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Jisung’s eagerly awaited winter break had taken a hit as he was driving down the interstate, humming to whatever was playing on the radio, knuckles white on the steering wheel of his beloved car.
At the end of the road, three glorious weeks of rest waited for him. Pampering, and homemade food in his childhood bedroom after a semester of overworking and studying.
He didn’t even mind the endless holiday traffic, too excited at the prospect of blissful ignorance.
The countryside stretched wide and pale under a bruised winter sky. Dark clouds threatening rain and thunder. Fields flattened by frost. Trees skeletal and shaking with the wind.
He kept tapping his fingers to the beat of a song when he noticed it.
Cars ahead of him were slowing. Swerving slightly. Steering around something on the road.
At first, he thought it was debris, his mom had told him something about repaving being done. Maybe a blown tire. A branch from the wind.
But as he got closer, he saw fur.
Dark against the gray asphalt.
His stomach dropped so suddenly he almost missed the break.
The car behind him shouted obscenities at him as he slowed too quickly, talk about road-rage. He barely registered it, his eyes fixed on the shape ahead.
A dog probably. Definitely not a deer.
“No,” he breathed.
Seungmin had made him cry one too many times with statistics of abandoned dogs in highways dying due to irresponsibility.
He didn’t think too much about it, flicking his hazards on.
Up close, it was worse.
The dog was massive. Like… Massive.
“Okay,” he murmured weakly, staring down at it, feeling tears beginning to collect at his waterline. “My, aren’t you a big boy?” He chuckled humorlessly.
The animal’s fur was thick and dark. Its paws were enormous. Bigger than his hands. Its snout larger than most dogs Jisung had seen.
For a split second, across the back of Jisung’s head went could this be a–.
He ignored it. Choosing to not entertain those thoughts in favor of helping this really big puppy.
Maybe it was one of those huge fluffy mountain ones. The ones that guarded sheep. And played with the children of their owners. Fiercely protective of their herd.
Yes, that was it.
His throat tightened.
Cars continued swerving around them like this was part of their routines.
“Who could just hit you and leave, huh?” he whispered, kneeling next to the giant head.
He hovered for a second, taking in the huge hash on the animal's side, before placing a careful hand against its side.
The dog whined, nuzzling against his leg.
“Well, I’m not leaving you here, okay?” he promised, his voice soft, scratching its side, surprised at the softness of its fur. “You’re beautiful.”
The creature huffed out a breath against Jisung’s jeans. He wished he could take all of the pain from this majestic animal and deposit it on a president of a first world country or something.
“C’mon, baby, let’s get you off the road.”
With all the strength and gentleness he could muster, he half-carried the animal off the road, to a patch of grass that despite the weather and how late it was in the year, remained green.
“Huh,” Jisung said in between his struggle, “Mother Nature must be happy to have you back with her.”
The animal, as Jisung expected, did not answer.
It’s breathing shifted unevenly between ragged and desperate, and fragile and almost gone. Jisung’s heart hurt.
He felt helpless, a gutting pull in his chest telling him this was important, a life-changing moment for him, in a way.
He looked around instinctively, wishing someone who knew appeared on the road. There was only the buzz of cars, and the distant rumble of thunder.
“Okay,” he whispered to himself. The animal stayed still under his hands. “It’s okay.”
His gaze drifted toward his car.
A bouquet sat on his passenger seat, carefully and intentionally wrapped in colorful china paper. It was meant for his mom, but right now, he couldn’t bear not leaving anything for this dog.
Then, with a soft promise of coming back and a soft caress to the soft fur, he jogged to his car.
In between mumbles and soft prayers, he decorated the body of the creature, soft tears falling from his eyes.
Hail Mary, full of grace.
Slowly, the bouquet grew smaller, and the animal’s body became more and more beautiful, its tired eyes opening less and less.
The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou amongst women.
Chan heard the small words, spoken between hiccups as his body was touched in ways no one had ever. It was the ghost of a caress, the small, delicate fingers smoothing any knots the wind made on his fur.
The human touching him was intentional, careful, meticulous. All things Chan hadn’t been when he got hurt.
Chan wasn’t suicidal, and his intention had been to go back to his pack. His family. But, as he lays in the patch of grass, being prepared for death, he thinks that maybe, he shouldn’t. That he should devour this fawn, sinful and holy all in one and be deemed a murderer as long as he can make him his.
The human kept praying, slurred words betweens sobbing hiccups. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more, baby. May you find paradise with lots of friends and tennis balls.” Chan, through his shattered ribs and bloody lungs, let out a huff akin to a laugh. The human smiled down at him, his eyes big and pray-like.
Chan wanted him, so bad.
In a way he hadn’t ever wanted anyone. Not even in the throws of his rut, or while on a particularly lonely night.
He watched through hazy, red-rimmed eyes as the boy, his angel, his fawn, stumbled back towards his dingy car. Chan would buy him a better one, when he made him his. His sweet smell was off putting now, full of grief.
Chan wished he could heal faster, to run up to him and show him he was fine, to make the pain his human was feeling go away. Tiny, frantic sobbing virated through the air and it made Chan’s chest contract in a way he couldn’t blame his shattered bones for.
The converse he was wearing crunched on the icy grass, uncertain and clumsy. He was fragile, his knees almost failing him as he took one last look at chan.
Gods above, Chan thought, his consciousness flickering like a dying candle, he’s so small.
His mind was now full of images of his arms trapping the human under him, his terrified, blown out eyes looking up at Chan, scared as his fangs drew closer and closer to the weakest point in his neck. He wouldn’t bite. He was a good boy, wasn’t he?
Meters away, Jisung tripped over his own feet, still engrossed in his thoughts. He drove away, smelling of grief and Chan’s blood.
It would be easy to find him then.
As the car engine turned and the red tail lights faded into the interstate, Chan felt something pull at his chest. His mate.
He had found him.
Chan let his body rest, under the promise that he’d find him. No matter what.
---.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𖥔 ˖ ݁ 𖥔.---
When Chan regained consciousness, he was back at the depths of his forest, in a room he knew too well. He’s back in his human skin, and he hurts all over. His ribs make a horrible whistle as he takes in air. It smells of home, in a way he didn’t as he was running before his… accident. His body screams with pain and he can only think that his flowers are gone. Where have his flowers gone?
Changbin sits next to him, deep in slumber with a tiny frown on his forehead.
“Where are they?” He rasps, his voice jagged and broken. He tried to bolt upright, patting himself, his torso was scarred, and his muscles screamed due to the effort.
Changbin shakes off his slumber with a tired sigh. “Channie, please lie down.” It almost sounds like begging. “You were nearly dead when we found you, what the fuck happened, dude?”
Chan’s clutches his chest, his fingers clawing at his bare skin. He misses his flowers, and the hiccuping cries of the boy, his angel. It makes tears of confusion well up in his eyes.
“Why did you take them?” He growls, confused and dizzy. Missing the delicate fingers running through his fur. He looks up to a very much lost Changbin.
“Take what, Chan?” His eyes are filled with worry, “Seriously, what the hell, hyung? You had us all worried when you didn’t come back, then some kid from the south pack told us you were lying next to the road.”
“I found him,” he says, in hope Changbin understands.
“Do you remember hitting your head? Was that where the impact really was? Was all this just collateral?” He fusses over Chan’s still screaming body. His muscles feel like they’re on fire, but the beast in him keeps pulling for him to run.
To find his angel, his new oxygen, his daydream.
He mustn’t be far from where the pack’s campsite is, there are some cute little suburbs less than 2 hours from there, even less if Chan manages to change back into his wolf skin. He could probably make it there before dark.
“Chan, you’ve been out for like three days.” Changbin says. He's still quieter than he usually is, his voice a kind of kind that Chan knows he usually reserves for his mate and pups only.
“I found him, Binnie, he’s out there.” He knows he sounds delirious, crazy, irrational.
But the feeling keeps pulling at his chest, it keeps begging him to run and find him, to go, to take, to claim.
It is then Hyunjin walks through the door, he’s radiant, the way only pregnant people are, a sleeping pup sits on his hip, and Chan can almost see his angel in a similar stance. He isn’t sure if humans have the ability to carry, as wolves do, but they can surely find out. Together.
“Everything okay?” He asks, giving Chan a warm smile. It drops slightly as he takes in Chan’s paranoid eyes and defensive stance.
“I don’t know love, he’s saying he found him, and that we took something.” Changbin explains quickly. “Maybe he did hit his head,” Chan doesn’t have it in him to grumble about the way his friends talk about him as if he wasn’t there.
Too busy plotting his escape.
Hyunjin’s eyes softened again, “Was he the one to give you such beautiful flowers, Chan?”
Before Chan can notice, he’s nodding, preening at the indirect compliment to his future mate.
“Where are they?” He asks Hyunjin. He can feel his brain slowly regain the capacity to organize his thoughts in an adult manner, as Hyunjin’s scent, motherly and sweetened, begins to take over Changbin’s worried one.
“They boys had to take them to bring you back, sadly,” Chan’s frown deepens, “but they were so beautiful, he really cared about making you look pretty, didn’t he?”
Hyunjin hands off his child to his partner, sitting next to Chan on the bed.
“He must be so sad, poor thing, thinking that you died.” Chan nods again, his thoughts becoming slower.
He knows this is Hyunjin’s doing, the pup was only brought to calm Chan down. And it is working.
“That’s why you have to let your body heal, so that you can go find him.”
“Yeah,” Chan says, with all the eloquence in his body. “I’ve to find him, bring him home.”
Hyunjin shushes him as he pushes him down on the bed, letting Chan fall asleep again.
---.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𖥔 ˖ ݁ 𖥔.---
Jisung has been feeling uneasy for the past few days. It's been almost a week since he arrived at his parents, and for the last few nights, he’s been feeling watched.
And sure, back when he’d been fifteen and just read Twilight for the first time, he’d found it hot, exciting even, but now he feels scared. He tried to tell himself it was due to the accident. Trauma. He’d seen death first-hand, it was only natural he’d feel jumpy for a few days.
But the suburbs, quiet, and unassuming, had never felt more charged.
He’s been hearing things at night, things that are not a product of his dreams or the power of suggestion after his afternoons spent listening to true crime podcasts.
They are nothing like the light scattering of birds or the rustle of wind, but instead, he’s been hearing deliberate thudding outside his window, sliding against the side of the house every night. The thing walks all the way from the front door, to the window right outside Jisung’s room.
Every night, like clockwork, he hears the crunch of the frost-covered gravel by the driveway. It’s got a heaviness that Jisung’s twenty years of life living so close to a forest hadn’t made him familiar with. It’s got a certain pattern, a rhythmic gait, too deliberate for it to be an animal.
Then, slowly, almost dragging, something brushes against the brickwork. It moves from the front porch, past the kitchen, lingering just enough, and if Jisung pays close attention, he hears a wet huff of breath through the glass.
Almost unexpectedly, but certainly not out of routine, a soft thud outside his bedroom window. The sound of a massive weight settling against the house. He’s too scared to look out, to call out for his dad, or anyone.
He was just going crazy, he decided. All the weed Jeongin smokes in his close vicinity has gone up to his head and fried off his nerves.
The days keep passing, and Christmas comes and goes with Jisung’s nightly visitor going and coming.
Only one day after Christmas, Jisung finds that his hallucinations were not so.
Well into the morning, Jisung decides to face the music and walk towards his window from the outside of his house. He wishes he could bring it up with his parents, but they’ve surely heard nothing up on the second floor.
There, under his windowsill, where he half-expected to find the game of some fox who decided that spot was cozy enough, Jisung finds half a bouquet of flowers. All frost-bitten and sad looking, but almost identical to the ones he had planned to give his mother.
He thinks, for a second, that this must be Mother Earth, God maybe, thanking him for his, oh, so kind display of mercy.
Except how did God find him more than two hours away from the inter state, and why was he giving back such precious flowers. Jisung thinks that someone must surely be playing a prank on him, but who? He hasn’t told anyone, not even his parents about his unfortunate encounter.
He realizes with a jolt of pure, unadulterated adrenaline, that he is being haunted. That something tracked him back to his house. And inside of him something churns.
For three nights after finding the flowers, Jisung decides to be brave. Driven by a mix of insanity, morbid curiosity and an intense need for something to happen, he starts sitting by the glass.
Was it a death sentence? Probably, but he didn’t care much.
The first night, the creature's little ritual began, only to stop when it apparently noticed Jisung’s presence, escaping before Jisung could even see it.
The second night, however, a mass of dark fur positioned itself in front of Jisung’s window. He recognizes it immediately, without a doubt, this is the animal he helped. Hughe, and imposing. They just stare at each other, the animals lively eyes lighting up as Jisung’s lips part with admiration.
Jisung doesn’t dare open the crystal, deciding to take in breathlessly the sight before him. Its eyes are piercing, it’s maw lethal, but it doesn’t make a move. Only looks back at Jisung with what he can only describe as hunger.
He feels scared, obviously, because this is not a fucking dog.
It’s a wolf.
A big one at that.
He cracks the window open, just a bit, enough for the biting cold to squeeze in.
“You followed me?” He asks in a whisper, feeling crazy for talking to a wolf.
The animal nodded, as if it understood. It uses its snout to point to the crumbling flowers in Jisung’s windowsill.
“You followed me because of the flowers I left you?” He pieces together. What can he say, he’s always been great at charades.
It nods again. Jisung nods back, hugging his legs to his chest. The wolf seems to smile, showing his pointy fangs. Instead of being scared, Jisung feels safe.
When he wakes in the morning, the animal is gone, and a new flower has been added to his collection.
The following night, Jisung sits with his window wide open. It’s dangerous and idiotic, his room feels so cold, he shivers and his teeth clench together in the freezing breeze.
The wolf walks in as if it was his home, sitting in front of Jisung, towering over him.
His hands tremble as he hugs himself tighter. He should call for his father. He should run.
The animal is so big it makes Jisung’s furniture look like a doll house.
He backs away, his breath stuttering, his heart rabbiting in his chest.
There’s a whistling in the wolf’s chest that makes Jisung uncomfortable, as if he knew it came from hurting.
The animal growls at Jisung, scaring him further.
“Please do not eat me,” he whispers. It's futile, the wolf doesn’t speak the same language as he does, and even if it did, Jisung doesn’t think it would show mercy.
It walks closer to Jisung, and ready to face his fate, Jisung closes his eyes shut, ready to die a stupid death.
Instead, he hears a chuckle.
A human chuckle.
The whiplash is fast and violent, as Jisung opens his eyes only to see a man before him. Occupying the place the wolf took mere seconds ago.
He is, without a doubt, the most beautiful and terrifying being Jisung has ever seen. His shoulders are broad, his chest a map of lean muscle and littered with silver scars, his hair short, reflecting the moon with its blond hue.
He is also unapologetically naked, his skin radiating a heat that Jisung can feel from inches away.
Jisung passes out.
The following days, Jisung feels hunted. Even more than before. The wolf stops showing up at night, even if Jisung leaves his window wide open and sits outside, it doesn’t come while Jisung is conscious.
He’d believe everything was a weird paranoia induced nightmare if he hadn’t begun seeing that man everywhere.
He’s there when Jisung steps out to take the trash, and as he walks in the park. Lurking out the corner of his eye, but whenever he intends to point him out, he’s gone.
He’s relieved, in a way, that he goes home in a few days.
He tells Jeongin so over the phone. He of course omitted the part where he’s being haunted by a fucking werewolf of all things.
“I don’t know,” he sighs, “I guess I’ve come to think of the city as my home.”
Outside, something scratches against the hardwood of the porch.
He waits to see if the wolf comes, but it doesn’t.
He and Jeongin talk for a little while, and it serves to calm Jisung down. His little Jeonginnie always manages to pull him out of his spirales. He looks down at his hands, for some reason, the same hands that had been meticulous and intentional, covered in blood as he let the animal to, what he thought, was rest.
Could he really be going insane?
The next morning, Jisung is dragged out of his spiral by the sound of his mother’s delighted voice coming from the porch.
“Oh, aren’t you sweet?” She laughs some more, “Let me go wake up, Jisung, he’ll be happy to see you.”
Jisung tilts his head in confusion, walking towards that damned window to peek into the space.
There he stands.
The same short blonde hair and penetrating eyes.
Jisung’s stomach drops. His heart accelerates.
This is just confirmation that it wasn’t a dream. That he is living in a bad supernatural-esque novel.
And as if he could feel him, the man lifts up his eyes to meet Jisung’s through the window.
They are eerily expressive, inhuman and at the same time so full of life.
Jisung’s breath gets stuck in his throat, he feels his entire body telling him to run, to escape.
Instead, he gives the man a meek smile, hugging himself tighter as he walks towards the foyer.
When he makes it there, his mother has a flush in her cheeks, flustered from this handsome man’s existence.
He’s wearing a soft, cream-colored cable-knit sweater, looking like perfection on a cold winter morning, he looks absurdly cozy with his big frame. On one hand, he’s holding a magnificent bouquet, fresh heavy lilies and carnations.
“Jisung,” he beams, and he feels a shiver run down his spine because he never told this man his name.
“Chan was passing through and thought to come and visit, isn’t he nice, Ji?” His mother asks, stunned by his silence.
Chan.
Chan, Chan.
ChanChanChan.
He repeats his name over and over in his head, caught up in it.
“Yeah, really nice.” He answers after a few seconds of awkward silence.
“I hope I am not intruding…” He says, bringing a sheepish hand behind his neck, and Jisung’s stomach coils because how dare he look so soft when Jisung has seen his maw, deadly and dangerous.
“Intruding?! Not at all! Jisung never brings his friends around, it’s nice meeting such a handsome, polite young man.”
Jisung nods dumbly at his mother’s words, his mind elsewhere. Made putty just by the presence of Chan there.
“Well, I ‘ll let you two boys talk…” she leaves after a few moments of painful silence.
Chan’s soft smile doesn’t falter, but his eyes take on a hungry look that has Jisung shivering. “I didn’t like the way you fainted, angel. I thought we were having a moment.”
Jisung feels like fainting again, his breath coming in quick little stutters.
Chan walks closer, and the flowers have a dizzying scent to them, Chan as a being has a dizzying quality to him.
“Let me take you out for lunch?” He asks, as if Jisung didn’t know Chan had been hunting him for at least a week.
Stupidly, Jisung nods.
---.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𖥔 ˖ ݁ 𖥔.---
Jisung extends his stay with his parents. Every day since Chan turned up at his house, he has found himself back at his side.
He feels like he’s known Chan for a lifetime, like they have never been apart for a day in their lives.
They don’t talk about the fact that Chan seems to be some kind of shifter, because Jisung believes in the supernatural and does not need much explanations when he’s busy losing himself in the scent and presence of such a man.
He feels like he’s had his brain turned off, letting Chan guide him everywhere. They go on what Jisung has begun to call dates.
Jisung moves through his days in a daze. Brain wrapped in the same cotton wool Chan’s cardigans are made off, his thoughts slow and honey-thick. There’s a million questions that come to his mind when he is alone. How is he alive? Is he really a shifter? Is he under a curse?
But they all melt away when Chan presses his big palm against his lower back to move him around. His eyes intense in a way that makes Jisung’s knees buckle and his mouth water.
Their dates stray from the crowded parts of the little town Jisung grew in, always towards the edge of the civilized world. Deeper into the local parks, away from prying eyes.
After some days together, the tension that has been simmering under barely concealed sheets finally boils over. Chan doesn’t even tell him where they’re going, pulling Jisung in his expensive and sleek SUV.
Jisung puts up no resistance.
He drives deep into the crown-land forest, the SUV bouncing over frozen ruts until the trees are so thick the sun can’t reach the forest floor.
“Where are we going, Channie?” He asks, even though he should’ve had done that five, ten, fifteen, twenty minutes ago when they left the house.
Chan’s hands tighten on the steering wheel.
“Just somewhere we can be alone, angel.”
Jisung nods, processing the words slowly. Pulling every syllable apart just to keep Chan’s voice in his ears longer.
He knows they are meant to be.
God put him in that place for some reason. He wouldn’t have let Jisung go with Chan if it meant danger.
After a few more minutes where the only noise was that of the gravel and the low songs playing in the radio, Chan pulls to a stop in a clearing.
It's a secluded trail not many people use, much less in the winter. He instructs Jisung to get off the vehicle.
The moment they meet in front of the car, Chan is all over him in the way Jisung had been craving since they met.
He bites his lips with a hunger that is not human. He doesn’t shift, but he doesn’t have a need for it. His strength is terrifying, pulling Jisung up, forcing him to wrap his legs around his waist.
Jisung whines into the rough kiss, confused, dazed, gone.
“Chan, wait… please,” He says in between Chan’s lips, the oldest hands drawing bruising circles in his hip bones.
“I can’t wait anymore,angel,” Chan rasps, low and animalistic.
His hands are frantic, stripping Jisung of his layers and Jisung just… lets him.
He doesn’t even try to put up a fact as this practical stranger undresses him. His skin turning pink from the chill, but he doesn't even feel the breeze as Chan shields him with his dressed frame.
Chan has reached his limit, his body craving Jisung’s in a way he can only explain as fate. He drags kisses and bites along Jisung’s jaw, to his bare neck and his undressed torso. Jisung’s breath hitches in delightful little noises, broken, hiccuping sobs.
Chan maneuvers Jisung to press him against the bark of a tree as he pulls his own top layers, leaving his chest exposed. His hands are back over Jisung in seconds.
Slowly, almost painfully, his hands begin exploring lower and lower. Massaging Jisung’s cute little ass, soft and full.
He gifts Chan the most delicious little sounds as he shakes his head.
“So dumb, baby,” he whispers into his neck. Jisung shakes his head harder but arches his body into Chan’s heat.
Chan is not as careful as he’d like to be with his new toy, his hands are calloused and rough against Jisung’s honey skin as he drags down, just barely, just enough, his jeans and underwear.
Almost delirious, Jisung obeys Chan’s order to spit on his fingers.
The cold air doesn’t get to bite at Jisung’s exposed skin, but even if it did, he wouldn’t care. His whole world has narrowed to the rough, scratching bark against his back and the searing heat of the man before him.
He obeys the command with a dazed, wide-eyed compliance, coating Chan’s fingers in a slick, trembling mess of saliva.
Chan’s eyes have taken a deeper glow, almost golden and predatory, glowing in the permanent twilight of the forest.
Chan doesn’t waste time, his fingers find Jisung’s entrance, unsurprisingly, it wasn’t enough. Jisung’s head thumps back against the oak, a high, broken sound taken from his throat.
“Shhh,” Chan kisses his throat, though his own body is shaking with the effort of holding back. “Relax for me, angel.”
He works Jisung open with a mechanical pace, his strength restrained only by the wish to keep Jisung in his life. It makes Jisung feel like a porcelain doll in his grip. Chan doesn’t ask him if he’s ready, he decides, after an interminable and nonexistent amount of time, that he’s had enough of fingers, he shoves Jisung’s legs wider.
Jisung goes cross eyed as he looks down again into Chan’s cock. It’s bigger than anything that Jisung has ever taken before. His mouth waters again, and he looks up at Chan with wide, shiny eyes.
“I’ll give you what you need, angel.” He answers to Jisung’s unsaid pleas.
The moment Chan drives into him, the hurt whistling in his chest turns into a triumphant, guttural growl. It’s an absolute sensory obliteration. Jisung is stretched so far that it feels like he’s going to tear.
Chan is huge. Every inch of him is thick and hot. He fills Jisung to the point of pain, but the pain is quickly eclipsed by a primal, overwhelming pleasure that sends Jisung’s mind into a blackout.
He feels drool run down his throat and Chan licks up his neck to take his mouth in his again.
He fucks him for what feels like hours, his back screams against the rough treatment, the push and pull making long, surface gashes all over it.
He sobs, or at least he thinks he does.
Chan keeps on driving his hips into him as they kiss and kiss.
Jisung feels like he’s died.
“I’m,” a moan cuts him off, “I’m going to cum, Channie, please, Channie.”
“Do it, baby, cum for me.”
Jisung throws his head back, blacking out for a second longer. When he comes back to reality, Chan has turned around, Now using Jisung like a toy as he drives him up and down his dick.
This new position allows Jisung to look down through a veil of tears and gasps. Underneath his skin, just in his tummy, his lower abdomen is distended. A visible, round curve that comes and goes as Chan drives into him.
His eyes flutter as he lets out another loud hiccup.
“You like that, angel?”
He nods, and that seems to give Chan more energy to keep fucking him.
Jisung cums again, and again, and just when he thinks his body will give out. Chan bites down onto his neck.
“I am going to knot you, baby, fill you with me,” He mutters against his neck. “Make you mine.”
If Jisung were coherent, he’d ask what he means by that, but now, lost in the wave of pleasure, he can only nod again.
The base of Chan’s dick began to swell, and Jisung understood what he meant by knot.
His head shook hysterically. “No, no.” His eyes were blown out, a high, thin keen tearing from his throat as the pressure inside him doubled.
His belly distends in a way that is almost gross, uncanny, something that should scare him as Chan growls into him, he feels piercing fangs he doesn’t remember feeling before running up and down his neck.
The pressure is maddening, he feels like he’s going to rip as Chan keeps thrusting with what little give the knot allows. He feels it in his throat, behind his eyes, everywhere. A thick, heavy expansion that makes Jisung feel like he’s being remade, shaped around Chan and Chan only.
As the knot continues to swell, the skin of his lower abdomen pulls taut, creating a shape, rounded bulge that stays even when Chan stops moving.
Jisung’s hands, weak, delicate and still so pretty to Chan’s eyes, fall from his shoulders to his own stomach. He lets out an aborted noise, a mixture of a sob and a gasp as his fingers graze the hard, distended curve. Chan preens with pride.
Yes, he wants to say, I made you mine.
But it's not only that, it's the fact that Jisung felt safe enough to let go off Chan’s shoulders because he is sure Chan won’t let him fall.
“Look at you,” Chan rasps, his voice jagged, low and vibrating through Jisung’s bones. He pulls back, just an inch. His hands are still in their place over Jisung’s hips. He pulls back, just an inch, his eyes still predatory and full of hunger. He nuzzles down to Jisung’s cheek, rubbing his own over it. Jisung looks up at him dazed, his eyes unfocused. “You’re carrying so much of me. Do you feel it? How your body seem to be made only for me?”
Jisung can’t even find his voice, trapped under Chan, his body twitching with involuntary aftershocks.
Chan maneuvers to only carry him with one hand, cradling Jisung’s head to the strong expanse of his chest. That dizzying musky scent makes the human feel sleepy.
He’s careful in a way Jisung thought he wasn’t capable of only minutes ago, tender as he kisses the tears from his cheeks as he slides down to the floor to sit, Jisung didn't even want to think about the strain he was putting in his muscles, still sensitive from the accident, but strong enough to carry Jisung through all of that.
He makes sure to not pull too much where they’re tied. “I’ve got you,” Chan whispers, his thumb tracing the curve of Jisung’s jaw. “My pretty mate.”