Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Are you… Agust?” 

Namjoon manages to ask despite his shock. He peers down at the man standing at his doorstep, trying desperately to find similarities between the pictures and the morose-looking stranger in front of him. 

The man’s hair is long and messy, falling over his eyes and nearly covering a long, pink scar over his cheek and eyebrow. He’s wearing a worn, grey sweater and a pair of baggy trousers that effectively disguise the contours of his body. 

The man’s lips (also very pink) are pursed into an unhappy pout, and his gaze is dark and challenging in a way that makes Namjoon’s prerut-antsy alpha scowl.

“Yeah, that’s me,” the man says gruffly, shoving past Namjoon and into his house. As their shoulders brush for a brief moment, Namjoon catches a whiff of his mild beta scent – freshly ground coffee, as mentioned on Agust’s profile page. The inoffensiveness of his scent is pretty much the only thing preventing Namjoon’s alpha from chasing after the man and kicking him out of his den. 

“Are you going to tell me your name, or am I supposed to call you Agust?” Namjoon asks when he’s recovered enough to follow the man’s scent to his living room. Agust is already sitting on the couch, arms wrapped around his torso and chin resting on his knee.

Namjoon’s alpha howls. 

The upscale rut service he used to book his partner had dozens of pretty alphas, betas and omegas to choose from, but Namjoon was instantly captivated by ‘Agust’, who claimed to be an expert at handling alphas with difficult ruts. 

While Namjoon usually prefers omegas during his ruts, something about Agust’s delicate features and soft, submissive smile had made his alpha restless from the start, as if his wolf had already claimed the pretty beta as his. 

And even though the man looks nothing like his pictures, Namjoon’s alpha doesn’t seem to care one bit.

“Does my real name matter to you, alpha?” Agust asks after a silence. Namjoon’s rank sounds like an insult on the beta’s round-tipped tongue. 

Tongue, which is pink and wet and alluring… 

Namjoon kicks himself mentally. His prerut seems to be further along than he realised. Gone is the warm tremor of anticipation under his skin; his muscles are wound tight, ready for a fight between suitors, sweat breaking to the surface.  

“I’d prefer to know at least,” he grits. “If that’s allowed.” 

Agust lifts an eyebrow. The movement highlights the scar on his face, which looks old and healed despite it not appearing on any of his headshots.

“It’s Yoongi,” he says gracefully. “But don’t even try calling me Yoongi-yah or baby or any of that condescending nonsense. I’ll knee you in the knot if you do.” 

“Right,” Namjoon says, scratching the back of his neck to distract himself from the hot twinge of arousal rushing through him. It doesn’t help that Yoongi is rummaging through his backpack and pulling out various items: One bottle of lube and another one of synthetic omega slick – vanilla flavour. A box of XL knotting condoms. A small bag of toiletries.

“Excuse me, uh… beta-nim. I mean, Agust-ssi…”

Yoongi looks up with a lopsided smile that makes Namjoon’s stomach twist in embarrassment. 

“Are you here like… against your will?” Namjoon asks. His voice pitches up toward the end of his sentence, and he gestures uselessly at Yoongi’s clothes. Surely at the rates the beta charges, he should be able to dress nicely. Maybe he’s neck-deep in debt inherited from a drunkard sire with a gambling addiction, and some evil loan shark is extorting him for money and threatening to ruin his pretty face for good, so he has no other option but to offer his body to sleazy alphas like Namjoon who’ll stick their knots into any poor soul…

Yoongi just stares at him blankly while he continues to spiral, and Namjoon finds himself rambling on: “I really don’t want to take advantage of someone who – who’d rather be doing something else?”

“Something else?” Yoongi repeats slowly. 

“If you don’t get compensated fairly for your time, I don’t want to – shit. I can just pay you now and deal with my rut alone. I promise to write you a five-star review, too.”

Yoongi snorts. “Oh, you’re one of those alphas.”

Namjoon feels faint. “What alphas?” 

“The white knight kind. You saw my scar and thought I was some hapless victim of exploitation, didn’t you?”

Namjoon can’t deny it. Beads of sweat roll down his neck and forehead, and his skin feels two sizes too small over his bones. 

“Sure, the agency edited the shit out of my photos because they think no alpha would book a disfigured beta, but by the time they’re in rut, they’re too horny to care about the details,” Yoongi explains, tapping at his scar with his long index finger. 

Namjoon tries very hard not to imagine Yoongi’s hand wrapped around his throbbing knot.

“And I wear cheap clothes like these because alphas have ruined way too many of my nice shirts by getting ahead of themselves and coming all over me after a five-minute blowie.” 

“Oh,” Namjoon says, the picture of eloquence. “Five minutes?”

Yoongi nods. “Five minutes, alpha.”

Shuddering, Namjoon wipes his sweaty palms on his sweatpants. He’s half-hard and sort of embarrassed about it, even though Yoongi is going to see him completely naked once his rut kicks in. 

“I’m not sure if I like you calling me that, Namjoon grumbles, looking helplessly at the growing bulge in his pants. Yoongi’s gaze follows Namjoon’s, but he looks perfectly unaffected by what he sees. 

This is his job, Namjoon tries to remind himself, even as his inner alpha sulks at the notion. As a beta, Yoongi will be much less susceptible to Namjoon’s rut pheromones than an omega would be, and they’ll have to use plenty of lube to prep Yoongi for Namjoon’s knot…

“Thank you for voicing that boundary,” Yoongi says curtly. “What would you prefer to be called, then?” 

“Ah, Joon?” Namjoon suggests shakily. His teeth have started to itch, which sometimes happens to unmated alphas entering a rut. A vivid picture fills his mind: Digging his teeth into Yoongi’s nape and dragging the pretty beta deeper into his den, scenting him, undressing him, guarding his sleep and keeping him safe from harm. 

“Joon? That’s cute,” Yoongi says, finally reaching for his loose sweater and pulling it over his head. The mere sight of the beta’s bare forearms has Namjoon suppressing a growl. He’s never desired a beta like this. 

Briefly, Namjoon wonders if Yoongi knows who he is and chooses not to acknowledge it. Most people Yoongi’s age would at least know him by name.

“Yeah, my friends call me that,” Namjoon says dumbly. If either Hoseok or Seokjin saw him in his current state, they’d never stop making fun of him. 

“Cool,” Yoongi says in a voice which implies that Namjoon is being deeply uncool. He steps forward and inhales deeply – betas usually have good noses because they acted as mediators of their packs in the past. 

“You’re nearly there,” he says, smacking his lips. “The consent form has been signed, and you agreed to use a condom during penetration. Is that correct?”

“Yes,” Namjoon mutters. His ears grow hot at the word ‘penetration’ because he’s mentally five years old. 

Yoongi doesn’t mention that – or the wild spiking of Namjoon’s scent.

“I’m okay with anal sex, but if and when I need a break, you will use my mouth or a toy of your choice while I recover. If you attempt to knot me during that time, the contract will be void. Do you understand?” 

Namjoon starts nodding furiously. The mere idea of hurting Yoongi or going against his wishes turns his stomach. Alpha should protect his beta. Keep safe, feed, provide for. Yoongi looks thin and pale, but Namjoon has plenty of food in his fridge! 

“Are you hungry?” Namjoon blurts out. “I have fruit. And meat.”

Yoongi huffs, taking a tentative step closer. “I had dinner before coming here. Alphas aren’t usually interested in cooking when they’re – you know. But you can eat before we begin, I don’t mind.” 

Yoongi isn’t wrong, Namjoon thinks hazily. Unmated alphas usually have an urge to claim and breed and dominate. Mated alphas are the ones who get fussy and protective in rut.

“I’m not –” Namjoon starts, but then Yoongi is right in front of him, small and dishevelled, and Namjoon’s brain makes Windows XP shutdown sounds.

“You’re hard, alpha,” Yoongi murmurs. His throat bobs as he swallows, and for a millisecond, Namjoon thinks that the beta might be a little affected, too. 

“Please don’t call me that,” Namjoon says. Means it. Every time that word leaves Yoongi’s lips, Namjoon’s teeth itch worse than before, and the urge to hoist Yoongi over his shoulder and run off grows harder to resist. Did the beta truly forget so quickly? After that lofty comment about boundaries?

“Joon-ah,” Yoongi tries again, lowering his speech as well as his tone. “You look tense.” 

Large hands touch the waistband of Namjoon’s sweats, waiting for permission.

“You know, you can even knot my mouth, if you want,” the beta adds. His pout is back, more severe than ever, and Namjoon is going to perish. 

“With that small mouth? No way it’ll fit,” Namjoon says, more to preserve his dwindling sanity than anything.

“I’ve had a lot of practice,” Yoongi says with a shrug. “It’s all about technique.” 

Namjoon nods as if he understands. Yoongi is already getting down on his knees, eyes glued to the near-obscene outline of Namjoon’s cock.

“Five minutes?” Namjoon asks faintly, pulling his cock out before he chickens out. He can already feel the bump where his knot is starting to swell. 

Yoongi flashes a wry smile before leaning closer to lick a wet stripe over Namjoon’s head. It’s teasing, kittenish, maddening.

“Make it three,” the beta says as he glances up. Namjoon believes him.

☆☆☆ 

Namjoon is a fucking idiot. He should’ve sat down somewhere, should’ve thought this through.

The tip of Yoongi’s nose is pressed to the neatly trimmed patch of hair above Namjoon’s cock, and the beta’s throat clicks wetly as another spurt of cum gushes into his mouth. 

So far, Yoongi hasn’t spilled a drop.

He’s perfect and determined, while Namjoon can’t move, can’t stand still. He’s going to cease to exist, and it’s all his own fault for thinking that he could handle Yoongi’s mouth and tongue while the first wave of his rut was licking at his spine. 

Looking down is a mistake, with Yoongi’s lips and cheeks stretched obscenely around Namjoon’s knot, but not looking makes Namjoon’s wolf growl in displeasure because he’s not making sure that his beta is okay. Yoongi is kneeling on the cold floor with nothing to cushion his knees, and he’s breathing shallowly through his nose. It’s amazing, but Namjoon’s alpha hates it. 

An eternity later, when Namjoon’s knot deflates enough to slip out, he stumbles back with his spit-slick cock hanging ridiculously between them. Yoongi’s eyes are narrow and amused as he wipes his chin and stretches his jaw. 

He’s still kneeling, and Namjoon’s skin crawls at the sight. He has a nice, big bed, and yet his beta is out here, exposed, uncomfortable.

“Have you ever knotted someone’s mouth before?” Yoongi asks. He sounds smug and happy, and Namjoon’s alpha, momentarily distracted, preens in approval. 

“I haven’t,” Namjoon admits, hastily tucking his cock back in his sweatpants. Getting to knot once hasn’t completely alleviated his rut symptoms, but he feels less on edge.

“I bet you’ve only dated pretty celebrity omegas,” Yoongi says in a strange voice, studying his fingernails. 

Namjoon grimaces – he’s had a few dating scandals, the most recent of them with his friend Jimin who’s a famous omega model and the nation’s darling. For a while, Namjoon selfishly wished that the rumours were true, but Jimin isn’t into alphas at all. 

“I don’t date a lot of celebrities,” Namjoon says truthfully, offering his hand because he can’t stand the sight of Yoongi on the floor anymore. The beta stands up without accepting Namjoon’s help.

“Oh right,” he says casually, wiping invisible dust off his knees. “I guess you wouldn’t need my help if you did.”

Namjoon nods. 

Yoongi looks around, dropping his arms to his sides. “Could you maybe get me something to dri–?”

“I can!” Namjoon almost yells over Yoongi’s sultry, low voice.

His beta needs something from him. He can finally be useful. 

“I have tap water and bottled water and alkaline water,” Namjoon lists, as though he’s warming up for a rap battle. “There’s also orange juice and coke and whiskey and –” 

“Ah, any water is fine,” Yoongi says. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, and Namjoon considers lifting him up into his arms. Yoongi might be too tired to walk all the way to the kitchen.

“Water,” Namjoon repeats, shaking his head because picking Yoongi up without asking first would be rude. 

Instead, he shows Yoongi where the bathroom is, and which door leads to his bedroom. He has multiple rooms in his house, which would be optimal for raising pups. Betas can’t carry pups, but some of them still want to become parents, so it’s worth mentioning just in case. 

Yoongi doesn’t seem too delighted by the comment, though. He gives Namjoon a terse nod and makes his way toward the bedroom with his bag of supplies, while Namjoon fetches six bottles of different kinds of water from the kitchen. 

He watches with rapt attention as Yoongi chooses the regular bottled water and takes a long sip. It’s important to know what his beta likes, so that he can be a better alpha for him in the future.

“How are you feeling?” Yoongi asks, meeting Namjoon’s eyes for a moment before looking away again.

“I’m good,” Namjoon says. “Very good.”

“Do you want to –?” Yoongi gestures at himself as he sets the water bottle down on the bedside table and reaches for the lube.

“Oh, no,” Namjoon rushes to say. 

Yoongi’s face falls a little, and Namjoon can’t help but think he’s making a mistake. He just doesn’t want to exert his beta; he can be good and wait for a while longer.

“I mean, I’m not in a hurry,” Namjoon says. “This is how my ruts usually are.”

It’s a lie. 

In any other rut, Namjoon would fuck his partner or his fleshlight at least three times in a row before feeling sated. But it’s worth it to see Yoongi smile again, his scent blooming light and airy over the intense rut pheromones in the room. 

“Could we scent each other?” Namjoon suggests. He’s not a cuddler, never has been, but Yoongi looks so soft pressed against Namjoon’s pillows, his arms folded over his tummy.

“Okay,” Yoongi says, swallowing thickly. “Wrists or neck?”

Namjoon’s eyes dart over to the bluish vein running down Yoongi’s throat, and he feels extremely selfish. “Neck, please.” 

Yoongi scoots to the side, graciously allowing Namjoon into his space. It’s still awkward at first, their arms and shoulders rubbing together, but at the first whiff of coffee, straight at the source, Namjoon’s body goes limp. His head lolls against Yoongi’s shoulder, and a content alpha rumble forms in his chest.

“There we go, big boy,” Yoongi says under his breath, carding his long fingers through Namjoon’s hair. “You’re okay.” 

“You’re really pretty, Yoongi-ssi,” Namjoon confesses with a yawn, burrowing himself deeper into Yoongi’s neck. He’s tempted to lick the beta’s scent gland, but that would surely breach the terms of service or something.

“I wanted to eat your face,” he says instead.

Yoongi chuckles. “Yeah, the pictures make me look different.” 

Namjoon lets out a tiny growl. Yoongi is prettier like this, soft and masculine, sharp with rounded edges. He would look even prettier with Namjoon’s teeth marks on his neck.

“Shh, settle down,” Yoongi mutters. “I can prep myself while you nap, and then you can fuck me. How about that?” 

Namjoon really likes that plan. He rubs the tip of his nose against Yoongi’s neck until the beta complains that it tickles.

“Sleep, you silly puppy,” Yoongi orders. Namjoon drifts off within seconds.

☆☆☆ 

Namjoon wakes up to the smell of coffee.

It’s quiet at first, peaceful, but then Namjoon hears it: soft, open-mouthed panting, legs sliding across the sheets. A beta in Namjoon’s den, in his bed. 

Upon prying his eyes open, Namjoon’s first thought is that Yoongi looks small against the mountain of pillows. He’s curled up on his side, facing away from Namjoon with two fingers buried between his cheeks, up to the knuckles. 

Namjoon wasn’t ready for the beta to be naked apart from a sheer white t-shirt covered in lint. The muscles of Yoongi’s back ripple as he arches his slight body, drawing his bare thighs demurely against his chest and hiding his face in the pillows with a soft gasp. 

Yoongi doesn’t know Namjoon is awake – he wouldn’t look like this if he did, pumping his fingers in and out in jerky movements, lube squelching wetly.

Namjoon’s alpha is transfixed by the sight. He wants to roll Yoongi over and look at his cock; wants to pull Yoongi’s fingers out of his hole and replace them with his own to see how deep they go. He just wants to see.

“Yoongi-ssi?” Namjoon croaks, fisting the sheets because he doesn’t want to touch his cock yet and destroy the last bits of his self-control. 

Yoongi’s fingers still. He stops breathing, shoulders hunched and the nape of his neck tantalisingly exposed.

“You’re awake?” The beta’s voice is small, unsure.

“Sorry, should’ve said something sooner.”

At that, Yoongi twists around to face Namjoon, bracing himself against his elbows. 

The hem of his t-shirt falls over his crotch and hides his cock from view, and Namjoon’s alpha feels deeply upset by the fact.

“You don’t – want to fuck me?” Yoongi asks. His cheeks glow pink in the dim lighting, probably from prepping himself. 

Namjoon can’t decide whether to stare at Yoongi’s crotch or at his face, so he settles on looking at Yoongi’s belly, which looks soft and inviting.

“I do. Want it so bad,” he admits. 

He’s so hard in his sweatpants that his erection is starting to hurt, but curiously, Namjoon barely registered the fact before Yoongi pointed it out to him. 

With a slightly incredulous look on his face, Yoongi shifts onto his knees, thighs spread apart. Namjoon can’t see his hole or cock from this angle, but the beta’s milky thighs and flushed collarbones almost make up for it. 

“I have some – ah, synthetic slick,” Yoongi says. My previous clients have said they like the smell of coffee and vanilla together, so –”

Namjoon lets out a low growl, and Yoongi’s mouth snaps shut in surprise. 

“I’m sorry,” Namjoon mumbles through a few more aborted growls. His alpha hates the idea of altering Yoongi’s perfect scent in any way.

“Just, lube is fine. Lots of it.”

Yoongi acknowledges Namjoon’s request with a nod and clicks the lube bottle cap open. 

“I’m going to finish prepping myself,” the beta explains as he drizzles more lube onto his fingers and reaches behind himself in a swift motion. “It’s safer this way because we’ve never slept together before, and your rut might make you a little impatient.”

Namjoon growls again, can’t help it. He’d be so careful with Yoongi, would rim him for hours and suck his cock and make him come so hard –

“Just a few minutes,” Yoongi says with a breathy laugh. He’s adding a third finger now – or is it fourth? Namjoon licks his teeth to soothe the near-painful itch in his gums. 

When prompted, Namjoon sheds his clothes and moves to wait for permission to mount. His muscles tense up in anticipation, and his untouched cock bobs between his legs, angry-red and leaking. 

“What the hell… look at you,” Yoongi huffs, glancing at Namjoon as he slides his knees farther apart and leans forward.

Namjoon perks up at the beta’s appreciative tone, even as his eyes remain glued to his pink hole, waxed and completely hairless, clenching enticingly around his fingers. 

From this new angle, Namjoon can also catch a glimpse of Yoongi’s cock, half-hard and flushed pink where it dangles between his spread legs. Namjoon wants to take it in his mouth and slowly suckle it to full hardness, just to see what kinds of noises he could wring out of the beta. 

“Get the condom,” Yoongi orders, pulling his fingers out and bracing himself on his hands and knees. It’s just shy of a proper omegan presentation, and Namjoon’s alpha would be over the moon if not for the concern that Yoongi might hurt his back in the unnatural position. 

Namjoon all but leaps off the bed to grab a condom packet from the side table. Yoongi watches from the bed as Namjoon fumbles with the foil and rolls the condom over his length, perhaps to ensure that Namjoon isn’t making a mistake in his haste to get his knot wet. 

The distrust is a bit insulting to Namjoon’s wolf, but then again, Namjoon’s alpha isn’t a fan of the whole condom thing in the first place.

“Did you make sure there’s no air inside?” Yoongi grunts, eyes narrowed into slits. The beta is pouring more lube into his hand, and Namjoon is suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that Yoongi’s body isn’t made to take a knot, but he’s choosing to take Namjoon’s regardless.

“I know how to put on a damn condom,” Namjoon snaps and instantly regrets his harsh tone. It’s just hard to focus with Yoongi right there, wet and gaping open, presenting himself to be fucked.

“Come here,” Yoongi grumbles. “Hyung will check that it’s on properly.”

Hyung? 

Namjoon doesn’t know what to think, how to feel. His alpha is clawing at his chest from the inside, demanding to mount and knot, and Yoongi’s hips are swaying from side to side in obvious invitation. 

He stumbles back to the bed, glancing down at his flushed cock which looks ridiculously shiny with the latex covering the length. The thicker knotting band at the base has yet to expand. 

“See, it’s on just fine,” Namjoon half-growls, imagining how it would feel to pin Yoongi’s hips down and bury his cock inside him in one smooth thrust. That ought to stop his beta from ever doubting his abilities again. 

“Fine,” Yoongi agrees. His teeth are bared just a bit more than what’s considered polite. “You can fuck me now.”

“Are you hard?” Namjoon asks, frowning because the stupid t-shirt is still in the way. 

Yoongi huffs sullenly. If he were an alpha, Namjoon is sure that he’d be growling by now.

“You paid a small fortune to knot me for the next two days, and you’re worried about whether I have a boner?” 

“Yes,” Namjoon exclaims. He’s sweating so much that he can feel the individual pores on his skin.

“Why?” Yoongi hisses. He looks more like the crabby creature Namjoon met at the door than the sultry beta he’s come to know. “I’m sure the omegas you’ve dated were greedy pillow princesses, but I’m not like –” 

Namjoon’s alpha barks in keen interest. He wants Yoongi to be a greedy pillow princess. He wants to fucking spoil him, wants to make his toes curl at how good his knot feels inside him. He wants to put his teeth on Yoongi’s neck and bite down when the beta reaches his peak with a soft whine – 

Yoongi draws a shaky breath, as if he knows the murky depths of Namjoon’s thoughts better than he himself.

“Here. Are you happy, alpha?” Yoongi asks, lips pursed into an angry pout as he lifts the hem of his shirt, just enough to reveal the rosy length of his cock. 

It’s almost fully hard and wet at the tip, twitching against his abdomen.

“Yeah,” Namjoon says, nostrils flared. He’s fisting the base of his cock to keep his knot from swelling prematurely, because it’s a real possibility. 

Yoongi’s shoulders sag, and he turns around on the bed, legs spread apart, and upper body supported by his elbows.

“I’m ready, so if you’re done being a stupid knothead –”

Namjoon doesn’t let Yoongi finish that particular sentence. He’s a good alpha. Not a knothead.

It’s almost too easy to bully his way between Yoongi’s thighs and line up with his well-lubed hole. It’s even easier to fit the top of his cock inside and slide in with a hand on the small of Yoongi’s back.

“Too much?” Namjoon grunts, fighting to keep still until he has permission to move. 

“God, Joon-ah,” Yoongi spits, “I do this almost every week, stop treating me like a blushing virgin.”

Namjoon does not want to think about Yoongi’s other clients, not when his beta is taking it so well for him. 

“It doesn’t hurt?” he asks stubbornly.

“Fuck,” Yoongi curses, burying his face in the pillows. “Of course it fucking hurts, you’re ridiculously big.”

Namjoon swallows his growl and asks, “Do you want me to pull out?”

Yoongi makes a vague noise of disapproval into the pillow. 

“No? You don’t want me to stop?”

Yoongi’s probably going to skin Namjoon alive for this, but he’s in rut and finally inside his beta, sue him.

“Don’t… stop,” Yoongi mumbles. There’s the slightest hint of submission in his voice, and Namjoon’s chest fills with pride. Betas don’t have an innate need to submit to an alpha – they’ll only do so when they feel safe and secure.

“You don’t want me to stop?” Namjoon repeats in a softer tone. “Do you like it when it hurts?” 

Yoongi goes silent for a moment. Namjoon can feel his own pulse in a vein on the inside of his cheek.

Then, a quiet, “Yes, alpha.”

Namjoon’s heart explodes. Boundaries be damned.

He grabs Yoongi’s hips and fucks into the beta, fast and selfish for once, mindlessly chasing his orgasm. Yoongi’s soft mewls are more than enough to spur him on, and for a fleeting moment, Namjoon wonders if Yoongi actually likes being used this way, if he became a rut partner for self-serving alphas who don’t even bother to make him hard first, because he gets off on being treated like – like an omega.

Namjoon’s insides twist at the thought, but he’s too far gone to reflect on gender politics. He should put a pin in it, though.

Yoongi’s whines turn into loud moans, and Namjoon catches the beta sneaking a hand underneath himself to play with his cock. If Namjoon hadn’t already gone mute and dumb from his impending knot, he’d talk Yoongi through touching himself, learn how to do it himself the next time. 

He still makes sure to keep his eyes open while his knot swells and fills out the condom, because he refuses to miss the moment when Yoongi lets go with a long shudder, clenching hard around Namjoon’s knot as he works his cock through his orgasm. 

The aftershocks of Yoongi’s orgasm feel almost like an omega milking an alpha’s knot, and Namjoon comes only seconds later, his knot stretching Yoongi’s tiny little hole into a puffy mess that leaks a bit of lube when Namjoon hooks his thumbs into Yoongi’s cheeks to pull them apart for a better look. Yoongi’s inner thighs are coated in his own cum, and his hole twitches helplessly around Namjoon’s knot and the thick band of the condom’s knotting pouch. 

Pretty, Namjoon would say if his voice was still in working order.

Pretty little beta with a cute, spent cock and ruined hole.

Namjoon wonders if Yoongi would let him eat him out between reasonably timed knottings. The beta would be sore and jumpy, but Namjoon would soothe him so well. 

Yoongi sighs, which prompts Namjoon to check that the beta can still breathe easily. After shifting a little, Yoongi relaxes back into the bedding without attempting to initiate conversation. Most alphas hate talking when they’re knotted, and some go fully mute like Namjoon. Yoongi must know this well. 

Namjoon’s chest blooms with warmth knowing that his beta is both smart and considerate. He buries his nose in Yoongi’s neck and mouths at his scent gland until Yoongi gently pushes him away. Not there, not yet. Namjoon has to be patient. 

“We should probably eat something after your knot has gone down,” Yoongi whispers, clearly not expecting an answer because he continues immediately. “Hyung – I mean, I can fix us something quick to keep our strengths up.” 

The edges of Namjoon’s brain are fuzzy and frayed, but he’s not terribly opposed to the idea. So long as Yoongi is eating food from his fridge, he’s happy.

Namjoon conveys his enthusiasm by grazing his teeth against Yoongi’s nape, which earns him a light swat on the nose. He feels a rumble forming in his chest, which he lets out in lieu of words. His beta can boss him around as much as he wants – as long as Namjoon’s allowed to take care of him in return, in their bed and outside of it. 

Namjoon can’t remember the last time he was allowed to take care of someone like this. Jimin doesn’t like the attention because Namjoon’s style of caregiving is too intense and too alpha for him to handle. Jungkook is off-limits completely, and then there are Hoseok and Seokjin, Namjoon’s two managers, alphas who are grossly in love with each other. They take care of Namjoon more than he’s ever allowed to take care of them. It’s always been like that, too. 

But post-knot clarity is a bitch, and it hits Namjoon just as he’s starting to slip out of Yoongi who’s stretching his slender limbs with a groan.

For the next two days, Yoongi will be Namjoon’s to care for, but then he’ll be gone forever. 

As Yoongi turns around to give Namjoon a curt thumbs up before scampering off the bed for his water bottle, Namjoon’s wolf lets out a forlorn howl at the realisation.

☆☆☆ 

Who knew that Namjoon’s grumpy little beta would be a practical genius in the kitchen?

While nursing his sore knot and sipping water from one of the bottles Yoongi rejected earlier, Namjoon can only watch the beta in silent awe as he twirls around Namjoon’s clinical, barely used kitchen, flinging cupboards open and handling large knives with ease. All that after getting railed within an inch of his life just an hour ago.

Earlier today, Seokjin dropped off a few containers of banchan and precooked meat with the thought that Namjoon could throw some rice in the rice cooker and have a warm meal whenever he had a moment of clarity, but consuming anything more substantial than sports drinks and protein bars during rut has always been a challenge for him. If Namjoon is a useless cook outside of rut, during it he’s a safety hazard to himself and to anyone within a two-metre radius.

Hence no big, scary knives or cooktops allowed. 

Namjoon is strict about self-enforcing these rules because an integral part of being an alpha with modern sensibilities is admitting to one’s own limitations and reflecting upon where he’s still lacking and incomplete.

Which is why Namjoon keeps watching Yoongi from across the room until the rice cooker chimes cheerfully. The beta isn’t contractually obligated to cook for him – rut partners are meant for one thing only – although Namjoon wouldn’t dream of complaining. Not when he gets to observe his beta in his element. 

“Eat,” Yoongi grunts, placing an overflowing bowl of rice in front of Namjoon and walking away before Namjoon can thank him (or even look him in the eye). 

Normally, Namjoon would be too anxious and horny to even have a proper meal on the first day of his rut, but his alpha seems to be terrified of letting Yoongi down, so he shoves a spoonful of steaming hot rice into his mouth and burns the roof of his mouth in the process. 

“Yah, be more careful,” Yoongi frowns. He’s already coming back with a tray full of meat and side dishes. The beta takes his own (much smaller) bowl of rice and sits down opposite Namjoon, one leg propped up on the edge of his chair and the other drumming idly against the floor. 

He’s wearing old, chequered pyjama bottoms and the t-shirt from before. No socks, a simple black hair tie on his wrist. Not a single detail escapes Namjoon’s notice.

“I’ll eat well,” Namjoon says formally, rubbing his tongue against his burnt palate. 

Yoongi lets out a vague noise of approval, though he hasn’t stopped frowning.

“You seem surprisingly lucid, still.”

Namjoon considers lying again, but it feels wrong. Unlike alphas and omegas who are largely reactive in nature, betas deal in knowledge and deliberation. They smell and see everything, but they’re also free to choose which things they allow themselves to be affected by.

Namjoon swallows thickly. “I’m usually less… controlled.” 

“Maybe it’s because I’m a beta and you’re used to omegas,” Yoongi says and quickly averts Namjoon’s gaze. He starts picking at his lower lip, which is pink and swollen from their earlier activities. Namjoon’s hit with the overwhelming urge to kiss Yoongi, which would be a very bad idea indeed. 

Yoongi might slap him, laugh at him, or worse – leave.

“I’m not sure, I haven’t dated anyone in a long time,” Namjoon says listlessly, still staring at Yoongi’s mouth. It looks like a budding flower, like two velvety petals with a droplet of morning dew nestled in the folds. 

“What about –?” Yoongi’s lips remain agape as he pauses mid-sentence. Pretty, pretty flower.

“About?” Namjoon croaks.

“Never mind.” Yoongi waves a hand at the large windows behind them. “I just thought, since someone like you, well...”

Namjoon grimaces. “You know exactly who I am, don’t you?”

Yoongi just nods, hooking his chin over his knee and blinking slowly. 

“Do you like my music?”

Namjoon has no idea what possessed him to ask that, but Yoongi doesn’t look fazed in the slightest.

“It’s okay,” the beta says and reaches for the kimchi container – store-bought stuff straight from a bag. Namjoon wishes he knew how to make kimchi for Yoongi. He’d wear the rubber shoes and colourful pants in a heartbeat if it meant that Yoongi always had homemade kimchi with his rice. His beta could laze in the sun all day, watching Namjoon do all the heavy lifting. 

And when Namjoon would roll his aching shoulders and wipe sweat off his forehead, Yoongi would snicker and call him a messy puppy. Maybe offer him a massage that started off innocent, but soon turned into – 

“It’s… okay?” Namjoon parrots in a hollow voice, watching Yoongi pick up a piece of kimchi and bite into the cabbage with his blunt beta teeth. 

Yoongi chews and swallows carefully before elaborating: “Yeah, I mean it sounds kind of mainstream, I guess. Nothing wrong with a popular sound, though.”

Namjoon should probably feel offended or try to defend his artistry, but Yoongi disarms him completely. 

“What kind of music do you prefer, then?” he asks faintly.

“The kind that isn’t afraid to be angry,” Yoongi says, head tilted to the side, his signature pout threatening to come out to prey on Namjoon’s heart. “I used to be angry a lot.” 

Before Namjoon can process Yoongi’s words, the beta drops his chopsticks with a loud clatter and springs up to his feet.

Namjoon’s alpha, lured out of dormancy by the sudden motion, urges him to follow Yoongi’s example, and they end up in an awkward staring contest across the table. 

“You can’t leave!” Namjoon blurts out. His beta can’t leave, it’s not right. Namjoon will tackle him to the floor. Gently.

Frowning, Yoongi rakes his mesmerizingly pale fingers through his hair, which does nothing to fix its hopelessly tousled state. 

“You wouldn’t have anyone to call if I did?”

Namjoon is baffled by the question. “Who the hell do you think I would call?”

Yoongi chews on his lip. Namjoon hates it – hates it.

“Your omega?” the beta offers in a small voice. 

“What omega?”

For a fleeting moment, Yoongi looks angry. Pissed off. Namjoon doesn’t understand.

“Park Jimin?” Yoongi says, carefully pronouncing each syllable. 

Disbelieving laughter bubbles in Namjoon’s throat. The story was all over the news a few months ago – rapper RM exiting a Michelin star restaurant with a cute omega model hanging off his arm. What a likely couple. 

Being touchy and affectionate is Jimin’s natural state, so Namjoon has never had the heart to say no to his friend, but the whole ordeal was still a mild disaster.

Jimin couldn’t come out publicly without putting his career in jeopardy, and Namjoon was left to deal with the silly little crush he’d managed to develop on his friend. Although in Namjoon’s defence, it would be hard not to fall for Park Jimin at least a little.

Jimin himself, the little devil, is also way too aware of his effect on people of all subgenders. 

“I’m not dating Jimin. Never have, we’re just good friends,” Namjoon says, too flustered to question why he’s being interrogated by his rut service partner.

Yoongi’s scent spikes, turning mouth-wateringly bitter, and Namjoon’s teeth are starting to itch anew. 

“Did you really think I was cheating on him with a hired rut partner?”

Yoongi blushes pinker than the scar splitting his plump cheek in half. “No, I thought –”

Namjoon feels ravenous as Yoongi’s mouth opens and closes in search of words. 

“I thought – since seeing an alpha through a rut can be difficult and physically uncomfortable, an omega like him might prefer to… outsource.”

Namjoon’s heart lurches painfully. 

“I didn’t lie to you about not dating anyone,” he whispers. He needs to make Yoongi understand. Or more like, his alpha needs Yoongi’s beta to understand. “You should ask my friends. They know that I smell like mouldy cheese if I even try to be deceitful.”

“That’s not anatomically possible,” Yoongi points out.

“Maybe. But You’re not just a body double for me, Yoongi-ssi.” 

Namjoon wants to hold Yoongi, but the beta looks skittish, like he might bolt at the slightest touch. “I appreciate you being here, helping me, letting me do dumb alpha things because there’s no one in my life I can show these feelings inside me.” 

Namjoon smacks his own chest, and Yoongi flinches at the loud thud.

It would be adorable, if Namjoon’s alpha weren’t going crazy at the small sign of vulnerability.

Guard, soothe, protect. 

“Can I take you to bed?” Namjoon asks quietly. “Not to fuck, just – I want you to be more comfortable.”

Yoongi blinks, looking embarrassed. “We barely ate.”

“I will put everything back in the fridge. We can have more later.” 

“Are you – sure?”

Namjoon is a bad alpha for thinking that, but Yoongi looks even prettier than usual when his eyes flitter up at Namjoon in search of guidance.

“Alpha is sure.”

It just slips out. Yoongi doesn’t question him – or give him another lecture on boundaries they’ve both broken.

☆☆☆ 

Yoongi doesn’t remember falling asleep in Namjoon’s arms, but he wakes up to loud panting. Needy, like a neglected puppy. 

The distraction gives Yoongi time to simply feel, to observe the hard length of Namjoon’s cock against his backside, pushing against the thin material of his pyjamas. The mortification has yet to set in, even though Yoongi remembers vividly what he said and how he acted. 

Even in rut, Namjoon saw right through him, and all Yoongi could do was bury his face in the alpha’s broad chest and let himself be held like a baby bird with hollow bones. 

Before they drifted off, Namjoon’s feverish hands slid under the hem of Yoongi’s shirt and stayed there. There was nothing overtly sexual about Namjoon’s touch, but now they’re both awake, and the air is charged with electricity.

The alpha’s arm wraps around the softest part of Yoongi’s belly, pulling him flush against his body. 

He apologises with a wet huff of pain against Yoongi’s nape: “I’m sorry but I need – I’m so sorry.”

Namjoon’s voice, raspy and gone, is like a drug to Yoongi who goes lax and pliant in his arms. Why is alpha sorry? How can he make things better?

It’s not like Namjoon doesn’t already know how much Yoongi likes being fucked. His hole is loose and wet from before, so the alpha could slide in, just like this, and take what rightfully belongs to him. 

“Hyung, I tried to hold back… but I can’t any longer,” Namjoon huffs, mouthing at Yoongi’s neck dangerously close to his scent gland. It’s dangerous because Yoongi’s wolf is urging him to give in and bare his throat. 

Yoongi’s body locks up in a conscious effort to hold still, but Namjoon’s nuzzling only grows more aggressive at the lack of a response.

“Hyunnnng,” the alpha whines.

Yoongi dug his own grave by letting that word slip one too many times, and he can’t even bring himself to feel ashamed because his mind is pleasantly fuzzy – which is the one state of mind he absolutely shouldn’t slip into while handling clients. 

Based on what he’d read online, Yoongi was certain that Kim Namjoon would end up being a bit of a jerk, so there had been no reason to prepare himself for the alternative. His usual strategy is to approach these situations with detachment, anyway. His therapist taught him that word in a different context, but it fits.

Remaining detached is what makes Yoongi so good at his job – why he’s watched dozens of his colleagues switch fields while he has stayed at the agency year after year. 

Yoongi knows alphas. He knows what ticks them off and what arouses them. How to keep them on a short leash. 

Celebrity alphas like Namjoon tend to be jerks because being in the public eye is pretty fucking hard on a person’s psyche. Alphas like him have had their tails and claws clipped – they’re allowed no flaws, so they unfold only behind closed doors, driven half-mad with repressed instincts. 

Yoongi’s used to bearing the brunt of that frustration, and in a twisted sense, he’s learned to draw pleasure from it.

His first idol client, one Jeon Jungkook, was like that when they first met. Jungkook was outwardly cocky but inexperienced in bed, which he tried to mask with enthusiasm and bluster. After the third rut Yoongi helped him through, they became friends by accident, and for that reason, they no longer fuck. 

Namjoon growls lowly into Yoongi’s ear and licks a wet stripe across his nape. This is the first time Namjoon appears more like a typical alpha client – impatient and greedy, entitled to a sloppy, rough fuck – even if he keeps apologising for how he feels.

At least this is something Yoongi knows how to address. 

“Hyung, you smell so…”

“Yeah, sorry,” Yoongi mutters reflexively. He shimmies his pyjamas down just enough to expose the swell of his ass. Namjoon is already reaching for the lube, breathing wetly on Yoongi’s nape. 

Involuntary shivers run down Yoongi’s spine as he anticipates the click of the cap, the cold smear of lube between his cheeks.

“Go ahead, puppy. I’ve got you.” 

Namjoon lets out a questioning growl as he prods at Yoongi’s hole with blunt fingers. It’s funny how rutting alphas can go from mostly lucid to needy wrecks in no time.

Heats are more straightforward in a way – omegas get wet and needy and weak in steady waves, and Yoongi always has a blast helping them out with colourful knotting toys and vibrators. Some omegas actually prefer betas as heat partners because they can get the stimulation and tactile affection they need without the fear of pregnancy or forced mating bonds. 

Behind him, Namjoon’s cock springs free from the confines of his stupid sweatpants, sliding between Yoongi’s cheeks and spreading the lube everywhere.

“Condom,” Yoongi mutters weakly as the blunt head of Namjoon’s cock brushes against his hole. 

When Namjoon freezes, Yoongi almost tells him to put it in. To fuck him raw.

The idea of Namjoon’s knot swelling inside him without barriers, splitting him achingly open, makes Yoongi’s wolf perk up in interest. 

“Condom box, on the table,” Yoongi whispers brokenly. His hole clenches at the missed opportunity.

“Sorry, can’t think,” Namjoon slurs. It sounds like there’s too much drool in his mouth. 

“Okay. Hyung will do it,” Yoongi says and grimaces – there’s no excuse to keep using a word like this. He most certainly did not let Jungkook call him ‘hyung’ the first or even the second time they spent a rut together. 

Though maybe the damage is already done.

Namjoon’s leg muscles twitch as Yoongi rolls a fresh condom over his length and comes to straddle the alpha’s hips, lube dripping out of his hole and landing on Namjoon’s abdomen. 

It’s more work for Yoongi, but when an alpha is lost to his rut, this is the safest position to be in.

“Pretty,” Namjoon mutters, lifting his hands to Yoongi’s waist and stroking his sides so lightly it almost tickles. 

“I’m pretty, yeah?” Yoongi asks – the tiniest moment of self-indulgence. Rutting alphas tend to look past what makes him undesirable in the eyes of others.

“Yes, yesyesyes. I want to knot,” Namjoon blabbers as expected. “May I, please?” 

“You may,” Yoongi says and starts sinking down on Namjoon’s length. Every inch aches, burns. Yoongi’s leg trembles, sliding against Namjoon’s sweat-slick skin until their bodies are flush once more. 

“Can I please put a pup in here?” Namjoon asks, placing a tentative hand on Yoongi’s abdomen, right above Yoongi’s cock that is mostly hard and flushed dark pink from neglect. Bottoming is already hard work as it is, so Yoongi can’t bother with constantly jerking off. 

It’s not the point of this, anyway. Yoongi could theoretically wring as many orgasms out of his weary body as he wanted, but there is a hard limit to his ability to come in a way that gives him pleasure. It’s the one big drawback of his betahood. 

“You think you’re going to pup me?” Yoongi laughs, sounding a bit delirious to his own ears.

Namjoon, flushed and glossy-eyed like a strawberry-glazed doughnut, gives Yoongi a firm nod. 

“Go ahead and try,” Yoongi taunts. It’s easier to do that than to acknowledge the tightness in his chest. 

Thankfully, Namjoon is fooled just as easily. He grips Yoongi’s hips and bounces him up and down on his cock, grinning from ear to ear at the sounds punched out of Yoongi’s hoarse throat. 

It works perfectly until Namjoon grasps Yoongi’s cock and tries to stroke it, and Yoongi slaps his hands away.

“No,” Namjoon growls and grabs Yoongi’s wrist instead, to hold it out of the way so he can ogle at Yoongi’s cock with wide eyes. “Wanna see my beta come.” 

That’s even worse than ‘hyung’, Yoongi thinks, sweat pooling in the dip of his spine, his legs straining from being spread apart.

Yoongi shakes his head. “I can’t – come as much as an om–” 

His voice trails off as Namjoon’s cock rubs directly against his prostate, but the alpha nods in understanding, planting his feet on the bed and doubling his efforts to fuck Yoongi into an incoherent mess while his cock bobs helplessly against nothing but thin air.

It doesn’t take long for Yoongi to snap like a cheap guitar string, cum drooling out of his cock as the beginnings of Namjoon’s knot put pressure on the bundle of nerves inside him. It’s not an orgasm in the traditional sense, but Yoongi still shudders and curses through it, glancing down in mild fascination as his untouched cock twitches with the sluggish release.

“Going to breed now,” Namjoon informs him in a serious tone of voice. 

Yoongi lets out a shriek of laughter and slumps against Namjoon’s chest. His cock is sensitive to the touch, pinned between their bodies that are slick with sweat and cum.

It should be gross, but it isn’t. 

Namjoon fucks him through another, toe-curling prostate orgasm before his knot locks them together, although Yoongi isn’t sure if anything comes out of his cock this time around. 

“Can you feel it?” Namjoon huffs, smug alpha voice and all as he pulls Yoongi into his sticky embrace, cupping a hand over his stomach. “This is what I can give you.”

When alphas boast about their knots and virility, Yoongi laughs in their faces.

He doesn’t laugh this time. 

☆☆☆

The edges of reality are shorn off, lick by lick.

Namjoon has been between Yoongi’s legs for what feels like hours. Wreaking havoc. Yoongi’s hips ache, but he can’t snap his legs shut with Namjoon prying them open with large hands, clammy with sweat. 

Late-stage rut is harder to bear than the first explosive spikes that are filled with disrespectful sex and periods of rest.

This version of Namjoon is worse, too. The alpha won’t give up, won’t stop growling low in his throat. He keeps telling Yoongi that he wants to make his beta clean, but the saliva dripping down Yoongi’s balls and pooling at his entrance just makes him feel messier.

Yoongi’s hair, damp and sticking to his face, is frizzier than the fur of a puppy because he went to sleep straight out of a bath. Namjoon bathed him, tenderly, dragging a washcloth down Yoongi’s body while humming a song Yoongi didn’t recognise. An unreleased project, perhaps.

After that, Namjoon washed Yoongi’s hair, lifted him out of the tub (because Yoongi’s legs weren’t working well) and towelled him dry with gentle hands. 

“Alpha,” Yoongi whines and hates how easy the word is on his tongue. He tries to shove Namjoon away, but the alpha’s head seems to weigh a hundred pounds.

His cock kicks miserably against Namjoon’s tongue as the alpha hums in question. 

“Ha – please. Enough.”

Namjoon lifts his head. Tilts it like a puppy. “Hurts?”

“Hurts,” Yoongi agrees and rubs his face with the heel of his hand. His belly is fluttering, and it’s too quiet in the room with Namjoon’s full attention on him.

“No more,” he says. 

“Okay, hyung,” Namjoon says and sits back, as if he was waiting for a clear order all along. He licks his lips, looking awfully smug for someone who’s been eating lube straight out of Yoongi’s ass. 

Trying not to giggle maniacally at the thought, Yoongi remains lying on his back, legs spread and the bedsheets clinging to his skin.

“Do you think – it will be over soon?” 

Displeasure flashes through Namjoon’s features, but he nods. “Maybe a few hours.”

Yoongi props himself against his elbows and studies the alpha with blurry eyes. “Hmm, you’re probably right. Your scent is going stale.” 

“Excuse me?” Namjoon laughs, looking blindingly handsome for a moment.

“Your pheromones,” Yoongi says dismissively. “I can’t explain it well, but they’re getting… old.”

“Like my music?” 

Yoongi didn’t think Namjoon was lucid enough for jokes (or for insecurity), so he’s caught off guard by the alpha’s tone. 

“I never called your music stale,” Yoongi huffs, smacking his dry lips. “Indigo was experimental and innovative, but it’s the kind of music that appeals to the sensibilities of a twenty-something career omega.” 

“Maybe I wanted to change things up,” Namjoon shrugs. He’s reaching for their water bottles. One for each – Namjoon seems not to want to share his own water with Yoongi, but it’s okay. It’s not like they’ve been kissing, either. 

Yoongi watches Namjoon swallow his water greedily, and he forgets to drink himself until Namjoon tilts the bottle to his lips and instructs him to take a sip.

“Want something to eat?” the alpha asks. 

Perpetually flustered by Namjoon’s attentiveness, Yoongi shakes his head as he wraps his lips around the mouth of the bottle like a newborn pup feeding from its dam. 

“I can easily wait until you’re done,” Yoongi says as he lowers the bottle. “I assume you’ll want to knot one more time before –?”

Namjoon grimaces. “It’s okay. I mean, I have toys.”

Yoongi’s beta struggles not to take it as rejection, even though his physical body is sore beyond belief. 

“Anything you want,” Yoongi says dejectedly and draws his legs to his chest. “Customer is always right.”

The joke falls flat. Yoongi wishes he had his oversized hoodie with him, so that he could hide from Namjoon’s burning gaze on his bruised limbs and soft, vulnerable belly. 

“You’ve worked hard,” Namjoon says stiffly. His face is still flushed from being between legs, but his voice is so clear and void of emotion. “I would still pay you in full, if you wanted to leave now.” 

The blood in Yoongi’s veins turns to slush.

An alpha dismissing their rut partner mid-cycle? It’s the ultimate form of rejection, a signal that the partner isn’t worthy of protection once they’ve served their purpose. 

In his years in the industry, this has never happened to Yoongi. Not once.

Not even the greediest, most selfish alphas he’s worked with have kicked him out to fuck their toys once Yoongi was too sore to take it as hard as they’d want. 

“You – want me to go now?” Yoongi whispers, clutching the edge of the blankets that smell so much like them.

Namjoon’s scent spikes wildly, and Yoongi doesn’t understand. He feels so small, yanked back to the day when – when everything went wrong. 

Namjoon inhales. Closes his eyes. “Yes.”

Parts of Yoongi’s ego warp and crackle as he stumbles to his feet, naked and woozy from the lack of food. 

“If you want a partial refund, you can contact the agency,” Yoongi mutters, picking his rumpled shirt from the floor and blinking off the black spots in his vision.

“Hyung.”

Yoongi hisses, a sound nearly omegan in quality. “Don’t call me that.” 

“Beta,” Namjoon says more desperately. “If you stayed, I would –”

“You would what?” There’s a cruel quality to Yoongi’s voice that shouldn’t be there, but he’s triggered and it’s hard to regulate his emotions. 

The look in Namjoon’s eyes is wild, and his hair sticks out in sweaty spikes. He looks like the blueprint of alphahood, an apex predator at the top of the food chain.

“What would you do?” Yoongi repeats, voice tight. In his head, he’s considering his options. 

He could call Taehyung to pick him up. It would be a true walk of shame, but better than getting a taxi while reeking of an alpha in rut.

“I’d – fuck. One more knot, you said?”

Yoongi nods. He’s still pantless, hair in his eyes. 

“You make it sound so simple,” Namjoon says bitterly, licking at his teeth. “I knot you one more time and give you a thumbs up on a crappy website that doesn’t even show your actual face?” 

Yoongi finds his pyjama bottoms and pulls them on with shaky hands.

“Hyung, I can’t. I’m sorry but I can’t. My alpha won’t let me.”

I’m sorry my face was such a fucking disappointment, Yoongi wants to say, but he keeps his mouth shut. 

“I’m sorry,” Namjoon says, no more than a huff of air. “It’s all my fault.”

What’s Namjoon’s fault? Picking Yoongi? 

Yoongi’s pride gets in the way of asking. His stupid, mangled ego. That day, something forceful bent it out of shape, and no amount of work will mend that damage.

Mostly clothed, Yoongi rushes for the door, Namjoon’s heavier footfalls echoing right behind him. 

The art on the walls turns into a blur of colour as Yoongi runs through the corridor. Usually, it would be a bad idea to turn one’s back to a rutting alpha, but this one doesn’t want him. 

“Hyung? Hyung! Yoongi-ssi!”

At the sunken entrance, Yoongi slips his bare feet into his shoes and grabs his jacket, hoping to God that his phone and wallet are still in his pockets. 

“Why the fuck did you run off like that?” Namjoon growls, the sound so fearsome that Yoongi feels the fine hairs on his nape bristle.

“Do you have any idea how –?” Namjoon shakes his head, and Yoongi whimpers, glued to the door with his back pressed against the handle as Namjoon towers over him. 

“I was afraid I’d try to mate you if my alpha realised my rut was coming to an end!” Namjoon shouts. “And you provoke me into a fucking chase? Do you lack basic self-preservation instincts or what?” 

Yoongi feels like he’s watching the situation unfold from an outside perspective.

There’s Namjoon and there’s Yoongi. There’s the hopeful throbbing of Yoongi’s scent gland, the numbness of his toes and fingers. There’s also the angry expression on Namjoon’s face, the tense line of his shoulders. 

“Get out,” Namjoon growls. Droplets of spit land on Yoongi’s cheek, but he doesn’t even flinch.

“Hyung, you need to leave. I mean it.” 

Yoongi’s mind is somewhere far away, but his body obeys the command because it’s his alpha speaking.

He must be a good beta and listen to alpha.

Maybe alpha will take him back if he does.

☆☆☆ 

“Hyung, don’t talk to me.”

“Why?” Seokjin’s smooth voice comes from the other side of the frosted glass door.

“I’m busy. Working.”

Against his explicit wishes, Seokjin peeks his head into Namjoon’s studio. He’s carrying a cardboard coffee cup holder in one hand and a notebook in the other. 

Looking very professional, his Jin hyung.

“Do you want an iced americano or an oat milk latte? Hoseokie got too many by accident.”

Seokjin can lie through his teeth with confidence, but his ears always glow red when he does. 

Namjoon scowls, even though he knows that he’s only offering his manager extra ammunition by doing so.

“No thanks. I’m busy.”

“Aw, the post-rut grumps are hitting you harder than usual. Was the rut partner you picked not a good fit?” 

Seokjin smells like cardamom and worry as he studies the dark bags under Namjoon’s eyes. In the past, Namjoon’s manager was kind of embarrassed by his warm, homely scent and wore heavy-duty blockers, but ever since Seokjin mated Hoseok, Namjoon’s been able to pick up the slightest shifts in his mood. 

“He was great,” Namjoon says, forcing his jaw to unclench because Seokjin is one observant bastard. “Gave him five stars and a million won tip.”

“Hmm, that good, then?” Seokjin lets out a dry huff of laughter. Sceptical. Namjoon is fucking this up. 

“It’s almost as if you liked him so much that you’re sad it’s over.”

Namjoon knows it’s a joke – of course it’s a joke – but he still kicks his leg out and bangs it against the corner of his desk, doubling over in agony. 

Luckily this kind of accidental self-destruction isn’t untypical of him.

“What were they like?” Seokjin asks. It sounds like the beginning of a police interrogation. “Small? Cute?” 

“Ah, it was just… someone with uh…”

Seokjin raises an eyebrow. Namjoon feels like a disaster. Maybe he is one – a category five hurricane with sharp teeth. He ought to get them filed down for the safety of others.

“A beta,” he finally admits, stopping to feel the ridges of his canines with his tongue. Too bad he’s quite fond of them. “I… slept with a beta this time.” 

Seokjin goes appropriately quiet. He’s onto Namjoon – nothing ever gets past the older alpha.

“That’s new?” Seokjin says in an awfully neutral voice. “They saw to your needs well?” 

“Yeah, as I said. Five-star service.”

Namjoon wants to throw up. He remembers the last moments of his time with Yoongi too vividly, without the comforting distortion of a rut-crazed mind. 

He remembers the terrible itch in his gums and teeth. The hunger, the need. His alpha telling him to keep Yoongi in his den at whatever cost.

He’s never been afraid of his own alpha before then. 

“Hey.” Seokjin’s voice comes from much closer than he expected. Feeling cornered, Namjoon wraps a palm around his throbbing knee and jerks away from the hand that reaches for his shoulder. 

It’s alpha things – being touched by another of his kind is always a threat, no matter how much he logically likes the alpha in question.

Sometimes Namjoon wonders how Hoseok and Seokjin can turn that base instinct off when they cuddle. Or when they fuck – 

not that Namjoon particularly likes to imagine his dorky managers getting it on.

“Did something happen between you and the beta? Hyung can contact the agency and –”

“NO!”

Seokjin jumps back at the loud shout and bends his knees. Alpha things, again. 

“You know there’s nothing to be ashamed of?” Seokjin says, placing the coffee cups on the desk. Thankfully nothing has spilled over onto Namjoon’s light-coloured rug. 

“I know that other artists from our company have used the same service with success. They’ll be happy to sort out any issues, I’m sure.”

What if the issue is me? Namjoon thinks grimly as Seokjin keeps talking at the speed of a rapper.

“I don’t want you to call them,” he says petulantly. 

“Why not?” Now that Namjoon is no longer yelling, Seokjin keeps pushing. It’s what makes him a great manager but an insufferable friend.

“I just… it was my fault. How it ended.”

“How what ended? Your rut?”

Namjoon nods. He’s so tired, but the coffee on the desk looks unappealing. 

“Help me understand,” Seokjin pleads, tugging at the collar of his pale blue dress shirt. For someone who spends most of his life in pyjamas, a business casual dress code must be quite a nightmare. 

“I made him leave,” Namjoon says, his eyes fixed on the now-exposed mating bite on Seokjin’s throat. It mocks him.

“You what now?”

Namjoon sighs wearily. “Before my rut was over. I told him to go. Growled at him. He deserved none of it.” 

Seokjin slumps against the wall, eyes wide. Namjoon can practically hear the cogs turning in his head: Lawsuits, slandering campaigns on social media. Having to call the PR department, again.

“Did you two… Joon-ah, just please tell me you didn’t physically hurt him?” 

“No, I think I’m in love with him a little bit,” Namjoon says forlornly.

Seokjin blinks, his mouth hanging open. Namjoon blinks back.

A soft knock on the door does little to break their stupor, but Namjoon still manages to voice a weak “come in”. 

Namjoon expected it to be Hoseok – because who else would try to enter his private studio at six thirty in the evening. Instead, he’s faced with a pair of startled doe eyes. It’s only then that Namjoon realises just how intense his and Seokjin’s intermingled scents are in the small room. 

“Am I ah – interrupting something?”

Namjoon looks at Seokjin, helplessly and then at Jungkook who’s fiddling with a loose strand of hair.

“No, we were just…” Namjoon’s horrible at coming up with excuses on the spot. Making out? Fighting?

“We were reviewing a new song.” 

“That’s really cool, Namjoon sunbaenim,” Jungkook says almost meekly. He’s gotten slimmer since Namjoon last saw him, and his hair is much longer.

“Can I listen to it?”

Namjoon can’t fully suppress the noise of alarm rising from his throat. Seokjin glances at him in panic, too. 

The thing is, Namjoon and Jungkook aren’t that close despite having debuted around the same time – Namjoon as an older, more experienced rapper and Jungkook as a literal child.

Jungkook used to look up to Namjoon quite a bit, and Namjoon didn’t know what to do with the admiration, so he brushed it off. 

The sleaziest tabloids ran with Jungkook’s boyish crush and speculated that he would present as an omega and end up with Namjoon. It was both unfair and disgusting, seeing that Jungkook was a minor and skyrocketing into unforeseen fame in the most tumultuous years of his adolescence. 

Which was why Namjoon did his best to protect his younger colleague and also keep him at an arm’s length for his own good. Thankfully Jungkook presented as an alpha soon after his debut, and the rumour mill died down. 

“You see –” Namjoon clears his throat and tries to focus his eyes on something else other than Jungkook’s sparkly eyes or the soft curls of his hair that remind Namjoon of Yoongi laid out on his bed, his hair a tousled mess, writhing desperately – 

“It’s still a rough draft, and I’d like to show you a more polished version later, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh?” Jungkook licks at the stainless-steel ring on his lip and smiles. “That’s alright, sunbaenim.” 

Sometimes Namjoon wishes Jungkook would call him ‘hyung’ again. He’d told the younger alpha to stop doing that, way back when the situation with the media was getting bad, and he hasn’t had the guts to ask if Jungkook would like to go back to how things were.

“How are you?” he asks the alpha, eager to redirect the conversation. Jungkook inhales and exhales softly, his lips forming a perfect ‘oh’.

“I’m just fine. But I heard you were on rut leave recently.”

Seokjin flinches so hard he almost knocks over one of the wooden statues Namjoon collects. 

“Where did you hear that from?” Namjoon asks, the pitch of his voice extremely un-alphalike. “I thought the company no longer made rut leave announcements because the fans got too um… excitable on Twitter?” 

“Um…” This time it’s Jungkook’s turn to appear discomposed. “Maybe it was one of your managers who mentioned it to my manager?”

Seokjin quickly shakes his head. “I swear I didn’t do anything of the sort. And Hobi wouldn’t go around spreading your personal health information, either.” 

“I believe you,” Namjoon says. His heart is racing; every whoosh-thump resounding against the base of his skull.

Jungkook looks incredibly small where he’s standing, bunching the sleeves of his sweater into sweater paws. 

“Did you hear it from someone else, Jungkook-ssi? You need to tell me – tell hyung.” Even though Namjoon grimaces at his own words, Jungkook’s expression wavers instantly.

“Ah, hyung is going to be so mad,” the younger alpha squeaks. “I’m not really supposed to be here.” 

Namjoon stares dumbly at Jungkook who’s blushing a deep shade of pink. He’s getting vivid flashbacks to an unpresented Jungkook who could barely get through a full sentence if there were more than two people in the room with him. 

“It’s just that… hyung was so sad and angry and I couldn’t take it anymore,” Jungkook mutters almost indignantly. “I practically forced him to tell me everything, and… well. I have to say that I’m a little disappointed in you, sunbaenim.” 

Jungkook could have called Namjoon a mass murderer in the same breath, and he would’ve felt equally surprised. Namjoon has never heard the alpha speak about him in anything but praise. 

“You have to call him and make things right,” Jungkook continues, his gaze fixed to the tips of his sneakers. “He’s sad and confused about what you said when…”

“Jungkook-ssi, Jungkook-ah…” 

The younger alpha ignores Namjoon’s pathetic pleas. “I’ve spent many of my ruts with hyung and know how he gets afterwards. He’s clingy and tactile and you deprived him of all that. Once I got to his flat at two in the morning, he was… I had to spend the night with him.” 

It’s absolutely ridiculous, but Namjoon’s first reaction – spun from the deepest, darkest corner of his inner alpha – is to punch Jungkook in the face and make him submit.

He touched Namjoon’s beta with Namjoon’s scent still clinging to Yoongi’s skin. He was in Yoongi’s home, in his bed. 

He’s been inside Yoongi.

Namjoon’s been so careful not to think about Jungkook in that context, but his traitorous mind is already conjuring up an image of Jungkook and Yoongi making out on a bed, naked, Jungkook’s golden skin pressed against Yoongi’s pale blue veins. 

It’s horrible and unfair, but Namjoon can’t stop torturing himself with the idea of them together; Jungkook giving Namjoon’s beta what he needs. What Namjoon wasn’t able to provide for him because he’s a failure of an alpha. 

“I’m not challenging you for Yoongi hyung,” Jungkook says with a deep frown. The first mention of the beta’s name makes it even more real. 

“Can you uh – stop growling? It’s making my alpha anxious,” Jungkook continues in an unnecessarily polite tone.

Namjoon snaps his mouth shut with a loud clack of his teeth. Seokjin hasn’t said a word in a long time, which is an extremely worrying sign. 

“Hyung and I are just good friends these days, but it also means that I’m quite protective of him. Especially seeing what happened when he took that one cli–”

The moment Jungkook stops talking, his eyes go comically wide. 

Both Namjoon’s brain cortex and hindbrain are shorting out like faulty electronics.

“Anyway,” Jungkook clears his throat. “I’m going to send you hyung’s number. You’re going to call him tonight, or I’ll –” he stops to think of a suitable threat, “– I’ll lose my respect for you.” 

That does the trick. Namjoon’s stomach lurches – or what’s left of it, anyway.

“I’ll call him,” he promises. “But I’m not so sure he’ll want to have anything to do with me.” 

“Thank you,” Jungkook says, visibly relieved. “I have dance practice in ten minutes, so… see you later, Seokjin hyung.”

It’s another punch to the gut to hear Jungkook call his stupid manager ‘hyung’, but Namjoon is mostly numb at this point. 

He watches Jungkook bow to Seokjin and scamper off as if he can’t wait to have more than three floors between Namjoon and him.

Not a word has been spoken between Namjoon and Seokjin by the time Namjoon’s phone buzzes with a text message from Jungkook. 

There’s nothing in the message apart from a shared contact info: ‘Yoongi hyung 💗🐱’

Namjoon saves the number with shaky hands and looks up at Seokjin’s smiling face.

“Kim Namjoon,” his manager says in a sickly-sweet voice. “I think I’m going to drown you in that shallow fountain on the tenth floor.” 

“Sounds like a lousy way to go,” Namjoon says. “Can I pick something else?”

Seokjin shakes his head. “No. It’s our two-year anniversary tomorrow, and I had this whole plan, Namjoon-ah. It was a good, romantic plan, and my mate was going to love it.” 

“I’m sorry, hyung,” Namjoon says. “I didn’t mean to.”

Seokjin pinches the bridge of his nose. “I hate you so much sometimes.”

“Yeah.” 

“Just, go get your man,” Seokjin whines. “And do it discreetly, please. I want to make it to my dinner reservation at nine.”

Namjoon feels a tiny flicker of hope in his chest. Poorly timed but impossible to ignore.

“Thank you, hyung,” he says.

☆☆☆ 

Yoongi knows he’s being an unreasonable friend.

Taehyung has already cancelled on one of his regular clients to babysit him, and before that, Jungkook spent the entire night curled up in Yoongi’s bed, rambling about his work schedules because being silent with his own thoughts terrified Yoongi. 

“Did you take that extra appointment you talked about? You should get some rest,” Yoongi murmurs, glancing at Taehyung who is typing something on his laptop, one-handed, while balancing a huge mug of tea on his knee. 

“Ah, I did,” Taehyung replies. His scent, vanilla and winter apple, turns guilty-sour. “But my condition is good, and my client just emailed me that their pre-heat started an hour ago. I should be able to sleep in and go to their place tomorrow afternoon.” 

Taehyung takes a lot of heat gigs despite being an omega himself. Yoongi’s not sure if it’s a sexuality thing or a safety thing; it’s not something one asks in this line of work.

“What kind of client is it?” he asks instead. After all, he’s not immune to curiosity. 

Taehyung flashes him a coy smile and takes a sip of his tea. “A new one. Very famous, I’m kind of looking forward to it.”

“Pretty?” Yoongi asks. His personal preference may lie at the other end of the subgender spectrum, but omegas in heat are sweet little creatures indeed. 

“Tsk, I’m a professional, hyung.” Taehyung teases, snapping his laptop shut and tossing it onto the couch. “And besides, it’s not like I’ll be staring at their allegedly attractive face – I like to have my clients on their hands and knees as I fuck them from behind with a –” 

Yoongi lets out a pained sound and covers his ears. Unlike Jungkook (who’s eternally shy about his sexual conquests), Taehyung is eager to share his stories, many of which feature creative solutions to make up for his lack of a knot or a proper cock. 

Taehyung practically has a sex shop’s worth of toys and harnesses with him every time he goes to work, and his customers never complain about the offerings.

Yoongi vividly remembers a time when Taehyung got tipsy in Yoongi’s bathtub (a long story!) and started talking about how much he likes being a top who can change knot sizes at will. Apparently, Taehyung has an inflatable that can get all the way up to the size of a grapefruit, but only one client so far has requested that particular toy. 

When Yoongi (also tipsy and scantily clad) asked if Taehyung had ever tried taking the toy himself, Taehyung scrunched his nose and offered to demonstrate the features on Yoongi instead. 

“But hyung – are you really okay with me going? I can call someone else to –”

Yoongi shakes his head. “I can text Jungkook if I need to. But really, hyung is fine. What happened was scary and confusing, but I never felt like I was in true danger.” 

The look on Taehyung’s face is slightly disbelieving, and for good reason of course. In retrospect, Yoongi should be fucking traumatised by what happened. He should be reliving the scariest moments of his life; clutching his face in that stairwell and watching bright red blood drip-drip-drip onto the floor between his legs, wondering if he was going to see out of his right eye again. 

And yet, Namjoon didn’t make him feel that same unfiltered terror he’d felt while fleeing the other alpha’s den.

Maybe his inner beta is just delusional for having trusted Namjoon so completely, but in his heart, Yoongi cannot fear Namjoon’s wolf, regardless of whether his wolf looks at him with lust or indifference.

“I love you, hyung,” Taehyung says out of the blue.

Yoongi makes a face. “Don’t say things like that.”

“But I’m an omega,” Taehyung snickers softly. “It’s in my nature to be nurturing and emotionally available.” 

Yoongi knows what Taehyung is doing. He calls it ‘coming up for air’. They’ve had to come up for air a lot in the past 24 hours.

“It’s in your nature to be a little shit,” Yoongi says with a smile. 

Even if he lacks the words to express that sentiment, he really does appreciate Taehyung’s support. The omega knows what Yoongi is going through, the feelings he’s trying to process with varying success.

It’s not about the situation itself but the fact that Yoongi let it get so far. 

It’s the question he’s asked himself a thousand times before.

These days Yoongi is capable of placing his trauma in the palm of his hand and examining it from all sides. Dissecting it like a specimen taken from an alien species. 

Over multiple ruts, his alpha client had become obsessed with him. He thought he and Yoongi were in love, so when Yoongi said he felt uncomfortable and wished to leave, the alpha clawed him in the face in a fit of rage.

Could Yoongi have prevented it from happening? 

Maybe. In theory.

Could Yoongi have prevented his beta from falling for Kim Namjoon in a whirlwind of sex and pheromones and a sense of belonging?

Less likely. 

It’s pretty morbid of him to equate his feelings for Namjoon to the most traumatic event of his life, but in a way, both of those events are of equal gravity: death and then – rebirth. 

“Your phone is ringing,” Taehyung says. Yoongi blinks up, noticing that he’s been snapping the hair tie on his wrist against his skin enough times to leave a pink mark.

“Why?”

“I don’t know?” Taehyung replies. 

“Should I answer?” Yoongi asks sluggishly. He hates phone calls, and he’s not going to be able to go back to work any time soon. Even if his mind healed from the shock, Yoongi isn’t sure his beta would let him dominate or submit to any other alpha again. 

It’s almost funny – alphas tend to brag about breaking their partners and ruining them for any other knot, but it’s not Namjoon’s knot that has wreaked havoc on Yoongi’s life and livelihood. 

If Yoongi ever met Kim Namjoon again, he’d probably knee him in the knot like he’d threatened to do during their very first encounter.

“Maybe it’s something important,” Taehyung suggests. He’s holding out Yoongi’s phone in front of his face. “They’re being persistent, don’t you think?” 

With a loud groan, Yoongi grabs his phone and presses it to his ear.

“Hi, I’m not buying anything or fucking anyone for the time being. Would you kindly fuck off?” 

The line is silent for so long that Yoongi starts to regret his words, a half-hearted apology on the tip of his tongue.

“Please don’t blame Jungkook for this,” a painfully familiar voice comes from the other end.

To his surprise, Yoongi’s brain follows the original script: “I’m sorry?” 

“Sorry for what?” Namjoon asks. “I’m the one who’s sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” Yoongi repeats dumbly, glancing at Taehyung in horror. 

“Sure. I’m sorry,” Namjoon agrees.

“I thought you were this dumb because of your rut, but maybe not.”

Taehyung glances back at Yoongi, and his eyes widen in understanding. He hops off the couch and scurries in the direction of the kitchen. Good omega. 

“Why did you call me?” Yoongi asks when he’s alone. He’s surprised by how calm his own voice sounds.

Don’t say out of obligation, don’t say because you feel sorry for me.

“Because… I’m a little scared of Jungkook.”

“Ah,” Yoongi says. “That makes two of us.” 

“But I also confessed to my manager today,” the alpha continues, sounding a little out of breath.

From the corner of his eyes, Yoongi sees Taehyung peeking his head from the kitchen. Bad omega.

“Confessed what?” Yoongi mutters. 

“You, hyung.”

Any thought of a snarky comeback is wiped away in an instant. Yoongi focuses on the familiar pattern of Namjoon’s breathing, remembers the alpha’s mouth at his ear as they rocked together with Namjoon’s knot lodged deep inside him. 

“You kicked me out,” Yoongi says, wheezing like a deflated balloon.

“I did. And I would’ve kicked you out a hundred times if I had to.” 

Yoongi sinks back into the couch, curling into himself and scenting his own wrist – a self-soothing habit he developed as a pup after a health emergency left the house temporarily deprived of his dam’s scent. Taehyung is probably watching him from the kitchen, considering calling Jungkook for backup. Yoongi should pull himself together, but he can’t.

“I kicked you out because my alpha was… you know what I mean.”

Yoongi shakes his head. “I don’t, actually. You told me you wanted to bite me. Why?” 

”Because I wanted to. Still want to.” Namjoon sounds so genuine, so matter-of-fact.

“Why?” Yoongi insists. There’s something wet on his cheek. He quickly wipes it away before Taehyung sees.

“Because I wanted to,” Namjoon repeats in a louder voice. 

Yoongi wants to scream. “Why, Namjoon-ah?”

“Because my alpha sees you as mine. Because I see you as mine!”

Yoongi’s voice cracks as he says, “Already? You barely know me.”

“I know,” Namjoon replies. “Didn’t say I was proud of it.“ 

“This is… really bad.”

“Yeah,” Namjoon agrees. “I call you ‘my beta’ in my head.”

Out of nowhere, warmth pools in Yoongi belly. He can picture Namjoon’s expression so clearly – the clench of his jaw and the narrow shape of his eyes.

“Keep talking,” he says without thinking. 

Namjoon obeys, no hesitation. “I look at you, hyung, and all I want is for you to be safe and happy. I picture having a family with you. Two pups and an indoor cat.”

“I can’t carry pups,” Yoongi says, voice firm but gentle.

“I know,” Namjoon laughs. “You’d still look cute pregnant.” 

Clutching his phone, Yoongi sneaks a glance at Taehyung who is eavesdropping by pretending to be an oversized house plant.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“But you do,” Namjoon sighs. “You want me to go on?”

“Maybe… not right now?” Yoongi hates the squeaky tone of his voice. 

“Oh. That’s fine.”

Yoongi sucks in a sharp breath. Maybe it’s his turn to be brave.

“Would you like to talk in person, though?”

“Where? When?” Namjoon exclaims. There’s the overexcited puppy again. 

“Not today. Maybe not tomorrow, either,” Yoongi says. “I need to sleep and think. Mostly sleep.”

“I love watching you sleep,” Namjoon blurts out and then adds, “Sorry, that was creepy.” 

“I’ll text you my address later, okay?” Yoongi says, trying his best not to picture Namjoon watching him sleep. “Just so you know… I’m taking a break from work.”

Yoongi isn’t sure why he felt the need to clarify that, but Namjoon instantly starts making happy rumbling noises at the other end. 

“Remember to eat enough,” Yoongi says, again without knowing why. “Do you have a water bottle at your desk?”

“I do,” Namjoon replies. “And my manager brought me coffee before he decided to drown me in the tenth-floor fountain.”

“You probably deserved it.”

“Yeah.” 

“I’m going to go now,” Yoongi says. “I have to talk to my friend. An omega friend,” he adds when Namjoon’s rumbling ceases for a moment.

“See you later,” Yoongi says.

“Bye, hyung.”

☆☆☆ 

Yoongi drums his fingers against the table in a pattern only his hands remember. He took piano lessons as a pup, but money was tight and, so this is all what’s left, now:

1-2-3-1, repeat. 

When the doorbell rings, Yoongi’s hand slips on the glossy wood. He hasn’t talked to Namjoon since their phone call, and maybe that’s for the better.

He doesn’t know Namjoon and Namjoon doesn’t know him. It puts things into perspective, even if Yoongi’s beta longs for him terribly. 

On his way to the door, Yoongi checks himself in the mirror. His lips are bitten red from the nerves, and his hair is neatly combed but longer than it’s been in years. When his mother saw how long he’d let it grow, she gushed about how Yoongi looked like a romantic drama lead. 

Yoongi’s been hesitant to cut it shorter ever since.

As Yoongi yanks the door open with one hand smoothing down the hem of his oversized shirt, he tries to come up with something witty to say, something to lighten the mood with. 

But instead of Namjoon, he’s faced with a strange alpha: light build and light scent, short hair and thick-rimmed glasses.

“Can I help you?” Yoongi asks, dazed, taking in the blinding smile and relaxed posture of the stranger.

“I believe you can,” the alpha says and offers his hand. 

“Jung Hoseok, Namjoon’s manager.”

Yoongi wipes his hand to the front of his shirt before pressing his palm into Hoseok’s, allowing their wrists to touch briefly in a polite introductory scenting. Hoseok smells vaguely of pine trees, and he has a prominent mating mark on his slender neck that doesn’t look like the work of omegan teeth. 

“Are you here to force me to sign an additional NDA, or –?”

“Ah, your previous one should apply as it states you’re not allowed to disclose any aspect of your relationship with Namjoon,” Hoseok says airily, eyeing the corridor behind Yoongi’s back as if he’s eager to invite himself in. 

“I see,” Yoongi says.

“I’m here to babysit,” Hoseok adds, smiling brightly. His teeth are perfectly white and even, apart from the sharp tips of his canines. It’s a terrifying combination of docility and danger. 

“Seokjin hyung couldn’t do it because he’s two seconds from strangling Namjoonie every time they see each other at the company, and an outsider might leak stuff even if we screen them well. But I promise to look away if you want to make out and stuff. I’m very tactful.” 

“We’re not going to make out,” Yoongi blurts out. “I mean, we don’t need a chaperone, we’re just going to talk about what happened.”

Hoseok’s expression turns apologetic, but he’s still trying to inch past Yoongi to the narrow foyer. 

“I’m afraid the company insisted on having someone oversee this meeting. You must understand the possible legal ramifications of what transpired between you two?” 

Yoongi’s jaw tightens, and he feels the urge to brush his hair over his scarred cheek. “I’m aware of that possibility, yes.”

Hoseok nods, pulling out his phone. “Great. Then I’ll ask Namjoon to come up. He’s waiting in the car.” 

Picturing Namjoon sitting in an SUV with tinted windows, waiting for his cute alpha manager to deal with the adult stuff first, makes Yoongi disproportionately amused. 

He wanders back to the living room, feeling lightheaded as he watches Hoseok take off his shoes and slink into the corner of the room with a notebook in his lap. The cover is decorated with colourful stickers. 

Yoongi doesn’t even want to know what kind of report Hoseok is going to write based on this meeting.

It doesn’t take long for Namjoon to arrive. Yoongi circles back to the door and checks himself again – hair still long, lips still swollen. 

He tries not to think about what Hoseok said about making out. They’re not here to start a relationship, they’re virtual strangers whose wolves got a little excited during a rut.

That’s all. 

Yoongi opens the door and thinks: That’s definitely not all. Not even close.

Somehow, Namjoon appears taller and broader than in Yoongi’s memory. He’s wearing a neat button-up with light-wash jeans and a belt. No flashy jewellery, no fancy hairstyling.

“Hyung,” Namjoon says, cheeks tinted pink. “I mean, Yoongi-ssi.” 

“Alp… Namjoon-ssi.”

Yoongi feels a pair of eyes on the back of his head. From his vantage point in the living room, Namjoon’s manager must hear everything they say. Yoongi is pretty sure he’s already sweating through his white t-shirt. 

“Have you been well?” Namjoon inquires. “You look… healthy.”

Yoongi starts nodding and lets Namjoon in. “Being on holiday suits me well.”

Namjoon’s eyes widen at that. “You really haven’t worked at all?”

“No,” Yoongi confirms, watching the alpha struggle to remove his shoes in the small space. 

“Right. You deserve the rest.”

Namjoon’s back is turned to Yoongi, but the alpha’s posture appears much straighter as he wanders deeper into Yoongi’s home, greeting Hoseok and stopping to admire the view from the window.

Yoongi’s fucked a lot of alphas to be able to afford it. 

“Would you like to have something to drink?” Yoongi offers, waving a hand at the both of his guests even though he can’t tear his eyes away from Namjoon.

His hindbrain screams: Alpha is home. We did it, finally.

“No, thank you,” Namjoon says. If Hoseok ever replied, Yoongi would have no idea. 

They sit down on the couch, partially facing each other because Hoseok is occupying the only armchair. Yoongi’s beta whines at the proximity without the satisfaction of physical touch. Namjoon’s neck is right there, but he can’t touch, it’s not acceptable. 

“How are you, Namjoon-ssi?” Yoongi asks, pulling a decorative pillow into his lap to discreetly run his fingers over the velvety surface. The pillow cover is salmon pink and not something Yoongi would ever buy for himself, but it was a gift from Taehyung. 

“I’ve been thinking a lot,” Namjoon says. “About how I acted and why.”

Yoongi glances at Hoseok. Tries to ignore the soft clicking of his pen. “Do you have an answer?”

“Not really. Do you?”

“How would I know?” Yoongi shoots back. 

“Because you can smell me. Because everyone says my emotions are an open book to everyone but me.” Namjoon sounds a bit frustrated. “And by everyone, I mean my manager Kim Seokjin.”

In the corner, Hoseok snorts loudly. 

“I can smell you,” Yoongi says, inhaling deeply. Namjoon smells like a bath at the end of a long day. Like a home-cooked meal on a Sunday evening. But that’s Yoongi’s side of the story. His own projections.

“I’m just… worried that you’re attracted to a Yoongi who doesn’t exist,” he says. 

“What do you mean?”

“I’m a sex worker, Namjoon-ah. I got jumped by a client and it left me disfigured for life. I can't bear children, can’t give you what your alpha yearns for. Our wolves got confused, somehow, and that’s why…” 

Namjoon lets out a displeased growl, and Hoseok shifts in his chair, trying to be subtle about taking out his phone and failing. Yoongi wonders who Hoseok would call if needed – and who exactly would be dragged away by security personnel in black. 

“It happens,” Yoongi insists weakly. “I read about it online – an overload of rut pheromones can trick two wolves into thinking that they’re prospective mates, even if there’s no actual physical or emotional compatibility.” 

“But what if I’m emotionally compatible with a sea sponge?” Namjoon asks with a grimace. “Who am I supposed to mate, then?”

“So, I’m one step above a blob of cells on the seafloor?”

“No wait!” Namjoon exclaims. The alpha’s mouth is hanging open, and he’s staring at Yoongi’s scar as if he’s seeing it for the very first time. Strangely though, Yoongi isn’t tempted to hide behind his hair.

Let alpha look. Let him see for what he is. 

“I feel like I’m saying all the wrong things,” Namjoon says.

“What did you want to say to me?”

The alpha draws a shaky breath. “I wanted to call you pretty. I wanted to compliment your home and tell you how much I missed you.”

“And yet you talk about sea sponges.”

Namjoon hums. 

It’s possible, probable even, that Yoongi is being a tad unfair.

“For the record, I missed you, too,” he offers with a shaky smile.

“You did?”

“Last night, I set the table for two by accident.” 

Namjoon makes a strange, suffocated sound in his throat. “What did you have for dinner?”

“Army stew,” Yoongi says. “Too much sodium – my face looks puffy today.”

“But I like it,” Namjoon says and then looks away quickly. Yoongi struggles to keep his expression neutral. 

“Hob-ah, can you step outside for five minutes?”

Hoseok snickers at Namjoon’s request. “Do you really think five minutes is going to be enough?”

“You’re starting to sound too much like Jin hyung.” 

“Our mating ceremony vows had a part that says I’m to tolerate his sense of humour without complaints. I’m adapting to my fate by becoming him.”

“Sounds terribly unhealthy,” Namjoon grumbles. While distracted, his hand lands on Yoongi’s thigh like it belongs there. Yoongi is scared to move, terrified of the idea that Namjoon might notice and pull his warm, grounding hand away.

“Focus on fixing your own problems first,” Hoseok laughs, making no move to excuse himself. 

When Namjoon just squeezes Yoongi’s leg, his inner wolf grows bolder, urging him to lean into Namjoon’s space, to breathe in his scent. It would be so easy to slot himself between the alpha’s spread legs and press his face to his chest. Yoongi doesn’t catch the exact moment where the fantasy bleeds into reality, but he feels Namjoon’s hands cupping his waist, the alpha letting out a panicked laugh right into his ear.

“What are you doing, hyung?”

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi whispers. 

“You don’t have to be sorry. Are you okay?”

Yoongi’s teeth, aching at the root, are so close to Namjoon’s neck, their legs pressed together from knee to hip.

“I’m okay,” he says, blinking. “I just missed you.” 

“You can’t do this to me, hyung,” Namjoon pleads. He gently shakes Yoongi by the shoulders. “I’m going to –”

“Yes, please,” Yoongi says, neck bared for inspection. After giving up his body for the pleasure of countless others, he’s still unblemished in the one way that matters. 

The small, unreasonable part of him that actually expects a bite, forces his body lax as Namjoon noses at the line of his throat, Hoseok hissing something in the background.

Yoongi would let him do it, and no one would be able to stop them, not even Hoseok who is much smaller than Namjoon. It goes against all logic and common sense, but he’d lie there and take the bite without a fuss. He’d feel pride if Namjoon had to challenge and fight off Hoseok first.

The moment Namjoon sinks down, his hand cups Yoongi’s chin and redirects him for a kiss. 

It’s not a perfect first kiss; it’s desperate and messy and overwhelming. Yoongi trembles like a leaf in the wind as Namjoon licks at the seam of his lips until he parts them with a soft gasp. Namjoon fucks like a puppy and kisses like one, too. 

Yoongi can’t see, can’t hear anything besides their ragged breaths and the rustle of his clothes against the couch. He can’t even check if Hoseok is looking away as he promised. Yoongi’s wolf hopes the other alpha hasn’t kept his word. 

In the past, packs would have public matings where everyone would have to witness the pack alpha breaking in his bitches in a display of power and influence.

Maybe it’s like that, the urge to be perceived by others to prove that a powerful alpha chose him as someone worthy. 

They break apart a short eternity later, chests heaving for air and hands grasping at anything within reach: the collar of Namjoon’s shirt, the thin gold chain around his neck.

The alpha’s pupils are blown wide, and he’s licking his teeth as if they’re hurting just as badly as Yoongi’s. 

“Do you still think this is a temporary side effect of my rut?” Namjoon asks in an almost-growl.

Yoongi refuses to answer, but his grip on Namjoon's shirt tightens.

“Do you think I haven’t thought about all this in length? Dating a beta, preparing for the inevitable backlash?” 

“I think you have rose-tinted glasses on,” Yoongi reasons. From the corner of his eyes, he sees that Hoseok is still in the room, blushing furiously.

They did that – Yoongi and his alpha. 

“You could be a living saint, and there would be people who hated your guts for being with someone like me. I promise your profession is nothing compared to the inconvenience caused by mine.” 

“But more importantly, I can keep you safe,” Namjoon continues. “My career has peaked, anyway, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Don’t say that,” Yoongi says.

“I can say what I want,” Namjoon shoots back. 

“Because you’re my alpha and we live in a patriarchal society?” Yoongi teases, even though he feels faint. 

He sort of wants to kiss Namjoon again, just to see if he can make the alpha give up control and let him take the lead. Maybe undress him to check that his knot is just as impressive as it appears in his hazy memories. 

“No, because I want to court you properly and show you every side of me – the good and the bad.”

Yoongi blinks up at the alpha.

“Court… me?” 

“Yeah. The thing where I buy you flowers and gifts and take you out to eat.”

“But I don’t want lavish gifts,” Yoongi mumbles. “Or flowers.”

Namjoon’s face falls. “Are you rejecting me?”

“No?”

Namjoon flashes a smug little smile. “Good.” 

“Sorry to interrupt, but…” Hoseok is beet-red and clutching his phone against his chest. “I think I’m going to go. Fuck the company policy, fuck Jin hyung.”

“Please do,” Namjoon says darkly. “Hyung and I have much to discuss, still.” 

“Good,” Hoseok shrieks, the very picture of tact and discretion. “I mean, congratulations on your courtship.”

“Thanks,” Namjoon says. He’s staring at Yoongi’s lips, and holy shit – they’re going to kiss again the moment Namjoon’s manager is out the door. 

Then they’re going to talk more. Kiss again. Yoongi will take Namjoon’s hand and bashfully invite him to his bed. He’ll kiss him there as well, against the pillows, so that the room will reek of them long after. 

Namjoon will call Yoongi his beta and pet his hair. He will listen to Yoongi talk about his scar, and Yoongi might cry but it’s going to be okay. Sometimes talking about it makes him sad, sometimes it makes him angry. 

They will kiss again, fall asleep in rumpled clothing. Namjoon will take Yoongi out on a date and Yoongi will grumble about who’s going to pay.

And what then?

Yoongi doesn’t know the answer, but maybe that’s okay.