Archive of Our Own ^beta

Seonghwa loves his job, for all that it can provide sleepless nights and endless days, he can’t imagine himself doing anything else with his life. It sounds so cliche to have a purpose, but Seonghwa truly believes that he has found his, because helping people makes getting a little less sleep just a little more worth it.

When going to school for medicine, Seonghwa had never even heard of being a presentation specialist. He was raised in a small town where designations were either present or they were not. You were born with the alpha or omega gene in your bloodstream, or you were a beta. It was pretty cut and dry for 18 years of his life, until he learned that designation, like most things in this world, is actually quite complex.

There are subgenders to the subgenders, and hidden genes that don’t display themselves until later into puberty. There are intersex betas with the ability to both breed and be bred, and scenting alone could fill libraries discussing the intricacies it creates within their nature. Once Seonghwa had learned all of this, he found it impossible to stop, and now he’s well into 5 years of his practice and he couldn’t be happier. Each day is new, and his patients are always happy to know that someone is on their side.

Seonghwa usually deals with tweens and the percolated older teenagers. Kids adapt decently well on their own when the secondary gender presents in blood tests during early childhood, but experiencing 2 puberties at once can take an intense toll on the body if not handled correctly, which is where Seonghwa comes in.

“You have that new patient appointment in room 214, Dr. Park,” Seonghwa’s nurse says while they walk down the hall together, handing Seonghwa the patient chart and a pen. “It’s a late presenting alpha, but we’re not sure what triggered him as he’s gone 25 years without the gene ever showing up before this.”

“And you had bloodwork done prior to the appointment?” Seonghwa asks, glancing at the nurse over his glasses as they come to a stop a few feet away from the examination room.

“Yes, doctor,” he replies with a nod, his bottom lip briefly catching between his teeth in a show of uncertainty. “But… he’s very close to a rut because he just presented a few days ago, so I don’t know if you…”

Seonghwa clears his throat to keep the nurse from going further, unfurling the pages on the chart before holding it against his chest with a smile.

“I’ll be fine,” Seonghwa says while trying to ignore the way his cheeks flare in embarrassment. “I’m sure my scent blockers will keep him from having an adverse reaction to my presence.”

Which is true, but Seonghwa also refuses to admit any possible dangers when he’s finally been given such a unique patient case. His whole reason for becoming a presentation specialist was to deal with things like this—the weird stuff or the hard to talk about stuff is what makes science so exciting, but Seonghwa has had a decently tame career thus far. To have a newly presented alpha that’s in his mid-twenties with no prior rut symptoms or scent traits suddenly present with the ability to do everything an alpha can do is like dropping a lizard beneath a heat lamp, except Seonghwa is the lizard.

There’s probably too much excitement in his body for this, but Seonghwa has convinced himself that it will be helpful in this scenario, hoping that if any positive pheromones break through that they at least calm the alpha. If anything, having an omega around can be the only thing that keeps an alpha calm in times of stress, and Seonghwa is just arrogant enough in his abilities that he waves the nurse off with a grin.

“Thanks, I’ll go see him now.”

If Seonghwa chooses not to hear the grumbled “okay…” at his back, then that is within his right as a professional. This is fine, it’s going to be just like any other appointment and Seonghwa will prove that this is what he was made for all along. And he’ll help the patient in whatever way he can, barring nothing does actually go terribly wrong.

The quick double rap of his knuckles is all the signal Seonghwa gives before pushing through the door to the examination room, putting on his best smile as he shuts it behind him. The room is filled with the very specific scent of incense and lotus flower, the intensity of it making Seonghwa’s eyes burn almost immediately. His body isn’t used to being near such potent adult alphas who have had no practice with controlling their scents and who are hours away from rut with virtually no knowledge of how to deal with it.

It becomes very clear that Seonghwa may have committed an error in his excitement, but it’s too late to back out now.

“I—hello,” Seonghwa stutters out while wavering slightly on his feet, the rush of unguarded pheromones hitting him like an anvil upside the head. “I’m Dr. Park. I’m—I’m here to help in any way I can with, uhm, settling in.”

The poor alpha is sitting on the examination table with his legs crossed, elbow resting on his bouncing knee as he chews on his thumbnail. The chart had said that his name is Kim Hongjoong, and Seonghwa has not adequately prepared himself for the possible nightmare this is about to become, because Kim Hongjoong is not what he was expecting at all.

Intoxicating scent aside, Mr. Kim is wearing ripped up black jeans and drowning in an oversized hoodie despite how red and flushed his cheeks are. His nose is pointed, and his eyes are so round and surprised when their gazes finally meet. Something about him feels big and impossible to comprehend, like he’s made of things that not even Seonghwa has studied in all his years working, which causes a tickling at the back of his neck like a teasing whisper.

“Right, well, I’ll just get right into it then,” Seonghwa says once he realizes that Mr. Kim isn’t going to respond to him, moving to wash his hands in the sink to allow some of the awkwardness in the room to settle. “Presenting as an alpha comes with a lot of things that you’ll have to start keeping in mind, but I can help create a plan for you to start the transition period,” he continues while drying his hands, smiling politely at Mr. Kim before tossing the paper towel in the bin.

Seonghwa takes a seat on his rolling stool, setting the paper patient file on the desk and scooting up to be a bit closer to Mr. Kim. Despite Seonghwa’s stool being lower to the ground, Mr. Kim is only a few inches above him, and the thought endears Seonghwa in a strange way—a dangerous way.

“Let’s start with any background information you want to give me and how you’re feeling now, or any changes you’ve noticed already, Mr. Kim.”

There’s a moment where Seonghwa allows himself to simply observe the alpha as he waits for him to reply, feeling how his own muted floral pheromones are weakly trying to reach out and meet Mr. Kim’s rampant ones. Despite the suppressants, Seonghwa can smell every intricacy in Mr. Kim’s scent, tasting his fear on his lips like sticky chapstick and swallowing down his rogue frustrations despite knowing that it will only drive him insane later.

A presence this strong will follow Seonghwa home and require several passes with a scent removal soap bar and double the amount of laundry detergent. Seonghwa is old enough now that a simple alpha scent shouldn’t affect him so much, but when Mr. Kim finally lifts his eyes to meet Seonghwa somewhere in the middle, he feels something foreign and unsettling dislodge in his buzzing chest.

“Well, I… first, please don’t call me Mr. Kim,” he says, squirming on the exam table like he wants nothing more than to jump off. “Just Hongjoong, is fine. Mr. makes me feel old.”

The last part is mumbled under Hongjoong’s breath, his gaze flitting away just long enough for him to calm his breathing all over again. Seonghwa is so fascinated by him, and tries to count the years between them as he waits for him to continue. 25 and 34. 9 years.

“And I, uhm, presented? While I was with my friends, thankfully. We were playing a stupid game and my friend tackled me to the ground—just to be playful. Most of my friends have designations,” Hongjoong mutters while playing with the loose strings in his ripped jeans, eyes darting from his own hands to what Seonghwa hopes is his own polite stare. “Anyway, he’s bigger than me and definitely an alpha and as we were wrestling on the floor something just… snapped inside of me. It felt like someone had released a rubber band that they had been stretching for 20 years of my life inside of my rib cage.”

“That must have been scary,” Seonghwa says softly, feeling a familiar tinge of warmth on his cheeks when Hongjoong finally returns some semblance of a smile.

“It was. I was filled with this rage that I’ve never felt before and all of a sudden, I could feel what everyone else was feeling. Yunho and San had to hold me down while Mingi, uh, you know.”

Hongjoong flushes an even deeper red, if that’s possible given his compromised state. The sweat on his forehead catches the light through his fluffy bangs, and Seonghwa genuinely feels empathy for him, unable to think about how he’d feel in this position.

“I’m sorry, I'm afraid I don’t know,” Seonghwa says, hoping that his calm voice is in any way helpful to the situation. “It’s alright if you don’t want to explain it to me, it won’t affect how I can help you. Might feel good to get it off your chest though.”

Diverting his eyes, Seonghwa turns to his medical cart, grabbing a blood pressure cuff and heart rate monitor to try and take some of the attention off Hongjoong. It’s an obvious trick to try and make him feel less scrutinized, but it seems to work, because by the time Seonghwa is turning on his spinning stool to face Hongjoong again, his throat is bobbing with the smallest burst of calm pheromones.

“He… scented… me? Just as friends, though.”

Hongjoong doesn’t elaborate beyond that, so Seonghwa stands to hide the amused look wanting to bloom on his features. Instead, Seonghwa comes around the examination table to stand slightly behind Hongjoong, feeling grateful that he doesn’t try to watch his every move.

“I see,” Seonghwa mutters, softer as he slides the blood pressure cuff onto Hongjoong’s arm. He knows the nurse has already taken vitals, but Seonghwa needs to see them for himself. A new alpha can change at any moment. “Go on.”

The soft sound of air pumping and velcro straining fills the room, seeming to momentarily distract Hongjoong as he squirms with the added pressure. A body pre-heat or rut can be extremely sensitive to any new touches, but this is necessary, so Seonghwa ignores the slight tremble in Hongjoong’s words.

“Well, he scented me to calm me down and it worked for a bit, until my alpha got even angrier because the person that was calming it down had a—” Hongjoong clears his throat, clearly trying to dispel the break in his voice as he discusses something that would make anyone feel embarrassed if they’re not used to it. Seonghwa is not judging him in the slightest, in fact, he understands quite well just what Hongjoong is going through. “Mingi is mated to our other friend Jongho, and he wasn’t even there but I just felt that he’d be angry so then I got angry and now—yeah. Now I’m here.”

Hongjoong reads a slightly elevated BP, which isn’t anything to be worried about, on par with his elevated temperature and heart rate. Seonghwa has no excuse for being so fussy, but he removes all of the vitals equipment with more care than necessary regardless.

“Mm, I’m very sorry to hear that it was a stressful experience, but I am also very confident that we can make this transition as smooth as possible for you, Hongjoong.” As he speaks, Seonghwa places the chest piece of the stethoscope onto Hongjoong’s back, feeling a strange sensation wash over him when Hongjoong intakes a shaky breath. Then another. “Okay, standard stuff is out of the way.”

There’s a slight leap in Hongjoong’s heart when Seonghwa speaks, and he pulls the stethoscope away with what he hopes is an imperceptible gasp. Any calm pheromones that had been emitting from Hongjoong all at once turn agitated, upset, and Seonghwa turns to his medical cart to push it out of the way as he rounds the table again.

Face to face once more, Seonghwa realizes just how warm it is in the office now. He reaches into his pocket to produce a claw clip, pulling back whatever will fit as he sits back down on his stool, clipping the majority of his hair away and out of his face.

Now, Seonghwa is a lot of things, but he’s not dumb. It doesn’t take a medical degree to figure out that he’s reacting to Hongjoong’s heavy scent even despite his scent blockers. It’s much easier to keep scent from spilling out than to prevent it being taken in, but he can get through his appointment just like any other, because Hongjoong deserves to be taken care of like any other patient.

“Your vitals have gone up, but it’s not quite at a danger zone for a rut yet,” Seonghwa says while plastering a smile onto his face, keeping his breathing as even as his lungs will allow without taking a big gulp of alpha pheromones. “I believe we should start with discussing a rut plan for the time being, seeing as that is just around the corner,” he adds while reaching for the discarded file on his countertop, clicking his pen to pretend to take notes that he’ll remember anyway. “Once you’re, uhm, out of rut, we’ll go into more depth about the kind of diet you should adhere to as you adjust, and what suppressants to go on.”

Not expecting much from this beyond getting through the appointment, Seonghwa isn’t surprised when Hongjoong just grunts in reply, clearly too far gone to care. His scent is so thick that Seonghwa can practically feel it on his skin, sticky and pungent like oil that won’t wash away. Seonghwa should go, he needs to throw in the towel, but something inside of him is telling him to stay and help.

It’s not a nameless something either, but Seonghwa is just blinded enough to focus on the fact that this isn’t Hongjoong’s fault. That he’s simply reacting and Seonghwa’s scent blockers should be working just fine. They’re practically industrial strength.

And yet.

“Right, well, during your rut your body is in peak reproductive condition. Sperm count nearly triples and semen will take on a much thicker appearance, and there will be much more of it. The satiating factor of a rut is the knotting. We have plenty of knotting sleeves that you can choose from that are covered by insurance, and it’s recommended that you go through your rut in a nest of familiar scented clothing or blankets,” Seonghwa explains as calmly as he can, ignoring the huffing breaths coming from Hongjoong on the table. “It will be very easy to neglect basic needs during a rut, because the pain can be quite brutal and you are essentially in a dopamine withdrawal if it is not being spent with a partner, however—”

“What about with a partner?” Hongjoong interrupts suddenly, forcing Seonghwa’s eyes up from the nonsense he’s scribbled on the paper file.

“Hm?”

When their gazes meet, Seonghwa swears he feels an echo of Hongjoong’s pain as he curls in on himself, arms tucked against his abdomen despite the raging fire in his eyes. Seonghwa knows that look all too well, and his omega rushes to attention without him giving any permission to do so.

“Are you still in dopamine withdrawal if it’s spent with a partner?”

Hongjoong talks through his teeth, like a werewolf with comically too big fangs. Except Hongjoong’s teeth are normal, his body is just overrun with his own hormones, and Seonghwa feels the very moment that this becomes dangerous.

“No. Typically the opposite will occur and a sort of high will take place. It can be reported as a state of ecstasy or… on occasion, ferality. Pure instinct without human thought getting in the way,” Seonghwa explains while rolling back just enough to get out of Hongjoong’s personal bubble, ears twitching with the squeak of his wheels.

“What about for you?” Hongjoong presses, sliding off the examination table onto surprisingly stable legs. Pre-rut isn’t clouding his brain anymore, but putting him into an eerie focus, and Seonghwa ignores his instinct to cower at the surge of possession enveloping him like talons.

“I don’t think that’s—”

“What are heats like for you, Dr. Park? I should know that, right? So that I can treat an omega well?”

Seonghwa stands abruptly, stumbling backwards over his stool to send his back crashing into the wall. His shoulder blades catch the fall, and Seonghwa flushes from head to toe in shame for being so careless.

“Mr. Kim, I—”

“I told you to call me Hongjoong,” Hongjoong sneers while caging Seonghwa in with his arms, looking up into his eyes with a calculated innocence that a part of Seonghwa feels inclined to believe. “You like it, don’t you? I can smell it on you. You’re getting so… wet, because you like how I smell. It would be so easy if you were there, Doctor. Help me feel better.”

It’s all Seonghwa can do to choke down a whimper, refusing to let himself be so vulnerable when he already knows how much shit he’s caused. Seonghwa can’t fight back, his omega won’t let him, wanting nothing more than to submit to this alpha he’s only just met. It’s not entirely unheard of, especially when pheromones are potent—or compatible. But Seonghwa doesn’t want this for Hongjoong, it’s so many levels of wrong.

Seonghwa turns his head away when Hongjoong surges forward, assuming he wants a kiss and cursing himself further when Hongjoong goes right for Seonghwa’s neck. It’s just one nudge of his nose, but it bumps against the scent patch on Seonghwa’s gland, and his knees wobble in a warning to get it together.

“Hoongjoong,” Seonghwa pants, reaching out for the red string hanging on the wall that he has never had the displeasure of needing to use. “Please, just—”

“I need you, Doctor. Can’t you feel it? Can’t you—”

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Seonghwa slumps against the wall when Hongjoong’s entire body presses against him with the faint alarm, a low snarl buzzing against his neck making his omega refuse to move. He doesn’t really blame his body, because Hongjoong smells like chaos, like an animal, and Seonghwa has no faculties left in him to resist nature anymore.

Within seconds, Seonghwa swallows down a sob when the door to the examination room bursts open, security guards filing in to grab Hongjoong faster than Seonghwa knows what to do with. There’s a sharp whine, but Seonghwa’s hand on his own chest confirms that it isn’t him that made the sound.

The poor alpha whimpers as he struggles against the guards holds, looking at Seonghwa with betrayal in his eyes. Despite the uncomfortable situation, Seonghwa knows that Hongjoong’s alpha hasn’t had a chance to connect to anyone else with a designation since his presentation, and now the one omega he’s found has just torn them apart.

Something in Seonghwa withers at the sight, his stupid heart trampling over his brain all over again.

“Hongjoong, it’s okay,” Seonghwa soothes despite his own unsteady voice, slipping one of his hair ties off of his wrist and carefully putting it in Hongjoong’s hoodie pocket without letting them touch. “Nobody’s going to hurt you or me, but you need to be taken somewhere safe, okay? Another doctor will help you. I promise.”

This is what Hongjoong needs to hear right now, even if it feels wrong and dirty coming from Seonghwa’s lips, because he can’t guarantee any of it. He wanted to be the one to take care of this, but Hongjoong has attached himself to Seonghwa, and anything that happens from here on out will be affected by that imprint.

It appears to relax Hongjoong enough, his words slurring as he mutters out a weak, “Safe… omega… safe.”

Despite himself, Seonghwa smiles, nodding with more reassurance than before.

“That’s right, we’re safe. It’s okay.”

Watching Hongjoong get pulled out of the room sends Seonghwa’s omega into hysterics, words like guilt and betrayal swirling around his head against his will. He holds it together for all of two seconds once his staffed nurses come pouring into the room before Seonghwa crumples to the floor, his legs completely giving out.

🪷

“So, you’re fated to that guy.”

Seonghwa looks up from his book, eyeing Wooyoung over his glasses from across the table they’ve chosen in the park. It’s a beautiful day, sunny and uncharacteristically warm for the time of year. There are pups playing with older kids in the park, and Seonghwa would have considered it a perfect day.

Up until Wooyoung decides to insert himself into matters that Seonghwa has been hoping to figure out himself.

“Excuse me?”

Wooyoung’s eyes roll in his head, his fork clattering into the bowl of watermelon they’re sharing between them.

“You’re fated! No way an alpha just reacts that way—newly presented or not—unless you’re fated,” he explains with exasperation lacing his voice, as if he’s already told Seonghwa this a million times.

“Wooyoung, I’m a doctor, I don’t believe in fated mates,” Seonghwa replies while tucking his bookmark back into his book, aware that this conversation will not be so easily skipped over. Even if it is ridiculous.

“Okay, then genetic compatibility, you grump,” Wooyoung mutters with enough severity in his body to make Seonghwa think he’s 5 seconds from leaping across the table. “Whatever you want to call it, he listened to you when you needed him to, and your omega went crazy for days afterwards. You want him.”

A derivative snort escapes Seonghwa before he can stop it, sarcasm wanting nothing more than to coat his words in venom. There’s no point in arguing with Wooyoung about stuff like this, the most stubborn beta he knows, but Seonghwa won’t be put in a place he hasn’t previously agreed to being dropped in.

“We’re animals. Of course my body reacted to a horny alpha that wanted to breed whatever was moving in front of him, that doesn’t mean that—”

“Then how come you’ve been nesting?” Wooyoung interrupts, far too aware of the way Seonghwa falters at the accusation. “Yeah, don’t think I haven’t noticed there’s no more blankets in your living room. And you’ve been meal prepping like crazy, and you’re blushing!”

Seonghwa groans, sliding his glasses off of his face to hide in his hands. He still hasn’t entirely dealt with the whole ordeal, let alone talked about it in so much detail. It was a bit scary for him, even if he wasn’t afraid of Hongjoong himself, Seonghwa still hasn’t reconciled with his body for reacting that way. Seonghwa went in with too much hubris and promptly had his wings melted in alpha pheromones, sue him. Mistakes still happen at 34.

“Oh my god, please shut up,” Seonghwa all but whines, resisting the urge to scrub at his face like a worn out father. He shouldn’t feel so ashamed about this, but then again, he kind of should feel worse than he does. It’s a double-edged sword with serrated edges that tear Seonghwa up no matter which way he moves.

“Admit it, your omega feels like you took its mate away. It’s angry at you and driving you nuts to prepare for him to come back,” Wooyoung says, crossing his arms against his chest in complete finality.

Seonghwa thinks that after 7 years of friendship with someone, he’d have learned by now when things are simply out of his hands. If something is true in Wooyoung’s reality, then it is just about waiting for everyone else to catch up, but Seonghwa finds it hard to dispute it despite his initial impulse to shove any notion of them away.

“He’s my patient—well, was. I still need to call him and tell him I set up a new physician for him,” Seonghwa sighs, shaking his head in borderline comical defeat.

This entire ordeal has been plaguing him for days, making him feel nearly sick as his hormones try to settle themselves after being so severely rattled. Pheromones breaking through a scent patch is, to put it bluntly, not good, and Seonghwa isn’t sure he likes the implications of it at this point in his life.

“So, he’s not your patient.” Wooyoung grins, the telltale I told you so already playing at Seonghwa’s ears. “And you’re going to go out of your way to call him yourself instead of making a receptionist do it?”

“I don’t want to embarrass him, Woo,” Seonghwa is quick to shoot back, agitation creeping up his neck. “He deserves to hear it from me.”

“But why do you care?” Wooyoung presses, leaning over the table once more to emphasize a point that Seonghwa can grasp well enough on his own.

Rather than answer, Seonghwa looks past Wooyoung, watching the pups trying to climb up the slides and sliding back down when they don’t get enough grip. He sees the other parents in the park feeding their kids lunches and holding them while they take afternoon naps. Seonghwa feels a phantom pain of exactly what he’s been trying to avoid, and by the time his eyes find Wooyoung again, his metaphorical tail is promptly caught between his legs.

“Ha! Got you.”

Now it’s Seonghwa’s turn to roll his eyes, grabbing Wooyoung’s fork to pop a piece of watermelon in his mouth. Chewing buys him bout 4 more seconds of not needing to reply, but the conversation hasn’t ended just yet.

“You didn’t get anything. We had a weird attraction and that was that. I am not going to submit to some archaic mating belief because you want me to get laid.”

Seonghwa mutters the last part, looking around again to make sure there’s nobody that can hear them. They’re too far back to be worried, but Seonghwa feels very… protective of this thing that happened to him, and Wooyoung’s drooping look of sadness doesn’t make it any better.

“Seonghwa,” Wooyoung starts, shoulders relaxing to replace his insistence with genuine concern. “I know you want pups. And I also know that being a male omega gives you longer to do that, but that doesn’t mean you’re happy waiting around for it to come to you,” he continues, reaching across the table to grab Seonghwa’s hand in his own. The touch is nice, familiar, and Seonghwa’s omega huffs in reluctant agreement. “Maybe that archaic mating belief could be fun… or turn out, I don’t know, good for you.”

It’s not like Seonghwa hasn’t thought about it, because Kim Hongjoong is just about the only thing that Seonghwa has had on his mind since meeting him. His unique scent lingered on Seonghwa well after the appointment, and even though he was sent home early, remaining patients handed off to his best NP, Seonghwa couldn’t bring himself to wash it off. He laid in his nest, clothes on and breaking so many of Seonghwa’s hygiene rules just to roll the scent into the blankets. Lotus flower became his favorite plant, showing up in his dreams and making him wake up in less than desirable conditions.

That day, Seonghwa worried he would go into heat with how severely his body reacted, and he shudders at the memory of his thighs covered in slick and his own cum with his work shirt draped over his face. Not his proudest moment, but he’s not an idiot, and he imagines Hongjoong was in a similar condition.

“You’re an annoying friend,” Seonghwa relents with a sigh, deciding it’s best to give in rather than explain any of what he just sorted through in his head. “A good one, but annoying.”

Wooyoung doesn’t necessarily jump at the half-hearted praise, but he looks pleased with himself regardless.

“I love you too,” Wooyoung says, squeezing Seonghwa’s hand one last time before retreating back to his side of the table. “Now call him, and remember that since you’ve revoked patient rights that you are now free to do whatever you want.”

“That’s not really how that works.”

Wooyoung frees his most exasperated growl as he snatches his fork back from the bowl, poking a piece of watermelon and using it to point in Seonghwa’s direction.

“Whatever, Hwa,” he grumbles, popping it in his mouth and not even waiting to chew. “Now you’re being annoying.”

🪷

Seonghwa doesn’t have an excuse for the manner in which he calls Hongjoong, cuddled in his bedroom nest that had been recently cleaned and fluffed. It’s barely been over a week since the appointment, and Seonghwa hopes that Hongjoong’s rut has passed by now. A four-day cycle is typical, and Seonghwa knows that Dr. Na took good care of Hongjoong for the initial rut plan.

This phone call is meant to be the official notice of transfer, and Seonghwa hates that it ties his stomach up in all different kinds of knots. No pun intended.

“Hello?”

Hongjoong picks up on the third ring, his voice rough and mangled as if he was woken up from sleep. Seonghwa glances over at his bedside clock and confirms that it is, in fact, 2 in the afternoon, and it brings an endeared smile to his lips before he can stop it.

“Good afternoon, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa says with his smile plaguing his words, not even attempting to shut it down in hopes that his good mood will make the conversation go smoother. “It’s Dr. Park. I’m calling to discuss your official patient transfer.”

There’s a moment of complete silence following Seonghwa’s words, and for a moment he thinks that Hongjoong has hung up on him. By the rolling around of the fourth counted second, Seonghwa jumps slightly when he hears a muted thunk coming from the other end, followed by a muttered explicative that he pretends he didn’t hear.

“Yes, Dr. Park, hi,” Hongjoong finally replies, voice a bit more alert and energy entirely different, even through the phone.

“I just wanted to call and let you know that you have officially been relieved from my care, and Dr. Na has sent you a DocuSign to confirm that he will be taking over,” Seonghwa says in his Very Professional Voice, unable to help the small cringe he affords himself. “From here on out, whatever we discuss is entirely informal and I am not allowed to offer recorded medical advice.”

It’s basically a script, usually what he’s telling moms of tweens once care has finished and not the patients themselves. Seonghwa had said he wanted a new experience, and this is about as new and as awkward as experiences get.

“Okay,” Hongjoong replies, curt but not dismissive. “Does that mean that I… can I apologize?”

The gentle cadence of Hongjoong’s words is so different from the gruff and annoyed alpha that Seonghwa remembers, an image painting in his mind of flushed cheeks only barely rosy, and sweaty hair sitting perfectly on his head. Seonghwa tries to imagine Hongjoong in a better light than how he saw him, even if that was a pretty good thing to keep stored away too.

“You don’t have to apologize, Hongjoong. I understand.”

And he does. Seonghwa is a doctor, it’s quite literally his job to take care of people’s bodies when they cannot do it themselves. Hongjoong was vulnerable, experiencing something that he had gone so long without, and it was probably terrifying for his alpha. All of those hormones were released from a well contained cage, and Seonghwa wouldn’t wish however Hongjoong must have felt onto anyone.

“I know you do, but that’s why I want to apologize,” Hongjoong continues, a quiet huff making Seonghwa’s neck tickle as if he were feeling it in real time. “You were so… kind to me, and I could have controlled myself better. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, or afraid.”

Seonghwa’s omega comes to attention then, his chest constricting with warmth and worry that feels all at once natural and incredibly foreign. He wishes this was face to face, it could have been, but Seonghwa doesn’t trust himself. It seems he’s right not to.

“I wasn’t afraid, I promise,” Seonghwa says after a moment of quiet, nuzzling further into his fuzziest blanket to soothe the restlessness that has suddenly overcome him. “I was just—”

Weak. Hypnotized. Susceptible.

Seonghwa thinks he hears the thick swallow of saliva from the other end of the phone, or maybe it’s just his own ears rushing with blood. Suddenly, he’s back in that room, lotus flower and incense flooding back into his memory with heat that simmers against his will. Seonghwa chokes down a surprised gasp when he realizes he’s producing slick, and he bites down on his bottom lip in annoyance with his own anatomy.

“Yeah?” Hongjoong prods, the slightest shift in the air making Seonghwa regret this phone call at all.

“I… didn’t mind it,” Seonghwa finds himself muttering, his brain turned into stupid soup with the attention of an alpha he didn’t get enough time with.

Maybe Wooyoung is right, and maybe Seonghwa needs to stop underestimating the needs of his body.

“Oh.”

A slight cough from the other side of the phone hurtles Seonghwa back down to reality, his stomach flipping with anxiety when Hongjoong doesn’t say another word. He’s definitely broken a rule, or a law, and now Hongjoong is going to sue him for inappropriate misconduct. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

“I apologize, that was entirely out of line. You should probably get some rest—”

“What if I said that I liked it?” Hongjoong cuts in, his voice nearly back to that strangely ragged state. Seonghwa doesn’t even want to imagine what that means, or what Hongjoong is thinking—or doing.

“Hongjoong.”

It’s a warning, plain and simple. Seonghwa is older and should know better, he does know better, but his rational thought is completely plagued with the incredible feeling of being wanted by a criminally horny alpha. Seonghwa doesn’t really go on dates, he doesn’t have the kind of schedule that allows for people to weasel into his life unless they are equally as flexible. He knows he’s desirable, with a classically warm scent and generally androgynous appearance, but then alphas realize he’s also a person, and things go south from there. Seonghwa likes order, and therefore needs someone who will listen to him, and respect his wishes, even if it seems rigid or even unfair.

There’s never been anyone beyond a few hookups, maybe a boyfriend here or there to pass the time, but never anything serious. Nobody ever seems to like him enough to try.

“I like your voice, Seonghwa, and the way you smell, even if you were hiding it from me with scent blockers. It’s sweet, you know? Like magnolias and honey,” Hongjoong prattles out as if worried that Seonghwa will hang up on him—as if Seonghwa hasn’t already decided that he wants to give Hongjoong a chance. “I like your long pretty hair and the way your cheeks get red and dear God I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I saw you.”

A shuttering breath leaves Seonghwa in an attempt to calm himself down, his eyes fluttering shut with the need to pass out now that he’s becoming so overstimulated. Hongjoong having this effect on him over the phone is bad enough, but Seonghwa can’t imagine what will happen if they meet again, especially when the first time didn’t go so well.

Okay, that’s kind of a lie. By instinct standards, it was as good as a first meeting can get, but Seonghwa is still a man. And men have rules.

“This is getting dangerous,” Seonghwa mutters, unable to sound all that serious now that his omega has given in.

“Let me see you. We could go out, or hangout, whatever you want.”

It should be entirely shameful the way Seonghwa has to pull his phone away from his ear to muffle a groan into his pillow, both annoyed with himself and so turned on by Hongjoong’s desperation that it physically hurts. Nobody has ever had this kind of effect on him before, and he worries about what that means for him—or them.

“See that new doctor first and make sure you’re taken care of,” Seonghwa says once he’s finally collected himself, forehead tacky with sweat and flushed with warmth. “Then you can call me.”

As if a switch is flipped in Seonghwa’s chest, the discomfort peters out with his words, reassurance settling into the spaces that Hongjoong has unwittingly carved out. This is dangerous, but Seonghwa can’t avoid it anymore, not when the opportunity has perfectly placed itself in his lap. Hongjoong is a grown man too, and if things go well, then they go well. If they don’t, they’ll move on.

“At this number?” Hongjoong asks, hopeful.

“Yes,” Seonghwa exhales with a smile, unable to deny just how good this actually feels. “Goodbye, Hongjoong.”

🪷

If there is one thing that Seonghwa does not often do, it’s admit that Wooyoung is right twice in a row.

Texting Hongjoong becomes a normal occurrence for Seonghwa, and it’s nice, but talking on the phone is better. Whenever they get a chance, they’re telling each other about their days or ruminating on what to do for the next one

Seonghwa has learned that Hongjoong has an equally as hectic schedule because he teaches a production class at the university while also making music of his own. Hongjoong’s favorite foods are anything he can heat up in a microwave, and he has a bit of an obsession with diet coke. On Saturdays. Hongjoong tries to carve out space for his friends, and he always sounds so sleepy when he gets home, facetiming Seonghwa from his couch with his glasses perched on his nose.

Somehow, Seonghwa has curated a completely serene blanket of domesticity over top what once was dangerous sexual attraction, but that hasn’t exactly made the attraction go away.

If anything, Seonghwa finds himself to be the restless one as days turn into weeks of strictly over the phone communication, and he adjusts his blouse for the third time in a row with a familiar pain beginning to simmer in his lower gut, glaring at Wooyoung’s contact photo on his phone.

“What?” Seonghwa snaps when he answers the phone, tucking it between his ear and his shoulder to free up his hands for fixing his hair.

“Okay, rude,” Wooyoung grumbles from the other end, not in the slightest bit deterred by Seonghwa’s attitude. “Yeosang and I are outside. You coming or not?”

“Yeah, I’m working on it,” Seonghwa bites back, reaching for his packet of scent blockers and pulling one out. “My heats coming soon, so I’m not really sure if this is a good idea.”

“Not for another two days thought, right? C’mon, get some fresh air before you’re cooped up all weekend.”

It’s not like Seonghwa to be reticent about going out, and especially unlike him to use his heat as an excuse. Before The Incident, as it is so unaffectionately called, he had always been the one to stretch the limits of his heat in the name of a good time. Seonghwa is a goddamn adult, and he knows his limits.

At least, he thought he did.

“Who’s coming again?” Seonghwa asks by way of admitting that he’s actually not feeling all that great, trying to find any other reason to skip out on dinner with friends.

“I don’t really know their names, but Yeosang swears they’re cool! And he also said he’d pay for us, so you have even less of a reason to decline.”

It’s hard for Seonghwa to not roll his eyes, but he settles for a scoff, swiping his keys from the credenza beneath the mirror. There is no good reason to stall no matter how much the feeling in Seonghwa’s gut is unsettling him, instinct choosing the wrong time to put him on alert.

“I’m a doctor, I don’t need a reason to not pay for my own meals,” Seonghwa grumbles while slipping his shoes on, pulling open his front door to be greeted by Yeosang’s car sitting in his driveway.

“God, you’re like, the worst omega ever. At least pretend you like free stuff,” Wooyoung calls out of the passenger side window, showing all his teeth to remind Seonghwa and his nerves that this back and forth is meant to be fun.

“Once again, not how that works.”

At least if there’s one thing that Seonghwa can count on, it’s for Yeosang to hold a conversation despite himself. His anxiety doesn’t have much of a chance to linger when Yeosang whirls him into questions the second he’s settled in the back of the car, making the drive that much more bearable. It’s really no wonder that he and Wooyoung are mates, because each of their thoughts bounces off of each other as if they are continuously reading each others' minds.

The restaurant they end up in is nicer than what Seonghwa would pick for dinner with some friends, but he’s thankful that Wooyoung told him to dress accordingly. There’s warm ambient lighting and a general lively disposition that makes Seonghwa feel warm with conviviality as they’re taken to their seats, meeting a table of people that Seonghwa does not recognize in the slightest.

“Here, you can sit next to me, Hwa,” Wooyoung says while pulling out the seat for him, taking some of the pressure away from Seonghwa at the large table.

There are 8 chairs pulled up to the long dinner table, mostly filled, and fake candles sitting in the middle with a nice display of spring flowers. Seonghwa smiles at the man he’s put next to, brown fluffy hair and round eyes smiling back with ease. The man next to that one has black hair cut much shorter, displaying strong arms with trailing veins that disappear beneath rolled blazer sleeves.

They’re both alphas, Seonghwa thinks, but their hands are intertwined on the table, rings glinting in the faux candlelight.

“Everyone, this is my mate, Wooyoung,” Yeosang announces a bit timidly to the table while looking over at Wooyoung as if he’s just announced that he’s toting around a bag of diamonds. “And our close friend Seonghwa has decided to join us as well.”

Seonghwa bows his head politely to everyone at the table, an uncomfortable silence suddenly occupying the groups demeanor when he looks around to see eyes on him. There’s 7 people at the table, one seat empty next to the two alphas on his left, but Seonghwa already feels like he’s arrived embarrassingly late and with absolutely no clothes on.

“Seonghwa?” One of them asks further down the table, a large grin greeting Seonghwa when he looks their way. “I’m Mingi, and this is Jongho,” he says with an indecipherable glint in his eye, gesturing to the very eager man sitting on his right. “The two next to you are Yunho and San.”

At this listing of names, an echo suddenly plays on the very edge of Seonghwa’s memory, names that were once interlaced with medical jargon and muttered reassurances. Seonghwa looks around the table, the constant, gnawing heat in his belly turning to an awful burn as nausea rolls over him in waves, knowing that he’s missing something important.

As if to mock his anxiety, the entire table turns to look past Seonghwa at the sound of a voice that sends pleasant chills all the way down to his toes.

“Sorry I’m late everyone, I couldn’t find a fucking parking spot and—”

Magnetized by some cruel, cosmic being, Hongjoong’s eyes find Seonghwa first. It doesn’t take a pass over the table or even a nudge from one of his friends, Hongjoong looking down at his own outfit then up right into Seonghwa’s mortified gaze. The entire table is quiet now, probably very aware of the two versions of that day in whatever manner Hongjoong had decided to relay it to his friends.

Seonghwa’s stomach flips, then cramps with a pain that makes him fold in on himself, a weak whimper escaping him as his heat prods at all of his senses with a vengeance. Unfinished business, is what his body is relaying to him, and Seonghwa feels blood pooling in his ears.

“Oh my god, Hwa,” Wooyoung says with his hand rubbing Seonghwa’s back, his voice sounding so very far away. “Are you okay?”

“Here, he should drink some water,” another voice says to his left, Yunho probably. Calming alpha pheromones are enveloping him from every side, making his omega both preen and huff in annoyance that it isn’t lotus flower plaguing his nostrils. “Seonghwa, can you hear me?”

Seonghwa gasps, a sharp inhale hurtling him back down to a painful and embarrassing reality. He has never reacted like this before, not to any alpha or under any circumstances. A small wave of panic passes through him at the thought of being so out of control, and he’s unsurprised to look up and see Yeosang standing in front of him, blocking Hongjoong from getting through.

“Is—is he alright?” Hongjoong asks with a tremble in his voice, eyes wide and so very concerned as they rake over Seonghwa’s slumped form.

Yunho has taken it upon himself to carefully help him drink some water, and Seonghwa has to use all of his strength not to choke on the cold liquid. Everyone’s attention is on him, but nobody is uncomfortable, at least not because of anything Seonghwa is doing.

“I don’t… feel so good,” Seonghwa mumbles, leaning into Wooyoung’s warm palm that he places on his forehead. “Heat.”

“But it’s not for a few more days, Hwa,” Wooyoung says, genuine fear lacing his voice too. Everyone’s all up in arms just because Seonghwa has been thrown into heat too early, and it feels reassuring as much as it is annoying.

“Hongjoong, sit down,” Mingi bites out suddenly, a cloud of protective pheromones making Seonghwa dizzy. The only one who isn’t completely losing their mind is Yeosang, but he’s still stanced between Seonghwa and Hongjoong, still unsure what to do.

“I need to go home,” Seonghwa says, grabbing Yunho’s extended arm to help him stand from the table. It’s an… odd sensation to be the center of attention for a table full of strangers, especially when one’s he doesn’t even know are turning on their friend to unnecessarily protect him.

Seonghwa remembers that day in the office, and how scared Hongjoong was, how hard he tried to control himself. Na Jaemin is a newer specialist in late presentation, but he’s a damn good doctor, and Seonghwa trusts that he’s put Hongjoong on the right path. Even if he hadn’t, there’s no need to be hostile towards him, and his own omega fortifies the discomfort weighing down Seonghwa’s limbs long enough to make him lucid.

Someone needs to protect Hongjoong too.

“It’s okay. I’ll just go.”

“Let me take you—”

“Uh, no way. He’s vulnerable. I don’t even know you,” Wooyoung butts in before Seonghwa has any chance to speak for himself, coming around the other side of Yeosang to face off with a guy who clearly has no bad intentions.

Hongjoong’s pheromones are the only ones in the room that aren’t screaming at him, or teeming with hostility. Jongho is standing now too, and Yunho and Mingi look like they’re ready to pounce if need be. It’s so stupid, it’s not right, because Hongjoong hasn’t hurt anybody and Seonghwa can sure as hell take care of himself.

This has all just become one ridiculous jumble of instinct and well meaning designations, but enough is enough.

“I’m not a child, Wooyoung,” Seonghwa snaps, brushing Yunho’s hands off when they start to feel like a direct slap in Hongjoong’s face.

Seonghwa can guess that people are still adjusting to having a new alpha around, pack dynamics forever shifted just because someone’s anatomy decided to play tricks on them. There’s no reason to be in the middle of it, Seonghwa doesn’t want to be, but he does want to be near Hongjoong.

More than anything, Seonghwa just wants to go home and work through this quietly. He’s effectively caused a scene in the restaurant, but people are being nice enough to not stare, so the evening isn’t totally ruined.

“Hongjoong, take me home, please,” Seonghwa mutters while shuffling past Wooyoung and Yeosang, leaning on Hongjoong whose arm is already outstretched to support him. “I’m sorry to have ruined dinner. Please, go on without me.”

There’s a chorus of reassurances to remind Seonghwa that he didn’t ruin anything. Being human is hard enough, but to deal with an extra system coursing through your body on top of it all can make existing feel nearly impossible.

Seonghwa hasn’t felt this much shame in equal measure as he feels validated since he was a teenager, but it’s still not terrible to feel. Hongjoong’s supportive hand on his waist as they quietly leave the restaurant that has returned to normal reminds him that it’s okay to need some help sometimes, and Seonghwa inhales the warm notes of incense to calm his prodded anxieties.

🪷

Seonghwa isn’t sure what he had been expecting by allowing Hongjoong to take him home.

The pain of his heat had subsided the moment they were alone in Hongjoong’s car, Seonghwa’s body melting into the passenger seat with the warm and familiar scent that he now only associates with Hongjoong. Hongjoong kind of smells like those gaudy metaphysical stores with old ladies that have long hair running the counter, but it’s so fucking relaxing that Seonghwa can’t complain.

There’s even less to bitch about when Hongjoong helps Seonghwa inside, and carefully removes his shoes for him, and turns around to let him undress while staying nearby in case he falls. Hongjoong is the perfect gentleman, even when Seonghwa begins panting like a dog once he’s in bed and wearing nothing but some sleep shorts beneath the top sheet. Hongjoong’s eyes take in every inch of Seonghwa’s body as he carefully sets a filled water bottle and some pain killers on the nightstand, nothing filling his stare but concern.

Some distinctly human part of Seonghwa feels a stab of annoyance at how… docile he is in the presence of a vulnerable and suffering omega, because Seonghwa exists in a world where alphas are exactly the opposite. It’s not fair to punish Hongjoong for being a good person, but Seonghwa’s trust issues are screaming at him to burn bridges, if only to protect his heart that flutters when their gazes finally meet.

“What would you do if I told you to leave right now?” Seonghwa blurts when Hongjoong tucks his hands into the pockets of his slacks, blazer gone, and dress shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows to reveal contrasting tattoos. The first few buttons are undone too, and a gold watch on his wrist catches the glow of Seonghwa’s bedside lamp.

“I would leave,” Hongjoong says simply, looking at Seonghwa through his lashes. He almost looks shy. “If that’s what you wanted, I’d be gone right away.”

Seonghwa huffs in annoyance, sitting up in bed with another burning ache in his lower back. His heat is subdued, for now, only because Hongjoong is still close enough to not leave him feeling dejected. That doesn’t mean that Seonghwa is miraculously better, and he knows that he’s being the slightest bit unreasonable. They’ve never even really spoken except for over the phone.

“But that’s not how it’s supposed to be.”

It’s not hard to pick up the exact moment that Hongjoong starts to become worried, his warm scent turning the slightest bit rotten when fear passes over his semblance. He thinks that he’s the one being rejected, so Seonghwa scoots over, patting the empty space he’s left on the mattress to signal to Hongjoong that their time together isn’t over just yet.

Hongjoong considers the offer warily, looking down at his clothes as if he’s scared that he’ll offend Seonghwa by sitting on his bed in them. All things considered, it’s kind of a sweet thing to be worried about, and Seonghwa is almost… proud of Hongjoong for growing into his instincts so quickly. Of course an omega in heat doesn’t want outside scents on his bed, but Hongjoong must decide that obeying said omega is more important than minorly inconveniencing him, because he sits with his very next breath.

“What do you mean?” Hongjoong asks, a new emotion creasing his brow and making him look like some cute little puppy. Seonghwa doesn’t know how he resisted him for so long the first time they met, but he’s glad they’ve kept their distance since, or else he would’ve pounced forever ago.

“You’re—ugh—you’re an alpha,” Seonghwa grumbles as he tries to adjust, his anatomy betraying him with an uncomfortable throb of his asshole. Everything below the waist is pulsing, begging for Seonghwa to lay back and spread his legs for the sweet alpha in front of him. But Seonghwa needs answers too. “You’re supposed to feel feral and out of control, like you want to breed me and own me and mark me because I’m so close to heat and you like me.”

Given their circumstances, Seonghwa figures it best to get straight to the point. If he’s reading this all wrong, then it’s no harm and no foul on anyone’s part. They barely know each other, but Seonghwa’s body knows that Hongjoong’s body is compatible, so the rest would naturally come later. Seonghwa doesn’t believe in fated mates, they literally don’t exist, but he understands biology, and they are undeniably created to suit each others needs.

Something about it is as reassuring as it is scary, so Seonghwa leans into his lack of inhibitions, hoping he doesn’t blow this for either of them.

“Oh… did you… want me to feel that way?” Hongjoong prods, unsure, clearly trying to gauge what exactly Seonghwa is thinking as his hand fidgets against the sheets.

Any emotion that Seonghwa may have in his pheromones is currently being blocked by pungent mating signals, and the thickness of his own scent in the air is starting to mildly piss him off.

“No! I hate when alphas feel that way. I mean—I like it, any omega does, but not when it’s about ownership against my will,” Seonghwa says with another exasperated exhale, pulling himself up onto his knees to shuffle closer to Hongjoong, watching in pure satisfaction when Hongjoong’s eyes nearly bug out of his skull. “But you don’t feel that way, which usually means you actually want what’s best for me.”

Unsurprisingly, Hongjoong is a quick learner, his hands catching Seonghwa by the waist when Seonghwa throws his leg over Hongjoong’s lap. He settles there as if he’s done it a million times, strattling his clothed thighs that rub uncomfortably against his bare skin.

“I do,” Hongjoong breathes out, slim fingers curling into the soft flesh of Seonghwa’s waist, eyes never straying from his face. A gentleman.

“God, you’ve only been an alpha for a few months,” Seonghwa all but whines, allowing one hand to reach up and tangle in Hongjoong’s artfully styled hair. Gel crunches beneath his hold, but Hongjoong doesn’t even flinch, his scent only spiking enough to let Seonghwa know that he feels this thing between them too. “How are you better than any alpha I’ve ever met?”

A muted blush rises on Hongjoong’s cheeks, making Seonghwa realize that he’s wearing a little bit of makeup, soft eyeliner accentuating his already pretty eyes. Everything about Hongjoong is pretty, so handsome and striking but soft, such a unique alpha, inside and out.

“I don’t know about that… but I do know I’d never want to hurt you,” Hongjoong finally replies, his lip getting caught between his teeth as his hands wander to the slight swell of his ass just enough to make Seonghwa leak more than he already is. Can Hongjoong smell his slick? Does he want to know what it tastes like? “I do, uhm, feel those things, you know? But only in a way that feels good if you wanted them to. If you don’t, then I don’t.”

In that very moment, Seonghwa swears he’s died and gone to some sick and cruel heaven crafted just to promise him false hope. When Seonghwa passed 30, things started to feel bleak, only because everyone else was making them feel that way. He had only barely finished his residency, and he’d never had time to waste on stupid horny alphas with nothing on their brains but to keep him as a trophy. The world is still so stuck in old ways, but Seonghwa has always wanted more out of life, and even though it’s riddled with a million cliches, he has assumed, up until this very moment, that he was the guy who married his career.

But Hongjoong looks up at him with a sparkle in his eyes, his hands practically trembling as they try to refrain from exploring anymore. Seonghwa finally smells the floodgates open, and he rolls his hips just enough to be teasing, watching as a muscle in Hongjoong’s cheek twitches.

“Fuck,” Seonghwa all but groans, dropping his head into Hongjoong’s neck to inhale his scent, nose nudging his jaw just enough to tell him to make some room. “Wooyoung was right.”

The flood of pheromones right down Seonghwa’s throat as he nuzzles Hongjoong’s scent gland is enough to make him delirious, his entire body going lax with the soft circles that Hongjoong’s thumbs are rubbing into his lower stomach. This should be impossible to withstand, the perfect formula for a very rash and very horny decision to take place all unfolding right before Seonghwa’s eyes—that are, granted, closed in bliss. Seonghwa doesn’t really understand the intricacies of their situation, but he knows that he feels safe, and that Hongjoong is controlling himself so well because he understands that he makes Seonghwa feel that way.

“About?” Hongjoong whispers against Seonghwa’s ear, his lips brushing the shell just enough to make Seonghwa shiver.

More slick leaks out of him, soaking through his shorts and spreading up to his balls. Seonghwa is so fucking wet and hard that he’s sure Hongjoong can feel it through his slacks, but he can’t give in just yet. No matter how badly Seonghwa’s omega wants to roll over and beg to be fucked, Seonghwa needs to make sure that they’re both going to be taken care of after this.

“Hongjoong, be very honest with me,” Seonghwa mutters while forcing himself away from Hongjoong’s neck, swallowing down his whine of distress when their eyes meet once more. “Do you see this going anywhere?”

Hongjoong’s eyes are glassy now, the slightest bit of sweat breaking through his makeup above his brow and on his upper lip. His hands are as soft as ever, but Seonghwa can see that his patience is crumbling, and it’s as sweet as it is terrifying.

“This?”

“Us.”

Hongjoong blinks, whether to focus his vision or clear some of his mental haze, Seonghwa isn’t sure. All he is sure of is that it’s fucking cute, and he knows he’s doomed no matter what comes out of Hongjoong’s mouth next.

“Oh, well… yes,” Hongjoong says with a slight nod of his head, dazed but still trying so hard. The perfect alpha. “I really do. I really want it to go somewhere.”

“What if I said I want pups? Not soon, but I do. I want to have children and I want to go on stupid family vacations with matching shirts, and I want to have a partner to live alongside me for the rest of my life. What then?”

Seonghwa’s hand is still in Hongjoong’s hair, but his other one is gripping into the front of his shirt, pulling him closer until their noses bump. They can’t even look at each other from this closely, but Seonghwa doesn’t need to, his instincts trembling like live wire when he feels Hongjoong’s breath fan against his lips. Everything smells of a spring garden, and Seonghwa whimpers when Hongjoong’s hands finally tuck beneath his ass, yanking him up until their chest are flush together.

The smallest rumble of a growl buzzes from Hongjoong’s ribcage right against Seonghwa’s nipples, and he keens when Hongjoong leaves a fluttering kiss to the corner of his mouth, scorching fingers slipping up his thighs and past the hem of his shorts.

“Then I’d ask when you want to start.”

It can’t be helped, the way Seonghwa melts into a puddle of nothingness in Hongjoong’s lap. There are 9 years separating them, but Seonghwa feels none of them when Hongjoong’s thumbs knead the soft flesh of his inner thighs, reducing him to juvenile pleas that fall from spit-coated lips. It has been so long since anyone has touched Seonghwa out of genuine want and not selfish fulfillment, which in turn makes him a million times more inclined to give Hongjoong whatever he wants.

“Now. We start right now.”

Seonghwa has no idea who leans in first, the distinct lack of space between them making it feel as if they’ve merely stumbled into each other. The kiss is burning, urgency welling up inside of Seonghwa as his heat comes crawling back with a vengeance. Hongjoong is already hard beneath him, the bulge trapped in his slacks pressing right up against Seonghwa’s ass. The thin sleep shorts are sticking to Seonghwa’s body from all of his slick, so he grinds his hips down while licking into Hongjoong’s mouth, swallowing his groan of surprise when Hongjoong’s clothed cock rubs right against his own.

Hongjoong’s pheromones are even heavier on his tongue, their saliva mixing into something heady and dangerous that Seonghwa swallows down eagerly. The curious hands on Seonghwa’s thighs travel up, up, up until Hongjoong’s thumbs are dragging through slick, and Seonghwa’s breathing stutters their already messy kiss.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” Hongjoong groans, pressing his forehead against Seonghwa’s in a mild show of restraint. “I don’t—I can’t think. Fuck.”

“You’re going to have to trust your instinct,” Seonghwa mutters, dragging his lips away to trace the outline of Hongjoong’s jaw. His skin twitches with each kiss, and Seonghwa hums in pure satisfaction when he takes in another lungful of that sweet scent straight from his gland. “Or you can leave now, and I won’t blame you.”

Hongjoong rears back at Seonghwa’s offer, eyes blown wide just long enough for him to realize that he’s too far away. It doesn’t take more than a second for him to close the distance again, but he doesn’t let their lips touch, keeping enough space to allow Seonghwa the chance to hear him.

“Leave?” Hongjoong repeats the word as if it insults him, baring his teeth long enough for Seonghwa to decide that he likes this look on him very much. “No. Never.”

Seonghwa yelps when the room spins in a wash of colors around him, his body landing with a solid thud on his mattress. The first thing that Seonghwa sees is the ceiling fan going round and round, but then Hongjoong is crawling up between his legs and caging him in with his arms, eclipsing the rest of the room with a slight smirk on his pretty lips.

“You’re not getting rid of me now,” Hongjoong says as if it’s both a promise and a warning, the rough cadence of his voice sending small thrums of excitement all throughout Seonghwa’s body.

Gone is the scared alpha drowning in his clothes, wanting nothing more than to hide from the world that did him wrong. Hongjoong has come into his designation so beautifully, and Seonghwa feels safe beneath him, drowning in cool water that is overrun by lotus flowers.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean,” Seonghwa says while reaching up with shaky fingers to unbutton Hongjoong’s shirt, melting into the pillows when Hongjoong takes the opportunity of burying his nose into Seonghwa’s neck.

Hongjoong’s lips go straight to his scent gland, making Seonghwa’s movements falter as burning kisses are tattooed against his throat. Maybe this whole genetic compatibility thing has more merit than Seonghwa was originally willing to give it, but his instinct seems entirely hellbent on reminding him that it is very much real.

The haze of Seonghwa’s heat returns in waves, first turning his skin molten and heavy, then dragging his brain down into the deepest parts of himself. Seonghwa feels each brush of the sheets and every point where Hongjoong is touching him, a pathetic whine buzzing from his lips when he tries to push Hongjoong’s shirt off of his shoulders.

Another soft growl escapes from Hongjoong when Seonghwa tugs at the fabric, making his omega go completely heat-drunk in a matter of milliseconds. It’s been too long, far too long since anyone has made Seonghwa feel this way. In fact, he isn’t sure if anyone has ever made him feel exactly this way, even despite the years between them and their short amount of time getting to know each other. All of that feels inconsequential compared to the roaring flames igniting in Seonghwa’s belly, causing impatience to drip from his fingers like wax.

“Relax,” Hongjoong whispers into Seonghwa’s cheek, leaving a placating kiss to the soft flesh as he pulls back onto his knees.

Seonghwa feels inclined to whine some more, to complain that they’re too far away and therefore Hongjoong should remedy it immediately. His lips are just about to part to make the sound, but Hongjoong’s hands pulling open his unbuttoned dress shirt silence whatever grievances Seonghwa may have had rolling on his tongue.

“I’ve been reading a lot, you know,” Hongjoong says while letting the shirt fall to the ground, his hands going for the belt on his slacks next. “After every phone call we had, I’d be so keyed up that I spent hours in books and on forums about what it means to be an alpha and an omega.”

Seonghwa can barely keep his eyes open as he listens to Hongjoong speak, his sweet voice melting his brain and letting it leak out of his ears. All Seonghwa’s omega wants to hear is in what ways Hongjoong will fuck him, but he’s not entirely gone yet, so Seonghwa bites back his groan of excitement while watching Hongjoong remove his pants.

“I think I know a lot now,” Hongjoong continues, stepping off of the bed just long enough to kick the rest of the fabric clinging to his body off and away. He’s completely bare now, and Seonghwa can’t help the moan of desperation that escapes his throat, his back arching off the bed with a new gush of slick coating his thighs. “Sh sh sh,” Hongjoong hushes as he climbs back over Seonghwa’s body, movements calm and precise. “You can let go, Hwa. I’ve got you. I promise.”

Seeing him like this… Seonghwa almost wishes he had more time, or more self control, because he wants to ask Hongjoong everything. Seonghwa wants to know exactly what he’s learned, and how long it took him to read, and how each bit of information made him feel. There are so many particles of Hongjoong that Seonghwa wants to piece together into a sparkly mosaic comprised of warm oranges and nostalgic blues. Hongjoong has proven from the very beginning that he is unlike anybody that Seonghwa has met before, and his omega allows those last bits of restraint to fall away, throwing Seonghwa into the agonizing pleasure of his heat.

Their next kiss nearly brings Seonghwa to hysterics, his arms wrapping around Hongjoong’s neck to bring them impossibly closer. Hongjoong’s hard cock presses down against Seonghwa’s as their bodies shift, sticky with his own precome and the copious amount of Seonghwa’s slick currently ruining his poor shorts.

“Off,” Seonghwa pants into Hongjoong’s mouth, raising his hips just enough to allow Hongjoong to haphazardly yank them off his legs, only leaving space to toss them with the rest of Hongjoong’s clothes.

They crash into each other in the next second, meeting in a kiss filled with tongue and teeth as Seonghwa loses all control of himself. He wants to be more aware, to savor the feeling of Hongjoong’s warm body and the smoothness of his skin. More than anything, Seonghwa wishes he had just done this sooner, but it’s so good now, and he moans sweetly into Hongjoong’s mouth in a very loud plea for more.

Just like at dinner, Hongjoong is entirely calm, the only evidence of his nerves coming from the slight tremble of his wandering fingertips. He explores the soft planes of Seonghwa’s waist, petting over his stomach and squeezing the pliant flesh of his thighs. The teasing touches make Seonghwa’s legs fall open instinctually, his lips parted in a perpetual pant as he loses the ability to kiss Hongjoong back.

“Please, please,” Seonghwa shamelessly begs, nails digging into the flexing muscle of Hongjoong’s back. Everything is beginning to hurt, the once dull ache turning piercing with each second that Seonghwa is denied what he needs. “Need you. Hurts.”

A pathetic mewl follows Seonghwa’s words, the slight sting of tears blurring his already hazy vision. Every rational thought has been overrun by a mantra of fuck, knot, breed, over and over and over again, running Seonghwa in circles around his own head. He doesn’t care how it happens, but he needs Hongjoong now. They will have plenty of opportunities to talk each other to sleep, but Seonghwa’s omega is feeling neglected, so he does the one thing he knows will make even the most collected of alpha’s lose their mind.

Seonghwa pushes Hongjoong back with a palm on his chest, his twisting insides pulsing with warm when Hongjoong immediately makes room between them. Such an obedient little alpha, but Seonghwa wants him desperate, and he twists out of Hongjoong’s hold just enough to flop gracelessly onto his stomach. Seonghwa’s heat makes every movement feel grating, but it’s all too natural to tuck his knees underneath him just enough to display his leaking entrance, shaky elbows holding him up as best as they can.

“Holy shit,” Hongjoong mutters under his breath, the sound of his voice sounding so far away to Seonghwa’s ears rushing with blood.

It’s better like this, when Seonghwa can’t see but he can feel the warm press of Hongjoong’s palms over the swell of his cheeks. Seonghwa isn’t ashamed of the way he wiggles his hips just enough to encourage Hongjoong, and it works a bit too well, when Seonghwa is frozen in place by the feeling of a hot, wet tongue lapping at his clenching hole.

The moment reality sets in, Seonghwa claws at the sheets with a lewd and broken cry, every muscle in his body straining to seek out that euphoric feeling. It’s not as satisfying as Hongjoong’s cock would have been, but his throbbing insides sing with relief as the alpha tries to loosen him with slow and deliberate prods of his tongue. Low grunts buzz against Seonghwa’s skin with each gush of slick, and his skin flushes crimson, sweat dripping down his back to join the myriads of sticky fluids currently ruining his cotton sheets.

“Fuck, you taste so sweet,” Hongjoong groans with a teasing squeeze of Seonghwa’s right cheek, pulling him open that much more. “You’re loosening up so well for me, baby.”

Seonghwa won’t be very proud of this once the heat has passed, but he arches his back in obvious invitation as two of Hongjoong’s fingers join alongside his tongue. He’s completely exposed, vulnerable and begging for Hongjoong to just get on with it, and still he takes his time. Seonghwa’s thighs begin to tremble with the effort to hold himself up, mind completely fuzzy and mouth hung open in a perpetual whine. He’s so close to getting what he wants, but Hongjoong is being oh-so-giving in other ways, making Seonghwa’s omega preen under the attention.

“Please, fuck me. Knot me,” Seonghwa mutters out into the room, unsure what words he’s even saying out loud versus what is being screamed at him inside of his own head. “Need you, Hongjoong. God just—please.”

Every inch of Seonghwa’s body is screaming at him, his hands itching to reach back and solve the tension himself. It has been over 18 years since Seonghwa experienced his first heat, and as he got older, they slowly got less intense, less unbearable. After passing the final dregs of puberty, heats were more of a nuisance than anything, but this time is different. This time, Seonghwa feels powerless again, and his body trembles with teasing pulses of pleasure each time that Hongjoong’s fingers graze past his prostate.

“Condoms?” Hongjoong asks, the scratchy edge to his voice only making him sound that much more insanity inducing.

“Shut up, shut up,” Seonghwa wails so hard it hurts his throat, unable to articulate that he knows Hongjoong is clean, because he had the tests ordered himself. “It’s fine. It’s okay just—it’s okay.”

The weight of Seonghwa’s tongue in his mouth keeps him from saying anything else, everything feeling so swollen and uncomfortable as he impatiently counts down each passing second that Hongjoong’s cock isn’t inside of him. More tears stain the sheets and make Seonghwa’s eyes burn, but it’s all part of the experience, and he sobs in half-hearted relief when Hongjoong finally slips his fingers out of his throbbing hole.

“Don’t cry, Seonghwa,” Hongjoong coos as he blankets Seonghwa from behind, nose nuzzling into his shoulder blades. “I hear you, okay? I’ll make it go away.”

The world reverbs around Seonghwa in a wash of sounds he can see warping the walls, the feeling of Hongjoong’s cock sliding between his cheeks sending his nervous system into hysterics. The sheets bunch and tangle beneath him as he squirms restlessly, muttering nonsense that he hears playing back as white noise. Everything is too warm, his body aches, but Hongjoong doesn’t tease him anymore.

The first press of Hongjoong’s cock past his stretched rim sends a ripple down Seonghwa’s back, a shock of sensations making every other inch of him go numb. His insides clench, breath stuttering with a moan as Hongjoong meets no resistance. Seonghwa was made for this, his body relaxing around the intrusion until he feels the firm pressure of Hongjoong’s hips against his ass. Their bodies are pressed so close together that to be any nearer they would need to rip open each others skin.

Something inside of Seonghwa likes the sound of that, his simmering instincts boiling over until he is made entirely of his senses. The slick sound of Hongjoong’s cock dragging out is obscene, rivaled only by the squelch of him fucking right back in. Seonghwa wails with the slight sting against his skin, smelling their mixing scents and weighted pheromones. Even Seonghwa’s teeth ache with it, his tongue lolling out to taste every intricacy of what they’re doing.

Finally, is all Seonghwa can think, his bones popping and thighs shaking as Hongjoong’s thrusts find a proper rhythm. Each drag of his cock helps soothe the pain lancing Seonghwa’s limbs, slowly melting him into a puddle of absolute nothingness. Fuck. Knot. Breed. That’s all Seonghwa wants, even if he can’t get pregnant right now, his body can’t quite tell the difference now that Hongjoong’s sweaty skin is gliding against his own. Everything is so sticky, messy, but it feels right this way. Seonghwa feels so fucking good.

“My—fuck, my teeth—” Hongjoong grunts, leaving a sloppy trail of his saliva between Seonghwa’s shoulder blades as he mouths at the back of his neck. Alertness ripples through Seonghwa at the action as if he were prey thrown into the middle of enemy territory, and his knees give out on him with a sob.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. Don’t stop,” Seonghwa prattles out senselessly, voice nearly unrecognizable with the steadily building warmth of an orgasm pulsing through him. “Just b—bite me. Won’t—mate—s’okay.”

Each word requires every bit of Seonghwa’s energy not currently being stolen from him, his body rocking up and down the bed and making everything feel that much more floaty. It’s such a nice feeling, for all that it is disorienting, Seonghwa is slowly starting to remember the good that can come from heats. Hongjoong is feeling the urge to mating bite him already, and even though the implication could be frightening, Seonghwa mewls when a soft tongue laps at the soft curve of his shoulder.

“So good, baby,” Hongjoong grumbles, the subtle grazing of his sharp canines over the damp flesh making Seonghwa’s cock twitch. “Smell so good.”

Hongjoong’s hips stutter as he continues to mouth at Seonghwa’s shoulder, silently telling Seonghwa’s body that he’s close. The forceful nudge of his swollen knot with each stroke of his cock has Seonghwa drooling into the sheets in more ways than one, his muscles aching as the tightly wound coil in his belly begins to waver.

“Wanna come,” Seonghwa pants, rocking his hips back to meet each of Hongjoong’s thrusts, whining pathetically when his knot slips in, catching on his rim only to slip back out. “P—please, make me come.”

Each new second is like a morphed sense of torture, all pleasant feeling becoming overrun with violent need once more. Seonghwa feels it building inside of him, the need to be destroyed and satisfied, a shell of himself filled with only whatever Hongjoong leaves inside. Their bodies fit together so well, their scents creating a euphoric symphony of flowers and afternoon tea that Seonghwa has never experienced before. His throat hurts from crying over their pretty music, but Hongjoong keeps his promise, when in the very next second, he slows to a deliberate grind of his hips.

Seonghwa’s mouth falls open in a silent shout, his hole giving away to make room for Hongjoong’s swollen knot. It slides in slowly at first, carefully, before Seonghwa’s body locks them together with a lewd squelch. Slick is dripping down the backs of his thighs and coating his balls, his cock twitching pathetically as Hongjoong continues to try and fuck him.

His thrusts are small, the head rubbing mercilessly against Seonghwa’s prostate with even the most subtle of movements. Seonghwa senses it all crumble around him before he can properly understand what he’s feeling, Hongjoong shuddering above him the same moment that his canines pierce his soft flesh.

Seonghwa screams, white-hot pleasure mixing with blinding pain as he’s thrown into an endless orgasm. Thick spurts of white leak out of him where his cock is trapped between his belly and the sheets, pulsing each time that Hongjoong releases more of his own cum inside of him.

Blood trickles down the side of Seonghwa’s neck, warm and then just as sticky as the rest of him as they tremble through every ebbing wave. The intensity peters out slowly, Seonghwa’s ears popping when his senses finally return to him after the last of Hongjoong’s overstimulated whimpers. They fall to their sides together on the soiled sheets, still attached by Hongjoong’s swollen knot and practically delirious.

Seonghwa doesn’t know how much time passes by him in this state. Long enough for Hongjoong to cover them in a blanket as his knot deflates, and eventually help Seonghwa up to rip off the dirty bedding. By the time Seonghwa even realizes where he is, another wave of warmth is creeping up on him, and he blinks his heavy eyes open from where he’s currently nestled against Hongjoong’s chest.

“You okay?” Seonghwa asks, voice scratchy but much less painful after the water he knows Hongjoong pushed on him.

Despite the situation, Seonghwa wants to use the last of his lucidity to check in on Hongjoong, unable to help but notice that his heart is still beating a bit too fast. Maybe there are things he wasn’t expecting, or experiences he’s still trying to sort through.

Whatever it is, Seonghwa finds that his omega is feeling fussy, and he reaches up to gently cup Hongjoong’s cheek, guiding his half-lidded eyes down towards him.

“I can finish my heat myself if this is too much,” Seonghwa continues, voice so soft for fear of disturbing their perfectly found peace.

It is quickly in vain though, Hongjoong’s eyes going wide at the suggestion. Seonghwa didn’t like saying it either, but he always wants Hongjoong to feel like he’s free to make decisions here too.

“It’s not too much,” Hongjoong says while rolling them over just enough to have Seonghwa laying down amongst the pillows, looking down at him with his eyebrows knit together in a cute display of grumpiness. “Why do you always think I’m about to run away?”

Something flutters inside of Seonghwa at the question, Hongjoong’s general endearing disposition throwing Seonghwa off balance as he’s forced to reconcile with his own feelings. Because honestly, there are far too many reasons to count for why this shouldn’t work. They’re too different, they barely know each other, they’re almost ten years apart. Seonghwa hasn’t had luck with people in his own profession, of his own age, or that he’s known forever. Maybe it has everything to do with them being genetically compatible, and it will fizzle out anyway.

Seonghwa realizes then that he’s fucking terrified because he actually likes Hongjoong despite all of those things, or maybe explicitly because of them, and he doesn’t want to lose it before they’ve even begun.

“I guess I just—your heart,” Seonghwa stammers out, circling around the topic as he trips over his own tongue. “It’s beating so fast, and I’m scared that you’re scared and after the haze of my heat is over you’ll step back and realize this isn’t for you at all.”

A broken exhale escapes Seonghwa’s ribcage, the slight drop in his emotions making his insides twist all over again. This isn’t the ideal place to have this conversation, but Hongjoong’s fingers are delicate as they card through Seonghwa’s hair, his lips even softer when they brush against his forehead in silent reassurance.

“I’m not scared of anything, Hwa,” Hongjoong mutters so sweetly that Seonghwa has no choice but to believe it, his eyes fluttering shut when Hongjoong kisses his nose too. “My heart is beating so fast because I’m a new alpha who’s laying in bed with his omega that smells exactly like him.” Another peck, one to each of Seonghwa’s cheeks. “I’m going crazy thinking about being inside of you again…” he trails off, dragging his lips to the shell of Seonghwa’s ear. “And how sweet you’ll taste when I make you come down my throat.”

Unsurprisingly, Seonghwa is all too willing to let Hongjoong derail his attempt at a serious discussion in favor of satisfying his needs. That uncomfortable hint of warmth all along his skin turns into something intrusive and virile, Hongjoong’s words slithering down his spine like a creature.

“Okay,” Seonghwa acquiesces with a curt nod of his head, nuzzling his cheek against Hongjoong to silently encourage him.

The soft trail of kisses continues from Seonghwa’s ear down along his jaw and the column of his throat, searing evidence of Hongjoong into his tacky and burning skin. Seonghwa finds it within himself to place his concerns to the very back of his mind in favor of enjoying whatever Hongjoong is thinking as his spit-slick lips travel over the expanse of his chest.

Seonghwa has said it before, too many times, but it remains true to the very last detail. Hongjoong is unlike anyone that he has ever met, and Seonghwa has never been more relieved to be so wrong.