Chapter Text
Jimin hates days when the doctor visits. Hates the poking and prodding at his body. Hates the smell of latex and the occasional metallic clatter of medical implements.
His father sits in the corner of the room for propriety’s sake. Dr. Kim has been Jimin’s doctor since infancy, but it’s an alpha sire’s job to make sure the doctor doesn’t do anything untoward with his omega son.
“It’s unexpected that you haven’t had your first heat yet, Jimin,” Dr. Kim says, assessing the omega’s scent gland through the protective layer of medical gloves. “How much interaction have you had with alphas your age?”
Jimin tries to not visibly shrink in on himself. He’s just past 21, and he knows omegas statistically experience their first cycle quite a bit earlier than that. His father always reassured him that there was nothing wrong with him; he was merely a late bloomer. As for the alphas his age—
“Jimin prefers to stay at home,” Alpha Min supplies for him. “There’s nothing wrong with being a bit more reserved, especially around young alphas.”
“Certainly not,” Dr. Kim replies with a chuckle. “Young alphas rut too easily and barely sustain a knot for more than a minute. Following a more traditional route has its perks. You aren’t missing much, pup.”
Jimin preens a bit, feeling complimented for something most of his peers mock him for, although the truth of the matter is, most of his reservations come from fear. He’s scared of going into heat, scared of mating, scared of bonding, scared of getting pupped and everything that goes along with it—but most of all—he’s scared of drawing an alpha’s attention and being forced to leave his father. So he doesn’t think about it, content to tamp down the urges of his body and delay the inevitable for as long as possible.
The fear must leech into his scent because Dr. Kim sniffs the air and purses his lips.
“How is your slick production when you do get aroused?” he asks.
Jimin goes wide-eyed and glances at his father.
“It’s not…I don’t—” Jimin stutters.
“At all?” Dr. Kim says in surprise. He turns to the alpha. “Would it be all right to do a pelvic examination? That’s really uncommon for his age. It’s a crucial time to be treating any infertility issues before his first heat hits and does damage to his system.”
If anything, Jimin’s scent gets more distressed. He looks to his father again, eyes pleading for security, for reassurance, for help.
“Appa,” he whispers, and the cry draws his alpha sire to him like a moth to flame.
“You’re all right pup,” the alpha says. He looks to Dr. Kim with an assessing gaze. “How much do you have to touch him?” he asks.
“Not at all,” Dr. Kim replies, “if you want to handle it yourself and follow my instructions.”
“Is that okay, sweetheart? Can Appa touch you?” Alpha Min asks.
Jimin nods, biting his lip as he’s guided to lay on his back and spread his legs. There’s a guarded moment between alpha sire and omega pup when the former rucks up the silky fabric of Jimin’s examination gown to expose the bare clench of his body beneath. The omega breathes shallowly, his chest moving like the beat of a hummingbird’s wing.
Alpha Min turns to the doctor for help.
“External stimulation first,” Dr. Kim instructs before he turns to address the omega. “How do you like to touch a yourself, Jimin? Your anatomy gives you a variety of options. Omegas are virtually a conduit for pleasure. ”
Jimin’s soft crocus scent wilts in response to the question. His face goes pale and the muscles of his legs quiver in anxiety.
“I don’t,” he whines, looking at his alpha sire as though he can’t decide if it’s more shameful to touch himself or to admit to having never done so.
“That’s perfectly all right,” Dr. Kim tries to soothe, but Jimin’s scent continues to eep out bitter notes.
“Can you tell me what’s making you so upset, flower?” Alpha Min strokes a comforting hand down his son’s knee.
Jimin does not think he can explain what he’s feeling, how he’s afraid of so many things, all of them stemming from the expectation of what’s between his legs. He choses a lesser concern.
“I don’t want it to hurt,” he says.
“Your appa and I are going to work extra hard to make sure it doesn’t,” Dr. Kim replies. “You’re such a good boy. All you deserve is comfort and ease, and an alpha who loves you so much he would never dream of hurting you.”
Jimin seems to go a bit floaty from the praise.
“No one could love me more than Appa,” he says.
“You’re right, pup,” Alpha Min replies. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. I would never hurt you.”
“However you want to proceed,” Dr. Kim gently directs. “Although I can’t provide lubricant, because we need to be able to tell if his body is capable of slick production on its own.”
Yoongi huffs out a breath. He’s so concerned for his baby, desperate for this to be easy for him, but if it was, Jimin wouldn’t be his stunningly beautiful omega pup with all his complexities and his sweetly guarded nature. He belongs to an older time, where an alpha would have killed to prove his worth to him and built him the most impressive den in the country before even attempting to bed him. The alphas of this generation think dinner and a few convenience store gifts are an adequate courting method, and luckily, Jimin has had nothing but disdain for them.
The alpha moves his hand down the delicate skin of Jimin’s thigh. He’s relieved to find his son doesn’t flinch under his touch, trusting and pliant. He spreads his omega pup’s legs wider, exposing the flawless column of Jimin’s cocklet, clitoris, and vaginal opening. There’s so much for him to work with.
Yoongi licks two of his fingers and trails them down to the omega’s lids. He massages in tight circles, featherlight at first, then varying pressure according to the sound of Jimin’s hitched breaths. He tries to keep himself detached from the sensation of silken heat under his fingers, but when his son lets out a choked whine and tilts his head back with a shock of pleasure, it’s difficult keep his alpha at bay. Seokjin being in the room helps.
“That should be enough stimulation to check,” the doctor says. “One finger at first.”
Yoongi gently prods at Jimin’s opening and finds it tight and dry. He tries to dip just the tip of his finger inside and freezes when the omega’s sounds turn distinctly pained.
“I’m sorry,” Jimin lifts his head up, eyes welling with tears.
“No, no, sweetness, you’re perfect.” Yoongi soothes him, bending over his shaking frame. He cradles the omega, holding him tight and scenting him. “You can just stay my baby forever.” He runs his hands down Jimin’s sides until he’s squirming from the tickling. The most precious giggle bursts out of his son and all is right with the world once again.
“Jimin,” Seokjin says softly, so as not to alarm the omega, “I know this is not what you imagined your first experience to be like, but would you be all right with your alpha sire giving you your first orgasm?”
Yoongi feels his son tense before he turns his attention to the doctor. His pup’s demeanor closes off once again, turning inward at what Yoongi assumes is a conversation with his omega.
After a moment, he says, “Appa gets to decide.”
“Okay, pup,” Yoongi replies. He takes a moment to mull over his options and brushes a few velvety strands out of Jimin’s face. His son’s trust in him is absolute, and as his alpha, he cannot betray that trust.
“I have to ask you to leave, Seokjin,” he says.
“Of course,” Dr. Kim replies. “I’ll wait in the hall.” The alpha takes up his tablet and exits the room. The door closes with finality behind him.
Jimin clutches his hospital gown and peers up at his father.
“Appa,” Jimin asks, “is it all right?”
“What do you mean, flower?” Yoongi asks.
“Do you really want to?” the omega says.
“I’ll do anything to make sure you’re safe and healthy, Jimin,” the alpha replies. “I want nothing but the best for you.”
“That’s why I want— I’m okay with it being you,” the omega stutters. “I know no one will take care of me like you do.”
“Okay,” Yoongi says. “I want you to lay back and relax. Let me know right away if anything feels bad.”
“Okay,” Jimin parrots.
Alpha Min pushes up his son’s hospital gown again and considers. He doesn’t let himself take too long, worried that Jimin will grow uncomfortable and perceive it as somehow being his fault. The alpha steadies himself, steadies his wolf. He’s taking care of his pup. That’s all this is. Omegas sometimes need intimate reassurance or medical care that can fall to none but their family members. Jimin has no one else.
He tries to hold on to that clinical detachment as he sinks down between the omega’s legs, huffing a warm breath that has Jimin squirming on the guest bed of their home. There’s no scent of slick to guide him, so Yoongi follows the bright, rich spot of arousal trying to drip from the pup’s cocklet and laps at it, searching out more of the delectable taste.
Jimin’s breathing goes haywire, although the rest of his body stills like a deer straining toward danger, head cocked in curiosity and the anticipation of discovery.
Yoongi’s tongue slides lower, searching between his folds while a hand comes up to clasp his omega pup’s wet length, soft strokes as he puts more intent pressure where his tongue is.
“Appa?” Jimin asks, and no further question is needed—he’s bewildered by the sensation between his legs and where it leads—so his alpha sire persists without addressing his confusion. The pup will have his answer soon enough.
“Ohhh,” Jimin shudders, “ohhh. Alpha.”
Yoongi does not correct his son’s slip up.
“Let it out, sweetness,” he coaxes.
He focuses his efforts on keeping Jimin hot and slick, a simulacra of what the omega’s body is supposed to do. He circles around his tight opening but never delves inside, following Dr. Kim’s instruction so the test for slick production goes untainted.
Jimin bucks every once in a while, soft tummy flexing and hands twisting in the sheets. It seems like any moment the spring will snap and he’ll try to flee, sensation too intense for him. He needs a hand guiding the back of his neck, an alpha’s weight pressing him down with safety and security, but Yoongi can’t do that for him. Perhaps he should have had Seokjin stay to help gentle the pup.
“Appa,” Jimin cries, “I’m scared.”
Yoongi is so proud of him for voicing his fears instead of acting on them—trying to push the alpha away and perhaps hurting himself in the process—he knows that he’s safest following his Appa’s orders, but his fight or flight instinct is having trouble cooperating.
“Don’t be scared,” Yoongi says, throwing a snarl into his voice. “Let it come.”
The appearance of his alpha sire’s voice is like flipping a circuit breaker in Jimin’s endocrine system. His entire body goes pliant and relaxed, scent wafting soft flower petals as he shudders toward his climax.
Yoongi hooks his arms around his omega pup’s thighs and closes his mouth over Jimin’s clit. He circles it relentlessly with his tongue before sucking hard.
Jimin tenses up again, although it’s with the strength of a milk-drunk kitten. His feet batter against his father’s back as he lets out a wail.
“Appa, appa, appa!”
The omega arches as he experiences his first ever taste of ecstasy, and it’s breathtaking. His body trembles, chest heaving and toes curling as his mouth opens around a silent cry. Streaks of white stain the underside of his gown and drip down his stomach.
Yoongi strokes the underside of Jimin’s thigh to calm him, then fits his pinky finger into his entrance to check his slick production.
The omega squeaks.
Unfortunately, any wetness present seems to be from the alpha’s mouth. He calls Dr. Kim back into the room, who switches into treatment mode.
Meanwhile, Yoongi helps his pup elevate on the pillows of the bed and focuses on keeping him from spiraling once again.
“Are you okay, sweet pup?” he asks.
Jimin nods, a bit glassy-eyed, and curls toward his alpha sire. He seems quite floaty after his orgasm, and Yoongi places a settling hand on his neck and presses close to scent him. The pup closes his eyes, implicitly trusting and so sweet.
“You did so good for your appa,” Dr. Kim joins in the reassurance, changing out his gloves to open a fresh syringe and a vial of—something. The doctor fixes the syringe with a needle to draw out the contents of the bottle.
Yoongi doesn’t know what it’s for, although it’s quite obvious who it’s intended for, and his saffron scent gets more intense at the thought of whatever that is coming anywhere near his pup.
Sensing the change in the room, Jimin opens his eyes, spies the exceptionally long needle, and whimpers in fear.
“What is that?” Alpha Min snaps with a bit too much bite in it.
Dr. Kim becomes alert to Jimin’s burgeoning distress.
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he lowers the implement cautiously, “you’re not going to get the needle.” He makes his movements slow and precise as he twists off the nub and replaces it with a long, soft-plastic tube. Then he addresses Yoongi’s concern. “The treatment for vaginismus is alpha semen—non-viable, of course—although without the onset of Jimin’s cycle, fertilization is highly unlikely. Dousing the vaginal wall will stimulate slick production and softening of the vaginal tissue so that future intercourse does not prove painful to him.”
Jimin already seems to have guessed where the plastic tube will end up going and is not amenable to the idea.
“I don’t want it, Appa,” he says, eyes wide with panic. “I don’t want it.” The distress in his scent quickens.
Yoongi can’t take it anymore. His son’s discomfort and stress has gone on for too long. Before the pup can work himself up into a full-blown omega drop, the alpha intervenes.
“We’ll try something else,” he tells Dr. Kim. His own alpha is rearing his head, barking with derision. How dare he try to put inferior seed in his omega pup!
Alpha Min has to remind himself that Seokjin is his friend, and he, too, only wants what’s best for Jimin.
Dr. Kim doesn’t argue with him. He merely purses his lips in thought.
“You’re certainly welcome to provide him a supplement yourself,” he ventures. “We can discuss treatment options and come up with the best solution of how to proceed.”
The doctor pulls out a tablet and thumbs through to an app. When he finds what he was apparently looking for, he passes the device over to the still prone omega.
“Can you fill this out for me while I talk to your appa, Jimin?” he asks. It appears to be a survey of sorts.
Yoongi spies the first couple of questions concerning attraction and sexual dynamic preferences.
1. I am attracted to:
+Exclusively Alphas
+Exclusively Betas
+Exclusively Omegas
+Combination
+Willing to Explore
+Unsure
2. I would prefer my future sexual dynamic to be:
+Exclusively monogamous with my mate
+Primarily monogamous with my mate within a pack
+Polyamorous within the confines of a pack (regardless of a mate)
+Unmated and sexually open
+Unmated and sexually adverse
+Unsure
3. I would be comfortable receiving sexual care/relief from the following (check all that apply):
+My Sire/Dam
+My Sibling (Under my Sire’s observation and consent)
+A close relative (specify)
+A close friend
+A trained professional
+A prospective mate
4. I would prefer to receive sexual care/relief from the following:
+My Sire/Dam
+My Sibling
+A close relative (specify)
+A close friend
+A trained professional
+A prospective mate
The alpha is pleasantly surprised with the level of choice suggested by the quiz and how it seemingly doesn’t assume anything based on secondary dynamics. The survey runs upwards of 70 questions, so it’s likely that his son will be occupied for a while.
Yoongi scoots off the bed to talk to Seokjin. He gestures to the doctor to follow him out of the room and closes the guest bedroom door behind them.
The alphas walk into the main area of the house, where Yoongi starts a kettle for tea. He sets his palms against the counter and leans forward, which causes a pleasant burn up his arms. He scratches his chin against his shoulder in thought.
“I’m not a specialist in omega sexual psychology,” Dr. Kim begins, “but I am of the opinion that Jimin has developed a complex which has caused his reproductive cycle to remain dormant. Hopefully the results of the test will give us more definitive answers, but it’s likely his inability to produce slick is a result of mental anxieties and stressors around what will happen to him once his heat cycle occurs.”
Yoongi knows his pup is quite conservative, even by society’s standards. He completed the level of education that was allotted for his sub-gender, never voiced a desire to labor beyond the home, and is perfectly content to listen to Yoongi’s judgement on what excursions were appropriate for him to experience out in the world (with his alpha sire accompanying him, of course.)
“How could he be stressed?”
Yoongi feels close to tears. To be so unaware of his pup’s fear growing right under his nose—
“There’s no doubt in my mind that you have provided Jimin a home with the utmost safety and security,” Dr. Kim hastens to explain. “I believe he’s considering his heat to be a crossroads in life where that safety and security is possibly taken away from him as he logically follows the next step—which is being mated and allocated to another alpha.”
“He has to know I would never choose a mate for him who couldn’t meet all of his needs and love him wholly,” Yoongi replies.
“Well—and here comes the tricky bit—” the doctor says. “I think Jimin hasn’t been able to seriously consider another alpha’s advances, because he’s biologically inclined to compare each of them to the stronger, more experienced, and very protective alpha he has at home.”
“So whichever way you look at it,” Yoongi says, “I’m the reason he’s developed this problem.”
“That’s not quite the conclusion I was suggesting you draw,” Seokjin replies.
“Then what were you suggesting?” the alpha asks. He pours hot water into the cups and lets the tea leaves steep in their silver spoons.
“Treatment options,” Dr. Kim replies. “The proverbial ‘two birds with one stone.’ Jimin needs to have a contingency plan available for when he goes into heat, and I think the best solution is for you to be the one who introduces him to all his firsts.”
Yoongi recoils.
A smaller, darker part of him latches onto the idea and curls his fist around it.
He contemplates slamming that fist in a drawer.
“I know it’s less-often practiced these days,” the other alpha continues, “but there’s plenty of scientific basis in the phenomenon of sire/pup copulation. It’s an evolutionary failsafe. When packs were comprised of single family units, the alpha sire was responsible for breeding all of his omega children to fortify his bloodline. Having an omega stolen by a rival alpha virtually meant annihilation.”
Alpha Min forgoes any desire he had for tea.
“You make it sound like we’re a case study you want to observe for your dissertation,” he growls.
Seokjin shrugs.
“Societally speaking, we’ve reached a point where every alpha is isolated unto himself. We haven’t squared away with the ramifications of suppressing our natural instincts. I’ve theorized that such stigmatization has largely been impacted by the introduction of human perceptions and taboos. In the forest packs, they still uphold the tradition of wolves. It’s those of us immersed in the human world who have sacrificed personal strength for a safer, albeit domesticated existence.”
“And I thought we lived in a conservative part of the country,” Yoongi says.
“Conservative or not,” Dr. Kim says, “you have to understand that Jimin has been crafted by your own DNA to be the best suited to attracting you as a mate, because biologically, his alpha sire will always be crux of his protection and safety. His body is primed for it, as is yours. You already have the best rapport I’ve seen within a domesticated household, and the law dictates that it is your right.”
“And when it comes to Jimin’s right?” Yoongi asks.
Seokjin sighs.
“I had to sew up a girl last week because some whelp got too excited and ripped his knot out of her too early,” he says. “Professionally, I see this as being a beneficial experience for your son, to be able to practice his instincts in the safest possible environment with the person he trusts most. It’s serendipitous that it would be mutually beneficial for you as well.”
“There’s a lot more to instincts than—”
“I’m all done, Dr. Kim,” Jimin calls as he emerges from the guest bedroom. He waddles a bit with his apparently (still) sticky gown clinging to his skin. His eyes are glassy and he stifles a yawn in front of the alphas.
“Go ahead and get changed,” Yoongi instructs him. “Go down for a nap if you need to.”
The omega doesn’t need any prompting at politeness.
“I don’t know why I feel so sleepy,” Jimin mumbles. “Thank you for coming to see me, Dr. Kim.”
“That’s perfectly all right,” Seokjin replies. “These things happen. Thank you for being so good for your appa.”
A sweet little smile blossoms on Jimin’s face. He hands over the tablet and makes his exit.
Dr. Kim scrolls through the completed pages, assessing. He hums a little, and while Yoongi is tempted to lean over his shoulder and read along, he refrains.
“I can send you a full report tomorrow,” Seokjin says, thumbing through answers and inclination percentages. “Right off the bat I can see that he’s not sexually adverse. He’s flagged the generally expected omegan preferences—hand feeding, nesting, scenting, breeding kink—”
Yoongi decides he will have that tea now.
“His submission threshold is considerably high,” Seokjin notes.
“What does that mean exactly?” Yoongi asks. It seems like the safer conversation thread to follow.
“Well,” the doctor says, “submission is often the primer for sexual arousal in omegas, but it seems like submission is Jimin’s baseline. That doesn’t necessarily shed light on anything, but the pup likely needs something more stimulating for it to be an effective form of foreplay. Arousal might be difficult for him if he’s not shown a heavy hand.”
There are a lot of words spinning around Yoongi’s mind. He takes a sip of tea and realizes he forgot to add sugar. The herbal blend is bitter in his mouth.
“So treatment options,” Seokjin says. “I think there needs to be a twofold approach. As I mentioned before, alpha semen is the best cure for vaginismus; once a day since we have no parameters for when his heat might start and it’ll be dangerous if his body hasn’t decided to cooperate before then. I recommend coating the vaginal canal before he goes to sleep for the most prolonged exposure.”
Right. Yoongi had forgotten about that.
“Then there’s coaxing out his instincts to be receptive to an alpha—scenting, simulated mounting, scruffing—I’ll send you the list. The test indicates that he might find predator/prey games particularly stimulating.”
Yoongi’s eyebrows raise.
“You think it’s a good idea to hunt my son in his own home?” he asks.
Seokjin waves that damnable tablet in the air.
“It scored for him at the top of the list.”