he wasn’t stiff in his pants, praying San was right about nobody giving a shit enough to look at other people in the gym because ‘everyone’s so locked in’. With the way his eyes were glued to his boyfriend, San’s words apparently didn’t apply to Seonghwa, but he liked to believe they did for everyone else there.
When Hongjoong returned from the studio late at night, Seonghwa wanted to fuck him until the sun came up, and when they both returned from practice, he wanted to lick the sweat off every inch of his body and then bite him all over until it was apparent to anyone with eyes that he belonged to someone else from miles away.
Though unconventional for an alpha, Seonghwa allowed Hongjoong to keep him well-tamed, so if being good for his omega meant putting a little distance between them, he’d do it (with some reluctance, of course).
The feeling that something inside him was beginning to fray had grown consuming enough for him to pull back more than he’d expected. Hongjoong had already stopped seeking his embrace when they slept, because even if he was cold under the blasting AC, he knew Seonghwa was boiling- but even that was upsetting.
Why wouldn’t he want to cuddle me anyway? Shouldn’t he be greedy enough to do so, even if I’m sweating every ounce of water I’ve consumed out through my skin? Why isn’t he having his way with me? It’s pissing me off.
Even during long car rides from Seoul to Incheon, Seonghwa refused to sit next to Hongjoong in the car. The only other time he’d allow it was if he was driving and Hongjoong was in the passenger seat, because he’d have no other choice but to keep his eyes on the road and hands on the wheel if he didn’t want them to crash. He had grown confident that even in a car full of managers or members, he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands or scent to himself- which was already difficult in the midst of summer when everyone was easily agitated from the heat and wanted an outlet.
Seonghwa loves his omega, but he loves Hongjoong even more. Hongjoong could be a beta or another alpha, and he’d still always choose him- and it’s because he loves him so much that even though Hongjoong is nearly oblivious to the distance growing between them, Seonghwa vows never to utter a word about it until the weird and sudden thirst passes on its own.
──────── 🐇♨️🐿️ ────────
They barely make it out of the department store before Seonghwa starts to sweat, again.
Not from the heat (though Seoul was drowning in it, thick and sticky and annoyingly unmoving) but more so from the way Hongjoong looks walking beside him. He’d thrown on a light hoodie and pair of shorts, both white and patterned with black polka dots in a co-ord that looks cute, ridiculous, and apparently illegal because his legs are out, but also why is he wearing a hoodie in summer?
Even his socks- white and tucked into bright yellow lug sole creepers that should look weird but don’t- are adorable. Nothing about him ever really made sense, and yet everything about him made Seonghwa's mouth go dry.
At the grocery store, it gets worse.
Hongjoong, who has since unzipped his hoodie halfway to let the plain white tank beneath it breathe, bends down to pick through a crate of lemons, complaining softly about the heat. “This outfit’s a mistake,” he mutters. “It’s so hot even in the AC. I should’ve just come out naked.”
If Seonghwa hadn’t already been clenching the handles in his fist, he would’ve dropped the basket. It wasn’t even a comment made with indecent intent, yet he fumbles over himself like a man who’s never been touched- one, because Hongjoong just reminded him that he’s capable of being naked (wow), and two, because bending over to pick lemons is suddenly the most lewd and inappropriate-for-a-grocery-store position for his omega to be found in.
The other shoppers don’t make his case much easier. He really does try his best not to notice the alphas lingering by the UHT drinks when Hongjoong is looking for oat milk, betas doubling back to the produce section when he decides he wanted to get some korean melons to share with the members, and even the few omegas casting sidelong glances over their shoulders when they pick up on his scent, all staring, assessing, and eating him up with their eyes.
It’s not a rare occurrence. Seonghwa firmly believes that Hongjoong is the sexiest and cutest man alive, especially today when he sauntered out of their dorm in his stupid matching set and legs that could kill. People always look! They’re public figures, and so Seonghwa had made peace with it years ago.
But for some reason, the internal (and one-sided) peace pact he’s made with basically every other person on earth and their many wandering eyes has been annulled on this particular summer’s day. Seonghwa is sure he would bark at lurkers if it were socially acceptable.
And as if the heavens loved toying with his self-restraint, Hongjoong’s scent had recently grown stronger too; English pear and marigolds- sweet, slightly spicy, and barely contained despite Seonghwa discreetly scenting him before leaving the house.
Every time Seonghwa leans in to reach for produce or whisper something about discounts, he catches another wave of it, thick and syrupy like something just beginning to ripen. The summer humidity also meant that the omega’s scent wouldn’t dissipate into the air quite as fast as it usually would. How lucky.
By the time they begin driving home, Hongjoong’s hoodie is rolled half off his shoulders. He fans his flushed face with a receipt before Seonghwa can turn on the ignition and blast the AC, scent clinging insistently to the inside of his lungs; the situation made no better inside the stuffy car, and Seonghwa feels himself growing dizzier by the second.
For an alpha, Park Seonghwa had a lot of self-control.
But as Hongjoong hums to the radio beside him, soft thighs squishing against the leather seat, sweat-slicked and glowing in the late afternoon sun, he isn’t sure how much he has left.
──────── 🐇♨️🐿️ ────────
The car rolls to a stop in their parking lot, engine ticking in the heat. Hongjoong unbuckles lazily, still half-fanning his face. “God, it’s so stuffy,” he murmurs, stretching his arms out by his sides just enough for the fabric of his hoodie to shift and expose more of his tank.
Seonghwa shuts off the engine and sits there for a moment too long, hand still on the wheel. “...You could’ve taken the hoodie off all the way,” he says, voice indifferent but also not really.
Hongjoong glances down. Like he’s only just noticed how far the zip has fallen open, he makes a soft sound of agreement but no move to fix it and hops out of the car, padding toward the lift lobby with a tote bag full of groceries, humming again.
Compared to the barely ventilated basement parking lot, the air-conditioning Hongjoong had earlier left on in his dorm is mercifully cool, though Seonghwa isn’t sure it’s doing him much justice. Hongjoong steps out of his shoes and kicks them until they’re straight against the wall, gives the receipt a final look, and then heads toward the kitchen with his groceries, peeling his hoodie off and dropping it on the island.
“Do you think Wooyoung will kill me if I put these straight into the fridge without washing them first?” he asks, stepping onto a stool and reaching high into the cupboard for a colander. “Why do we keep this so high up if we use it so damn often…” he huffs as the stretch lifts his tank just enough to bare the pale strip of skin above his waistband.
“You’re doing that on purpose.”
Mid-reach, Hongjoong freezes and turns his head slowly. “Doing what?”
“That,” Seonghwa says flatly, one hand gesturing in the general direction of Hongjoong’s torso, who blinks and tugs at his top with a small frown.
“I don’t get it…”
Maybe it’s because of the omega’s obliviousness, but Seonghwa’s temper shortens, and his own words come out faster than he can control. It’s like the filter for his mouth disappears into the thin air. “Don’t wear that anymore.”
Hongjoong’s hands pause mid-motion, the plastic produce-weighing bag crinkling in his grip. “…Is it dirty? This is new.” He frowns, stepping off the stool and tugging at the hem to check for stains, genuinely confused.
“It’s ugly.”
The words land heavier than Seonghwa means them to. He doesn’t even know why he says it because it isn’t true- if anything, the tank top is too flattering on a body like Hongjoong’s, whose brows knit, irritation beginning to spark.
“It’s a plain white tank. You and half the country have one too- it’s not ugly.”
“You asked.”
“I didn’t ask, I was-” Hongjoong’s voice begins to sharpen but he quickly stops himself, setting the lemons onto the counter with a dull thud and plasticky crinkle. “You’ve been in a mood all day. What’s your deal?”
Normally, Seonghwa would sigh, murmur something like “Sorry, I’ve been tired,” and then tell the truth, but the words never come. His pulse pounds in his ears, breath tight in his chest when he finally answers.
“What did you just say to me?”
His tone is lower than usual and almost gruff, laced with something that makes Hongjoong’s throat work around a gulp. Seonghwa’s alpha radiates off his body in heavy waves of overbearingly sweet and musky vanilla despite the AC and dehumidifiers working overtime.
“Seonghwa…?”
“Don’t pretend,” Seonghwa continues, the curl of a bitter smile tugging at his mouth. “You aren’t oblivious to the way people look at you. Men, women, alphas, omegas, betas- it doesn’t matter. They all fuck you with their eyes- why don’t you ever try to stop it?”
“What are you on about-”
“You're practically begging for it sometimes, aren’t you?” He goes on, voice pointed like he’s picking apart a truth Hongjoong would rather keep buried, except he’s entirely wrong. “Unzipped hoodie, the way you lean in and smile when handed a bag of fruit off the weighing scale or take even something as small as a fucking receipt. Do you even hear yourself when you talk? Or is it just an omega’s instinct to try and seduce everyone?”
That sets off something defensive in Hongjoong. “What is wrong with you?”
“You probably bat your lashes at the barista until they throw in the extra espresso shot for free,” Seonghwa continues, rounding the kitchen island like he’s stalking prey. “Probably, fuck- I don’t know- ‘accidentally’ brush your hand when you get your change back. What else, take your sweet time bending over to tie your shoes in the middle of the practice rooms where anyone can get an eyeful?”
“Are you serious right now?”
Seonghwa seethes with a foreign jealousy neither of them has ever seen before. “Oh, I’m serious. I don’t even have to try to watch out for people drooling because I know everyone already is. They’d strip you down in the middle of the street if you let them, and I have a feeling someone as shameless as you would probably love it.”
“Park Seonghwa, should I record you and let you hear how ridiculous you sound right now?”
His gaze rakes over Hongjoong’s form as he backs him up against the counter. “You walk into a room at work and suddenly everyone’s all smiles, leaning in and bowing deeper so you’ll acknowledge them. They bring you water before you even ask, milking every moment hoping you’re some-” his jaw flexes, “pretty little thing they can have a go at when the last person is done. But until that happens, you just play the harmless, sweet omega so you can watch them continue to bend over backwards until you can give them what it is they really want.”
Hongjoong stares up at him, the offence on his face settling into something made of hurt and spite. “Okay,” he says coolly. “Well, if you’re gonna talk to me like this, maybe I should go give someone else what they want.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
Tilting his head, lips quirking up just enough to be infuriating, Hongjoong scoffs. “Why not? Seeing as you have so much to complain about me, maybe we’d be better off finding other people.”
The scent of vanilla and cedarwood in the air thickens, and Seonghwa refuses to move an inch. “Careful, Hongjoong.”
“Careful?” Hongjoong mocks innocence. “I’ll keep that in mind when I go find myself an alpha who doesn’t call my clothes ugly or call me a whore just because he’s in a mood.”
Seonghwa’s jaw ticks and he plants his hands on the counter, caging his omega in. “Keep talking and see what happens, yeah?”
“What are you going to do?” His voice is light, but his pupils are blown, scent sweetening despite the smirk on his face. “I could step out the door, and we both know anyone I asked would take me in.”
“I’d kill anyone if they tried. You know that, don’t you?”
For some reason, Hongjoong considers Seonghwa is being dead serious. He’d never been so agitated or violent in speech; Hongjoong would find himself incredibly satisfied when he’d tease and Seonghwa fucked him in return like he had something to prove, but now, nearly fully pressing him up against the counter, Hongjoong gets the impression that Seonghwa isn’t playing around and begins to regret his brattiness.
“...You’re not in your right mind-”
“Strip.”
“What?”
“What, want me to do it for you? Strip.”
At his own words, the heartbeat in his ears travels southward, and Seonghwa realises that he’s painfully hard. Every inch of his skin is on fire as an oddly familiar heat burns him from the inside out and back again, and for the first time, a genuine fear that the reins over his own control have begun to slip consumes him.
Rather than souring his scent, it punishes his glands into releasing a continuous flood of vanilla and musk- so overbearing he can see Hongjoong’s chest let go of all its air, knees weakening him into leaning his elbows on the kitchen counter for support. As he dips, Seonghwa’s palm flies between his lower back and the edge of the counter to catch him, and feeling the heat of the semi-sweat-slicked skin beneath his tank top makes him want to spin Hongjoong around and lick across the dimples of his lower back over the fabric until it’s see-through.
His vision pulsates and blurs around the edges, eyes glued to the little beauty mark on Hongjoong’s neck, then the ridges of his clavicles, and then dragging down the stretched-out fabric of his top where the vertical lines of the ribbed material curve over his full and beating chest. Seonghwa wants to lick around Hongjoong’s pecs, tasting the sweat that’s probably beading and dripping between them and trail his tongue to latch around a clothed nipple until the fabric turns see-through there, too.
Each muscle inside of him tenses as the need arises, stomach clenching and hand on Hongjoong’s back curling into a fist, nails scraping and bunching the fabric between his fingers and palm. The movement pulls the top slightly taut against Hongjoong’s front, pink points of his apparently hardened nipples protruding through the fabric and contouring the ridges of his ribs.
“Seonghwa…”
“Don’t wanna?”
“Just calm down first-!”
Seonghwa pulls the shirt so tight the collar would’ve choked Hongjoong had it been any higher. He’s quick to dive in, latching onto one of the buds and moaning when his lips and teeth make contact, earning a startled noise from his omega.
My omega.
The amount of saliva he’s producing rivals that of an untamed and starved dog, quickly soaking through the white cotton and dripping down his chin as he switches between grazing his teeth over Hongjoong’s nipples, flicking his tongue over them, and closing his lips around them to suck and kiss. Hongjoong writhes and whines, pressing his thighs together, and Seonghwa can begin to tell that he’s succumbing to his own arousal because the syrupy and heady sweetness of his slick begins to waft throughout the air.
He can barely smell it over his own scent, feeling oddly proud as vanilla swamps and dampens everything else in the apartment- over Hongjoong’s fresh English pear and marigold, and over the subtle lived-in smell of Wooyoung’s mahogany and Jongho’s cypress.
Not that Wooyoung or Jongho walking in would be able to stop him, but he’s sure his scent has reached all the way into the lift lobby so they’d know as soon as they set foot into the corridor what was going on and that they probably shouldn’t come in.
“Hnh- Seonghwa, what’s gotten into- ah- you?”
“Fuck, you’re so sweet, you know that? Forget stripping, I don’t even want you touching yourself,” Seonghwa grits through his teeth, lifting Hongjoong onto the counter and ignoring the way he makes a noise of complaint when he pushes his knees to his chest and begins to slide his shorts and underwear off in one go. “Jesus Christ, Hongjoong.”
A string of slick stretches and finally gives way when his lower garments make it past his knees. It leaves a mucusy streak across from where his hole sits against the cool countertop, to the top of one of the cabinets beneath, and the bead rolling towards the ground suddenly gets pushed down all the faster when Hongjoong tenses and another gush comes spilling out of him, dribbling into a slowly forming puddle on the counter and floor. “So easy,” Seonghwa smiles, brows still knitted when he bundles the clothes up and tosses them onto the counter, and he’s about to drag a finger through the liquid when Hongjoong’s socked sole pushes up against his chest.
“No.”
“No?”
“No. You were being a dick, and now you think fucking me is gonna pardon you?”
“Yeah, I was wrong,” Seonghwa faux-grimaces like it pains him to remember and pushes Hongjoong’s thighs higher. “But can you blame me?” He tilts his head and blows a stream of cool air over the dark and wet spots on Hongjoong’s tank, grinning when Hongjoong whimpers and another wave of slick comes flooding out of him. “Fuck, I’m losing my mind. How do you expect me to be remorseful when you’re twitching and leaking everywhere?”
Hongjoong swallows. There’s something new and more commanding about Seonghwa’s demeanour, and despite how horny it’s making him, he still wants to push his buttons. He bends his knee and kicks out at Seonghwa’s chest again in protest. “Try thinking with your head and not your cock. Maybe you’re right- maybe it’s just my omega instinct to seduce everyone. Any alpha could be in your position, and my body would do the same.”
“...What?”
“I said what I said,” Hongjoong shrugs. “If I’m no different to any other omega, what makes you different to any other alpha…”
Seonghwa’s presence in the moment has begun to waver. The argument barely sounds like an argument anymore, because all he can hear are ‘omega’, ‘alpha’, ‘omega’, ‘alpha’, and regrettably, he realises that he doesn’t know where the frustration is coming from either.
Whether or not he’d always had jealousy issues is irrelevant because he’s always been so well behaved, and there had been no standalone incidents significant enough to cause him to be pushed over the edge like he is now.
Am I more protective because his heat is due?
He doesn’t even notice when Hongjoong prods him with his foot a final time and slides off the counter, quickly making for his room before slamming the door shut.
Heat. Breed.
I need to breed him.
Where is he? Did I really upset him that bad? What kind of alpha am I? What kind of boyfriend am I?
Inside of him, a war has begun to front. His alpha and heart fight over one another for who gets to take control of his body, with hot flashes and a deep heaving in his chest as he urges himself not to follow the scent trail of sweet pear into Hongjoong’s room. He pants, the rhythm of his hoarse gasps broken up whenever he has to swallow to keep himself from drooling over the counter at the sight of Hongjoong’s clothes there, and then it finally hits him.
Fuck.
A trembling hand reaches into his back pocket, fingers closing around his phone, and when he turns it on to check the date, he can’t be more sure.
Is it already August? That means it would’ve been overdue for half a year.
Seonghwa hates the kind of creature he becomes in rut. He’d grown to fear himself after snapping at people he swore he could never harm, even when they were only checking in out of worry. As an alpha, his sex drive is naturally high, but Seonghwa in rut has gone on round after round, switching between his fist and an array of fleshlights until they were both barely functional, to the point where he feared he may not have enough seed left in him to one day reproduce.
He needs to get Hongjoong out. How he’s going to achieve that is unbeknownst to him, but he knows for sure that there’s no other option because he absolutely would not be safe operating a vehicle or, god forbid, bumping into someone on his way. He texts a quick ‘rut - @WY @JH don’t come home’ to the group chat before slamming his fist down onto the countertop as another wave of sweaty heat and arousal pushes his hips forwards.
With his left hand occupied by clicking onto Hongjoong’s contact and pressing call, Seonghwa fails to suppress the thirst for sensation and unbuckles his belt with his right, unzipping and reaching into his dampened jeans to free his aching erection. He hisses when it meets the air, and as he closes a hand around himself with a harsh exhale, Hongjoong picks up.
“Hongjoong-ah,”
The click of the door handle being pushed open echoes from down the hall.
“-don’t come out!”
From where Hongjoong is standing with the door ajar, his scent begins to stream out into the apartment’s open space, inviting a full-body shiver that has Seonghwa groaning and jerking himself off to soothe the burn of hypersensitivity.
“I’m gonna- hngh, fuck- I’m gonna go into Wooyoungie’s room. When I lock the door, get out and go stay at my place until it passes.”
“What passes? Seonghwa, what is going on-”
“I think my rut came.”
Oh. “...Okay.”
“Mhm,” Seonghwa hums in a noise that quickly turns into a whine, long and drawn out over the squelching sound filling the air as the growing friction between his hand and cock whips his precum into a semi-opaque froth. He tightens his fist around himself, pressing his lips together, and grunts when his first load comes spurting onto the kitchen counter, only to clamp his left hand onto the edge and gather the mix of his cum and Hongjoong’s leftover slick with his right to lather his cock in their combined fluids, moaning when the mild scent of pear and marigolds wafts up into the air with each upward jerk of his fist.
“Um, Seonghwa…”
“Yeah- hah, -yeah I’ll be quick ‘m sorry just- fuck! One s-sec-!”
What a good alpha, Hongjoong thinks.
Hongjoong would be lying if he said he didn’t get off to Seonghwa’s submission. Something about him being biologically more powerful but still smitten enough to tuck his hypothetical tail between his legs and wait when asked just seemed to get his gears going.
It was probably for that exact reason that he couldn’t help a growing curiosity in what Seonghwa might be like if the roles reversed. He’d always been so gentle, giving Hongjoong exactly what he wanted and pulling away when he wanted it too, but Hongjoong isn’t blind to the way Seonghwa’s grip on his alpha’s usually tight leash can sometimes falter.
To him, it’s extremely sexy.
He doesn’t want to admit it because Seonghwa already does so much to please and dote on him, and he’d never want it to look like he were unappreciative, but Hongjoong wouldn’t deny that his brattiness sometimes comes from a place that yearns for him to be fucked senseless and punished with no mercy. Besides, he’s sure his boyfriend’s alpha may have a dominant side, but never enough to erase its submissive track record or let it be proven wrong.
It does hurt his pride a little: knowing that his alpha won’t let him help him through his rut. A good omega used his alpha well when he was in heat, and vice versa.
But because Seonghwa’s ruts weren’t quite as often as others’, Hongjoong barely ever had to worry about it. It’s mostly when one of his omega friends shows up with a limp after a week in hiding with their alpha proudly wrapped around them that Hongjoong feels his supposed incompetence is especially poignant.
There’s got to be a reason as to why Seonghwa- even after dating for a while- persistently refuses to entertain the idea of sharing his rut with his boyfriend, and so curiosity kills the cat.
His top has been stripped and lower half is still bare from where he’d gotten his pants confiscated earlier. Leaking from his hole is even more slick at the scent of Seonghwa’s vanilla pushing all the spicy notes of his marigold into submission, and his fingers are wet from where he’d begun to please himself the moment he slammed his room door shut.
He slips back into the room to grab one of the hoodies stolen off his alpha for nesting and shrugs it over his shoulders, zipping it just enough to cover for decency, and pushes the door open to step out into the hallway.
The sight he’s met with stops him halfway to the kitchen and nearly takes all his breath away.
Seonghwa is leaning against the countertop, fucking into his fist, eyes squeezed shut, and head tilted back. Pressed to his face and hardly muffling his noises is the polka-dotted-scrunched-up ball of Hongjoong’s shorts and underwear, and when he noses at a new, unsearched fold of the bundled fabric, Hongjoong swears he sees his eyes roll back into his head before he shoots his load all over the kitchen floor.
Hongjoong has never seen his alpha like this before. His own slick, sticky, warm, and uncomfortable between his thighs trails all the way down to his pale and dainty calves, and arousal takes the form of a sudden swoop low in his belly when the alpha pulls the cloth away from his unfairly handsome face.
Seonghwa looks momentarily satisfied, and then there’s a furrow in his brow again as his throat works around a sob. He looks like he’s about to start properly crying in both frustration and desperation, beads of sweat dampening the front of his t-shirt as his cock fills up again, and he separates the underwear from the shorts before wrapping them both around himself to fuck into the drool-sweat-slick dampened fabric.
Even when he’s wincing from the slightly rough texture against his sensitive manhood, there’s a blissfulness that Hongjoong can’t decipher as clouding over or making his eyes look dark and clearer. Either way, he looks intoxicatingly mad, and Hongjoong’s omega jumps in sinful excitement. He aborts his step mid-stride, bringing his trailing foot forward to square his stance, and involuntarily ‘Ah’s when he hears the pitter-pattering noise of his slick dripping directly onto the wood veneer floors between his feet.
Like a deer caught in headlights, Hongjoong freezes when he looks down at the floor and quickly steps back and away from the mess he’s made. Seonghwa has since turned back to facing the counter, arm braced against the rattling cabinet doors with his eyes pressing into the skin of his forearm as he continues to fuck into the mess of fabric, and is apparently too focused on chasing his high that he doesn’t notice the thickening of his omega’s scent as he comes closer.
It infuriates Hongjoong more than he’d ever admit. I’m right behind you, and you’d rather get yourself off on your hand? “Hey.”
Seonghwa goes still and quiet for a moment, and then his entire chest expels all of its air. His body caves in on itself as pant after pant shakes the entirety of his upper body, and he manages a painful “Go away” before all his speaking capability is lost to the way he has begun to bite his own forearm in fear he might pounce.
“No. Look here.”
When he shakes his head in refusal, sweat flicking off the matted strands of his hair, Hongjoong loses his patience. It doesn’t help that with each move he makes, the zipper of his boyfriend’s hoodie grazes gently against his dick and drives him that much closer to fucking himself on his fingers whether Seonghwa likes it or not.
So he gulps and crowds him, arms looping around Seonghwa’s narrow waist to reach down and meet the searing skin of his hands, still holding the fabrics over his cock. “How can you handle a rut alone when you’re like this?” he faux-frowns.
Victory on his part and satisfying failure on Seonghwa’s, because the alpha only needs to feel his omega’s pretty fingers grazing over the backs of his palms to cum for the third time that afternoon. The post-nut clarity allows him to latch off his forearm and demand Hongjoong leave again for his own safety, and to his current self’s dismay but supposed later self’s gratitude, Hongjoong’s hands fall away from him entirely.
“Am I not good enough of an omega? Is that why you won’t share your rut with me?”
Seonghwa’s stomach sinks.
“Hm, alpha?”
An ugly defensiveness bristles all the hairs on his body to pin-straight. “Don’t do this, please,” he hisses, and thinking Hongjoong has finally gotten the memo, turns around to see his omega gone but instead gets kissed.
Hongjoong’s fingers are curled into the front of his shirt, the white fabric sure to crease in his grip as he licks across the seam of Seonghwa’s lips. The tip of his tongue probes gently, hoping the alpha’s lips will part and grant him entry, and it isn’t until Seonghwa makes a quick inward vow to keep himself under control as much as possible that he gives way.
The vow is flimsy. He can’t really think much over his raging hormones and heightened senses, and it’s laughably counterproductive that when his eyes blow open from Hongjoong’s upfrontness, all he can see are the pretty lashes of his omega, the curve of his spine over his shoulder, and the slightest peek of his asscheks from beneath the hem of what he recognises as one of his own hoodies.
Oh, fuck it.
Seonghwa drinks in the ‘Mm!’ of surprise Hongjoong makes when he pushes his tongue back into his mouth, fighting for dominance, and the noise of shameless pleasure when he takes one of Hongjoong’s bare asscheeks into his palm, fingers dipping into the slick that’s practically gushing out of him. His other hand snakes into the dark strands at the omega’s nape and grabs hard, taking advantage of the sudden weakness to lift him up, and he growls into his mouth when Hongjoong wraps his legs around his waist for stability.
Abandoning all he knows about comfort, Seonghwa swipes his arm across the dining table and sets Hongjoong onto the surface. He grins when he hears the wet ‘plap’ of his ass meeting the cool melamine, over the cacophony of falling pens, vitamin bottles, and someone’s reading glasses as they clatter towards the floor, and sighs at the sight of Hongjoong’s mouth falling open when he shoves two fingers into his sopping hole. “You’re so tight,” he strains, “How are you gonna take my knot?”
“Mm- alpha!”
“Hm?” Seonghwa’s smile grows, dragging the calloused pads of his fingers against Hongjoong’s walls and feeling every inch of the velvety flesh until he finds his sweet spot. When he knows he has (because Hongjoong nearly screams, arching his back off the table), Seonghwa deliberately massages the area around it and drags a hand down his chest. His fingers, spread out, brush lightly and indirectly over Hongjoong’s nipples, and the urge to see them straining in nothing but the air is what drives him to make quick work of zipping the hoodie entirely open.
Stuffing him full with a third finger, Seonghwa gives each of Hongjoong’s pecs a quick kiss before licking down the line of his stomach and finally over the tip of his dick. The omega surges to sit upwards, hands flying to his alpha’s hair while the feeling of his tongue pressing into the depression of his urethra electrifies his every nerve.
The sensation of Hongjoong’s nails scratching against his scalp combined with his sweet, sinful noises draws more precum from his cock, and bubbling over with arousal, he grinds himself lightly against the leg of the table while continuing to suckle on the tip of his omega’s flushed dick. In between the ‘You taste so good’s and ‘I’m going insane’s, Seonghwa swallows and mumbles around the tiny length in his mouth, saliva dribbling down Hongjoong’s perineum and joining the slowly spreading puddle of slick on the table’s surface.
He pulls off Hongjoong’s dick but continues to work his fingers in and out of his hole. “God, I need to be inside you.”
“Please fuck me-”
“I- I haven’t prepared anything-”
“Fuck me, Seonghwa!”
“No,” he pulls his fingers out entirely and swallows when Hongjoong flutters around the foreign emptiness, feeling regretful but allowing the fear of hurting his partner to dampen the drive of his alpha.
“Seonghwa- alpha please,” the omega sobs, lying back down with his legs pulled up to his chest. He hooks his knees on his hands, spreading himself open on the dining table like he’s a meal, and another flood of slick leaks out of his pink and puckered hole.
Hongjoong brings one hand down and uses his index and middle fingers to push his own cheeks further apart, the slightly stretchy fluids glistening in the summer sun that filters through the open windows, and teases the flushing skin but never inserts.
Seonghwa’s world confines itself to the single man presenting himself so beautifully. The rest of the world becomes static, and it’s as if he’s being pulled in by an invisible current that’s egging him on to just let himself fuck his omega, slowly losing the grip on his past promise to learn how to be calmer during ruts before sharing them. “Ho-Hongjoong-”
“Please, Seonghwa-”
“I can’t, I’m sorry I just-” he pulls his t-shirt up to his nose, huffing into the fabric to at least attempt to think straight. “I really haven’t prepared, and even- shit,” he grinds into the edge of the table, “Even if I did, it wouldn’t matter because I’m not at home.”
“Mmgh, don’t care-”
“I care. You’ve seen the way I snapped at other people-”
“So snap at me!” Hongjoong thrashes his head, tears welling up in his eyes and rolling past his temples. “How pathetic am I, begging to be fucked when you’re the one in rut? What kind of omega am I, who can’t even help his alpha?” He sobs, scent souring. “Snap at me, bend me over, fuck me until I can’t be fucked anymore, breed me- just do something, Seonghwa, please!”
“..I’m sorry.”
“Huh- fuck!”
The thick and throbbing tip of Seonghwa’s cock singes against Hongjoong’s fingers as it presses into his hole. When he tries to move his hand away, Seonghwa’s grip closes around his wrist to keep it there. “Feel it going in?” he says, completely captivated by the way Hongjoong’s mouth opens around a series of half-pained ‘Ah’s each time his body seizes as it gets stuffed full with another inch. “You asked for it. You want to be bred?”
“Hngh, yes- please-!”
“Mm,” Seonghwa coos and continues to feed the thick length of his cock into Hongjoong’s twitching body. The grip is tight, but as the walls mould to fit around him perfectly, Seonghwa feels like he could live inside of Hongjoong forever. “Nearly there.”
Impatient, he pushes himself to the hilt in one quick thrust. Hongjoong bares his chest, back arching and voice unable to contain itself as he cries and cums all over himself, and Seonghwa winces as he’s squeezed impossibly tighter. He pulls back and pushes in again, seeing the movement of his cock deep inside all the way through the skin of Hongjoong’s pale and flushed abdomen, and presses down on the newly formed bump, rewarded with another sweet and shameless moan-cry.
“So gorgeous. To think you want me to keep you like this until my rut passes… I’ve only just put it in, and you’re already gone- would you be able to handle it all?”
What he doesn’t expect is Hongjoong nodding immediately and desperately, reaching out, gripping, grabbing, nails scraping across any inch of the alpha’s skin he can. He looks completely cock-dumb, and as he babbles some ‘Yes’, ‘Breed me’, ‘Please alpha’ nonsense, Seonghwa lifts him up under the arms while he’s still lodged inside, carrying him towards the bedroom.
──────── 🐇♨️🐿️ ────────
With every step taken, Hongjoong feels himself sink impossibly deeper on his alpha.
His heels are crossed and pressing gently into the small of Seonghwa’s back, still impaled on the weapon of a boner that stretches him sore, and an innate desire to be filled to the brim overwhelms him into another orgasm.
As more lewd thoughts unfurl and escape from the tangled mess of semi-consciousness in his head, he tightens, squeezing and clenching around the throbbing cock inside him to feel it as much as he can, and Seonghwa moans, losing his balance and having to press a hand to the wall to find his footing. Hongjoong only grips onto him tighter, nails clawing at his shirt, legs tightening around his waist, and hole gripping around him like a vice until it feels like he’ll snap off.
“Hongjoong-ah, quit teasing,” he hisses and kicks the door open with his foot. Hongjoong can only whimper in response as Seonghwa kisses, sucks, and bites the skin of his neck.
“I’m not~!”
“Yes you are- just making noise and sucking me in because you know I can’t resist.”
Neither of them care enough to make sure the bedroom door is shut- one, because Seonghwa has already told the entire group he’s in rut so no one will come home, and two, because Seonghwa is sure that anytime they have to leave the room for water or the bathroom, he won’t do it without having Hongjoong on his cock.
He holds Hongjoong securely under the bum with one arm and uses his free one to push his underwear and jeans off, belt clattering to the ground. As he lowers the elastic band past his thighs, Hongjoong’s slick drips directly onto the back of his palm and he brings it to his lips, licking it up and moaning when the honeyed taste of pear coats his tongue before kissing Hongjoong and forcing the taste of his own arousal into his mouth.
When he sits them down onto the edge of Hongjoong’s bed, Seonghwa doesn’t know if the sharp sound his omega cries is from their teeth slightly clashing or the fact that gravity has speared him further on Seonghwa’s cock. Hongjoong feels entirely split open, tongue nearly lolling out and too weak to move on his own when Seonghwa pushes the hoodie off his shoulders, and he fully sobs when the calloused pads of Seonghwa’s index fingers push into his nipples while his thumbs knead at the muscle of his pecs.
“Look at you, tummy bulging out and tits so full and wet… god, I’m going mad, Hongjoongie,” Seonghwa purrs as he rubs tiny circles into the stiff and pink points, “Do you know how many times I’ve been in this exact situation, wondering what it’d be like to fuck my babies into you, and now you’re sitting in my lap giving me a preview? Should I do that? Should I fill you up- give you my kids and call you my honey?”
Hongjoong squeezes around him again, upper body twitching and jerking as Seonghwa continues to toy around with his chest. “Mm, yes please-!”
The warm and wet feeling of saliva drips down his chin and neck. “Your chest is so full, it looks like you’re already making milk for us.” Seonghwa’s eyes are bordering on maniacal, but Hongjoong can’t give a care because the alpha is fully drooling over his chest, biting at the rounded mounds of fat and muscle and tugging at his nipples like he’s trying to milk them himself. He’s still wedged deep inside, shifting his hips and feeling incredibly pleased whenever he looks down to see Hongjoong’s slick and cum between them, making a mess of their laps.
Squelching and greedy, Hongjoong’s hole continues to release wave after wave of slick that nearly suctions the alpha to his insides. Seonghwa lets the obscene noises egg him on until he can’t handle it anymore and flips them over, Hongjoong’s back meeting the plush comforter and hips quickly raised into the air when he pulls out almost entirely before slamming back in.
He uses his grip on Hongjoong’s waist as leverage to skewer him and off his cock, watching as the euphoric sensation narrows his visual field to only the submitting body of his omega getting fucked and filled. The bulge of his own cock greets him through Hongjoong’s lower belly with every thrust of the hips, poking and prodding and begging to leave a permanent mark in the form of a reservoir for his seed, or a pup.
The omega’s full chest bounces with every move, slicked up with his own sweat, Seonghwa’s spit, and littered with kiss and bite marks. All he can do is lie there and let himself be pounded into, losing count of the number of times he cums and cries when it's dry, and Seonghwa thinks he has the most beautiful omega in the world.
His skin has reddened in all the places touched, quivering, raw, and painful. “My sweet, sweet omega,” Seonghwa murmurs, nails digging red streaks into the soft and squishy flesh of Hongjoong’s ass cheeks as he feels his release creeping up on him. When the base of his cock begins to engorge and his knot starts to swell, Hongjoong’s eyes shoot wide in panic and he grabs onto Seonghwa’s wrist.
“Seonghwa,” he gasps, trying to shake the alpha out of moving, “Seonghwa, something’s happening-”
“Fuck- don’t push off- you’ll rip,” Seonghwa grits through his teeth. “You don’t want it? You don’t wanna get filled up and plugged?”
“What- ah!”
“My knot, baby.”
Hongjoong has only ever heard of knotting from Yeosang and a couple other omega friends of his. The opinion is mixed; some like it, some love it, some hate it- but as he lies here, love of his life looking at him so dearly and stuffing him full, Hongjoong wishes he could live speared on Seonghwa’s knot all the time.
“You’re doing so good”
“Look at you”
“So gorgeous”
“My omega”
Seonghwa whispers sweet nothings into his skin, pulling back every once in a while to look down at him and shake his head in quiet marvel at their bond. Raising and knitting his brows as they track every shift in Hongjoong’s expression, he talks him through as the knot swells full, and the adoration for just how sacred and precious his partner is surges to new heights within him.
Soft sobs and hiccups rack out of Hongjoong’s chest, tears soaking into the mattress beneath them. Being filled to the brim, plugged, and then pampered with the lips that kiss down his face and hands that stroke his hair has him humming contentedly despite the pain, and he has never felt happier and more at home; the thought of finally being able to witness and help Seonghwa through his rut makes his omega purr proudly.
“I love you so much,” Seonghwa mumbles into the crook of his neck, “Don’t you ever even joke about going off with some other disgusting alpha, hm? You’re mine, alright?”
“Hnn, yes.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, yes, yes-”
“Sweet thing.”
Hongjoong nodding vigorously and barely making out the simplest of words makes the desire in Seonghwa’s loins burn with a new heat. His knot is still bulging, and yet he pulls out as much as he can- shuddering as Hongjoong stretches painfully around him and pushes back in, fucking his knot into the sore skin of Hongjoong’s hole.
“It hurts,” Hongjoong cries, dick leaking onto his stomach and legs spasming, “Ah- it’s gonna tear!”
“Shh, it won’t. See? You’re already getting used to it.”
“Mm, no-”
“How will you ever push out a pup if you can’t handle my knot?”
“...”
“You can do it, can’t you?”
Hongjoong nods a little too eagerly, and Seonghwa’s eyes grow hungrier.
“You’re gonna kill me one day, Kim Hongjoong.”
Eventually, his knot goes down, and he scoops Hongjoong into his arms again. He sits leaning against the headboard and holds Hongjoong to his chest, slowly lowering him onto his cock and kissing the column of his neck to ease the discomfort until he’s fully seated.
Fucking up into him is so much easier like this, and hearing Hongjoong moan, scream, cry, and whimper right next to his ear beats all other sensations he’s ever felt. If he ever thrusts too hard, Hongjoong’s lips press up against the curve of his shoulder and leave a wet patch of saliva on his skin, and he chases those cute and curvy lips to taste the drool from the source itself.
“Kiss me?” he smiles evilly and presses their lips together anyway. Hongjoong’s tongue is slack in his mouth, and Seonghwa licks around it, sucking on it, then letting go to run the tip of his own under his top teeth. In fear he might bite or injure Hongjoong’s mouth, he pulls away when he next thrusts up into him, greedy mouth finding satisfaction through nipping at his omega’s overworking scent gland and sucking the nectary sweetness out of it.
“I’m cumming,” he gasps out when he latches off the gland and his knot begins to swell up again. Still, he refuses to stop moving, and Hongjoong weakly slams his fist against his clavicle in protest as the bulbous base of his alpha’s cock painfully pushes past his rim over and over.
“Don’t cum again,” he blabbers hazily, “It’s too much- so full.”
“Why not? You’re doing so good.”
“You’re gonna get me pregnant,” he whines, wedging his hand between their sweat-slicked bodies to feel Seonghwa prodding his way through his insides. The pressure he unintentionally puts on where their bodies meet is quickly addictive; his vision goes white as he cums dry, and Seonghwa groans, veins of his abdomen protruding from his honey-tan skin while his cock pumps copious stream after stream of cum into Hongjoong’s womb.
Hongjoong’s noises are a mix of sobs and long cries that crescendo when Seonghwa chases the feeling again. His large hand encases Hongjoong’s entirely and pushes down on the omega’s tummy once more, feeling the collected seed inside try to escape past the plug of his knot in a dizzying pressure, and when he pulls out, the sight of Hongjoong’s tummy still bulging and full of his cum is absolutely breathtaking.
One comment about breeding him until he’s pregnant turns into many more, and at some point, he has him face down, ass up- then bent in half and pressed into the pillows, then with one leg hooked over his shoulder. He doesn’t know how many times he cums inside of Hongjoong, and Hongjoong doesn’t know either- all he knows is that each time he’s mentally present enough to rationalise, the thought of leaving the apartment anytime soon grows further from reality.
──────── 🐇♨️🐿️ ────────
“Take five!”
Such words have never sounded greater to 6 out of the 9 people in the room.
Seonghwa’s rut finished around half a week ago, and the choreographer seemed over the moon to see that he and Hongjoong were finally back and able to practice with the group again.
Wooyoung and Jongho are equally as satisfied, finally being allowed to live in the comfort of their own rooms again, and so are the other members who had to let the betas crash at their places while their captain and his right-hand man fucked like rabbits. The thick and stubborn scent of sex, vanilla, and sickeningly sweet pear took three days to air out of the home- thank goodness for the beta breed’s weaker sense of smell.
And much to Seonghwa’s delight, Hongjoong hasn’t dared to tease him or provoke any sort of jealousy from him since the moment he was able to walk on his own two legs again. He had felt a little guilty having to buy plan B and watching his omega pace restlessly, hoping to see one line instead of two on an excessive lineup of drugstore pregnancy tests across the bathroom counter, but the alpha in Seonghwa is secretly satisfied knowing his omega is more or less aware of the cost of threatening disloyalty.
Still, Seonghwa can’t stop himself from fantasising and replaying the events of his rut in his head. He can barely remember in full, but from what he can, one thought comes to mind:
Why didn’t I share my rut with him sooner?
I want to eat him again.
Not reminiscing about it is nearly impossible- how can he not when his omega had been so perfect and needy and well-behaved?
He apparently daydreams about it for a little too long, because everyone is gathering in front of the mirror again and finding their positions when Wooyoung calls out to him.
“Hyung, where is Joongie-hyung?”
“Hm? Is he not here?”
“He went to the bathroom, but it’s been the entire five minutes.”
All the heads in the room begin turning to look out for the omega, but there’s no success.
“I’ll go look for him.”
Yeosang pulls the practice room door open and jogs down the hall towards the bathrooms.
As they wait, Seonghwa lets the other men teach him what he’s missed, and he nearly gets it when Yeosang comes bursting through the door again. “Hyung.”
“Hm?”
Yeosang’s sweater-clad hand is planted over his face, and Mingi’s scent grows strong and spicy as he comes to his side to comfort him.
“What’s wrong?” Seonghwa inches closer, wary of Mingi glued to his side. The usually round and sweet smell of Yeosang’s honeydew is slightly soured with worry and laced with a familiar, sharper fruitiness. Pear.
“...I think Hongjoong-hyung is in heat.”