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Jeongin’s first heat hits right at the end of their promotions.
They’re in the car on the way home from the studio on Friday when he complains of a stomachache. Before the taping on Saturday, Jisung watches him down two health supplements with tea, staving off whatever’s ailing him. By the time Jisung wakes up on Sunday, Jeongin’s already been whisked off to the dorms the company’s set aside for heats and ruts unceremoniously, meaning they’re one short for the last day of promotions.
In the next few days, Jisung doesn’t get a clear answer on Jeongin’s presentation—from his managers or even Chan, who accompanied him to the other dorms himself. It isn’t until the morning of the fourth day, when Jeongin comes to Jisung’s dorm that he gets a whiff of him for the first time.
Jeongin’s scent is pervasive; enters the room before he does. It’s a tart citrus, so bright and sharp it has Jisung’s mouth watering the same way it does after he eats something sour. But, on the edge of it, there’s a note that reminds him of lemonade, a citrus pie, sugar on an orange slice.
Omega, Jisung thinks, the tell-tale sweetness giving him away. Jisung sits up, suddenly alert. An omega like him. The third one in their pack after Chan and himself, matching their three alphas of Minho, Changbin, and Felix, and making their betas, Hyunjin and Seungmin, a minority.
Jisung’s too lost trying to parse every note of Jeongin’s scent to notice right away, but Jeongin’s nervous shifting has him shifting focus to his, and—Jeongin looks a little shaken. It’s not a look Jisung is used to seeing on him, with how reserved Jeongin usually is, always preferring to put on a smile and keep everything to himself. With the experience of their years together, Jisung can tell when he’s going through something, his bottled-up emotions not as subtle as he thinks them to be. But this time, he’s not even bothering to keep up pretenses.
It’s only been about an hour since everyone’s gotten word from their group chat that Jeongin’s left the heat-and-rut dorms, so whatever has him shaken is obviously bad enough that he’s forgone his dorm and come straight here instead.
His eyes dart around the living room, “Is Chan-hyung here?”
As if on cue, Chan emerges from his room, his nose twitching. “Innie? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I just,” he shifts again. “Just wanted to talk.”
Chan doesn’t need to be told twice. He wastes no time blanketing Jeongin in his arms and shuffling them into his room, closing the door behind them.
Jisung would be curious if he hadn’t gone through the same thing almost two years ago—a rushed presentation, a blur of a first heat, being expected to come back to the dorms like nothing happened. Jisung suspects Chan is giving Jeongin exactly the same talk he gave Jisung. As his eldest hyung and the only other omega in the group, he’d provided Jisung with an open door to talk about anything he wanted to know about the process, about his new reality. Jisung was grateful then, and he still is now. He has his pack and two years of experience, settled into who he is. But with Jeongin’s late presentation, he’s not the youngest omega anymore—not one of two but of three.
The idea… doesn’t disquiet him at all. Doesn’t shake him as it probably should. Instead, he feels a surge of protectiveness rise in him. A new omega, the youngest omega. He can help. He can be there when—if—Jeongin needs anything.
But he also knows that Jeongin values his independence, his privacy. It’s not Jisung’s place to give him advice. Only if Jeongin asks—even though Jisung knows how hard it is for Jeongin to ask for things.
He’ll play it by ear, he decides, inhaling deep and slow to take in the muted scent of him through Chan’s door. He’ll be here if his—the youngest omega needs him.
The barest hint of an ache forms in the back of Jisung’s jaw. He snaps it shut squarely, clenching to dispel it.
When their choreographer calls for a fifteen-minute break, Hyunjin collapses onto the floor with a groan. Jisung doubles over, trying to catch his breath, and considers joining Hyunjin on the floor. Instead, he limps towards the mirror where Jeongin, Changbin, and Seungmin have already slumped against it. He takes the empty spot next to Jeongin, his mouth watering with a craving for sour candy.
At the other end of their little line, Seungmin laughs. When Jisung glances over, he’s poking Changbin’s cheek. “Are you gonna fall asleep again, hyung?”
Changbin does indeed look like he’s about to keel over. Still, he shakes Seungmin off. “No. I just need a sweet snack,” he turns. “Innie, c’mere.”
He leans into Jeongin’s space, and Jeongin laughs, leaning away from him and pushing into Jisung. Jisung quickly wraps his arms around Jeongin’s waist, scooting them both out of Changbin’s reach.
“Leave him alone, you big bad alpha,” Jisung calls out.
Changbin pouts, “You’re stealing my snack!”
“Hey, hey, he’s not a snack! He’s a meal.” Jisung opens his mouth and digs his teeth softly into Jeongin’s shoulder, getting more fabric than skin in the process. Jeongin startles out a laugh and tries to squirm away as Jisung playfully shakes his head with a very unconvincing growl.
Changbin sighs and leans away, and Jisung spots a blur of movement as he moves to tackle Seungmin instead. It’s then that Jisung releases his bite and closes his mouth, teeth clicking shut with the urge to bite deeper. He can practically taste the sour-sweet of Jeongin’s scent on the back of his tongue, its presence enveloping him. It’s such a particular scent, and especially strong from this close, making Jisung’s head swim, his instincts overtaking him.
“Hyung,” Jeongin whines, but Jisung barely hears him. He hums absentmindedly in response, nudging his head underneath Jeongin’s jaw and dragging their cheeks together, citrus invading his senses. Jeongin doesn’t move away, doesn’t say anything more as Jisung scents him so blatantly, so carelessly.
Their choreographer claps, three sharp sounds breaking Jisung out of his reverie. Loosening his grip on Jeongin’s waist is an automatic task, one he’s not conscious of doing but that he does nonetheless, his movements jerky.
Jeongin crawls away from him, hefting himself to his feet without facing Jisung. For a second, Jisung’s scared he’s done something wrong, but when Jeongin turns, he offers Jisung a hand with the ghost of a smile on his face. Jisung takes it unthinkingly, swallowing hard to dispel the taste of oranges from his mouth.
It doesn’t work, but he pretends it does enough for him to focus back into the present.
When Jisung wakes up craving cinnamon and ginger, he knows his heat’s about to start. It’s easy enough to make the trek over to the other dorms, not bothering to do anything but pull on a shirt and sweatpants he knows he’s about to sweat through anyway.
Even before he’s inside, his nose desperately tries to pick up Felix’s scent, to satiate the craving, but the second he walks inside, another scent hits him like a sucker punch to the gut. Lemon, oranges, sugar, tart, sweet, sour—an intoxicating combination that has him turning the corner to the living room instead of down the hallway to Felix’s room.
Jeongin’s curled up on the couch, eyes lifting from his phone when Jisung walks into view, his brow knitting.
“Hyung?” Jeongin sounds confused, as if he can’t smell Jisung’s strawberry scent going ripe and sweet this close to his heat, which—Jisung realizes with a start, is true. It’s the first time he’s been in heat since Jeongin’s presentation and it’s only now that Jeongin’s senses are primed to identify it. But this doesn’t mean Jeongin knows that—yet.
“Hey, Innie,” he tries to smile, but it feels shaky on his face. “Come here often?”
Jeongin tilts his head as he sits up, and the movement has his scent wafting over in more powerful waves. Jisung’s knees almost buckle when his eyes catch on the low neck of Jeongin’s hoodie, his collarbone on display. Jisung’s jaw aches to bite in a way it hasn't before, aches to taste sour-sweet on his tongue, aches to claim. His mouth waters at the thought, his hands trembling at the prospect.
He clicks his teeth shut, trying to take a breath to calm himself, but all he can smell is citrus. He can’t focus on anything but the smell of Jeongin, on his own desires rearing their head.
The invitation is on the tip of his tongue. It’s not like Jeongin hasn’t helped him with his heat before—they all have—but it doesn’t feel right for this one. It’s only been about a month and a half since Jeongin presented, so coming onto him while he’s presumably still figuring out how to navigate the whole thing makes Jisung uneasy. He’s not going to pressure him—not now. Not when Jisung’s head is getting foggier by the second. He vowed to be here for him—it can’t be the other way around right now.
Something flashes in Jeongin’s eyes, his gaze going sharp. Jisung’s will trembles, his breath leaving him in a whine—
“Hannie?” Felix calls from behind him.
Jisung gasps, the sharp spice of Felix cutting through the heady citrus. Jisung’s head swims as he turns around almost clumsily, collapsing into Felix’s hold.
This is good. This is safe. This is Felix, what he’s been craving, what his omega has fixated on.
“Help?” He whimpers, panting into Felix’s neck. “Heat?”
Felix doesn’t need to be told twice, soothing Jisung as he whisks away from the intoxicating taste of oranges.
It’s not like Jisung can say no when Jeongin invites himself to Jisung’s room, texting him simply that he’s coming over without a preamble.
This is natural for them—but a feeling at the back of Jisung’s head still nags at him. His omega was sated with his heat almost a week ago, but something instinctual in him still perks up at the thought of Jeongin. It’s a hard feeling to focus on, to name.
True to his word, Jeongin shows up at Jisung’s door five minutes after he’s texted. And, just like normal, he forgoes pretense and dives right into Jisung’s closet.
Jisung can’t contain his laugh, much less his smile, watching Jeongin rifle through his things like he owns them.
“If you tell me you don’t have anything to wear, I won’t believe you,” he tells Jeongin.
Jeongin sighs, not tearing his attention away from the clothes he’s flicking through. “Then I won’t.”
“Aw,” Jisung makes a faux-sympathetic noise. “Do you just wanna wear hyung’s clothes? It’s okay, I won’t judge you.”
Jeongin cuts a sharp gaze at him, his movements pausing. It has Jisung sitting up straighter, a certain thrill running down his spine. Though his comment was only a joke—was it, really? That same instinct that he can’t focus on loves the idea of Jeongin wearing his clothes; loves the idea of his scent mixing with Jeongin’s. His presence on Jeongin, people being able to tell he’s from a pack though he’s not yet been marked.
When Jeongin scoffs, it’s half-hearted. “Don’t be silly.”
Jisung’s unconvinced, a heat nestling at the bottom of his stomach. It’s short-lived when Jeongin throws a hoodie right at his face. Then another. Then, in quick succession, a jacket, a shirt, and a pair of pants. Jisung gives up after the second shirt hits the pile, toppling back onto his pillow with an over-exaggerated groan.
“So many clothes,” Jeongin tsks. He throws himself onto the pile, nearly landing on Jisung’s legs. “I’ve never even seen you wear most of these. What do you even do, use them for nests?”
The laugh that Jisung manages is something choked. He drags the clothes away from his face and sits up slowly.
“Uh—” he swallows hard. “Not really. I like when— when nests have the scent of the others. Pack, y’know? Feels— feels safe. But I haven’t nested in a while, actually. My heat hits too fast to linger in the comfort. I just go straight to….”
Though they’ve seen each other naked, though Jeongin probably knows this already, Jisung’s still grateful when he nods.
“Okay,” he says. “Yeah, makes sense.”
Jisung clears his throat. “Did you— get the urge to… nest? Um. When it happened to you?”
“A little,” Jeongin’s not looking at him, hands fidgeting in Jisung’s clothes. “But I didn’t know how to do it or what I really wanted.”
“It’s a lot,” Jisung nods. “It’s okay, I can—” Jeongin looks at him sharply, cuts him off with the intensity in his eyes. Jisung swallows hard and commits to his answer—to his promise to himself. “I can help. When it happens again.”
There’s an interminable moment, the heat in Jisung’s stomach simmering again. Jeongin wrings the sleeve of one of Jisung’s hoodies, twisting it around his hand.
“Okay,” Jeongin finally whispers. “Thanks, hyung.”
And before Jisung can suggest anything, before either of them can linger, Jeongin plucks the pants from the pile and stands.
“I’m borrowing these,” he informs.
Jisung swallows a pleased purr, watching as Jeongin turns and leaves the way he came without another word.
Though Jeongin asked for this, Jisung still feels selfish when he finds his way to Jeongin’s room a few weeks later.
Even if Jeongin hadn’t texted him in the morning to let him know his heat was about to start, Jisung’s been overly attentive to every subtle change in his scent for the past few days.
Jisung knocks softly, hitching his bag of supplies higher on his shoulder. It has everything Jeongin might need in the heat-dorms that the company doesn’t provide enough of—lube, extra towels, water, snacks, extra clothes—and something they don’t offer, full stop: a brand new knotted dildo, washed carefully in case Jeongin can’t do it himself in the heat (hah) of the moment. The same model Jisung has.
On the other side of the door, Jeongin groans out a jumble of sounds, which could be hyung or augh, Jisung’s not sure, but he still cracks the door open anyway.
The room is dark and warm when Jisung slips in, quickly closing the door behind him. The scent hits him all at once—heady sour-sweetness clogging his senses, making his head swim with all the tell-tale signs of incoming heat. If Jisung thought Jeongin’s scent was intoxicating before, it’s all the worse now; he’s finding it hard to breathe, hard to focus, hard to keep himself from getting wet even when he’s not the one in heat.
“Hi, Jeonginnie,” Jisung manages to choke out. Every breath he tries to take to calm himself sends him deeper into his desires.
Jeongin turns over, a sheen of sweat on his forehead. His hand just barely twitches in Jisung’s direction, and Jisung goes to him unthinkingly, instinctually, sitting on Jeongin’s bed and immediately looking for contact.
“I brought you some things,” he squeezes Jeongin’s thigh, letting his touch linger. “Did you start with your nest?”
Jeongin shakes his head jerkily, curling into himself further. His eyes don’t leave Jisung for a second, tracking his movements as he sets the bag on the floor and kneels beside him.
“Here, let me help,” Jisung says, reaching out to knead at Jeongin’s pillow, at his sheets. “Needs to be comfy. Chan-hyung told me it doesn’t hurt as much when he has a proper nest.”
With the way Jeongin looks at him, he thinks he may not be too focused on the words. By the smell of him, he’s right on the cusp of his heat, nearly tipping over into wanton desire. Jisung should be calling their manager, should worry about getting him to a room built for this purpose.
Instead, Jisung bites his lip and reaches into the bag. Maybe this is presumptuous of him, but—he brings out one of his own hoodies, a pair of his sweatpants. The second he sets them down on Jeongin’s bed, Jeongin curls into them, sighing softly, his scent mellowing into something comfortable. Jisung smiles, feeling warm, and keeps working on the nest.
He kneads and repositions things, makes a barrier of blankets and clothes from Jeongin’s floor, his instincts guiding his movements. He’s done this before, has helped Chan do this before, but doing it for Jeongin feels better, somehow. Feels correct, feels comforting.
Only when Jeongin sets a hand on his thigh does he stop, focusing back on his omega. Before he can ask, Jeongin tugs at him, nudges them together, makes space until Jisung can lay next to him, his head on Jeongin’s pillow.
“Thank you,” Jeongin breathes out. His eyes are closed, his hand fidgety when it lands on Jisung’s hip.
“Are you okay?” Jisung whispers. “How do you feel?”
“Better. Better than last time. I…” he swallows hard, cracks his eyes open. “I didn’t like it last time. Being alone like that.”
Jisung sighs sympathetically. He nudges in closer, his voice low from their proximity, “It was like that for me, too. It didn’t feel right. So I asked Lino-hyung to help me when my second one came along. After that, it was easy to ask Felix or Changbin-hyung to help and for them to ask me for help, too.”
“Chan-hyung helps you, too, right?”
“Yeah, and I help him. It's our pack, Jeonginnie. There's nothing to be scared of.”
“I just,” he mutters. “I don’t— I don’t think I want to ask an alpha for help. Not yet.”
No matter how much Jisung wants to stay with him, he realizes he can’t be selfish now. This is about Jeongin’s best interests, about his needs—not Jisung’s. “Do you want me to call Chan-hyung so you can talk about it?”
“No!” Jeongin tightens his grip on Jisung’s hip, digging his nails in. He looks wild, intense, the flush on his cheeks signaling his heat starting. “No, hyung, please. Stay. Stay with me.”
So Jisung does. He slips his hand over Jeongin’s hip and around to his back, suppressing his shock when Jeongin falls into him, following him in curling his arms around Jisung’s back and nuzzling his way underneath Jisung’s chin. Jeongin bumps his nose into Jisung’s neck, nudging into his scent gland and inhaling deeply. He lets out a pleased purr on the exhale, repeating his deep inhale once he’s done, breathing Jisung in repeatedly.
Jisung realizes with a start that for all he’s been obsessing over Jeongin’s scent and presence, he never noticed how much it was reciprocated. Jeongin’s a master at this, at pretending to not want what he wants, but if you know him well (and Jisung likes to think he does), all the signs were there. Jisung was just too scent-drunk and pheromone-addled to parse them.
Now, though—now, he nuzzles into the top of Jeongin’s head, finally giving in to the urge to indulge. It’s addictive, his sour-sweet scent. There are so many notes to it that Jisung wants to identify and name, but he knows that any way he tries to explain them, they all boil down to simply Jeongin.
“Hyung,” Jeongin gasps. He’s burning up, his sweetness peaking headily. When he rolls his hips, they collide with Jisung’s, and he can feel how hard he is, can nearly smell his slick. “Can you— I want— can you— help?”
“Jeonginnie,” Jisung murmurs into his hair, tightening his hold. “Do you want me to help you with your heat?”
The noise Jeongin lets out is desperate and wild, a caged animal sort of sound. “Yes,” he manages to pant out. “Please.”
Jisung exhales slowly, feeling the tension leak out of him. A purr starts up in his chest as his desire unfurls.
“Aren’t you hot?” He asks, not waiting for an answer before tugging Jeongin’s hoodie up. Jeongin seems hesitant to let him go, but he releases him long enough to have Jisung baring his skin. He’s about to start on his pants, but Jeongin paws at the bottom of his shirt, tugging it up hungrily. When Jisung complies and their bare skin brushes together, Jeongin makes a wounded noise, hips kicking up into Jisung’s.
It’s easy to fall into it, letting their legs slot together, lining their cocks up, pressing their thighs to their leaking holes. Jeongin exhales a whine against Jisung’s neck, lips streaking down to his collarbone in a messy collection of kisses. His hands clumsily try to rid Jisung of his pants, his whines peaking when Jisung doesn’t give in to his demands. Instead, he drags Jeongin up with a tug of his hair and presses their lips together insistently, drinking in the hint of citrus on Jeongin’s tongue, reveling in the way he goes pliant under his touch.
The kiss works as enough distraction to let him press Jeongin to the mattress, parting Jeongin’s legs and making himself right at home between them. Their wandering hands push and tug at their remaining clothes, breaking the kiss for a hurried moment to complete their task before diving back into each other with clumsy rolls of their hips, messy presses of their lips.
In a moment of clarity, Jisung pulls away and reaches down to grab the towels in his bag. When he sets them on the edge of the nest, Jeongin arches up and tries connecting their lips together again, but Jisung’s quick to turn him over instead, rolling his front onto the towel and ignoring the noise of frustration Jeongin makes in response. He presses his weight to Jeongin’s back, keeping him pinned down so he can drag his teeth over Jeongin’s scent gland.
Jeongin shudders and relaxes into the mattress long enough for Jisung to straighten up into a kneel between his legs, wasting no time in hiking Jeongin’s hips up, and finally, finally catching a glimpse of him. He’s so wet, slick running down his thighs and making the skin glisten with it. He moans helplessly as his cunt clenches around nothing, squirming against Jisung’s hold on his hips. Jisung’s mouth waters, helpless to stop himself from indulging in his meal.
He leans down and licks a stripe up Jeongin’s pussy, collecting slick on his tongue and finally tasting the concentrated tart sweetness of him. It’s addicting from the first swipe; so good that Jisung nearly turns him back over and commits to spending a few hours between Jeongin’s legs, tasting every inch of him, but his hindbrain has him remembering what they’re here for.
“Hyung,” Jeongin pants. “Please, please, I— I need—”
And Jisung knows it’s hard for Jeongin to ask for what he wants. In any other circumstance, he might tease Jeongin for it, might drag this out until Jeongin tells him what he wants through gritted teeth, but Jisung knows what this feels like. He understands what heat-lust is like until it’s sated.
“Hyung’s going to fuck you, okay, Jeonginnie?”
Jeongin bucks his hips back with a desperate noise, searching for what Jisung has promised. And Jisung gives it to him without another word.
When Jisung slips in, Jeongin moans unabashedly, arching his back even further and opening his legs even wider. Jisung hears him purring, content to be filled, and he feels a responding purr start up in his chest. Their noises synchronize as Jisung fucks into him in short, slow movements, slick making a mess on his hips from how much Jeongin’s leaking. In turn, Jisung feels his own thighs get messy as he thrusts, his hole clenching around nothing as pleasure simmers low in his stomach.
It’s so good, so good, Jisung wonders if he might also be in heat now. He knows it’s not possible, not so soon after he’s just had it, but the tight, slick warmth of Jeongin feels better than anything he’s had lately. It’s perfect being surrounded by Jeongin’s scent, buried in Jeongin’s cunt, hearing Jeongin’s noises, Jeongin, Jeongin, Jeongin—
“Made for hyung’s cock,” he pants, his hips picking up speed. “Made for this, baby. You feel so good.”
“Ah, ah, ah, hyung,” Jeongin gasps out greedy breaths, meeting Jisung’s thrusts evenly. A rush of slick drips out of him, making an even bigger mess, the noise of their movements obscene. “Please, please, please—”
A wave of possessiveness rises in Jisung. He releases the harsh grip on Jeongin’s hip and brings his hand up Jeongin’s body, digging his nails into the scruff of his neck. Jeongin convulses, moaning wantonly, nearly going limp at being scruffed. He clenches around Jisung deliciously, has him hissing as he buries himself in Jeongin’s cunt, grinding into the stifling heat of him.
Though Jisung wants to make this last for him, wants to help him through every wave of desire and pain, he knows he’s not going to last much longer. He drapes himself over Jeongin’s back and replaces his nails with his teeth, giving a few more staccato thrusts as he draws blood.
Jeongin writhes under his bite just as Jisung feels his orgasm overtake him. He has no knot to stuff his omega with, but he still feels complete when he comes in Jeongin, hears him whine high in his throat, feels him tremble with pleasure.
He doesn’t bask in the afterglow, letting go of his bite and pulling out in a rush to reach into his bag for his gift. He sets a hand on Jeongin’s lower back before the omega can move, bringing the purple, knotted dildo into Jeongin’s field of view.
“Do you want me to knot you, Jeonginnie?”
Jeongin’s eyes are glassy and tear-filled, his lower lip trembling when he says, “Please, please, omega, need your knot, please.”
Jisung teases the head of the dildo against Jeongin’s hole, drenched with slick and Jisung’s cum, catching the head of it inside and slowly working it to the base of the knot. Jeongin’s knees slide on the sheets, presenting himself obscenely, asking for more. He sobs and shakes, another plea barely made audible before Jisung starts pushing the knot inside.
It’s a mesmerizing sight—he watches Jeongin’s hole stretch around the knot, watches him tremble around it before it’s swallowed up to the hilt with little resistance. Once it slips in the entire way, Jeongin gasps shakily, clenching around the knot as he comes. He moans and wails, cock jumping uselessly between his legs, painting the towel below with his cum. Slick gushes out of him, his legs wet down to his knees with it. Jisung commits every second of it to memory.
Once Jeongin’s left twitching with aftershocks, Jisung swoops back in, smoothing his hands over Jeongin’s back and easing him onto his side. Just as he’s about to lie behind him, Jeongin grabs his wrist and drags him back to their original position, settling both their heads on his pillow and draping his arm around Jisung’s waist.
Jisung studies his face, his closed eyes and pleased expression, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips as he purrs up a storm. He matches the purring easily, tucking a strand of sweaty hair behind Jeongin’s ear.
“Did my omega like my knot? I already know the answer, so don’t lie.”
The smile on Jeongin’s lips solidifies, though his eyes stay closed. “It was alright,” he responds.
And before Jisung can argue, Jeongin digs his face into Jisung’s neck, parting his lips right on his scent gland and biting down hard enough to leave a mark. Jisung hisses, part pain, part pleasure, and arches into Jeongin’s hold. He nudges his knee between Jeongin’s legs, pressing his thigh to the base of the dildo and shifting it inside Jeongin.
The responding moan has Jeongin releasing his bite, but he doesn’t retreat, slowly licking over the place he’s just marked.
“I think we can see if you like it more the second time around,” Jisung mutters into his hair.
“Maybe I can make a decision the fourth or fifth time,” Jeongin retaliates. “For good measure.”
Jisung laughs, low and delighted. “I’ll need an answer by the sixth time.”
“Deal,” Jeongin says, finally pulling back and connecting their lips in a solid kiss.