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The sky is fading into the gentle lavender hue it always takes on just before nightfall, and the city outside Minho’s window is slowly winding down.
He stands at the stove, stirring a pot as the rich aroma of garlic and sesame oil fills every corner of the apartment.
Just as he adjusts the heat, he hears the sharp chime of the doorbell echo through the quiet, and a soft smile spreads across his face even before he moves to open the door. He already knows who it is.
And sure enough, there he stands; cheeks tinged a soft pink from the cold outside, bundled in a long coat that makes him look impossibly soft.
“About time,” Minho says, though his tone is teasing more than anything else. Jisung just responds with a grin, kicking off his shoes.
The cats are quick to welcome him too, weaving between Jisung’s legs and purring loudly, their heads nudging against him in recognition and affection. Jisung crouches down almost immediately, fingers disappearing into fur as he pets each of them in turn, careful to give all three equal attention.
Watching him, Minho can’t help but think that this place simply looks better when he’s in it.
Once they make their way to the kitchen, Jisung leans casually against the counter as Minho keeps working on their dinner. When he thinks Minho isn’t paying attention, he starts stealing small pieces of tofu, popping them into his mouth.
Minho lets it slide for a moment or two, watching him out of the corner of his eye, before finally reaching over and tapping his hand with the back of a spoon—not hard, just enough to make a point and to hear that familiar giggle he loves.
When the food is finally ready, they sit down at the kitchen table, plates steaming between them as they settle in and start to talk about their day. Minho doesn’t have much to report; after class, he just ran some errands and went straight home.
Jisung shares his own story about spending the afternoon at a café with Felix and Jeongin, laughing as he describes how he ended up feeling like a third wheel the entire time.
After they finish eating and clean up, they migrate to the couch, where they continue talking about everything and nothing at all. The conversation drifts easily between topics, and before they know it, hours have passed.
By the time the clock creeps past midnight, Minho finds himself complaining that it’s too late for Jisung to make the trip back home. So he asks him to stay, knowing Jisung would never deny him of anything.
And here they are. Curled up in Minho’s bed, the lights dimmed, laptop perched on Jisung’s lap as some action movie flickers on the screen.
It should feel comfortable. Safe. Normal. And it is for a while, until it isn’t anymore.
Minho has felt off all day, like he might be coming down with something. He figured it was just exhaustion, as he hasn’t been sleeping well lately.
At first, it’s subtle. A slow warmth blooming low in Minho’s belly, creeping upward through his chest until his skin flushes faintly beneath his clothes.
He fidgets restless, changing his position more than once, hoping to cool himself down. But it doesn’t help, of course it doesn’t.
“Everything okay?” Jisung asks, glancing away from the screen.
“Yeah,” Minho lies quickly, voice strained. He forces himself to stay still, to pretend nothing is wrong. But something is wrong, something is very wrong.
The warmth spreads, intensifying from gentle heat to something thick and heavy between his thighs, a pulse of need that has his heart racing in sudden panic.
Not now. Not here.
His mind scrambles to calculate. He was supposed to have two more weeks. Two more weeks before his cycle, but his body isn’t listening. He can feel the shift in his scent, the telltale dampness of slick gathering fast, unstoppable. He’s going into heat. Right here. In bed. Pressed against Jisung’s side.
Panic claws at his throat, his instincts war with his mind. One screaming to take what is offered, the other terrified of what will happen if he loses control.
Minho clenches his thighs together, hips twitching despite his efforts. His breath hitches, body trembling. His skin prickles with need, and shame floods him when he realizes that despite every ounce of willpower, he can’t stop it.
A soft, helpless whimper escapes him, and then, as if possessed, his hips jerk almost against Jisung’s leg.
He barely registers when Jisung pauses the movie, turning toward him fully. “Hyung?” His voice dips low, concerned.
Minho freezes, squeezing his eyes shut, mortified. “I—“ he stammers. “I think I’m—”
“You’re in heat,” Jisung finishes for him, voice turning grim with realization. “I can smell it.”
Minho mewls, throat closing tight. “I didn’t know… I thought I had more time,” he chokes out, trembling now with more than just need, fear, too.
Jisung studies him for a long moment, gaze unreadable, something deep wavering behind his eyes. Then his voice drops further, rough but calm, steady as stone. “Go on. You can get yourself off on me.”
Minho’s eyes snap open, panic rising fast. “No, Jisung. I can’t. You have to go.”
But Jisung doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch. “Do you really want me to go?” he asks quietly. “Because if that’s what you want, I will. But if you’re saying this just because you think it’ll make me uncomfortable, then I’ll stay. Because I wouldn’t offer if I weren’t okay with it.”
Minho lets out a strangled sound as slick gushes hot between his thighs, his body betraying him with every passing second.
“I want you to stay.”
Jisung’s lips curl in a knowing smile, a warmth to his gaze that only feeds the fire inside Minho. “Good,” he mutters, leaning closer until Minho can feel the heat of his breath on his cheek. “You can keep going then.”
Minho takes a shaky breath, ears and cheeks burning, and slowly starts grinding, hips rolling against Jisung’s thigh with desperate movements.
Jisung slides an arm around his waist, anchoring him. “Just like that,” he soothes in a voice that could melt steel. “You’re doing so good.”
The praise breaks something inside Minho. A helpless moan tumbles from his lips as he grinds harder, hips jerking with urgency, mind clouding rapidly under the weight of need and Jisung’s voice whispering filth and comfort in his ear.
“I’m gonna—” Minho gasps, hands scrabbling against Jisung’s shirt.
Jisung’s voice drops to a low, dominant purr. “What, baby? Are you gonna cum for me?”
“Yes!” Minho sobs out, mind spinning.
Jisung’s grip on his hips tightens, guiding him now with sure, steady movements. “Let it go,” Jisung commands, voice velvet and iron all at once. “Let me see how beautiful you are when you do.”
And that’s all it takes. Minho wails Jisung’s name, body seizing as he comes hard. Slick and cum soaking through his shorts, hips jerking wildly, thighs quivering with release as white-hot pleasure floods every nerve.
He’s dimly aware that he’s crying, tears slipping down his cheeks unnoticed, until gentle fingers brush them away. Jisung’s voice is a soft balm against his shattered senses. “You okay?”
Minho blinks dazedly, heart still racing. Shame surges as the reality of what just happened hits him all at once. “Oh my god, I’m sorry,” he blurts out, panic rising fast. “Fuck! What did I do?”
He tries to sit up, breath coming in fast, but Jisung catches his face gently between both hands. “Hey, baby. Look at me.” Minho’s wide, panicked gaze meets Jisung’s steady one. “Do you regret it?” he asks simply.
“I—” Minho swallows hard, voice wavering. “Do you?”
Jisung shakes his head slowly, gaze softening. “I don’t. Not even a little. How could I? When you looked so hot. So perfect.”
Something raw and fragile twists inside Minho. “I don’t regret it either,” he whispers honestly. “It felt amazing.”
“Then you have nothing to be ashamed of.” He leans in, pressing a tender kiss to Minho’s damp temple, as though sealing the words with something more than just reassurance.
They stay like that for few moments, then Minho slides into Jisung’s lap before his brain even catches up with what his body is doing.
At first, it’s innocent. His arms looping around Jisung’s shoulders as he straddles his thighs, leaning in for a hug as easy as breathing. His cheek presses softly against Jisung’s, their warmth mingling.
Jisung only chuckles low in his throat, letting his arms fall lazily around Minho’s waist in return. “You comfy, hyung?” He teases softly, voice curling between them like a private joke.
Minho hums, not bothering to answer, letting those strong arms tighten around him.
The thing is, Minho’s usually the one in control. It doesn’t matter how submissive he gets, he’s always the bossy one, the sharp-tongued one who keeps any dynamic firmly in hand. That’s what alphas usually hate about him.
But now, here, in Jisung’s lap, body caged against his chest, entirely enveloped in the sweet but sharp scent of raspberries—Minho feels that role slipping from his fingers like smoke.
His head tips forward almost helplessly, nuzzling into the crook of Jisung’s, drawn in by instinct. The scent isn’t just comforting anymore. It’s overwhelming. Dizzying in a way that makes his pulse spike and his skin flush. It’s arousing.
He inhales deeper, greedier, burying his nose directly against Jisung’s scent glands, needing more.
It doesn’t go unnoticed by the other. Minho feels it in the way Jisung sucks in a breath, in the subtle shift of muscle beneath his hands as Jisung’s grip tightens around his waist, fingers pressing lower.
Still, Minho can’t stop. His nose rubs softly against the sensitive spot, a needy sound humming up from his throat as he does so. The scent wraps around him like a drug, making him wanting to drown in it.
His lips part, almost of their own accord. A tentative lick against heated skin at first, tasting the fruitiness of Jisung’s scent, then leaving open-mouthed kisses.
He feels Jisung’s cock twitch beneath him, hardening through the barrier of their clothes, pressed directly against the curve of Minho’s ass.
“Hyung?” Jisung’s voice rumbles against his ear.
Minho lets out a soft noise, lips still latched onto Jisung’s neck. “Do you want me to stop?” he breathes, words a whisper against the shell of Jisung’s ear.
Jisung exhales a ragged breath, heart racing beneath Minho’s palm where it rests over his neck. “No,” he says, voice barely audible if it wasn’t for their proximity. “Don’t stop.”
The words send a full-body shiver through Minho. His hips begin to move without thought now, grinding his ass against Jisung’s growing erection.
“Min,” Jisung warns, voice a rough rasp, barely holding onto his control, “if you keep moving like that—”
But Minho only rocks his body faster, more wanton, unable to stop the tide of instinct taking over. “Jisung,” he gasps, breaking away from his neck, eyes wild. “I need you.”
Jisung’s hands lock onto Minho’s hips with bruising force. “What do you want?” he rasps out.
“You,” Minho pants. “I need you to fuck me.”
Before Minho can blink, he finds himself flipped onto his back, spine hitting the mattress as Jisung looms above him.
“Tell me to go,” Jisung slurs out, voice hoarse. “Because I don’t know how much more I can take.”
Minho shakes his head instantly, panting beneath him. “I don’t want you to leave,” he says urgently. “I really need you to stay with me.”
Jisung’s eyes show a crack of concern piercing through the haze of arousal. “Are you sure?” he asks. “You’re blinded by your heat right now. I don’t want you to hate me or yourself when you come back to your senses.”
Minho reaches up with shaking hands, grabbing fistfuls of Jisung’s shirt, pulling him closer. “I need you,” he whispers fiercely. “And if there’s someone I wanna go through this with, that person is you.” He hopes Jisung can hear the truth in his voice—that this is real, that he’s choosing him.
“Do you want it?” Minho asks, afraid that if Jisung stays silent too long, he’ll break.
The tenderness fades from Jisung’s face, giving way to a deeper shadow of want. “So bad,” he replies. “You have no idea.”
And then their mouths crash together. The kiss is hungry, messy, all teeth and tongue. Minho kisses him back with every ounce of pent-up longing he’s buried for too long.
Jisung bites down on Minho’s lower lip, and the latter parts his mouth instantly, letting Jisung’s tongue slide in, exploring and tasting him.
By the time Jisung pulls back, a thick string of saliva connects their swollen lips. Minho is panting, already wrecked, lips swollen and kiss-bitten, eyes wide and glassy with need.
And Jisung looks at him like he’s a feast laid out just for him. “You smell so good,” he snarls, burying his face in Minho’s neck.
Minho jerks beneath him, mewling as Jisung’s mouth latches onto his scent glands, sucking but not biting and marking him in the way Minho wants.
“Sit,” Jisung demands. Minho obeys instantly, pushing himself upright.
Jisung pulls Minho’s shirt over his head, then sliding his shorts down his thighs, until Minho is left in nothing but thin and soaked panties.
“Beautiful,” Jisung murmurs, dragging his mouth across Minho’s chest, sucking bruises into the soft skin as Minho keens below him.
A calloused hand slides between Minho’s thighs, pressing down on the damp fabric. “Mmh,” Jisung hums, smirking. “So wet for me.”
He kisses lower, down the soft curve of Minho’s stomach, pausing at the waistband of his underwear to catch it between his teeth and snap it back playfully against his skin when he lets go.
Jisung doesn’t take them off, though. Not yet. Instead, he continues his descent down the inside of Minho’s thighs, licking the slick that drips steadily down his skin.
“You taste so good,” Jisung groans. “Can’t wait to have a proper taste.” He nuzzles against the damp material, inhaling deep.
Minho is a mess. Crying, moaning, whimpering. Begging like he’s never done in his life.
“Okay,” Jisung says. “I think I played with you enough.”
Finally, he hooks his fingers into his underwear and drags it down agonizingly slow, tossing it aside with a hungry look.
He sits back on his heels for a long moment, eyes raking over every inch of Minho’s bare form. “You’re so pretty,” Jisung whispers reverently, tracing Minho’s body with his fingers. “I can’t believe you hid this all from me.”
“Please,” he whines out, unable to wait any longer.
“Don’t worry, kitten,” Jisung promises, voice low and sure. “I’m going to give you everything you need.”
Minho can barely think anymore, can barely register anything except the ache in his body and the heat rolling through his veins like molten lava. He’s dripping with slick, wetting his thighs and the sheets below him. His cock is hard and leaking with pre-cum, resting against his lower stomach.
And then he feels it. The first brush of Jisung’s mouth on him, the soft press of lips against his flushed tip. He kisses it gently at first, before parting his lips and taking it inside his mouth, tongue swirling around the sensitive head.
But he doesn’t stop there. As he continues to suck Minho’s cock with lazy movements, he slides one hand lower, fingers tracing over Minho’s slick-coated folds with a teasing touch.
Jisung traces slow circles around his hole without pressing in, each featherlight touch has him jolting, undone by how much more he craves.
More slick drips out, and he can feel himself clenching around nothing—aching, open, desperate to be filled.
Then Jisung pulls off his cock with a wet pop. Without a word, he bents lower, dragging his tongue through the folds, making Minho shake and whimper anew, hips twitching helplessly.
When Jisung circles his tongue around Minho’s entrance, Minho loses it. Jisung grips his hips firmly, holding him in place, and pushes his tongue deep inside.
Jisung fucks him with his tongue eagerly, like Minho is the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted, and judging by the needy noises Jisung keeps making against him, maybe he is.
No one had ever eaten him out like this, so thorough and greedy, as if Jisung couldn’t stand the idea of letting a single drop of his slick go to waste.
The pace of his thrusts quickens, delving deeper and faster, until Minho can’t hold still anymore, his hips shamelessly rutting against Jisung’s mouth.
He loses track of time, lost in the mindless rhythm of chasing release. At some point, his body gives out from sheer exhaustion and he can only lie there, spread open and shaking, letting Jisung take care of everything.
As Minho lies limp and breathless, Jisung reaches up, wrapping his hand around Minho’s neglected cock. He starts stroking, pumping him with practiced motions that make Minho sob helplessly.
“Fuck,” Minho gasps, voice raw. “Jisung… I’m not gonna last—”
In response, Jisung only fucks him harder with his tongue, his hand working Minho’s shaft in perfect rhythm.
And then Minho’s mind blacks out as he comes for the second time that night, back arching off the mattress, legs trembling uncontrollably as he moans loud enough to echo in the room.
His eyes stay shut for long moments afterward, his chest heaving, skin flushed and damp with sweat.
Then he feels it. Jisung’s hand on his cheek, stroking so gently, so tender it makes Minho’s heart twist.
“Everything alright?” Jisung asks smugly, looking down at him.
Minho opens his eyes, dazed, locking gazes with Jisung. “You’re… you’re good with your mouth,” he admits, cheeks burning.
Jisung grins at him, eyes sparkling as he leans down. “Am I?” he teases. Then he kisses Minho, drawn-out and messy, letting Minho taste himself on his tongue.
It’s filthy. Hot. Everything about Jisung is hot.
Minho moans into the kiss, pressing his thigh up against the bulge in Jisung’s pants, stroking it through the fabric.
It doesn’t matter how good Jisung has made him feel, Minho isn’t done. He hopes Jisung knows what he has signed up for, because Minho won’t be able to stop—unless Jisung doesn’t wanna go any further. But he needs more. All of it.
“I wanna see you,” Minho whispers breathlessly, pulling back from the kiss. “All of you.”
Without waiting for a reply, he grabs the hem of Jisung’s t-shirt, hating how many layers the other man is still wearing. Jisung tugs the fabric off easily and Minho’s eyes rake over his bare chest. His fingers trace reverently down the lean definition of his stomach, following the line of muscle until they reach his belt.
Minho meets eyes with him, unbuckling it and pushing both pants and underwear down in one smooth motion. When Jisung’s cock springs free, thick and hard and bigger than Minho had imagined, Minho can’t look away.
He grips it carefully, giving a few teasing strokes, his eyes never once leaving Jisung’s face in order to not miss the way he’s affecting him. “I need it inside me. Right now.”
“Aren’t you a bit too demanding tonight?” he teases, though his hips push into Minho’s touch helplessly.
“Need you to knot me.”
“You’ll be the death of me,” Jisung breaths out, pushing him back onto the bed and hovering over him, his gaze feral and untamed.
But even now, through the haze of lust, he hesitates just a moment longer, voice quieter this time when he asks, “Are you on your birth control?”
Minho nods quickly, though for a wild, dangerous second he wishes he wasn’t.
Jisung hums in response. “Good to know,” he says. “I know you’re so wet already, but I’ll finger you a bit first.”
Two fingers press inside, sinking deep. The stretch is nearly effortless with how wet he already is, so full of slick and open that it feels like anything could slide in without resistance.
Yet, he still lets Jisung open him further, willingly surrendering, tilting his hips up ever so slightly to give him better access. Even if his body feels ready to take more already, there’s something about being prepared by him, the gentle promise of what’s to come.
Jisung looks down at him. His eyes locked onto every little change in Minho’s expression, attuned to the smallest twitch or gasp, as if memorizing the exact rhythm of his pleasure.
Minho’s face contorts the moment Jisung pushes his digits deeper, twisting and scissoring him just right. With one perfectly angled stroke, he presses against the spot that makes Minho’s whole vision get blurry for a moment.
“Yes, yes! More,” Minho gasps out, barely sure if he’s making any sense anymore. But it doesn’t matter. His body is already chasing the next wave, desperate and needy and greedy for more.
Jisung slowly withdraws his slick-drenched fingers, a soft pop of sound accompanying the motion.
Without wasting any time, he brings them up toward Minho’s lips. “Open for me?” Minho does as requested, tongue flicking out even before his lips part fully, taking the fingers into his mouth eagerly. He sucks around them, licking them clean of his own slick, humming low in his throat as he locks eyes with Jisung.
When Jisung pulls his fingers free from his mouth, he cups Minho’s cheek and kisses him again. “Good boy,” he murmurs.
“And a good boy like me,” Minho breathes, emboldened now beyond sense or shame, “deserves to be stuffed so full with that big ass cock of yours, right?”
He doesn’t even know where the words are coming from, they slip out of him without thought, unfiltered, filthy. Under any other circumstances, Minho would have cringed at himself, hated the sound of forced dirty talk on his own tongue. But here? With Jisung? The words pour from him like a second language, natural and easy, and he doesn’t care how desperate he sounds.
He’s far too gone to be embarrassed now.
“Fuck, baby,” Jisung calls out with a shaky breath. “Keep talking dirty to me like that and I’ll cum before I even get inside you.”
Minho can feel the pressure of Jisung’s length gliding slowly against his wet hole, the friction causing a rush of anticipation to course through his body.
“Then don’t waste any more time,” Minho fires back, hips twitching up in clear invitation. “If I don’t have it inside me in the next ten seconds, I swear to god—”
His threat cuts off in a sharp gasp as he feels the head of Jisung’s cock pushing inside, stretching him impossibly wide as it sinks in with relentless pressure.
Jisung’s hands are steady on Minho’s hips, pushing deeper and deeper until he’s fully seated, every inch buried in the tight heat.
“Holy shit,” Minho chokes out, head falling back against the pillows, eyes fluttering shut as the fullness overwhelms him. “So good. So full,” he writhes, legs wrapping around Jisung’s waist.
Jisung starts with slow but deep jabs that grind deliciously against every sensitive spot inside him.
Soon, the pace builds, faster and harder, each thrust rocking Minho’s body up the bed, fucking into him so perfectly that Minho feels like the world outside no longer exists.
“You feel amazing around me,” Jisung growls, leaning down to mouth hot kisses against Minho’s neck, teeth dragging over sensitive skin.
“Faster,” Minho begs, the word dissolving into a drawn-out moan.“I need Hyung’s knot,” Minho hears himself pleading, voice wrecked and desperate, request tumbling out unbidden.
He’s beyond sense now. No longer thinking, no longer speaking with any filter, only raw need pouring from his throat.
The honorific shatters something in Jisung. A deep, primal growl rumbles from his chest, his restraint crumbling in an instant. “Fuck,” he snarls. “You can’t just call me that.”
“Can’t I?”
Jisung lets out a ragged sound, grabbing Minho’s legs and lifting them to drape over his shoulders. With the new angle, he pushes even deeper, slamming into Minho’s sweet spot with each stroke.
One thrust hits so deep and hard that it knocks all the air from Minho’s lungs. He gasps for breath, fingers clawing helplessly at the sheets beneath him.
And then the climax crashes over him so suddenly that he barely feels it building. His body spasms, ears ringing, mouth dropping open in a loud sob as pleasure detonates through his entire body.
He cums hard, harder than he can remember cumming in his life. Jisung fucks him through it, past it. Minho’s trembling and twitching with overstimulation, still sobbing for more.
“Gonna knot you,” Jisung tells him, voice wild, mouth pressed against the side of Minho’s neck, right over his scent gland.
Minho knows Jisung is battling himself, teeth poised on the edge of surrender and holding back the urge to mark him as his own. He aches to tell him to do it, to mark him, that he wants the world to know who he belongs to. But his voice fails him, choked by everything he feels.
With one more brutal thrust, Jisung locks his knot inside him, the thick swell locking them together.
He feels Jisung’s hand glide down, trailing slowly over his stomach and pressing down. The motion makes pressure coils low in his abdomen, making his breath stutter.
Dazed, he looks down, and chokes on a gasp when he sees the bulge forming just above his pelvis.
“Jisung,” Minho pants. “I can… I can see it.”
“I can see it too,” Jisung says, his voice coming out gravelly. “Look at you, baby. You’re perfect like this. Taking me so deep.” Jisung leans down, brushing his lips against Minho’s ear. “Bet you’d look even prettier if I could knock you up,” he murmurs. “All stretched out because I bred you so well.”
Minho mewls, a shiver racking through him. His omega instincts scream in response, hips bucking faintly even with Jisung’s knot locked deep.
“Would you like that?” Jisung continues, lips brushing over the flushed shell of Minho’s ear.
Minho cries out, nails digging into Jisung’s back and clenching hard around him, making him moan.
And then it hits. The first pulse of his release shooting deep inside Minho, whom mouth drops open in a silent moan as he feels the flood of heat spreading through him like fire, heavy and endless.
A second spurt follows. Then another. Then another. It doesn’t seem to stop.
“Jisung—ah—fuck—” he gasps, his entire body trembling as he grips Jisung’s arms.
Minho can feel it everywhere. Warm liquid settling deep in his stomach, seeping out around the base of Jisung’s knot.
Time blurs, minutes pass in haze. Twenty, thirty, maybe more. It feels forever, but neither of them mind.
Minho lays there, skin burning, breath shallow, one hand resting over his still-bulging belly as Jisung kisses him and whispers sweet nothings.
When the knot finally begins to soften, Jisung slowly withdrawals. Minho winces at the emptiness, a soft sound escaping his lips as Jisung slips free from his swollen hole. The feeling of nothing being there now leaves him aching and oversensitive.
But Jisung never lets him go. One arm stays tight around his waist, anchoring him close. His other hand moves down, fingers gently brushing along Minho’s inner thigh, and then stopping between his legs.
He can feel himself completely leaking, thick trails of cum and slick slipping from him and down the backs of his thighs, pooling beneath him.
With half-lidded eyes, Minho sees Jisung staring down at him, eyes locked to the messy sight between his legs. He runs a finger through the mess, slowly, smearing it.
A soft needy moan slips past Minho’s lips as his hips jerk instinctively at the touch. “Sensitive…”
Jisung leans down, kissing his lips softly. “Let’s get you clean now, mh?”
Minho’s entire body feels limp and heavy, mind floating, fuzzy and warm in the best way, but Jisung’s words and hands ground him. He feels safe here, in this messy, fucked-out state, cradled by Jisung’s voice and touch.
Jisung heads to the bathroom to grab a towel and when he’s back, Minho simply parts his thighs further, offering himself up even in his exhaustion, trusting him completely.
He lets out a little whine as Jisung gently presses between his thighs to clean the mess there. Jisung hushes him softly, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Almost done, baby.”
After taking care of him, Jisung pauses, looking around the room, eyes narrowing slightly. “Can you sit up on the edge of the bed for me?” he asks, helping him. “I know you didn’t get the chance to build a proper nest, so let’s fix that.”
And with that, Jisung begins moving quickly around the room. He strips the rumpled sheets off the bed, replacing them with fresh ones. Then he moves to Minho’s closet, tugging out every hoodie, t-shirt and piece of clothing Minho had ever—not-so-secretly—stolen from him over the months and years. A few of Jisung’s clothes from earlier that night join the pile, rich with his scent.
The scent hits Minho instantly. Strong, familiar, grounding. He lets out a soft noise, burrowing into the nest instinctively, clutching one of Jisung’s worn hoodies to his chest, pressing his nose into the fabric.
“Be right back,” Jisung tells him firmly.
Minho hums vaguely in acknowledgment, too floaty to argue, too warm and safe to move. When Jisung returns a few minutes later, arms full with a tray of snacks and bottles of water, Minho forces himself upright at the gentle coaxing of Jisung’s hands.
Jisung sits beside him, helping him hold the first water bottle. “Drink first.”
Minho sips obediently, then more eagerly as the cool water soothes his parched throat. Jisung watches carefully, making sure he finishes the entire bottle before moving on.
By the time Minho is full, he rests his head drowsily on his shoulder. “Now,” Jisung whispers, shifting them so they’re both settled deep in the nest. He pulls Minho onto his chest, wrapping the blankets around them both. “Rest. I’ve got you.”
Minho doesn’t manage to rest for very long, less than an hour, because soon enough, another intense wave of heat comes crashing through his body with almost no warning. It sends a fresh surge of unbearable need straight to his core, making him whimper and squirm helplessly in the nest.
Before he can even open his mouth to beg, Jisung is already there. Seeing the desperate, flushed look on Minho’s face, he knows exactly what is happening.
Without hesitation, he gathers Minho in his arms, murmuring soft reassurances into his ear, already laying him on his back and parting his thighs gently.
That’s all it takes for Minho to completely unravel again, clutching at his shoulders, begging hoarsely for him, unable to stand even a second more of emptiness.
That second round quickly turns into a third, and then a fourth, until what begins as a single night of unexpected heat becomes a marathon of sex that stretches across days. There’s barely any time between waves, Minho’s body demanding more, always more, no matter how much he’s been given.
And Jisung gives it willingly, knotting him again and again, holding him tenderly through every high and every crash, feeding him and hydrating him and soothing his overstimulated body each time before the next need rises.
As the days pass, Minho’s voice grows even bolder with each demand. He starts begging for more, until Jisung lets go of the last of his restraint, gripping Minho’s hips so firmly it bruises and fucking him roughly.
As they’re lying on bed, with Jisung spooning Minho, the younger man curls around him from behind, pulling one of Minho’s legs high over his own as he thrusts deep and slow, each roll of his hips pushing Minho closer and closer to another peak.
When Minho’s body is too spent to even move but the need won’t stop, he simply collapses onto Jisung’s body, going boneless and pliant, wrapping his arms around Jisung and cock-warming him.
And it doesn’t end in just Minho’s bedroom, far from it. At this point, he isn’t even sure there’s a single spot left in the apartment that they haven’t fucked on.
On the couch, Minho rides him, thighs trembling, head thrown back, sweat slicking every inch of his skin as he bounces desperately on Jisung’s cock. He moans incoherently until he orgasms over and over, Jisung holding him through each shaking release. When Minho finally manages to stand on shaky legs, a warm stream of cum slips from him, and Jisung grins at him satisfied.
Against the counter, Jisung bends him over, his hands gripping Minho’s hips tightly as he presses him down until his flushed cheek rests against the cool surface. Every thrust is deep and unrelenting, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing through the room. Minho is reduced to a tearful mess, his voice cracking as he sobs and pleads breathlessly for Jisung to knot him. When Jisung pulls out, he drops on his knees, hooking Minho’s legs apart and eats the cum out from his swollen, used hole.
All of them carry memories etched into Minho’s skin, places where Jisung made him fall apart more times than he can recall.
────
It’s two days later that Minho finally wakes up feeling like himself again for the first time in what feels like forever. There’s no lingering heat crawling beneath his skin, no overwhelming, molten ache between his thighs that makes it hard to think.
He’s still exhausted. His body still aches, and his limbs feel too heavy, but his mind feels clear, no longer blurred by instinct or craving.
Beside him, Jisung is still asleep, his breathing slow and even. One arm is draped loosely over Minho’s waist, his hand resting just above his hip, while his nose brushes faintly against the omega’s bare shoulder.
Jisung hasn’t left his side once, except for when it was absolutely necessary. Bringing food, filling a glass of water, helping Minho into the shower when he barely had the strength to stand.
He’s been a constant presence, solid and steady in the haze of Minho’s heat, never asking for more than Minho could give, never taking more than was offered.
Minho shifts slightly under the weight of Jisung’s arm, trying not to disturb him, but Jisung stirs immediately, as if attuned to even the smallest change.
He lets out a soft noise, eyes fluttering open before his voice, low and rough with sleep, murmurs, “Morning.”
Minho turns his head slowly, swallowing against the dryness in his throat. “Morning,” he replies, just as softly.
For a long, suspended moment, they just lie there facing one another, neither rushing to speak.
Reaching out, Jisung brushes a loose strand of hair from Minho’s forehead. “How are you feeling?”
Minho lets out a long breath, one hand resting atop Jisung’s chest. “I feel… okay,” he whispers, and then after a pause, adds, “Do you?”
Jisung blinks at that, surprised, lifting himself slightly onto one elbow so he can see Minho’s face better. “ Me?”
Minho nods, his fingers fidgeting nervously with the edge of the blanket. “Yeah. With everything that happened. I know it was sudden, but I needed you, and you stayed. You took care of me. And I don’t want you to think I just used you.”
That admission comes out in a rush, and Minho bites his lip hard, avoiding Jisung’s gaze, afraid of what he’ll find there.
But Jisung just reaches down and catches Minho’s hand in his own, gently lacing their fingers together. “Hyung,” he says, quietly but firmly, “Stop.”
Minho blinks rapidly, forcing himself to look at him.
Jisung holds his gaze, expression earnest. “I’m okay. Really. More than okay. And I’m not going to pretend this was just about your heat, or anything that shallow, because it wasn’t. Not for me.”
Minho stares at him, eyes wide, heart pounding in his chest.
“I wanted you before any of this happened,” Jisung continues, his voice more vulnerable. “I’ve wanted you for a long time. I just never let myself hope. And then it happened. Your heat. And you needed me, and… fuck, I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. Every second I was here, I wanted to be. Not just because you needed me. But because you’re who I wanted.”
His thumb moves gently over the back of Minho’s hand. “But this… this thing between us? I don’t want it just when you’re desperate, or overwhelmed. I want it even more when you’re clear-headed. When we’re here, just like this. And if that’s not what you want, if it really was just heat and nothing more, I’ll understand. I’ll step back and be your best friend. I’d never make you feel guilty about it.”
“That’s not—” Minho starts. “That’s not what it was for me. Because I feel the same,” he finds the courage to say, the words making him feel fragile. “I’ve felt it for a while now. I thought maybe it was just instinct, I thought it was just simple attraction. But it’s not like that. You’re still here. And I still want you.”
Jisung exhales, long and shaky, as if releasing a breath he’s been holding for days. His head dips slightly, shoulders relaxing, a flood of warmth and relief written all over his face.
“Thank god,” he murmurs. “Because I’m fucking in love with you, hyung.”
Minho’s eyes widen, lips parting in silent shock. He wasn’t expecting it. Not now, not like this, and though it doesn’t scare him, not really, the weight of it takes his breath away.
“I have been for a while,” Jisung tells him. “But when your heat hit, I thought maybe I was just a placeholder, that we’d go back to be friends right after.”
Minho shakes his head quickly, eyes shining. “I…”
“You don’t have to say anything,” Jisung assures him. “I didn’t say it because I wanted you to say it back. I just needed you to know. That’s all.”
He leans forward, cupping Minho’s face in both hands and pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “We don’t have to rush anything. We can go at your pace.”
Minho nods, swallowing down the emotions he’s feeling right now, and leans forward to rest his head against Jisung’s chest. He wraps his arms around Minho without hesitation, holding him close, and Minho lets himself settle into the warmth of it—the steadiness of Jisung’s heartbeat beneath his ear, the calm safety of being held like this.
And though the world outside their bed might still be uncertain, though there are things yet unspoken and time they’ll still need to grow into each other fully, right now, this is enough.
────
In the weeks that follow, Minho and Jisung begin to explore a new kind of intimacy. One that blooms gently between them, a deepening bond that neither of them is in a rush to define or constrain.
They’re still all over each other in the way that people freshly in love often are, but it’s no longer just about sex. It’s about closeness, about rediscovering each other in ways that feel entirely new despite how much they’ve already shared.
They spend long hours wrapped up in each other, tangled together on the couch or sprawled lazily across Minho’s bed, where touches are soft and unhurried, where kisses are given simply because they can be, and they don’t necessary have to lead to sex.
Jisung kisses him on the cheek when he passes by, on the forehead when Minho curls into his side at the end of the day, on his lips just because he happens to be close enough.
Minho kisses him back every time, never tiring of the familiar shape of Jisung’s mouth, or the way his hands always seem to find their place on Minho’s body like they were made to fit there.
The desire never really leaves, it just changes. It becomes steadier, tucked into the way Jisung runs his hand down Minho’s spine as they lie in bed reading, or the way Minho nuzzles into the curve of Jisung’s neck during late afternoon naps.
There’s something incredibly vulnerable about it, and yet, with each passing day, it feels less like a risk and more like a homecoming. Like they’ve found something they weren’t even sure they were allowed to want.
And in every kiss, every lingering touch, every small gesture of care, they reaffirm it. Not just I want you , but I’m here , and I’m not going anywhere.
────
Jisung ends up spending yet another night at Minho’s apartment. It’s not that they never stay at Jisung’s place, sometimes they do. Mostly when Jisung’s roommate is out, but because the place isn’t fully his, it never feels quite as comfortable as Minho’s space does.
When Minho wakes up, it’s not to the jarring blare of an alarm or the bright sting of sunlight through the curtains, but instead to the lingering warmth of Jisung’s lips pressing soft kisses along his bare shoulder.
“Wake up, baby,” he murmurs against Minho’s ear.
Minho shivers faintly, more from the gentleness of the moment than anything else, as he becomes aware of Jisung’s fingertips trailing lightly up and down his lower back.
A soft, sleep-heavy hum escapes Minho’s throat, something between a sigh and a pleased groan, as he shifts slightly beneath the covers. “Mmh,” he lets out, voice still laced with sleep, “what a way to wake up.”
He lets his head fall naturally against Jisung’s shoulder, and in response, Jisung immediately starts leaving featherlight kisses along the exposed column of his neck.
Still half-drowsy, Minho turns his head lazily and presses a kiss to Jisung’s lips. Jisung smiles against his mouth before pulling back just enough to speak, their foreheads almost touching. “As much as I’d love nothing more than to stay here and snuggle you all morning and completely ignore the outside world, we really need to get moving, or we’re going to end up being late for class. Again.”
From where he’s still sprawled in bed, limbs heavy, Minho lets out an exaggerated whine, burying half his face into the pillow. “Let’s just skip today,” he pleads, his tone practically dripping with dramatics, even as he stretches out like a lazy cat in the sun.
Jisung only shakes his head in reply, though the way his lips twitch at the corners gives him away. “Hyung. We’ve already skipped enough days because of your heat. If we miss any more, we’ll stay behind with the program.” He raises an eyebrow and adds, teasingly, “So get that pretty little ass of yours in gear and go shower.”
Minho groans, sitting up slowly with reluctance, making Jisung chuckle under his breath.
He stands up, fingers hooking into the waistband of his boxers as he pushes them down. They fall lazily on the floor as he strides toward the bathroom, completely bare, unbothered and confidence in every step.
Just before disappearing into the doorway, Minho glances back with a mischievous, sheepish kind of smile. “Are you coming, or not?” he asks, enjoying the way Jisung is devouring him with his gaze.
“Coming!” Jisung practically yelps, scrambling to follow him.
Once they’re both inside the shower, Jisung’s hands are on Minho like magnets. His palms roam across bare skin, tugging him close as he kisses him like his life depends on it.
With a slow, reverent slide down Minho’s torso, Jisung lowers himself to his knees without breaking eye contact. His mouth leaves a trail of kisses as he descends down Minho’s chest, his stomach—nipping and marking the skin along the way, until he’s kneeling completely in front of him.
Jisung continues his worship, brushing his lips along Minho’s thighs, kissing the sensitive skin of his inner legs, his hands stroking gently over trembling muscle.
And maybe Jisung leans in with a wicked grin and swallows him whole, saying that if they’re going to be late, they might as well make it worth every second.
By the time they finally arrive at the university, just slightly behind schedule, thanks to their extended morning routine, Minho and Jisung part ways at the entrance of the main academic building. They exchange a quick kiss and a promise to meet up again for lunch.
Their majors lead them to different corners of campus; Minho heads off toward the engineering complex, tucked under his arm a laptop bag, while Jisung makes his way toward the social sciences wing, his hair still slightly damp from the shared shower earlier.
Minho walks into his first lecture hall and spots Felix already seated near the back row, flipping through notes. He slips into the seat beside him, expecting nothing more than a simple greeting and maybe a groan about the upcoming midterm. Instead, he’s immediately met with a raised eyebrow and a pointed glance that trails up and down his body like he is analyzing data for a lab report.
Minho blinks, confused. “What?” he asks under his breath, glancing down at his outfit. He’s wearing an oversized pink and white cardigan paired with baggy jeans. “Is there something wrong with what I’m wearing?”
“Oh no, nothing wrong at all. You actually look really cute, suspiciously glowing,” he says, eyes narrowing again, voice lowered just enough to not catch the attention of their professor who’s already scribbling notes across the whiteboard.
“I tried to give you time. I really did. I’ve been patiently waiting these past few weeks, thinking you’d be the one to come to me first. But since you didn’t…”
Minho furrows his brows, suddenly hyper-aware of how closely Felix is watching him. “What are you talking about?” he whispers back, shifting in his seat.
Felix leans in closer, tone almost gleeful now. “ Jisung . I can smell his scent all over you, Min. Like, all over you . I mean, come on.”
Minho stiffens slightly, his eyes widening in alarm for a split second before he attempts to school his expression into something neutral. “You… what? How—” he stammers, but Felix waves him off before he can complete the sentence.
“I know you spent your heat with him. It’s painfully obvious. Now, the real mystery is, why didn’t you tell me? I’ve been waiting for this moment my entire life!”
Minho bites down a sigh, eyes flicking toward the front of the class. It’s not like they were trying to keep it a secret. Things happened fast, and they aren’t even official yet, so they wanted to wait before telling their friends.
“Is it that obvious?”
Felix beams at him like he’s about to start planning their wedding even though they’re barely dating. “Please. I’ve seen Jisung looking at you like he’s trying to burn holes through your clothes from across the room. The others probably know it too, they’re just being polite and letting you pretend you guys are being subtle about it.”
Minho exhales, cheeks coloring just a bit. “Fine,” he relents. “Yes, we spent my heat together. And yes, we’re… exclusively seeing each other now.”
Felix gasps dramatically, drawing the attention of a few students around them. “Oh my god. It’s serious. What am I saying? Of course it is. Jisung practically worships the floor you walk on. You have that man wrapped around your finger, he’d never be able to keep it casual with you.”
Minho lowers his face into his hand, warmth blooming across his cheeks.
Later that day, after classes wrap up and their group reconvenes at the campus cafeteria, Minho finds himself seated beside Jisung, the latter draping an arm casually around his shoulders.
Jisung leans in, his lips brushing Minho’s ear as he whispers, “Have I told you how ridiculously pretty you look in that cardigan today, kitten?”
Minho feels the blush rise all the way to the tips of his ears. Jisung is impossible, and definitely too bold for public spaces.
Across the table, Hyunjin makes a strangled sound into his drink and coughs theatrically. “Seriously, you two. Get a room. ”
────
Jisung is sitting at the kitchen table in Minho’s apartment, his brows slightly furrowed in concentration as he types something on his laptop. The glow from the screen casts a soft light on his face, and Minho, watching him from across the room while leaning back against the counter, can’t help but admire how effortlessly attractive he looks.
Minho lifts the mug of coffee to his lips, but his mind is elsewhere. There’s something that’s been lingering in the back of his mind for days now.
He knows that in the grand scheme of things, titles and labels don’t define a relationship. What he and Jisung share already goes deeper than anything he’s ever had before. But still, some irrational part of him wants that confirmation, wants to know that Jisung is his—officially, publicly, completely.
Lately, it’s been even harder to ignore the flare of jealousy that sparks in his chest every time he hears someone on campus whisper about how hot Jisung is or look at him with just a bit too much interest.
Minho knows perfectly why Jisung hasn’t asked him out yet. It’s not hesitation or doubt. It’s patience.
Jisung is aware of the way other alphas have treated him in the past. How they saw him as little more than a means to satisfy their own desires. That they used him without care, without tenderness, reducing him to a sexual object rather than someone to be cherished.
He knows that Minho struggles to trust again, that handing over even a piece of his heart feels like a risk that might shatter him.
So Jisung is waiting, never pushing, never demanding, just being there, quiet and steady, always making it clear that Minho’s comfort matters more than anything else.
He’s been giving Minho the space and time to come to his own conclusions, to believe, truly believe, that this is safe. That he’s safe.
And the truth is, Minho has always trusted Jisung more than anyone else. Somewhere deep down, he’s known it since the beginning. But after living through the raw vulnerability of his heat with him by his side, and especially in the days that followed, Minho feels that trust solidify into something even stronger.
He sets the cup down on the table with a soft clink, his gaze still fixed on Jisung. “Ji?” he calls out.
Jisung immediately looks up, giving him his full attention. Perhaps he can see the shift in Minho’s expression, the seriousness behind his eyes, because he closes his laptop without hesitation. “Yes?”
Without hesitating, Minho crosses the room, and when he reaches him, he climbs onto Jisung’s lap, straddling him sideways and wrapping his arms around his neck.
“There’s something I want to ask you,” Minho says softly. He’s nervous, even though he’s trying to sound nonchalant.
Jisung’s hand finds its place on Minho’s thigh, his thumb drawing soothing circles against the fabric of his sweatpants. “Go on.”
“Since it’s apparently taking you forever to ask me out…” he starts, biting his lip for a second before pushing through the embarrassment, “What do you think about making things official? Be my boyfriend or whatever. Ugh ! why does it sound so cringe when I say it out loud?”
Jisung laughs, shaking his head. “Yes, baby. Of course I want to be your boyfriend,” he says. “And for the record, you just beat me to it. I was going to ask you out on a proper date and ask you then.”
Minho groans, dropping his forehead to Jisung’s shoulder in mock frustration. “You’re such a romantic, it makes me want to throw up,” he says with a teasing tone.
“Liar,” Jisung calls him out, brushing his nose along his cheek. “I know you love it.”
“Mhm,” Minho hums in agreement, leaning in to steal a kiss. And then, as their lips part and he lingers there, he adds in a whisper, “Most of all, I love you .”
Jisung stills for a moment, blinking as if he’s trying to process what he just heard. His lips part in surprise and his eyes glisten slightly as he stares up at Minho, stunned. “Did you just say you love me?”
“I did,” Minho confirms, rolling his eyes, even though his heart is pounding. “As if it wasn’t obvious already.”
“Hearing you say it like that…it’s different. I feel like my heart might actually burst out of my chest.”
Minho lets out a breathy chuckle, cupping the other man’s face between his hands. “Well, brace yourself. Because I fucking love you, Han Jisung.“
And then he kisses him again, pouring everything he feels into it until there’s no question left between them. Jisung holds him close, arms wrapped tightly around his waist, like he never wants to let him go.
When they pull apart, Minho brushes their foreheads together and asks, a little breathless, “So. Are we still going on that date?”
“We are,” Jisung replies with a smile that could outshine the sun. “All the dates you want. I’m going to romance you until you’re sick of me.”
“As if that could ever happen,” Minho says, his grin so big it makes his cheeks ache.