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Soobin wants.

Saliva fills his mouth and he rubs his nose over Yeonjun's scent gland again, again, like if he does it enough the scent of him will stick even after all this is done. The ache in his gums comes back in full force and he whines, desperate, almost despairing.

“Just need to–” He chokes out, lower lip wet with drool. “Need to, need to–hyung, need t'bite.”

Yeonjun's hands, which were docile and gentle before, tighten in his hair, and the pain of it makes Soobin suck in a sharp, shocked breath, cock twitching in his boxer shorts.

“Don't you dare,” Yeonjun says sternly. Soobin trembles, eyes stinging fiercely, the denial enough by itself to bring him to tears. Then Yeonjun's hands go soft again, healing touches to soothe the harsh pulling, and Soobin buries his face against his scent gland again to breathe him in. “Not yet. Be patient, Bin-ah. Wait.”

It feels like that's all he's been doing. Waiting. He's waited for years to have this and he's waited for what feels like longer for Yeonjun to finally just do something, or let Soobin do something if he won't.

Everything aches. His teeth, his cock where it's tenting his boxers and throbbing with need, and a deeper, more intense ache inside him, making every nerve scream for relief. Sweat rolls down his temple, his back, dampening his hair and his shirt, and he collapses into Yeonjun with another stricken whine. Helpless and hopeless, he clings to Yeonjun and draws in deep lungfuls of his scent, warm and tantalizing. It only drives him wilder, body tensing against the urge to just take and take and take.

“I need,” he whimpers. “Yeonjun–I need.”

He doesn't know what. Everything that should come naturally is the wrong answer. To knot something, to just shove his dick into something tight and wet and sink his teeth into a bared neck–all of that is wrong. The base urge to find someone omega–even that is wrong.

He doesn't want it. Doesn't the syrupy sweet scent of an omega fogging up his room. He doesn't want to take control or to fuck something until his knot is rubbed raw. He just wants–he just wants Yeonjun. His warm, slightly bitter beta scent is so, so good, Soobin can't get enough of it. He keeps sniffing at Yeonjun's neck until it makes him dizzy, eyes rolling back, hips shifting until he can press his hard cock against Yeonjun's side, the pressure so good it draws another wanton whimper out of him.

Soobin is well aware that it's pathetic. That he's weak to be practically losing his mind like this, nose pressed up against Yeonjun's scent gland and inhaling over and over until he's drunk on it. That it's not very alpha of him to let Yeonjun order him around–but he doesn't care.

“Please,” he gasps, and his hips jerk, rolling forward to grind against Yeonjun's hip. He moans at the responding jolt his cock gives, precome spilling out to dampen the front of his boxers. “Please–Yeonjun–hyung, let me–”

Fingers tightening in his hair again, yanking his head back until Soobin yelps and sobs as he's pulled away from Yeonjun's neck, denied his next fix of the addicting rush that comes with breathing in. Tears roll down his cheeks, Soobin's lashes clumping together, hips kicking to try to get more, more, before Yeonjun denies him that too. The scent of rut settles heavy all around them, seeping into everything, and Yeonjun fixes him with an unimpressed stare.

“Binnie,” he says, and Soobin cowers beneath the softness of it. So soft it seems almost dangerous, too good to be true. “Be patient. Be good, and then maybe hyung will let you bite.”

And he wants it so much–so, so much–Soobin can only nod and nod and nod, whimpering despondently when Yeonjun lets him go. In the depths of his dizzy, rut-driven haze, Soobin doesn't even know how they got here, how it came to this. When he tries to figure it out, he catches another whiff of Yeonjun and it all falls apart.

Two years. He's lived with Yeonjun for two years now–almost three. Originally bestowed to him in the very last year of Soobin's schooling, when he was suffering through his own faulty decision to pursue his master's in education, Yeonjun's offer seemed like a blessing in a time of hardship.

His other living arrangements were about to fall through–the lease on his shitty studio apartment almost up, his part-time job (entirely unrelated to his degree, mind you) not nearly enough to keep up with rent. Soobin was living paycheck to paycheck when Yeonjun's roommate bailed on him to move in with his boyfriends. The answer was clear.

“Move in with me,” Yeonjun said, and Soobin swore he saw glimpses of heavenly light and an angelic choir fill the backdrop of the cafe behind him.

It helped that Soobin knew Yeonjun. He'd been nursing an embarrassing crush on the beta since their friend group came together in sophomore year, a collection of strays all fixed together with the glue that is Kang Taehyun. Honestly, they're all so different that Soobin has a hard time remembering how exactly they all came to know each other even now. The common denominator, though, is Taehyun. He'd fitted himself into so many different spaces that they'd all just wound up coming together naturally despite their different programs and classes.

So he knew Kai and Beomgyu and Yeonjun and Soobin separately, and then he'd dragged them every which way until their paths crossed, and after that it wasn't uncommon for them to just be together. Crammed into each other's dorms even when they really shouldn't have been, passed out on the bathroom floor after a night when Soobin maybe got a little too brave with drinking, then swore never to again.

He knew Yeonjun and he liked him too, so Soobin's answer came just as easy. With the sound of organ keys and harp strings still filtering into his ears, his jaw slack, he'd said, “Yes.”

And Yeonjun had grinned and the subtle, warm scent of him that Soobin was always unconsciously seeking had grown thicker, more full. Soobin spent several moments trying to find the most inconspicuous way to inhale without looking like he was.

But that's the problem. Soobin treated it at the time like it was a blessing–and it was! For the most part, Yeonjun's company and paying for a portion of rent took a heavy load off of Soobin's shoulders. Yeonjun worked full-time and was therefore able to take care of more than Soobin, and the fridge was always stocked full, and his company was an added bonus. But it was also torture.

Because the close proximity just made Soobin's crush worse, and it drove his alpha wild. Yeonjun would slip into his room without any fanfare sometimes, even without knocking, to remind Soobin to eat or to bring him water while he was cramming for a test, or he'd pull Soobin to the couch on a weekend to sit down and watch something, and Soobin's alpha would preen and puff its chest out somewhere in the recesses of Soobin's mind, crooning, mine. Mine, mine, mine. Beta, mine.

Soobin has been freed from his studying hell since then, graduated and ended up with a job that makes him glower at his useless degree. Why education when his work has nothing to do with it? What did he spend an extra year losing his mind and money for if he wasn't going to use any of it later? But the living situation, and that little voice alongside it, persists even now.

The problem? Yeonjun is not his. Something that becomes adamantly clear every time Yeonjun comes into their shared kitchen the morning after a long night out, wearing Soobin's shirt (Soobin's shirt!) Which would be fine on its own, better than fine, even. But it's a size XL that exposes a wide swath of Yeonjun's shoulder and collarbone, which Soobin's alpha purrs possessively over for all of five seconds before he realizes that skin is marked up. And then it revolts violently, indignant protests filling Soobin's head against his wishes and making him wince.

He doesn't know why Yeonjun is just so insistent on borrowing his clothes after he does such things. He'll spend the whole night out in someone else's bed (It's fine! Soobin isn't shaming him!) just to come home and root through Soobin's laundry hamper to find one of his shirts to wear and show off the fact that someone else has had their teeth on him.

Soobin would never, ever judge him for it, because he has no idea what beta instincts are like and even thinks he may be more ignorant about it than he wants to be. But it does sting a little every time. He has to avert his eyes awkwardly and try not to pout while his alpha whines pitifully, mine, mine.

Yeonjun isn't his, and Soobin really was a fool to think living with him would be anything but torturous.

“Morning, Bin-ah,” Yeonjun croaks hoarsely, and Soobin's stomach flips over. He's suddenly grateful for Yeonjun's dulled senses–it would be too obvious if Yeonjun were able to catch the way Soobin's scent reflects his emotions. His possessiveness, his untamed want to mark and claim and make Yeonjun his, the warm arousal that swoops through his belly at the sound of Yeonjun's morning voice–all of it would be too obvious. “Coffee?”

Obediently, Soobin passes him a cup.

Really, they've done this exact same thing for long enough now that he has the whole routine down perfectly. Yeonjun will get ready and go out the night prior, and Soobin will get up early to have his cup of coffee ready for him when he inevitably comes stumbling out of his room the morning after. It's almost domestic. His alpha loves it, purring and crooning and practically rolling over to expose its soft belly whenever this happens. But it's no good for Soobin's heart, because it isn't lost on him that Yeonjun is spending the night with someone else.

Over the years, that embarrassing crush he'd started out with has deepened into something mortifying. Something completely pitiful. Disastrous, Beomgyu calls him. And so obvious, seriously–how hasn't hyung noticed?

Soobin doesn't know, and he's conflicted on whether or not he ever wants that to happen. It would be too embarrassing if Yeonjun were to figure out just how far gone Soobin is for him. Because it's far. Soobin thinks he'd do anything, no matter how humiliating, if Yeonjun asked him to. Yeonjun could tell him to jump and Soobin would ask how high.

“Thanks,” Yeonjun says, breaking Soobin out of his spiral.

He sips from his cup and sighs, body sagging, and he looks so sweet and sleepy that Soobin just wants to–he just wants to mash his face in the crook of Yeonjun's neck and rub all over him until the beta smells thoroughly like him, but thoughts like that are not very civilized and actually quite brutish, despite Soobin's reputation of being outwardly very gentle. So he shoves it down and scolds his alpha furiously until it whines in submission, which is how Soobin is used to doing things, and then he clears his throat.

“No problem,” he replies, sounding embarrassingly hoarse himself despite the fact that he's been awake for about an hour now. He doesn't mention the shirt Yeonjun is wearing no matter how much his alpha is howling at him to. “Um. Sleep well?”

Yeonjun blinks a few times. His mouth looks unbearably pink, unbearably swollen, and Soobin's chest pangs harshly all over again. He lowers his eyes back to the floor, to Yeonjun's feet shoved into a pair of slippers, just so he doesn't have to look anymore. The real blessing must be that Yeonjun can't smell him, or else he'd probably be concerned about Soobin's rapid-fire mood swings.

“It was fine,” Yeonjun says. His voice lifts in an almost question, thoughtful. “Had a weird dream, though.”

Having enough of just standing around awkwardly, Soobin starts the process of making toast.

“Oh?” He asks. “What was it about?”

“Don't really remember, but I think you were in it.”

Soobin almost drops the bread.

See! His alpha yips. Beta wants us, wants us.

No, Soobin shoots back, and lays out four slices of bread inside their little toaster oven.

“Huh,” he mumbles out loud. “Weird.”

It makes Yeonjun laugh, this abrupt burst of joy that fills their kitchen and makes Soobin reconsider whether it's actually torture after all. Maybe he was right initially to view it as heaven, because the sound of Yeonjun's happiness makes him all melty inside until a smile is pulling at his lips, too.

“That's what I'm saying.” Yeonjun comes closer until the subtle hint of his scent wafts around to Soobin's nose. At least he doesn't smell like someone else. Soobin knows he has no real claim to Yeonjun, none at all, but that might be too much. “I don't even know if it was actually you. Like–it didn't look like you, but I knew it was.”

With the timer counting down, Soobin steps back from the toaster oven, turning back to Yeonjun.

“What was I doing there?”

“I told you,” Yeonjun says cheekily. “I don't remember. You were just there.”

Soobin grumbles in response.

“Lame,” he says, and grins when Yeonjun reaches out to smack him.

“Oh yeah? Then what did you dream about?”

It's just like Yeonjun to turn everything into a competition. Unfortunately, Soobin can't give him a truthful answer. Just thinking about it has heat rising to his face. He'll lose this one.

“Nothing,” he mumbles, turning abruptly to watch the timer on the toaster oven count down. This is where he's sure it's hell and not heaven, because Yeonjun is a fucking demon who can't leave him to suffer on his own.

“Oh?” And then, “Oh? Was it a good dream?”

He laughs, and then there are fingers closing around Soobin's ear, making him jolt in surprise.

“Bin-ah, your ears are all red, you know.”

Soobin's alpha truly has the worst taste in potential mates. Flustered, he jerks away and ends up banging his hip against the edge of the counter, a curse slipping out at the dull throb of pain that spreads over the skin.

“Ow.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Yeonjun retreats with his hands held up in surrender as Soobin glowers in his direction, but he's hiding a grin, biting down on his puffy, pink lip with pearly teeth. Soobin finds himself so distracted by the sight that he forgets to keep glaring. “Sorry,” Yeonjun says again. “I couldn't help it.”

When he says things like that, Soobin's stomach twists up into knots.

“So was it?”

“Huh?”

“You know.” And Yeonjun's smile becomes sly. “A good dream.”

If Beomgyu had his way, his perfect, fanfiction-tainted way, this is where Soobin would confess everything. This would be, in his words, the prime opportunity for Soobin to tell the truth–but the evidence of Yeonjun's night out is still right there, painted all over his neck.

“I don't know, I can't remember,” he says. But he can. He remembers the dream just as much as he remembers waking up hard and aching and panting–with no Yeonjun there to help him. He'd taken care of it himself and only been a little ashamed when he pictured Yeonjun as he fell to pieces.

Yeonjun's expression shifts. His hand tightens on the handle of the cup of coffee Soobin prepared for him.

“You don't have to tell me,” he says awkwardly. “Sorry. I didn't mean to pry.”

Soobin's alpha whines. He tells it to shut up.

“No–it's okay,” he protests. “It's fine, hyung. I really can't remember. You didn't make me uncomfortable or anything.”

Yeonjun looks like he might be about to argue, but then the toaster oven timer beeps, an outrageously loud sound that has Soobin flinching back away from it. It's a relic left over from Beomgyu before he decided to ditch, as Yeonjun likes to complain. As much as Soobin hates the damn thing, he's too lazy and stingy to look for a new one.

He burns his fingers on the toast in his haste to get it out of the toaster, then realizes belatedly that he'd never even gotten plates out in the first place. Yeonjun comes to his rescue quickly, and when the toast finally clatters down onto the plate Soobin rips his fingers away to shove them in his mouth. So maybe Beomgyu is right about him being a disaster.

“Oh, Bin-ah,” Yeonjun sighs, leaning against the counter as Soobin turns to the sink to run cold water over the burns. “What would you do without me?”

As much as living with Yeonjun is torture, living without him might be worse. Which is why there is no hesitation when Soobin replies, “Die, probably.”

It makes Yeonjun laugh again, Soobin's favorite sound in the world.

“Okay, what happened?”

Beomgyu has this uncanny way of just knowing when Soobin is going through another Yeonjun-centered crisis. Maybe it's just that Soobin really is obvious and Beomgyu's alpha nose is able to pick up the depth of it. But Soobin still pretends he has no idea what he's talking about, because he hates admitting that maybe he has a very Yeonjun-shaped problem.

“What do you mean?” He asks. Beomgyu shoots him a look that says don't play dumb, and it makes Soobin bristle.

“You smell horny-sad.” Beomgyu says, and it's shockingly not the most absurd thing to have come out of his mouth.

“I'm sorry?”

“Horny-sad,” Beomgyu repeats. “Horny and sad. At the same time. So what happened? I'm giving you the chance to tell me before I start guessing.”

A shudder runs down Soobin's spine. He shakes it off and sighs.

“Hyung went out again,” he says. “Last night–which. I know it's fine. It's not like we're–like he's my boyfriend or my mate or anything, but–”

“–but you did your sappy morning routine where you make him coffee and breakfast and the whole time he looked like he got the best fuck of his life from someone else, didn't he?”

Sometimes Soobin really, really hates Beomgyu.

“Woah, chill out. You don't have to growl at me. It's not like I'm the one who fucked him.”

Soobin's growl cuts out abruptly, and he blinks at Beomgyu in shock, eyes big and round. And okay, maybe Soobin's alpha has been making an appearance more and more lately, but it's nothing he can't handle. He might be an alpha, but he's been a mellow one for as long as he can remember. He has instincts, sure, but he rarely, if ever acts on them. And maybe he's possessive and covetous in private, in his thoughts, but it never looks like this.

Like he's having the same thought, Beomgyu frowns.

“Are you off your suppressants?” He asks.

“Wh–no,” Soobin says, alarmed. “No. I'm still taking them. I haven't stopped.”

But it makes him consider. Did he miss a dose? Surely not. He takes the little gel capsules every morning when his alarm for them goes off. Then he sits at his desk and works his boring remote job that he's overqualified for and waits for Yeonjun to get home. It's a little pathetic, he'll admit. Maybe a lot pathetic.

The point is, Soobin is taking his suppressants. Beomgyu sniffs the air pointedly and raises his eyebrows.

“You sure?” He asks. “I mean, I know I'm good at sorting you out usually, but you're making it real easy on me this time. Your scent is a lot…stronger than usual.”

Soobin deflates in his seat.

“I'm sure,” he says. “You're right, by the way. About this morning.”

“Damn,” Beomgyu whistles lowly. “See, if you'd just confess already then you wouldn't have this problem.”

Soobin sends him a baleful glare over the rim of the strange blue lemonade concoction he'd received instead of his request for soda.

“Don't look at me like that when it's your fault, you doormat.”

Sour when he drinks it–Soobin's face scrunches up to show his distaste.

“I'm not a doormat,” he says. “Just–You know how it is with him. Sometimes I think maybe it's mutual. Most of the time… I dunno.”

“It's mutual,” Beomgyu affirms. “Not that he told me so, or anything, because if he did this would be betraying his trust and I'm better than that. But anyone could tell, seriously. Why the hell else do you think he hasn't moved out?”

Soobin frowns.

“Because we're friends?” He tries another sip and grimaces. “Even if hyung doesn't like me, he likes me. Plus it cuts the bills in half.”

“You,” Beomgyu says, pointing at him from across the booth they're seated in. “Are a lost cause.”

Doesn't Soobin know it.

“Shut up and eat,” he hisses. “Or I'm not paying for your share.”

Beomgyu is a lot quieter after that, but his disappointment settles heavy in the air around them. An itch he can't quite scratch–Soobin's alpha wriggles uncomfortably under the weight of it.

In the days following, much to Soobin's alarm, he notices a distinct uptick in the presence of instinctual urges and possessiveness. So much so that the next time Yeonjun goes out–after a painstakingly long routine of getting ready that ends in some sort of sleeveless mesh top and body glitter that just serves to further highlight the bulge of his biceps–Soobin has to resort to biting his lip to prevent himself from growling.

It's only so alarming because he's being so careful. Soobin is taking his suppressants. He takes them every day without fail. But he'd be lying if he said he hasn't noticed an increase in the usually docile urge to be close to Yeonjun. To smell him. To scent him, even, and it makes Soobin balk because that's never been him. He's never been that type of alpha.

The only time it came close was much milder than this.

One night, a long time ago, when they were lying on the bathroom floor together, Yeonjun confessed something to Soobin.

“Sometimes,” he said, voice warm and hazy, syllables slurring together, drunk from the whiskey they had too much of. “I feel like–like ‘m not enough. Like I won't be. Ever. Because I'm just a beta.”

And Soobin had been just as drunk. Drunk enough to press his cheek against the cool tile of the floor and forget to temper the look on his face and his insistent tone when he replied. He can't remember what he said to Yeonjun, but he remembers thinking–that's bullshit. Hyung is so much. So much more than just anything.

And it's true. Yeonjun is so much that Soobin's alpha is going bonkers, bouncing off the wall just looking at him all dressed up for a night out clubbing.

“Bin-ah?”

Right. Right, Soobin is kind of actually blocking the door right now. There's this heavy, tense feeling in his chest and he doesn't really want to move. He kind of wants to sit on the floor and cling to Yeonjun's leg and beg him not to go out looking like that. Because he knows how it'll end, knows it'll be tomorrow morning with Yeonjun in his shirt or no shirt at all, and scratches all up his back that come from the fingers of someone else.

His fingers curl up into fists and he swallows the urge to growl or cry or both. Wouldn't that be a sight? Maybe it would shock Yeonjun into staying. Instead of doing either, he steps forward, eyes roaming all over Yeonjun, the skin of his torso beneath the mesh of the top, the curvature of his arms, so much skin, so much muscle that will be in someone else's bed. Soobin wants to be the one who gets to bite it. To feel it. He'd take anything from Yeonjun if only it was an option.

“Hyung,” and his skin buzzes and his alpha yips all pleased like it thinks this is it, this is it–“Have fun.”

At least Yeonjun never brings his conquests back here. Maybe he's embarrassed, or maybe he just respects Soobin too much for that.

Yeonjun's confused expression softens. Soobin feels like he might start hyperventilating if Yeonjun keeps looking at him like that–fond and just slightly adoring like he finds Soobin cute.

“That's it?” He asks, tipping his head to one side and–god–exposing the corded muscles of his neck. The urge to scent him is too strong now, but Soobin stubbornly resists it. It's not like he's not allowed, but if he were to do it now it would ruin the purpose of Yeonjun's night out. He'd be reeking of possessive alpha and no one would dare take him home. It only makes it more tempting to think about. Soobin grits his teeth so hard his jaw creaks. “Soobin-ah. You're not going to tell me how I look?”

Soobin's chest swells with some instinctual pride that Yeonjun cares about his opinion before it pops and deflates. His mouth is horribly dry.

“You–” His voice cracks and he flushes a deep pink, mortified. “Hyung looks great. Amazing. As always. I really like the glitter?”

Yeonjun's eyes glimmer with something like amusement.

“Is that a question?” He asks.

“No,” Soobin blurts. Stupid, so stupid. He's glad his hands are in fists because if they weren't they might be shaking. “No, just–is that, you know, comfortable?”

Immediately, he regrets asking. Yeonjun's eyes go wide, then crinkle up as he bursts out laughing.

“Are you sure you want to know that?” He asks, grinning at Soobin's red-faced misery. “I guess it depends. Mostly I don't notice. I'm not really paying attention to it all that much. It's hell to get off, but,” he adds, fluttering his eyes all pretty. “It looks good, though, doesn't it?”

“That's what I said,” Soobin agrees weakly, because he doesn't know how normal it is to tell your friend-slash-roommate that actually, they're breathtaking, and you kind of want to lick the glitter off their muscles if that's okay, even if it's inedible. Oh, and also please don't go out tonight or you'll shrivel up and die.

Yeonjun grins at him.

“You should come with me one of these days,” he says. “I know you're not big on clubbing, but it could be fun.”

Oh, absolutely not. It's bad enough seeing the aftermath of Yeonjun's nights out. If Soobin had to see it play out in front of him he really would just die.

“I don't know,” he starts, but Yeonjun gives him one pleading look and he caves. “I guess I'll think about it.”

Yeonjun beams and Soobin's alpha starts running happy circles in his hindbrain. He brushes past Soobin to get to the door and once again Soobin is gripped with the urge to do something, say something, anything to keep him from leaving.

“Hyung!” He spins around, panic welling up inside him, and Yeonjun pauses by the door. He looks back with his face framed by his pretty, dark hair, his lips painted in some sort of shimmery gloss to match the glitter on his skin, and Soobin buffers. If this is what Yeonjun wants–if he put so much effort into looking good for someone else, who is Soobin to stop him? His roommate, sure, and his longtime friend, and someone whose shirts he steals and who makes him coffee in the morning, who pays half the rent and utilities. But who is he really? Soobin deflates. “Um, be safe. Text me if you need anything, okay?”

Yeonjun gives him a soft smile.

“Sure thing, Binnie,” he says. “If I get into trouble I know who to call.”

So maybe that's who Soobin is.

God, he thinks, after the door shuts behind Yeonjun. Maybe Beomgyu was right. I really am a doormat.

He can't sleep for hours after, his alpha whining pitifully and causing so much of a howling ruckus in Soobin's thoughts that he just lies there awake until early morning. He hears the door open and close again, the sure signs of Yeonjun's return, rummaging and then a muffled curse through the walls as he stumbles around in the dark. For a long moment, Soobin debates the pros and cons of going out to see if he needs help.

The cons look like this:

Yeonjun just got home from fucking somebody else. Since Soobin knows his routine almost intimately at this point, he knows that what comes after stumbling around is the shower turning on. Which means that Yeonjun hasn't showered yet, which means he'll still smell like whoever it was he was fucking. And he'll look like he's been fucking someone, too. Soobin had the unfortunate experience of learning what that looked like halfway through their first year of living together, and he hasn't been able to forget it. It remains burned into the backs of his eyelids whenever he tries to get some release of his own.

All of this is too much for Soobin's poor little heart to handle, so he decides against it. He'll get up at seven in the morning like clockwork and stumble through making coffee that he won't even touch, and he'll see the aftermath for himself then, when it's not quite so fresh.

He tells himself this, but it just takes so long for Soobin to fall asleep. When he does, his dreams are full of glitter and Yeonjun's teasing laugh.

In a strange turn of events, he doesn't wake up before Yeonjun. Soobin is still curled up beneath his covers when Yeonjun pokes his head into his room, and he blinks himself awake when Yeonjun calls his name.

“Soobin-ah,” he says softly. Soobin stirs on his side, lifting his head off the pillow and blinking again, eyelids heavy with sleep.

“Hey,” Yeonjun says. “Hey. Did I wake you?”

Groggy. Soobin is groggy. Yeonjun is coming closer to him now, right up to the edge of the bed, until he can stoop down and get a good look at Soobin's face. Which means Soobin gets a good look at the way he's pouting in concern.

“Hey,” Yeonjun says again. So softly, like he's speaking to a small animal. “Are you feeling alright?”

Soobin blinks again, and all at once the dream haze shatters. He's awake and Yeonjun is here, in his room. That's not how it goes. They have a routine. His alpha is immensely displeased that he's not following it.

“Your coffee,” Soobin croaks, making to get up. Yeonjun's hands push him back down, and Soobin's body sings with a relief he hadn't even known he needed–aches he didn't realize were there fading away at the contact.

“Forget about that,” Yeonjun says. “You're really red, Bin-ah. And warm. How are you feeling? Tell me.”

Soobin lies there for a moment, staring up at Yeonjun, taking stock of all the sensations in his body. And he sees it then–Yeonjun, shirtless, purple marks decorating his collarbone–and yeah, okay, Soobin is feeling miserable. This is not the way he wants to see Yeonjun over him. He's hot and a little dizzy, and he blames that for the woeful whimper that leaves him.

At once, Yeonjun's concern seems to deepen. He leans in closer, feeling over Soobin's forehead and cheeks with the back of his hand.

“Are you sick?” He asks quietly. “You're burning up, baby.”

“No,” Soobin grunts, but his alpha is purring baby, baby on repeat and his eyes flutter shut at the gentle touch of Yeonjun's knuckles skimming over his cheek. “M'fine, what–what are you doing awake?”

He can't be sick. Sure, maybe he's a little warm, a little dizzy, a little achy, but that's it. He doesn't feel sick, just a little off. Just a little like he wants to sink further into his bed and lie there all day long.

Yeonjun pauses, hand pulling back. Soobin wants to chase it, but he has just enough of his senses to know he shouldn't unless he wants to make a complete and utter fool of himself.

“You're usually up by now,” Yeonjun murmurs, and he's looking away, almost bashful. “Actually–I only came in here to find a shirt.”

It's the first and only time he's actually admitted to it. Soobin knew he'd been doing it, but it's another thing to hear it outright.

“I slept in,” he surmises, still groggy but not quite so much. He's feeling well enough to sit up, so he does, swinging his legs over the edge of the mattress and just staying there for a moment to gather more of his wits together. They're scattering more and more the longer he stays staring at Yeonjun's abs and the marks on his chest and neck. But then he remembers–“Oh. Hyung–could you–? My pills.”

He's mumbling, but lucky for him Yeonjun seems to understand. He's quick to find the little bottle of gel capsules, familiar enough with Soobin's room at this point that he doesn't even have to look hard.

“I'll get you some water,” he murmurs, and disappears, not unlike the last vestiges of Soobin's dream.

Soobin sways where he's sitting on the mattress, and considers that maybe he's still dreaming. The brief appearance Yeonjun made is enough to make him think so. And the pet name. Yeonjun has always been affectionate, but it still makes Soobin woozy every time he opens his mouth and something like that falls out of it.

In a blink–or maybe a few hundred of them, Soobin wouldn't know–Yeonjun is back again. He has one of Soobin's gel capsules pinched between the index finger and thumb of one hand, and the other is cradling a glass of water.

“Open,” he says, and Soobin does. His mouth drops open just wide enough for Yeonjun to pop the capsule into his mouth if he wants to–but Yeonjun doesn't. Instead he pushes it between Soobin's lips, the tips of his fingers slipping in after it, then making a quick retreat to cup his jaw while he holds the cup to Soobin's mouth. “Drink,” he says, and Soobin, staring at him dumbly, is helpless to do anything but obey.

Nevermind the fact that he doesn't actually need water for it. Soobin has no problem dry-swallowing pills and vitamins alike. It's an ability that Yeonjun is well aware of, having called it freaky of him in the past. But the glass is cool against his lips and chin, and Yeonjun told him to, so he drinks clumsily from it, some of the water dribbling down his chin when he swallows.

“Oh, you are so out of it,” Yeonjun mutters. “I think you're sick.”

Immediately, Soobin is protesting again.

“M'not,” he insists.

Yeonjun quirks an eyebrow.

“No?” He's still fucking shirtless. The marks on his neck are fucking taunting Soobin like nothing else.

“No,” Soobin agrees. “Put a shirt on already. I'm making your coffee.”

Yeonjun snorts, but he turns to set the glass down on Soobin's bedside table and makes straight for the hamper by his closet. As tempted as Soobin is to sit there and watch him, ogle Yeonjun's back muscles while he digs through Soobin's dirty laundry, he meant what he said. Now he has to prove it.

So he forces himself up to teeter on unsteady legs to their kitchen. Although most of their appliances are hand-me-downs or passed around from their friends at different times over the years, the Keurig is the one thing Yeonjun insisted on getting brand new right around the time Soobin moved in, to christen their roommate-ship, or whatever term he'd coined for it. Then he had no idea how to operate it, so Soobin took over before Yeonjun could do something like break it.

It's actually stupidly easy–sometimes he thinks this must be the weaponized incompetence omegas talk about. Maybe Yeonjun is just pretending to not know how so that Soobin will do it for him. But it's a silly, sleep-forged thought, so he waves it away and grabs for the box of cups on top of the fridge, missing once or twice until his fingers can snag one.

He manages to get the cup in and Yeonjun's favorite mug in its designated spot beneath the drip, and one check tells him the water is full enough that he doesn't need to do a refill. After that, it's just a button press and a few moments of waiting. Simple. So simple. Soobin is standing there waiting, and his eyes are drifting shut again while he does, and he doesn't notice Yeonjun has joined him until there's a sudden warmth against his back.

He jolts, but then he catches Yeonjun's scent, and it eases him so much that he relaxes instantly, melting into him. The sound of purring fills his head, chest swelling. Beta mine, his alpha croons, like there isn't evidence proving otherwise all over Yeonjun's skin. This time, Soobin is too sleepy to argue.

“Bin-ah,” Yeonjun says, close to his ear. His arms snake around Soobin's sides and over his belly to hold him, and Soobin makes a quiet sigh of acknowledgement. “You're falling asleep on your feet, baby. Are you sure you're feeling alright?

Yeonjun really sounds so concerned, it's only instinct to reassure him.

“Mhm,” Soobin mumbles. It feels so nice to be held like this. Feels right to have Yeonjun surrounding him. He's all melty again. He might dissolve into a puddle and slip through the cracks in the floor. “Really jus'tired, hyung. Didn't sleep until late.”

Yeonjun makes a soft sound of concern that Soobin feels against his ear. Just how close is he?

“Poor baby,” Yeonjun pouts, scattering goosebumps all over Soobin's skin. “Why's that?”

“Dunno.” Sleep deprivation makes him loose-lipped. It slips out without him meaning to, “Couldn't stop thinking.”

It feels so–Yeonjun's words and his embrace and the casual endearments he drops like rain over Soobin's skin all feel so domestic. Like they're a couple instead of just roommates, like Yeonjun really is his. Like he's Yeonjun's.

Mine, his alpha agrees, Mine, mine, mine.

“What about?” Yeonjun asks. “What's keeping you up, Bin-ah?”

It's unfair. Soobin can't help it–he gives a quiet, sleepy whine, his senses overwhelmed with Yeonjun. This is why it's so insane to him that Yeonjun could ever think he might not be enough. He's too much for Soobin, most of the time. It drives him crazy.

“You're so confusing,” he confesses without thinking, and Yeonjun stills behind him.

“I am?” He asks.

“Yeah,” Soobin sighs. “Hyung's so…”

He doesn't get to finish. The drip of the Keurig comes to a stop, and he peels his eyes back open so he can fumble for Yeonjun's cup. When he turns around in Yeonjun's arms, they loosen around him to let him.

“I'm so what?” Yeonjun asks. “Soobin-ah?”

So mine, Soobin's alpha urges him, but that's wrong.

“I don't know why you want me to come out with you,” he admits instead. “I'm not exactly clubbing material.”

Yeonjun lets go of him to take the mug. His eyes narrow quizzically.

“I wouldn't say that,” he says. “I seem to recall a Soobin who wouldn't stop dancing until we pulled you off the floor.”

Soobin flushes, just awake enough to be embarrassed at the memory.

“They were playing KARA,” he says.

“I remember,” Yeonjun replies, something smug about it. “Because you wouldn't stop singing it during the ride back. And then we passed out on the bathroom floor.”

“Can't believe they just left us like that,” Soobin sulks, knee-deep in the memory. “Was it Kai? It was Kai, right? He put a blanket on us and ditched.”

“What was he supposed to do, pick us up?” Yeonjun laughs. It looks good on him, mirth pulling at his mouth until it shapes a warm smile. And they're so close together–if one of them leaned in, they could just…

Soobin's eyes are slipping shut again.

“Oh, come on. Let's get you to the couch at least, stop falling asleep standing.”

“You should've picked me up,” Soobin gets out when Yeonjun finally manages to pull him to the couch. “You could.”

“No, I couldn't, I was just as drunk as you. Sit down, Bin-ah, there you go.”

Soobin leans into him once they're settled. They don't get to do this very often, but it's nice when they do. When they have the time, it's nice to have more than just fleeting touches to satisfy his craving for Yeonjun.

“Don't know why you insist on making me coffee when you're the one who needs it more,” Yeonjun grumbles. But Soobin hates bitter things. He only likes coffee when it's wafting off of Yeonjun's neck, warm and almost milky, something nutty in it too. “Is that really what kept you up, though? You don't have to come out with me if you don't want to.”

“No, I do,” Soobin says, despite the fact that he really doesn't. He's not thinking about the consequences, just about having more of Yeonjun's presence. “Just don't know why you want me to be there.”

A pause, comfortable silence stretching between them. It's part of what he likes so much about Yeonjun, and what his alpha likes too. Safe, his hindbrain purrs, soft and vulnerable, belly up again.

“I just think it could be fun,” Yeonjun says finally. “I like being around you.”

And although he agrees, “Hyung, we live together.”

You steal my shirts, he wants to say. I make you coffee. We have a routine.

They even scent each other sometimes. It's not quite the way Soobin wants to be, he doesn't get to linger as much as he wants, but it's still good. He wouldn't trade it for the world, which is why he hasn't said he wants more. He doesn't want to scare Yeonjun off and lose all of this.

“Still,” Yeonjun says. There's the sound of sniffing then, so quiet Soobin almost misses it. And Yeonjun says, “You smell funny.”

Soobin blames his drowsiness for the way he asks, “You can smell me?”

“I can always smell you,” Yeonjun scoffs. “It's stronger this time, though. Different.”

“I'm not sick,” Soobin says immediately, opening his eyes to glare.

“I'm not saying you are,” Yeonjun counters. “Just that you smell funny.”

Soobin's lip pushes out, sulking involuntarily.

“Is it bad?” He asks, unsure if he wants Yeonjun to lie or tell him the truth. If it is bad, that would suck. The rejection would be horrid. Almost physical, given the way his alpha seems to think they're promised mates or something.

“What? No. I like the way you smell. It's just… heavier than normal? I'm not sure how to describe it.”

He sounds a little uncertain even admitting that much. Like it's a flaw that he can't pinpoint it. Soobin drops his head onto Yeonjun's shoulder. It serves multiple purposes. The closeness is soothing, and it also offers a good cover for the way that Soobin is sniffing discreetly for a change in Yeonjun's scent. It's faint, but there, a little more bitter than usual.

“That's good then,” he says. “If you didn't like it I'd be sad. As long as it doesn't smell bad, it doesn't matter.”

Yeonjun snorts and shrugs his shoulders like he's trying to shrug Soobin's words off. Or maybe just Soobin himself.

“Ah, hyung, stop moving,” he mumbles. “I'm tired.”

“So I'm your pillow now, am I?” Yeonjun deflates with a sigh. “You're lucky I've got no plans today.”

Lucky. Yes, that sounds right. Yeonjun's scent evens out again, back to that addicting, delectable thing Soobin loves so much. And he drifts again. It never stops surprising him–how easy it is with Yeonjun.

The strange, feverish state Yeonjun found him in comes and goes over the next few days. Soobin isn't sick, but his behavior is strange enough that he starts wondering, horrified, if Beomgyu was somehow right. His clinginess doesn't abate. If anything, it just grows impossibly stronger. He follows Yeonjun absent-mindedly around the apartment all weekend, even into the beta's room of all places.

“Bin-ah,” Yeonjun tells him, when Soobin makes the drowsy mistake of tailing him right up to the bathroom door. “I love you, I do. But I'm not gonna leave the door open while I piss, and you're not coming inside with me.”

The big, sad eyes Soobin gives him do not manage to convince him.

“No,” Yeonjun says firmly, and shuts the door, separating them for real. Soobin's alpha howls miserably in the back of his head, and he sulks all the way to the couch, where Yeonjun eventually finds him lying face down, misery wafting off of him. “Oh, Bin-ah, this is just sad. Are you sure there's nothing wrong?”

“Not sick,” he muffles into the couch. But there's no way Beomgyu is right. Soobin is taking his suppressants still. Unless they've somehow stopped working, which they really shouldn't, there's no way for Soobin's pre-rut to have been triggered. But the signs are there. The possessiveness, the aggressive urge to scent Yeonjun and cling to him, the dreams–oh God, Soobin is completely and utterly screwed. “Hyung… I think…”

But how is he supposed to tell Yeonjun? Yeonjun, who is taking his strange overattachment with such grace, who hand fed him one of his suppressants just the other day? Who has never seen him in a rut and probably never wants to? Yeonjun, who Soobin's alpha is convinced is his. His mate. His beta. His.

Yeonjun, who has to go to his grown-up job in person tomorrow, and for the rest of the week. Soobin is going to die, because he doesn't want to, can't spend his rut with anyone else.

“I think…” He tries again. Yeonjun crouches beside the couch.

“Think what, Soobinie?” He asks.

Soobin chickens out.

“No, nothing,” he says, mumbling again. “Think I overworked myself or something. But I'm not congested or nauseous or anything. I'm really okay.”

“You're not taking meetings after you get off work again, are you?” Yeonjun sounds suspicious.

“No.” It's just instinct to reassure him. He'd been so mad back when he first found out that Soobin's supervisors were calling him up past nine at night, when he should have been cut loose from his corporate chains. He'd been even angrier when Soobin tried to justify it by saying since it was a remote job, he didn't mind. “No, I'm not. Just been busy lately. With the interns and all.”

Mainly with the interns fucking up the database in ways that really should have been fixed back in Soobin's intern days, but haven't been. He's lying through his teeth though. He's not overworked, and Soobin knows how to deal with interns by now.

“Okay,” Yeonjun sighs. “If you say so. You gonna be okay tomorrow? Do you think you should call out?”

If this is what Soobin thinks it is, then he'll have to. He's not looking forward to figuring out how to keep Yeonjun from noticing, though.

“Yeah,” he says. “I think I probably will. Sorry I'm being all…weird and clingy. I'm just out of it, I guess.”

“I can tell.” Yeonjun laughs softly. “It's okay, I don't mind. I like taking care of you. That's what we do, right? Take care of each other.”

Soobin melts a little further against the couch cushions, turning his head so he can look at Yeonjun properly.

“Yeah,” he whispers.

And he wonders how far that offer extends. If Yeonjun likes taking care of him enough to take care of Soobin like this, too, or if maybe it would be too much. Soobin doesn't want to be too much. He guesses they're alike like that. Yeonjun is afraid of not being enough. Soobin is afraid of being overwhelming.

“Just get some rest,” Yeonjun murmurs, and stands up again. “You'll feel better in no time.”

Soobin's rut hits that night instead of the following morning, and Yeonjun has never been so wrong.

It's easy to ignore it at first. The bouts of clinginess and dazed fever delirium are fine enough–Soobin can handle those. What he can't handle is the voracious surge of horniness that takes over when Yeonjun's shirt slips a little lower and exposes the fading marks on his neck. Soobin just wants to make them his marks instead. To paint over them with his teeth and tongue until they're all covered up with fresh, vibrant ones.

He has to resort to shutting himself away in his room when it starts to become a real problem–a physical one. Soobin knows he's acting weird. He's been attached to Yeonjun at the hip for the past two days, and suddenly he's all but barricading his door so Yeonjun can't come in. Or so Soobin can't get out. Either one, they're both fitting. That doesn't stop Yeonjun from trying.

“Soobin-ah?” He calls from the other side of the door. “Dinner is ready.”

He tries the doorknob. It doesn't do anything more than jiggle–which is what Soobin was prepared for and even what he intended, but he can't help but whimper at the barrier between them. His alpha is in some sort of non-stop protest, whining and wailing in distress.

Maybe Yeonjun hears him somehow, because the doorknob rattles fiercely.

“Bin-ah, did you lock the door?” He sounds shocked. Probably because in the two years Soobin has been living with him, his door has never, ever been locked. It's habitual to leave it open a crack, even, so Yeonjun can slip inside if he wants to. “Are you alright? Is something wrong?”

Everything is wrong. Soobin is sweating buckets, writhing on his bed in an attempt to stave off the urge to get up and fling the door open. And Yeonjun is on the other side of the door. That's what's wrong. He whines again, louder this time.

The rattling stops.

“Soobin,” Yeonjun says. His voice is stern but it's also shaking, just a little bit. “If you don't tell me what's wrong or let me in, I will break this door down. If you need me to back off, just say so, but if something is actually wrong–let me help, baby, come on.”

What the hell is he doing? What is Soobin doing, torturing himself when Yeonjun is right there? When his beta is right there, offering to help?

They're the magic words. Like he does so often when it comes to all things Yeonjun, Soobin caves.

He doesn't want to know what he looks like to Yeonjun when he finally stumbles his way to the door and unlocks it. Whatever it is, it can't be good. Soobin feels feral, and he probably looks it too, hair damp with sweat and sticking to his forehead, clothes clinging to his frame for the same reason, skin dusted over with a fiery flush. When Yeonjun sees him, his eyes go wide. His mouth opens, and he inhales, and then he chokes out, “Soobinie?”

“Hyung,” Soobin whines in response, and collapses against him, folding until he can shove his face against Yeonjun's neck. He's shaking like a leaf but he can't seem to stop. Even drawing in breath after breath of Yeonjun's faint coffee scent does nothing to calm him. If anything, it only works him up more. “Hyung, hyung, I–I need help.”

Hesitantly, one of Yeonjun's hands comes up to cradle the back of his head. He seems to calm down some now that he's sure Soobin isn't quite rabid enough to attack him, but he's still wary. Rightfully so, even though Soobin's alpha is acting like a kicked puppy over it, whimpering mournfully because Yeonjun isn't just jumping his bones straight away.

“Bin-ah,” he says, voice dropping into something quiet. Serious. “You really aren't sick, are you?”

With his nose pressed up against Yeonjun's scent gland, Soobin shakes his head.

“But you're on suppressants.”

Soobin whimpers again, squeezing his eyes shut.

“I–hyung, I don't know why, they just–aren't working, I don't know,” he's stammering and choking on his own explanation. “I thought I could–thought I could do it on my own, but–but–”

“Hey, look at me.”

Soobin whines, but he obeys, lifting his head to stare at Yeonjun with watery eyes. Yeonjun takes in the sight of him, hands cupping at his jaw, feeling the heat and redness of his skin. Then he hums. His expression is guarded, and Soobin wants to cry.

“Are you sure I'm… You know, are you sure you want me to help you?”

“Yes,” Soobin chokes out. “There's–yes, there's no one, hyung–no one else.”

It's too much, but he can't help it. It's all just spilling out. He's too desperate for this. Too frantic to waste time mincing his words or finding roundabout ways to say what he means without actually saying it.

“You want me to help you.”

“Yes,” Soobin says again. “Yes, I want–but only–if you don't want to, hyung, I'll understand, I will–”

It would hurt. But even in his almost-feral state, Soobin would never want Yeonjun to do something he doesn't want.

“Okay.”

Soobin's head is spinning so much that for several seconds he thinks he must have misheard.

“Okay?” Is this really happening? Is Yeonjun really…?

“Okay, Soobin-ah. I'll help you.” He thumbs along Soobin's cheek again, and the feeling is pure bliss. His eyes flutter shut again and he whimpers, and he wants to ask if Yeonjun is sure but he doesn't have it in him. “But you have to listen to me, alright?”

Soobin nods dizzily. Anything. Anything. He just wants Yeonjun to put out this fire in him, he'll do whatever it takes to get there.

“I mean it,” Yeonjun warns. “This isn't going to work like normal. I'm not an omega. I'm not…”

“Don't want that,” Soobin says, cutting him off. “I don't want omega, I want–want you to help me. I'll listen, I will, so please. It hurts.”

Yeonjun would say he's playing dirty, probably, if this were a normal situation and Soobin was pulling this shit. This shit being the expression he's making, pleading, begging Yeonjun to help him. Yeonjun's hands tighten on his jaw.

“I'm holding you to that,” he says. “Alright, let's go.”

He walks Soobin backwards into his room, until the backs of Soobin's knees are hitting the mattress and buckling. He sits down heavily on his bed, and Yeonjun sits beside him.

“Okay,” he murmurs, seemingly to himself. He gives a firm nod, Soobin watching his every move closely, hands twitching in his lap. “Come here.”

Soobin lurches to obey. He crawls over to Yeonjun on the mattress, quick to wrap his arms around him and just hold him. He needs this. Needs this comfort. He needs Yeonjun's coffee scent to soothe him when he's burning from the inside out.

“Oh, you big baby,” Yeonjun sighs, some of the tension bleeding out of him. He hugs Soobin back, though, rubbing a warm hand between his shoulders. “Is it that bad?”

“Hurts,” Soobin says, whimpering again as he noses along the wide collar of Yeonjun's t-shirt. “Can I–I want to scent you. Please. Please let me?”

His hands are fists, fingers clenching around the fabric of Yeonjun's shirt and pulling as gently as he can manage while shaking so much. He's trying so hard not to do anything too rash, too reckless, anything that will make Yeonjun back out of this. Trying to keep some semblance of himself present even his alpha is growling up a storm, telling him to mark and bite to his heart's content.

“Will it help?” Yeonjun asks, curious. Soobin nods against him. “Then of course you can.”

Soobin does growl now, can't contain the little rumbling sound in his throat now that he has permission. He yanks at Yeonjun's shirt again and starts rubbing his cheek and nose all along his collarbone and neck. Yeonjun tilts his head a little to make more room for him, and Soobin growls again, pleased at the rush of coffee that he gets when he rubs his cheek over Yeonjun's scent gland.

“Smell so good,” he chokes out, and digs his nose right up against it. Startled, Yeonjun laughs.

“Do I?” He asks, sounding thoughtful.

Soobin whimpers out his agreement, shifting closer on the mattress, pulling his head back a little so he can look at Yeonjun. With his head still tilted, neck still bared, Yeonjun looks a little dazed, eyes slightly foggy from all the pheromones Soobin is sure are pouring off of him. The collar of his shirt has been tugged low enough that Soobin can see more and more of his skin–and the faint smattering of fading bruises along it.

All at once a furious, distressed growl erupts in his throat, louder than the pleased rumble he'd been making before. Yeonjun blinks himself out of his haze, alarmed. Soobin doesn't blame him because he's sure he'd be alarmed too–but he isn't thinking about that right now. All he's thinking about are the marks on Yeonjun's skin that don't come from him.

“What?” Yeonjun asks, bewildered when Soobin just doesn't stop growling. “What, what's wrong?”

Soobin doesn't know how to vocalize it. It's just not right. He's all twisted up inside over it, lurches forward again only to be stopped by Yeonjun's hands.

“Hey,” he snaps, and the hard edge to his voice is enough to cow Soobin, makes him whimper apologetically, the growl breaking off in his chest. Yeonjun softens. “If you want me to help you, you have to talk to me. I'm not a mindreader, you need to tell me what's got you upset.”

And Soobin gets that. He does. He wouldn't want a growling, feral alpha all over him without knowing what the growling was about either.

“Don't like it,” he whines, trying to squirm closer to Yeonjun's neck, to set his mouth on it. It's a half-hearted attempt, because Yeonjun's hands are still on him and Soobin is trying so hard to do what Yeonjun wants. It's hard–he's split between two things, the instinctual urge to just do what his body needs and the all-consuming desire to satisfy Yeonjun.

“Don't like what?” Yeonjun asks cautiously.

Soobin's gums ache fiercely with the need to bite him. To claim him. It's a thought that has him groaning, bowing over in Yeonjun's grip as the image surges straight to his gut.

“It's–mine,” he chokes out. “Needs to look like mine.”

He's a mess. Probably the most pitiful Yeonjun has ever seen him, even more so than when they met for coffee and ended the outing as roommates. Even more than when Soobin was out of his mind trying to just make it to graduation. Soobin tries to push those thoughts away to make room for other things, things like Yeonjun's voice when he asks questions that Soobin doesn't know how to answer.

“What does?” Yeonjun asks.

You.

“It's–it's,” Soobin is choking on his words and heat is choking him, crackling in the air around him, heavy and oppressive. “Hyung. I need to–need to bite you. Just, just a little, please?”

His vision swims, a strange blurriness at the corners of everything. He looks between the fading bruises and Yeonjun's face and just barely catches the moment understanding dawns in Yeonjun's eyes.

“Oh, Soobin-ah,” Yeonjun says. “I don't know.”

It's not the answer he wants. Not the one he needs. A distraught whine bleeds out of him, and he fights Yeonjun's grip to press his face into his neck again. Yeonjun goes all stiff, but he doesn't need to. Soobin promised to listen. He won't do anything Yeonjun doesn't want, but–

“Please, please,” he gasps. “I'll be gentle. Hyung. Yeonjun, I'll be gentle, I won't–won't break skin, I just–”

And maybe that's how they got here. Maybe that's how they ended up with Yeonjun's hand in his hair, tight grip that stings, tears in Soobin's eyes, his cock pressed right up against Yeonjun's hip and seeking more friction. Maybe that's how they got to Yeonjun telling him to be good, that maybe then he'd let Soobin bite.

Soobin can't really keep up with any of it. Yeonjun isn't mean but he's firm, like he needs to be if he wants to tame Soobin's fiery need to get what he wants. Soobin doesn't mind it. He'd take anything if Yeonjun wanted to give it to him, so even though he doesn't know if he can, he promises to be patient.

Yeonjun rewards him by reaching his hand down to cup Soobin through his boxers. His eyes are dark, flitting back up to Soobin's face when he squeezes gently, tracking his every reaction. It's not enough, but Soobin's hips jolt into the touch like it is, like it's too much.

“Hyung,” he says, and moans when Yeonjun squeezes again. In the back of his mind, he knows this will have consequences. That they're crossing a line that can't be uncrossed. But Yeonjun's hand is on his dick with only a thin layer of fabric separating them, and God, Soobin really doesn't care about anything else right now, consequences be damned. “Hyung, Yeonjunie-hyung.”

He wants to show Yeonjun that it's still him, somehow. He isn't going to lose control, he's going to do what Yeonjun wants. He's still exactly who Yeonjun thinks he is, no one else.

“Okay,” Yeonjun says, finally. “Let me get a look at you. Let's see how I can help.”

Soobin practically jumps to help him, rising up on his knees so Yeonjun can reach gentle fingers beneath the elastic band of his boxers and tug them down around his hips until his aching cock springs free. Red, swollen, positively dripping–it's a mess. He's a mess, breathing so quickly, so shallowly in his eagerness to get on with it that he's barely managing any oxygen to get to his brain.

Yeonjun takes one look at him and breathes out a startled laugh.

“You are not sticking that in me,” he says, looking Soobin in the eyes. It's like a punch to the gut. Soobin's face crumples, tears welling up in his eyes, and he clings to Yeonjun with all he has. “Don't look at me like that, either. I'm not equipped to take it, baby, you'd tear me apart.”

“No, I–” Soobin shakes his head desperately, whimpering when Yeonjun's hand closes around his dick to get a better idea of the size. “But you–but hyung said–you said you'd help.”

He can't stomach the thought of Yeonjun leaving because of this. He'll do anything to avoid it, just wants Yeonjun to stay.

“There are other ways I can help you that don't involve you shoving your knot in my ass.”

It's so crass and deadpan that it almost breaks Soobin out of his horny haze. Almost.

“Just don't leave,” he begs. Yeonjun is right–there are other ways. In the ruts he had before he started suppressants, Soobin was able to get through them with just his hand and a few toys. It was miserable, but he managed. “I don't want–hyung, I don't wanna be alone.”

“I won't leave,” Yeonjun says. “You're not fucking me, but that doesn't mean I'm leaving. Okay?”

Soobin tries to wrap his head around it, ends up nodding his agreement so Yeonjun will know he understands.

“I can help you with my mouth, if you want,” Yeonjun says, and Soobin's body gives an involuntary jolt, groaning again. “Or…” Yeonjun gets this thoughtful look on his face. He looks down at Soobin's cock in his hand, then back up at his face, considering. “How would you feel about the other way around, Soobinie? Me in you, instead?”

Soobin's gut instinct should be to say no. Should be to protest, complain that there's no way he'll get relief from it–only that's not true. Because Soobin will take anything as long as it's something, anything that gets Yeonjun moving, doing something more than just holding him still in his hand. And so many of his dreams feature Yeonjun like this anyway that it doesn't matter–Soobin knows what feels good. Yeonjun fucking him would feel good, so long as he gets to knot something by the end of it, even if that something is just Yeonjun's hand.

He's nodding before he can think against it, and any remaining wariness drips off of Yeonjun's face, replaced with something else. Something almost eager.

“Yeah? You're sure? Have you ever done it before?”

“Not, um,” Soobin mumbles, suddenly aware enough to be self-conscious. “Not like–like this. With anyone. But… I've used, you know, fingers…”

He trails off, hot for an entirely new reason, one that has to do with the sudden way Yeonjun is looking at him–like he's seeing Soobin in a new light.

“Would you let me finger you?” Yeonjun asks. “Would you let me fuck you?”

Soobin shudders against him.

“Anything,” he begs. “Hyung, anything, but just do something, please. It hurts. It–it hurts.”

They've been doing so much talking–Soobin just wants to get to the action already. Just wants Yeonjun to touch him, to help him, to make him feel better.

“Okay,” Yeonjun says. “Okay. Lube?”

Soobin scrambles for it. It's really too obvious of a place, but he fumbles frantically for the half-full bottle of lube in the drawer of his bedside table, shoving it into Yeonjun's hands eagerly when he gets ahold of it.

He's a wreck. Panting and whimpering already, boxers shoved down around his thighs, everything a little damp and sticky with how much he's sweating. He kicks his boxers off all the way, tears his shirt over his head, and lays back against the pillows at the headboard. He blinks desperate, shining eyes at Yeonjun, who's crawling forward tentatively to fit between his legs.

“Look at you.” He sounds almost awed, and Soobin twitches when Yeonjun's palm settles warm against one of his thighs. “You'll really let me fuck you?”

He's asking for a reason. In the back of his head, Soobin knows it's because he should really feel threatened, too exposed. But he doesn't. He feels too safe with Yeonjun to even feel a little ashamed.

“Please,” he says. “Whatever you want.”

Who knew that one unplanned rut would be all it took for Soobin to bare his soul? Yeonjun takes a good, long look at him, and Soobin wonders hazily what it is he's seeing, what's got him biting his lip like that.

“Tell me if you want to stop, and I will,” Yeonjun says. “We'll figure something else out if we need to.”

But they won't need to. Soobin tries to make this clear by spreading his thighs wider apart. He thinks it works, because Yeonjun gets straight to opening the lube with hurried fingers, spreading it over them hastily. When he presses them over Soobin's rim, Soobin jolts.

He can hardly think straight, can hardly believe Yeonjun is actually touching him. Yeonjun gazes into him and Soobin feels raw and too seen, eyes slipping closed with a quiet whine when one finger teases at pushing inside.

“Hyung,” he whimpers, pushing his hips back in an attempt to get Yeonjun to give it to him. “Hurry, hurry, I need–”

He just needs something, anything from Yeonjun. He gets it, a quiet curse dropping from Yeonjun's mouth, and then he works the tip of one slick finger inside. He's being gentle, Soobin can tell, and he'd be able to appreciate that gentleness more if he weren't just so needy. So hot. A shudder wracks his frame and he starts panting shallowly again, whimpering as Yeonjun slides his finger deeper inside.

“Be patient,” Yeonjun murmurs, and Soobin's eyes fly open when he wraps his other hand right around Soobin's leaking dick. “I've got you. I'll give you one like this, okay? Gotta make sure you're ready for me.”

He starts stroking Soobin while he stretches him open, and it's too much. Too much to watch him, the way his mouth is half-open, dark eyes tracing over every inch of Soobin, alternating between jerking him off and just kneading at the base of Soobin's cock where his knot is sure to swell.

“Hyung,” Soobin says, voice tight and whiny. His eyes roll back and his hips kick into Yeonjun's hand. “Hyung, hyung.”

Yeonjun fits another finger into him when he deems Soobin ready, and Soobin jerks, a stuttered little rumble building in his chest. It doesn't stop, either, present throughout all the other pitiful sounds he makes, and Yeonjun doesn't stop looking at him like he's seeing something new. It's a rush, a thrill, it's addicting and Soobin never wants it to end.

“Bin-ah,” Yeonjun calls softly for his attention. Soobin is quick to give it to him, rushing to obey, rolling his hips up into Yeonjun's hand and back onto his fingers until he's fucking himself on them. He makes a pathetic, strung-out sound in response, quivering, shaking, close but not close enough. “Let go, it's okay. I've got you.”

His movements become more purposeful, drawing his fingers out to thrust them back in, searching insistently for the spot sure to make Soobin lose his mind. Ever talented, he finds it quickly, too quickly, his hand stripping furiously over Soobin's cock, fingers pressing up against his prostate until Soobin's vision starts to blur around the edges.

“Gonna–hyung, gonna knot, need–” There's a sob building in Soobin's throat. An ache in his gut, at the base of his cock, insistently swelling, craving something around it. “I need, I need–”

He cries when Yeonjun's hand stops stroking him to seal around his knot in a persistent squeeze, all while his fingers send star showers exploding behind Soobin's eyes, raining down on his skin. Tears spill hot over his cheeks again, rolling down his face as he knots Yeonjun's hand, an obscene amount of come spilling out of him.

“Shh, shh.” Yeonjun is trying to soothe him, curling his fingers to gently work Soobin through it, but he just can't stop crying. He sucks in a shaky breath that hitches on another sob, and Yeonjun hushes him again. “I know,” he says quietly. His voice is thick with something–some emotion. Guilt? “I know, I'm sorry.”

He keeps his hand tight around Soobin's knot, though, so what is there to be sorry for?

“You're so good,” Yeonjun says, slipping a third finger into Soobin while he's distracted by the intermittent, gentle squeezing of Yeonjun's hand. “You're doing so well.”

Soobin finally manages to stop crying and starts trying to catch his breath, body limp against the mattress. His eyelashes are sticking together, and he blinks to clear his vision of any leftover blurriness. He wants to see Yeonjun clearly. Some of the haze is lifting, just a little before it's sure to set back in, and he wants to get a good look at Yeonjun before it does.

“Okay?” Yeonjun asks him shakily. Soobin nods, swallowing thickly and drawing in another uneven breath. “Did it… Did it hurt? Should we try something else?”

“It's okay,” Soobin whimpers. He shifts his hips and gasps quietly, toes curling at the resulting pulse of pleasure that shudders through him. “Hyung. Thank you. For–for helping. Thank you.”

“I don't know if you should thank me yet,” Yeonjun says, but his voice is evening out. His scent, too, some bitterness lifting. “Bin-ah, you cried.”

“Because it felt good,” Soobin says, suddenly shy. “It's a rut, Yeonjun-hyung. It's overwhelming.”

“Sure, but–” Yeonjun breaks off to swallow, throat bobbing with the motion. “I just don't know if this will work.”

“It will,” Soobin says, clenching around Yeonjun's fingers like that will keep them inside. He gives Yeonjun his most pleading look. “Please,” he mumbles. “I need it.”

Something in Yeonjun's expression settles, eyes glinting with sudden determination.

“Okay,” he says. “Alright, okay.”

And Soobin can breathe easy again.

By the time his knot goes down, Soobin is needy again. Yeonjun has been steadily working him open during the wait, and Soobin is sensitive and twitching and gasping, already craving more.

“Need it,” he wriggles a little beneath Yeonjun, impatient. “Need to–to… Hyung, need it again.”

Yeonjun slides his fingers free and sits up.

“Come here,” he says, patting his lap, and Soobin flies to him. He's straddling Yeonjun's lap in a heartbeat, reaching for the drawstrings of his sweats, trying to get them off of Yeonjun and whining about why didn't Yeonjun take them off sooner, and Yeonjun laughs breathlessly. “Sorry, sorry,” he says, grinning. “I was kind of preoccupied.”

Once they're finally off, Soobin spends a good five seconds just ogling the shape and size and color of him before his alpha growls at him to get on with it already.

“Go at the pace you're comfortable with,” Yeonjun says. “I'll wait.”

Soobin doesn't want to wait. He rises up on his knees spread around Yeonjun and reaches to guide Yeonjun's cock inside him, sinking down on it so fast it punches the breath out of him.

“Easy, easy,” Yeonjun wheezes, seemingly just as affected. Soobin's mouth drops open in a silent cry, trembling as his body tries to adjust to the difference between Yeonjun's fingers and his cock.

But it's so good. Overwhelming, but so good. He's so surrounded by Yeonjun that he can't spare a thought to anything else.

“Hyung,” he says, and whimpers again. He tries to roll his hips and gets overwhelmed too quickly, gasping. “My–my–”

“I've got you, baby.” Yeonjun's hands, previously gripping Soobin's hips to steady him, shift and move until one is wrapping around his cock again. “Take it slow.”

But it's too much. The need is too much. It consumes Soobin, urging him to roll his hips again even though he can't handle it. Yeonjun's hand on his dick relieves some of the ache, but not all of it. There are tears clinging to Soobin's lashes when he lifts himself up on his knees again to drop back down.

Yeonjun moans like it's torn from him, unable to help it, and Soobin is no better but his chest is swelling with pride. Pleased that he's pleasing his beta well, the rumbling croon starts up again even as he cries.

“Slow, baby, slow,” Yeonjun gasps, and he looks so gorgeous, so perfect, face flushed and lips parted around his hitching breaths. He looks at Soobin like he wants him. Like he can't get enough. And Soobin doesn't want slow, but Yeonjun lets go of his hip to grab at his jaw, to bring their faces close enough that their foreheads are touching. “Slow, Alpha,” he says, and Soobin's pace falters. “Didn't you say you'd listen?”

A whine tears out of him. He leans his forehead against Yeonjun's and forces himself to be good. The next time he raises himself up, thighs quivering, he lets himself feel the drag of it.

“Good,” Yeonjun says, and he's so close, Soobin could lean in and kiss him if he wanted to. And he wants to, he really, really wants to. As though able to tell, Yeonjun's eyes flicker down to his mouth. “Bin-ah, can I kiss you?”

Soobin drops down on him again and chokes out a desperate cry of “Yes, yes.”

So Yeonjun kisses him. Soobin is so dizzy from all the pheromones that he can hardly tell up from down, but he tries hard to kiss back. It's wet and messy and he thinks he spends too much time just panting into Yeonjun's mouth while he rolls his hips, but it's so good. He can't get enough.

He never wants it to end, so he sobs when Yeonjun pulls back for air, leaning into him to chase more of it.

Another kiss. Another. The taste of Yeonjun is addicting. When Soobin finally, finally breaks away on his own, too overwhelmed to keep up, his head drops down against Yeonjun's neck.

Whining pitifully again, reminded of the ache in his gums and the need to claim Yeonjun, to mark him, he shakes and starts crying anew.

“Please, please,” Soobin weeps. He presses his nose to Yeonjun's neck again, drags his mouth over the fading bruises. “Can I, can I–?”

Yeonjun's breathing hitches. His hips kick up into Soobin, stuffing him full, grinding just right inside, hand tightening around Soobin's cock. The unforgiving grip and the way the tip rubs up against his prostate is enough to make Soobin lose his train of thought. Coffee fills his nose, it's just right, just right, but he needs–

He's babbling nonsense when Yeonjun eventually gives his permission.

“Go ahead,” he chokes out, and Soobin could cry real tears of joy. “But gentle, gentle.”

Eager to please, Soobin nods against him, the pace of his swiveling hips faltering again as he lunges to kiss at Yeonjun's neck.

Mine, his alpha growls, and Soobin gives into it, sucking and licking at the skin to cover it up, drinking in the way Yeonjun moans beneath him at the barest touch of his teeth. He keeps it as gentle as he can even as frenzied as he is, teeth never breaking Yeonjun's skin. He sucks mark after mark into Yeonjun's neck, his shoulder, even dipping lower to get at his chest.

“Mine,” he whines, breaking off into a sob when Yeonjun shifts suddenly beneath him, pulling out to flip them over until Soobin's back hits the bed again. Then he's lining himself back up, shoving back in with one fluid thrust of his hips, and Soobin sees galaxies. He reaches up on instinct to tug Yeonjun closer to him, fingers digging into his back and dragging red lines into the skin, unable to help himself. He babbles, “Mine, mine, mine,” until Yeonjun fucks him breathless.

“You're so–just, Soobin-ah, baby,” Yeonjun chokes on a moan. “You're unbelievable.”

“You're mine,” Soobin replies dopily, and his eyelids flutter and his back arches when he knots Yeonjun's hand again.

Soobin's rut lasts the standard amount of time–three days. Yeonjun calls out sick for all of them. Halfway through the worst of it, they run out of lube, and Yeonjun has to resort to helping Soobin with his mouth and his hands instead. They manage a few hours of sleep at random points throughout the days that are quickly disturbed by the teeth of Soobin's ever-present rut sinking into him again, and he wakes up hard and aching and desperate for Yeonjun again every time.

He renews the marks on Yeonjun's neck almost obsessively. Scratch that, it's a sure obsession. Yeonjun looks like he's been mauled and in the brief moments of reprieve they get, Soobin can only mumble out embarrassed apologies. Then it's back to Yeonjun helping him, his mouth wet and warm as he sinks down on Soobin's cock as far as he can go, Soobin whimpering and crying and begging for more, more, hyung–

There's one time where he gets fed up with knotting and gets his mouth on Yeonjun instead, despite the beta's insistence that he doesn't need it. It's the most treasured part of all this for Soobin, though, Yeonjun's hands tight in his hair, his thighs tensing while Soobin swallows him down. The scent of coffee mixes with the heaviness of Soobin's rut until he feels drunk on it.

“Perfect,” Yeonjun breathes, and comes down Soobin's throat.

They pass the time well until it comes to an inevitable end. And Soobin is grateful, so grateful, but he's also terrified. He doesn't know if Yeonjun has ever been with an alpha in rut before, but if he has, he'll surely be able to tell the difference.

He presses up against Yeonjun and clings to him more in the last few hours of it, his fever waning and his cock too sensitive to handle any more touching.

“You're sure you don't want my mouth again?” Yeonjun asks, a gentle hand in Soobin's hair. Soobin shakes his head.

“Mine,” he says quietly, head buried in the crook of Yeonjun's neck.

It aches something awful, because in the throes of his rut he'd been able to believe it, but he can't now. His alpha paws at him pitifully, whining it over and over. Soobin shudders and shoves his nose closer to Yeonjun's scent gland.

“Hyung, it hurts,” he says, and tries not to cry about it. He fails.

Yeonjun is so wonderful, because he doesn't complain. He doesn't say a word about the frenzied way Soobin had marked him up over the past few days, the constant claiming through both words and actions–all unofficial, but no less important to Soobin. Even though he must know what it means, Yeonjun says nothing. And Soobin doesn't want to stop pretending, he doesn't want it to end. But it does.

And he'd been so attentive and so, so gentle, so caring, stern only when he thought he needed to be, but when Soobin's rut fully leaves his system, Yeonjun makes himself scarce.

Soobin's alpha makes all these wounded complaints, but Soobin won't hear it.

Your fault, he tells it. Look what you've done.

Still, he waits for Yeonjun to come back. When days pass and nothing goes back to normal, Soobin decides the jig is up for good.

“Uh-oh,” Beomgyu says, when he sits down in their usual booth. His face is drawn with concern immediately, and Soobin tries not to mope more at being caught moping. “Okay, really, what happened this time? You're not even horny-sad this time. Just sad.”

Soobin's shoulders slump, hunching inward.

“I don't really want to talk about it,” he says, blinking rapidly, the urge to cry welling up so fast he almost can't fight it. Beomgyu's concern deepens immediately, hints of it bleeding into his scent.

“No, tell me what happened,” he says, reaching across the booth to grab at Soobin's hand. The waiter comes by to take their drink orders, takes one look at them, and leaves immediately. Soobin doesn't blame them. Two alphas in a diner booth, one on the verge of tears, something clearly wrong. He wouldn't want to intrude on that either. “Seriously, you're worrying me.”

Then he sniffs more, and his whole demeanor changes.

“You were right,” Soobin says weakly, hiding his face in his hands. “About my suppressants. I mean, I was–am–taking them, but…”

“Holy shit,” Beomgyu says. “Holy shit. They stopped working?”

Soobin nods. He feels so dreary about the whole thing. So devastated whenever he thinks about Yeonjun and where they're at now, and the fact that Soobin doesn't know exactly where that is.

“I had a rut,” he whispers. “And I think. It might've… ruined things. With hyung.”

“He helped you?” Beomgyu explodes with energy, earning a few disdainful glares from tables in their vicinity. He lowers his voice immediately before Soobin can tell him to. “Holy shit. I mean, holy shit, Soobin-hyung, isn't that a good thing? You fucked? For real, finally?”

“No, it's not a good thing,” Soobin snaps. “I just said it ruined things, aren't you listening?”

“I am, but I don't really believe you, because I can't see how it would.” Beomgyu leans back against the cushioned back of the booth. “I mean, you've been dying to fuck hyung for ages now, it's been mortifying to watch. I thought you guys up and got it over with for a while back when you were in–what? Junior year? There was that night where you both got shitfaced and slept in Taehyunnie's bathroom, and I didn't hear anything, but you were clingier after, so I thought maybe…”

Soobin stares at him, so bewildered that for a moment he forgets to be sad about this whole thing.

“Don't look at me like that. I figured out you didn't have the balls for it after.” Beomgyu sighs like it's a personal plight of his. “But you really did it? For real, this time?”

Even though he has a lot to say about everything else Beomgyu just confessed to him, all Soobin can do is nod glumly.

“Was it good?”

“Beomgyu,” he groans, mortified, hiding his face again. “I don't want to talk about it.”

“Oh, damn. It was bad?”

“No, I didn't say that. You–” Too late, Soobin realizes he's been baited. The smugness radiating off of Beomgyu just proves his point. “I hate you.”

“It's mutual,” Beomgyu says, no hesitation. “So it was good. Now I really don't get the problem.”

Despair crushes Soobin again when he thinks about it.

“I don't think,” he starts, and pauses to swallow down the lump in his throat. “I don't think it should've happened.”

“Don't be stupid. It's all you've wanted for years.”

“Yes,” Soobin hisses. “But hyung doesn't like me. Like, I'm pretty sure he's not even attracted to me on that level, and he only did it to help me out. And now everything is just awkward. Because I was all over him and he has to know it's different for me.”

He's starting to get choked up.

“Because I wanted it differently than he did, I wanted–I wanted it to mean something.”

And he doesn't want it to just happen once. He doesn't want it to be a heat of the moment, pity type thing. He wants Yeonjun to want it, too.

“Everything is all fucked up now,” he says shakily. “Even our routine is fucked up. We're not even doing it anymore.”

Beomgyu sucks in a breath. Even though he's been antagonizing Soobin this whole time, he knows how serious that is.

“You stopped making him coffee?” He asks, disbelieving.

“He stopped drinking it.” Soobin runs a shaky hand through his hair, pushing it away from his face. “He's not even around to drink it anymore. He's barely home.”

And that's the worst part. Yeonjun's scent is stale in their apartment. It sets Soobin on edge, makes his alpha unsettled, and the only way he can quiet its distress is by blaming it.

It's your fault, why are you so upset about it?

“At least before, he'd come back.” Soobin says. “Like, yeah, he was fucking other people and that sucked, but at least I knew. And I knew he was safe, and I knew he was home. Now I just. I have no idea. I don't know what he's thinking.”

“Don't hate me for saying this, but that's really pathetic of you. Stand up.”

“I know,” Soobin says. “I know I should have said something. Maybe if I did, none of this would have happened.”

Beomgyu is quiet. No I told you so, no further tough love. He bites his lip.

“So it really did fuck things up,” he says. “Huh. Are you sure he knows what it meant to you? Are you sure that's why?”

“Beomgyu. I just called him mine the whole time, what do you think?”

Beomgyu's eyebrows shoot up.

“Damn,” he says. “Damn. Possessive.”

“Shut up, I know,” Soobin sighs. “It's worse because–I think I have a problem. With my alpha. Like it thinks we're mates or something, even though we're not.”

“I mean,” Beomgyu says slowly. “You've been living together for what, two years? Almost three? You have a domestic routine, and you have feelings for him. I'm not saying that you're mates, but you might as well be. Your alpha doesn't know any better. It can't tell the difference.”

“It should.”

“There's no should when it comes to these things,” says Beomgyu. “They just kind of happen. What are you planning to do about it?”

Soobin doesn't know.

“I have a doctor's appointment coming up,” he says as Beomgyu catches the eye of the hesitant waiter, waving them over. “For the suppressant thing. I guess I'll just go from there.”

Beomgyu shoots him a judgmental look, but he doesn't say anything until they've placed their order.

“I meant about hyung,” he says. “What are you planning to do about that?”

“Talk to him, I guess.” There's no other choice, really. Soobin can't take the silence. “But he'll have to actually be around for me to do that.”

“Well,” Beomgyu says. Then he sighs. “Good luck, I guess. Let me know what your doctor says. And keep me updated on the other thing too.”

Soobin snorts, rubbing at his face tiredly.

“I swear you only want to know so you can gossip,” he says. “You know Taehyun-ah is always giving me these looks. I know he knows.”

“That's not my fault,” Beomgyu says primly. “If you wanted him to not know, you'd have to be less obvious about it.”

Soobin just sighs. The waiter gets his drink right this time around.

The actual appointment goes about how he'd expected. Soobin sits all glumly in the waiting room, inhibitor patch smoothed over his scent gland, until his name is called. His mind is running a mile per minute, and he hasn't gotten a chance to talk with Yeonjun. It's driving him crazy.

The lack of milk-tinted coffee around the apartment is driving his alpha crazier. Soobin is distracted these days. He's making mistakes at work that he hasn't made since he started.

He follows the nurse into the little examination room and runs through all the procedures. Vitals first, and then he takes a seat in the little chair in the corner while he waits for the doctor. He sits there, stewing, until she arrives.

“Choi Soobin-ssi?” She reads off the clipboard, and when Soobin nods she offers him a polite smile. “Nurse Jung said you were here for a suppressant issue, is that right?”

“Yes,” he mumbles, looking down at the floor. He's always hated going to appointments. Something about how the office smells so sterile just feels wrong. But Doctor Park is nice, at least. “They stopped working.”

“And you've been on them for how long now?” And when Soobin tells her four years, she nods, jotting something down on the clipboard. “Have you been taking break periods?”

Soobin blinks.

“I'm sorry?”

Doctor Park looks up, smiling again.

“Break periods. To let your body detox from the suppressants. Ideally, you should be allowing yourself to go through at least one natural rut annually.”

She seems to take Soobin's silence for what it is.

“I'm assuming that's a no?”

“I didn't know I was supposed to be doing that,” Soobin admits guiltily. He tries to remember if his pharmacist ever said anything about that, or if he missed it somewhere in all the paper pamphlets listing side effects.

“That's not uncommon,” Doctor Park says. She keeps her voice even and non-judgmental, even when Soobin is fairly certain she must be judging him at least a little. “It slips past most people.”

“So the reason they stopped working…”

“Think of it this way.” She sets the clipboard down on the countertop beside her. “Your alpha, Soobin, is a part of you. When you suppress it, there's a sort of disconnect. If you don't take any breaks to allow yourself to reconnect with it, your alpha may feel… threatened, to say the least. That's where we start to see instances of suppressant failure in both alphas and omegas.”

“Oh,” Soobin says weakly.

“If there are any other perceived threats environmentally, that only exacerbates the chances of suppressant failure.” Doctor Park looks at him carefully. “I'd recommend that you stay off of suppressants for now, to give your body and alpha the chance to regulate themselves again.”

Soobin's throat tightens up, hands clenching into fists in his lap.

“Will that be a problem?” Doctor Park asks gently. “I'm afraid it's probably the best option, unless you'd like to see a specialist. But there's no guarantee an increase in suppressants would do anything but worsen your dysregulation.”

“No, it's just…” Soobin is embarrassed. He's embarrassed to be saying this. He's embarrassed to be here in the first place. He'd answered yes to almost all of Nurse Jung's questions about surges in instinctual, primal behavior, and it makes him embarrassed that he didn't think to come sooner. “I live with someone. Um, my roommate–I think my alpha is… overly attached to him.”

Doctor Park nods at him to continue.

“It thinks we're bonded,” Soobin blurts. “And I don't know… Will going off of suppressants affect that at all? Will it make it worse?”

“I can't say for sure,” Doctor Park says after a moment. “Again–I'm not a specialist. The effects of stopping suppressants are likely to vary for everyone, especially in regards to how long you've been on them. The most we can do is have you come back in a few weeks for monitoring. If it does get worse, I can refer you out to a specialist. But until then…”

There's nothing. Soobin sags defeatedly in his seat.

“Okay,” he whispers.

“You're not a violent alpha, according to your records,” Doctor Park says. Soobin gets the strange feeling that she's trying to comfort him. “It's not likely that stopping suppressants will trigger anything like that in you, if that's what you're concerned about. But if you do notice any increase in impulsivity or violent tendencies, you should call right away. We can get you in sooner if you do.”

“Okay,” Soobin repeats. Doctor Park rattles off a few more questions pertaining to his general health, about whether or not he's noticed any physical side effects that could stem from the suppressants. A weaker nose, persistent headaches, anything of the sort. He answers them honestly, and by the end of it, he's glad it's over.

He just wants to go home, but when he remembers it's empty, he feels defeated all over again.

He's lying in bed that night when it all really hits him. No more suppressants for the foreseeable future, and what that means for him. He'll have to figure out what to do for his next rut. He'll have to figure out what to do about Yeonjun.

His alpha is hiding somewhere, pitifully, tail tucked between its legs, but Soobin can still feel it. He almost wants to apologize to the damn thing for being so harsh on it when it was giving him warning signs all along.

Thinking about Yeonjun means he won't be able to stop. He starts thinking about it more. Yeonjun's absence, and the emptiness of the apartment, and how empty his room feels too, knowing Yeonjun isn't here to barge in whenever he feels like it.

Soobin curls in on himself, eyes stinging, throat tightening again. He won't cry. He won't, but a sniffle escapes him immediately after. He misses Yeonjun. Heartbreak aside, he just misses him. Misses his presence and his scent and his company.

No sooner has he thought of it than he hears a door open and close somewhere in the apartment. The front door. It has to be. Normally, he'd rush to greet Yeonjun. To see him immediately after one of his workdays, to check him over for anything amiss. To welcome him home again.

This time, he just stays still. He waits, and sure enough, his door creaks open just moments later.

“Bin-ah,” Yeonjun says. Soobin sits up in a rush, unable to resist the pull.

“Hyung,” he says. He tries to wipe his eyes discreetly, but he isn't sure he manages it.

“Hey,” Yeonjun murmurs. He stands just inside Soobin's room, seeming more unsure of himself than Soobin has ever seen him. Except that one night–the one they shared on the bathroom floor. “Beomgyu-yah told me you had your appointment today?”

Small talk. Soobin's alpha whimpers plaintively. This time he lets it, but small talk is better than silence.

“Yeah,” he says.

“How did it go?”

“Um.” He isn't sure how much Yeonjun wants to know about it. “I'm stopping suppressants. Apparently I was supposed to do it sooner. That's why, you know…”

He cringes. Stupid. Why is he bringing it up?

“Oh,” Yeonjun says. Hesitantly, he comes closer. “About that. I think we need to talk.”

Soobin nods, wiping his eyes again. Dread pools heavy in his chest.

“Can I sit?”

Soobin nods again. Maybe it won't be so bad. Maybe they can get back to normal. The mattress dips when Yeonjun sits on the edge of it.

“I want to apologize first,” Yeonjun says, breathing out a sigh. At Soobin's startled look, he clarifies. “We should have talked sooner. I think I was just, I don't know. I was worried you wouldn't really want to see me.”

“Why wouldn't I want to see you?” Soobin chokes out. “Hyung. I always want to see you.”

Yeonjun bites his lip.

“Yeah, but that's… I think that's a little different.” He chuckles weakly. “Usually we haven't just spent your rut together.”

“I think I was scared of it changing things,” he says, when Soobin stays quiet. “I know it wasn't… ideal, the way things happened. I couldn't give you what you wanted. I didn't want that to change the way you see me.”

“You did give me what I wanted.” Soobin protests. “You helped.”

“But not the way you needed. You didn't even get to knot me, Bin-ah, isn't that kind of essential?” Yeonjun sighs, his expression grim. His hair is all messed up like he's been pulling at it. His coffee scent is more bitter than usual. “I don't like that kind of thing. And I can't give it to you. I don't know why I thought it would be fine to try during your rut of all things. I guess I just… wanted to.”

“What are you even saying,” Soobin says. “You said yourself that you could help in other ways. And you did, you helped. I don't need to shove my knot in you, remember?”

That gets a laugh out of Yeonjun, a startled one, but a laugh nonetheless. It's such a relief that Soobin's body sags, finally relaxing.

“I thought maybe you didn't want to help,” he admits. “Like maybe I coerced you, or something.”

“You're too much of a baby for that,” Yeonjun says, shaking his head. “You couldn't make me do anything I didn't want to. I wasn't lying when I said I like taking care of you.”

“I still don't really understand why you wouldn't just talk to me after.” Soobin shifts closer, drawn to the way Yeonjun's scent is subtly lightening up. No longer so heavy or bitter, but more at ease. “I wanted you to do it. I thought it was… kind of obvious how much.”

Yeonjun's face goes a little red suddenly, as though he's remembering it.

“You were definitely… enthusiastic,” he agrees, clearing his throat. “I just had a lot to think about. I'm sorry I didn't just let you know what was on my mind.”

One beat, and then he keeps going.

“Do you remember what you said to me back then? When we slept on Taehyunnie's floor?”

Soobin doesn't remember. Suddenly alarmed, he shakes his head.

“Was it bad?” He asks, stiff with concern. “Was I insensitive? I'm sorry. If I made you uncomfortable–”

“Why don't you let me finish before you start apologizing?”

Soobin shuts right up. Yeonjun is smiling at him, and it's a good sign–Yeonjun wouldn't invite him to live with him if it was something awful, right? They wouldn't be as close as they are. So he smiles back sheepishly.

“Honestly, it was the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me,” Yeonjun says. “It was because of you that I started being more confident, Soobinie. Because you told me such beautiful things.”

Then he laughs.

“I mean, you listed so many compliments. You called me the whole package and it sounded like you really meant it, so,” he clears his throat again. “I guess I let it get to my head a little. But then when I had the chance to actually see if you meant it, I got scared. Like, what if you didn't? What if you were just saying that to make me feel better?”

“And you seemed like you wanted me,” he admits. “You really did. Even before your rut, there were times when I thought… maybe… but I couldn't help but notice what I was lacking. I don't want to be an omega, and I like myself the way I am. Really, I do. But it really sucked that I couldn't just… get over myself to do that for you, I guess.”

Soobin blinks in disbelief, processing.

“But I didn't want an omega,” he says. Gathering his courage, he sucks in a deep breath. “I'm not just saying that now, either. You said it seemed like I wanted you outside of my rut sometimes. Well, I did.”

Yeonjun gapes at him. Even though he's practically trembling with fear, Soobin clarifies, “I do. I want you all the time. So much. And you didn't do anything I didn't want, because I just want you, hyung.”

He finishes off quietly, “I liked what we did. Probably too much. I thought you knew that.”

Like he's remembering, Yeonjun says faintly, “There's no one else. You really meant that?”

“No one,” Soobin agrees. He swallows thickly. “Hyung, I haven't wanted anyone else for years. It's just you.”

Yeonjun's face flickers through so many emotions so fast Soobin has trouble catching all of them.

“Oh, I'm an idiot,” he says. “Soobin-ah, hyung is sorry. I've been stupid. I pulled out so many stops to get your attention–you mean I've had it all along?”

A meteor crashes into Soobin's brain and explodes. He must make some sort of face, eyes big with shock, because Yeonjun bursts out laughing again.

“Of all the ridiculous–” He scoots closer on the bed until he can lift a leg to straddle Soobin's lap, then looks down at his frozen face with heavy-lidded eyes, a smile playing on his lips. It's an expression he hasn't seen for far too long, and Yeonjun's voice drops into something soft and dangerous and flirty when he says, “Soobin-ah, don't tell me you really thought I didn't know how to work a Keurig. It's not that hard.”

A little lightbulb goes off, dinging and lighting up before that explodes too.

“You were doing that on purpose,” Soobin breathes, voice faint. “And the shirt-wearing?”

Yeonjun laughs again.

“Okay, I knew you had to know about that one,” he says. “Hard not to when I confessed to it.”

“They were also my shirts,” Soobin says, suddenly indignant. “You thought I didn't notice? I just didn't know why you were doing it. It was so confusing.”

“What was so confusing about it?”

“Hyung.” Soobin looks up at him with wounded eyes. “You were always–all marked up and showing it off. I knew you'd been with other people, so I couldn't make sense of it. I thought maybe it was just a comfort thing. Maybe you liked my scent or something, I don't know.”

At that, Yeonun has the decency to look a little embarrassed. It's dizzying seeing him like this, feeling him so close after the past week of being without him.

“I'm sorry,” he says. “I do like your scent. I didn't mean to confuse you. But when I did that you always got this look on your face. Like you wanted me. It felt good, so I kept doing it.”

“Of course I wanted you,” Soobin rushes out. “Wanted you so much. It's seriously embarrassing how much I want you. But it also hurt. And then you wouldn't even let me cover them up during my rut.”

He's sulking by the end of it, eyebrows knitted together and lips jutting out.

“I'm sorry,” Yeonjun says, still smiling. He's clearly trying to school his face into something more serious, but he keeps failing and eventually gives up, laughing. “You looked like you were going to eat me, what was I supposed to do?”

“I wouldn't,” Soobin protests. “I wouldn't hurt you. I wouldn't…”

“I know.” Yeonjun grabs his face and starts squishing his cheeks. “You're just a big softie, I know. I let you do it eventually, right? Just had to make sure you'd listen first.”

It's a little late to be embarrassed about it, but Soobin ducks his head anyway, ears growing hot. He takes the chance to sniff for Yeonjun's scent again and finds it stronger than ever, rich and warm and everything Soobin wants. Yeonjun notices and laughs, bright and loud.

“You really do like it, don't you?” He muses. “I thought you hated coffee.”

“But I like you,” Soobin mumbles. Yeonjun's eyes go wide, then squint with the force of his smile. He drops a kiss onto Soobin's head that has his alpha crooning happily.

“I like you too,” Yeonjun says. “And I really am sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you, not ever. I won't do it again.”

Soobin looks up at him through his eyelashes and finds him just as stunning as ever. He can't believe there was ever any doubt.

“My alpha thinks we're bonded,” he confesses. “Even though, you know. We're not. I just thought you should be aware.”

“Oh.” Yeonjun's mouth drops open, pink and kissable and perfect. Then he smiles again. “You're holding out on me, Bin-ah. I think that goes a little further than like, don't you?”

“I don't want you to feel pressured,” Soobin explains. “I'm not expecting anything, it just… happened. I can handle it though, I promise.”

Yeonjun keeps smiling down at him. Soobin sees heaven again.

“You're too cute,” Yeonjun says. “Expect everything, because that's what I plan on giving you.”

Then he kisses Soobin for real. It's so much better when Soobin is present to enjoy it, undisturbed by all the aches and pains and urges of an unexpected rut. Yeonjun kisses the same, careful and controlled and skilled, the same way he'd rolled his hips into Soobin during the peak of his rut, when Soobin was too out of it to do anything but grind messily back against him.

The thought has Soobin whimpering into Yeonjun's mouth, hips twitching up involuntarily against him, hands grabbing at his waist.

“Someone's worked up,” Yeonjun coos, something rough about his voice that makes Soobin shiver. Yeonjun drops his forehead against Soobin's, and Soobin can't look away from the flush on his cheeks, the way his pupils are blown wide with desire. “What do you say, baby? Take two?”

“Yes,” Soobin gasps out, and they're kissing again.

This time when Yeonjun takes control and turns him into putty beneath his hands, when Soobin's alpha melts into something soft and vulnerable beneath him, it's with the knowledge that Yeonjun wants him back.

“Mine,” he whimpers, clawing down Yeonjun's back, arching up into him. “Mine, mine.”

Yeonjun's hips stuttering, his forehead dropping down against Soobin's collarbone.

“All yours, baby,” he says breathlessly. “Bin-ah, all yours. And you're mine, aren't you?”

Oh, it's everything Soobin's ever wanted.

They start up their routine again. Despite the fact that there isn't really a need to anymore, Yeonjun's hidden ability to operate a Keurig newly revealed, Soobin still wants to.

He likes doing things for Yeonjun. He likes when Yeonjun comes meandering into the kitchen all sleepy in one of his shirts, covered in his marks, and presses himself up against Soobin's back.

“Good morning, baby,” he says, and Soobin's alpha melts.

“Morning,” he says. “Sleep well?”

“I'd sleep better if you didn't leave bed so early,” Yeonjun replies. “You?”

“Fine.” Soobin sinks back into him. “I had a weird dream, though.”

“Oh?”

“Hyung was there,” Soobin says sleepily. “So I think it was a good one.”

Yeonjun squeezes him around the waist.

“Come back to bed,” he says, voice dropping into something soft, silky. “I can make it even better.”

By the time they get back to the coffee, it's gone cold.