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“Anxin-ah, are you alright?” Lee Sangwon asked, his tone soft and worried, and somehow even more pleasant than it usually was.
“Mmm,” Zhou Anxin mumbled, struggling to stay upright and sweating like a sinner in a church.
Sangwon furrowed his brow— though Anxin couldn’t really tell for sure— he was too busy trying not to vibrate out of his skin.
The practice room was empty except for them. Even the blinking red lights of the cameras were off.
“Do you have a fever?” Sangwon reached out a hand and rested it on his forehead.
Sangwon’s hand was so cool, so soft, so good— Anxin closed his eyes in relief.
“You’re hot,” Sangwon mumbled. Anxin’s gums ached. “Aigoo, you shouldn’t have stayed here with me— what will we do if you’re actually sick?” His hand had trailed down to his cheek. Anxin wanted to bite.
Alarms rang somewhere in the very back of his head. He knew something was wrong, and he knew what was wrong, and he knew how to stop it— the show had measures in place to deal with exactly what was happening to him. But Sangwon’s palm was just so good , and what if he could get more of him— all of him, then maybe the fire burning him from his toes to his scalp will cool down, and he won’t have to humiliate himself in front of the staff.
“Sangwonie-hyung…” Anxin said, his voice gravelly and unpleasant. A scent then seemingly bloomed out of nowhere in the room.
“Yes?” Sangwon replied. His voice turned breathy, but Anxin was no longer listening.
It smelled like… like a freshly baked tray of lemon tarts, and spilled vanilla extract, and— and the pages of a new book, fluttering open as cool spring wind passed by, and Anxin’s mouth pooled with saliva. His teeth ached. His whole body was brimming with unused energy, his head felt impossibly cloudy, his breathing turned rapid and hot, and most mortifyingly, his dick felt sore as it twitched.
Another scent flooded the room, heavier and headier, Anxin’s own sweet white pumpkin and green freshness of shiso leaf and sandalwood— but it is the mixture of the two distinct scents that elicited a groan from them both.
Sangwon stepped closer. Anxin put his hands on his shoulders trying to prevent Sangwon— or maybe he was preventing himself — from coming any closer.
“Anxinnie, are you… are you— presenting?” Sangwon asked, sounding like he ran a marathon.
Anxin struggled to formulate even a “What?” in response, too busy trying not to snap and— and—
“Rut,” Sangwon exhaled the word as Anxin’s hands slid from his shoulders to his waist, “I think you’re going into rut.”
“Okay,” Anxin said, enraptured at the way his hands almost entirely encircled his hyung’s waist.
He yanked Sangwon in, slotting their hips together, and Sangwon whined. The sound reverberated off the walls of the empty room. The sound cut through his self-control like a knife through jelly. Anxin groaned in response, involuntarily jerking his hips forward.
“Wait, wait—” Sangwon pulled Anxin’s face away from the crook of his shoulder to look at him. Pitch black eyes met pitch black eyes.
“I should—” he tried to pull away, but Anxin’s grip only tightened.
“No,” Anxin whined. He pressed his hips forward again, desperate for any friction, gasping when his hardness rubbed against Sangwon’s.
Sangwon’s knees abruptly gave out and he collapsed to the ground with an airy cry, and Anxin followed him down without hesitation.
“Are you sure?” Sangwon asked breathily, an involuntary moan escaping his throat when Anxin pulled him into his lap and kittenishly licked down his pretty, elongated neck.
At least one person in the room was trying to be responsible, despite the scent of what Anxin instinctively recognised as slick filling his senses. It rammed through his self-control like a wrecking ball.
“Fuu— uuuck ,” Anxin groaned, “ Hyung .”
Sangwon whined, his scent spiking, cutting through Anxin’s senses.
A synapse fired through Anxin’s brain.
“ Hyung ,” Anxin groaned, “Hyung, Sangwonie-hyung— ” a hand flew to grip his chin, pulling him up— rougher than he thought his gentle hyung could ever be— and their lips crashed together and nothing had ever felt so right .
“You like that?” Anxin murmured, nipping and biting and licking Sangwon’s bottom lip. “ Gege. ”
“ Anxin,” Sangwon grinded his hips down, and Anxin could feel his wetness seep through two layers of pants.
The sensation snapped what little remained of his control.
“Stay,” Anxin growled, gripping Sangwon’s hips and pushing him down as he jerked up, eliciting an airy whine that he was quickly getting dangerously addicted to, “Stay, gege, please— I need you, you, just you.”
“Yes, yes, yes—” Sangwon said, “—the storage room.”
They made it there in what felt like two seconds and two years; Anxin trapping Sangwon to the wall every five steps to mouth at his neck and grind into him like the desperate, knot-headed alpha he was becoming. As soon as the door slammed shut and the lock clicked into place, Sangwon dropped to his knees.
Any thought that was again attempting formation in Anxin’s head evaporated into the sweat that dripped down his nose as Sangwon looked up at him through his bangs, his round eyes half-lidded with arousal, his slick and pheromones doing things to Anxin that he had never felt before but could never live without ever again.
“Hyungie will take care of you,” Sangwon rasped, pulling down Anxin’s pants and underwear in one fell swoop. His eyes widened as Anxin’s cock slapped against his cheek, and in slow-motion, agonisingly, teasingly, Sangwon’s lips closed around his leaking tip, never once breaking eye-contact.
A moan ripped through Anxin’s whole body, so loud he probably woke up the entire building— Sangwon’s tongue flicked against his tip, and he almost came right then and there.
“ Hyung , please,” Anxin sobbed desperately.
Sangwon pulled off with an obscene pop. “Yes, Anxinnie?”
“I want— you—” his Korean was starting to slip away, “You—”
“Say it,” Sangwon rasped, “Tell me what you want.”
“You— you, you, you, I want you, gege, please!”
Sangwon scrambled up to pull him into a kiss, as desperate as Anxin felt.
He tugged at Anxin’s shirt, which Anxin very happily got rid of, then Sangwon yanked his own off and Anxin paused.
“Pretty,” he exhaled, “So pretty, such a pretty omega,” and Sangwon whined and kissed him again, kicking off his underwear.
Anxin pulled away to admire him. Slick dripped down his thighs, his pretty, pink cock leaking at the tip. Anxin laid him down carefully against the mound of paper towels. He palmed at the inside of his thighs, drenched with slick, and Anxin dipped down his head between Sangwon’s thighs and inhaled, letting the scent of Sangwon’s arousal and their combined pheromones give him a heady rush that he knew had become a new addiction.
“Please,” Sangwon sobbed, his turn to beg, “Anxinnie, alpha, let me take care of you.”
Anxin needed no more encouragement. He lined his cock up, and Sangwon blubbered rapid Korean that Anxin no longer fully understood as the sheer, ridiculous amount of slick let him split him open on his cock without any hindrance. They moaned in harmony when Anxin’s hips met the back of Sangwon’s thighs.
Sangwon looped his arms around his shoulders, pulling him in for a desperate kiss, tongues sliding together as Anxin chased and Sangwon gave and gave.
Anxin pulled back with an aching groan when Sangwon tightened around him with encouragement.
He moved slowly, sweat dripping down his temple; Sangwon wrapped his legs around his hips.
“It’s okay, Anxinnie,” he rasped, “I can take it.”
Anxin snapped. His next thrust toppled over several paper towels from their places.
“Yes, yes!” Sangwon nearly screamed.
“Hyung,” Anxin whined, “Hyungie, so pretty, such a good omega, so perfect, you feel so good,” his hips moved at a punishing pace, wrenching desperate cries out of Sangwon with every thrust.
“Mine,” he growled.
“Yours!” Sangwon gasped out, his perfect, wet, warm hole somehow tightening even further, his gasps turning into screams. His hair stuck to his forehead and his eyes were struggling to stay open, rolling back into his head, and Anxin had never found someone so beautiful than Sangwon in this moment.
Anxin’s hands travelled from their bruising grip on his hips up to his nipples— he was rewarded with a deafening moan which he answered with his own pleading groan.
“Gege,” he exhaled roughly, “I’m close—can I—”
“Yes,” Sangwon said, the syllable curling divinely on his tongue. “Please, please. ”
One last thrust was all it took for Anxin to throw his head back with a filthy groan, spilling inside Sangwon, who followed a second later with a soundless moan, his insides gripping so tight that only encouraged Anxin, his cum coating their stomachs.
Anxin barely registered the foreign sensation of swelling at the base of his cock, floating through a piercing white light for what felt like a lifetime. Only when he came down from his high did he realise he had knotted .
“I’m sorry,” Anxin mumbled into the crook of Sangwon’s neck, greedily lapping up his scent, “Does it hurt?”
“No,” Sangwon breathed, wiggling, and Anxin felt his cock twitch at the movement. “Do you feel better?” His voice was hoarse, and his hands were sticky where they rested on his shoulders.
Anxin gently readjusted their positions. His head did indeed feel clearer, and he admired the pretty marks on his hyung’s skin that would leave bruises for days— his handiwork.
He grinned devilishly. “I dunno, I might need another round.” His grin widened when Sangwon tightened, his eyes growing half-lidded once more.