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JISUNG
The scout arrives in their village sometime before sundown. He’s wearing the thin, asymmetrical robes indicative of the raiders to the south, browns and greens and beiges meant to blend in, a people known for their deadly stealth.
He’s so clearly an alpha, and a striking one at that. He smells like something dry and floral, earthy and a little sweet, and the unfamiliarity of it lingers in Jisung’s nose, filling up his senses. The scout’s hair is unbound and shorn just below his ears, framing the strong line of his jaw, and it’s less than half the length of Jisung’s own; it suggests a different sort of hardship from the one Jisung knows. A life spent on the move. The scout’s collarbones gleam with late-summer sweat where the slash of his robe collar reveals them, and Jisung’s cheeks shamefully heat at the suggested curves of his chest.
At least his father will resolve to ignore it until they no longer have company.
The scout is young, but something about him is ancient, in that way that inevitabilities tend to be. Jisung knows better than to believe the scout’s undignified appearance to bely a lack of intelligence—his amber eyes are shrewd as he impassively surveys Jisung’s father, whose fists are clenched tightly against the wood of the crude table in the dining tent, the closest thing they have to an official meeting space. There aren’t many of them left since Jisung’s eldest sister fled with her mate and their newborn baby—perhaps forty left among their number.
Jisung would have left by now too, if such a thing were possible. He knows better to believe there is a greater fate out there for him.
“We will let you be,” the scout concludes.
The table creaks with the force of his father’s offense, despite the fact that they have been spared; it simply means the scout does not see enough here worth taking.
Jisung’s flush has dropped from his cheeks down into his neck, smoldering below his collar—he knows enough to be embarrassed, even if his father is not. Jisung works hard; he made the dining table himself the summer he turned sixteen from trees felled by his own hand. He’s not the most adept hunter, but he makes up for it with the plants and herbs he hauls home by the basketful. He can gut a fish and build a fence, milk a goat and come up with a song and a story when the handful of little ones they have to care for cry from half-full bellies, but he cannot make his sister come home, and he cannot bring their healer back from the dead. Their village is only another winter or two from total collapse.
He’d vowed to protect what he can, what good is left of them, until that time comes. He’s relieved, at least, that vow will not mean fighting off some of the greatest warriors ever known.
“On one condition,” the scout adds. His eyes meet Jisung’s, and Jisung cannot stop his intake of breath; he’s sure not many have met this man’s eyes and lived to tell the tale.
“Name it,” Jisung’s father says.
“You will give me the omega behind you,” the scout says, his lips pulling up into a leer over a mouthful of gleaming teeth. “He is mine.”
JAEMIN
“What omega?” the chieftain booms, shoving up from the table.
His son still towers above him even then, his shoulders deliciously broad despite being tucked back into the corner of the tent with his arms crossed. He cannot hide his surprise, whether at his father’s words or Jaemin’s own, but he cannot look away from Jaemin either. The omega’s lovely brown eyes are wide, and his breathing is beginning to go ragged beneath the chest of his navy robes. The fabric is old, but the robes are clearly well cared for; the stitches pull and strain under the fall of Jisung’s long hair, but they do not snap.
Could Jisung really not feel his heat before Jaemin named it? Does he not smell Jaemin the way Jaemin has been able to smell him since he reached the edge of the village on Hildy's sturdy back? The omega smells like lush green and musk and resin, something so different than the jasmines and sages Jaemin is used to, something so rich and fertile and alive it’s as if this man is the beating heart of these unfamiliar woods. Jaemin prides himself on his cultivated calm, but he’d nearly lost control the moment the omega had begun to respond to him—that moment his scent tinged dark and humid, an intoxicating preview of what will await Jaemin between his legs in an hour or so.
The omega’s hand drifts to his neck, as if he’s trying to confirm whether his scent glands are swollen beneath the thin sheen of sweat Jaemin can see gathering there, but of course they are. He’s Jaemin’s mate.
“It is just my heir and I,” the chieftain insists. “No weak-minded omega is permitted to lead here, and I should kill you for the offense.”
“Perhaps I should kill you for the offense,” Jaemin drawls, lifting one hand to the hilt of the sword strapped along his back.
“Appa, stop,” the omega interjects, finally spurred out of the corner with his hands out before him. His palms are wide, his fingers long. They’ll feel like heaven against Jaemin’s skin. “No one else is here, there’s no need to pretend. Not if it can save us.”
“Jisung, absolutely not,” his father hisses. “You’re being disrespectful.”
“No, I’m being sensible,” his mate—Jisung—interrupts. “I know Noona and I both disappointed you greatly, but we are not weak-minded. If this is the way I can keep this village alive, then so be it.”
“You’d really submit yourself to such a fate so willingly?” the chieftain asks disbelievingly.
“If you really think me so debased by my own body, then it clearly won’t be that great a loss for me to leave,” Jisung says flatly.
Jaemin can’t help the snarl that escapes him at his mate’s self-deprecation. Maybe they should raze this place to the ground, just for the hell of it.
“Do you swear?” Jisung asks shakily, and it takes a moment for Jaemin to realize he is being spoken to. “Do you swear you’ll spare them if I leave with you?”
“You will never set foot in this disgrace of a place ever again,” Jaemin swears heartily. “And neither will I.”
By the time they reach Jaemin’s camp and Hildy is secured against a nearby tree, Jisung is fully in heat, and Jaemin has been half-hard for the last kilometer or so. Jisung stumbles forward into Jaemin’s tent as soon as they dismount, tearing at the sash of his robes, and Jaemin follows after him like he is little better than whatever wolf he descended from many generations ago, his knot already beginning to throb beneath his robes.
“I am not an omega,” Jisung pants, his eyes glassy and his skin flushed as he strips down to his underclothes. “Do not misunderstand me, I am not an omega, it’s just so hot—”
“Your scent would suggest otherwise.” Jaemin unbuckles his scabbard and then rids himself of his own robe to fold and set near the front of the tent by his sword, and his decision is thrillingly rewarded by Jisung’s quiet gasp at the realization that Jaemin has been naked beneath it the whole time. Jaemin cannot comprehend Jisung’s stubborn insistence that he doesn’t understand what his body already knows. What kind of monsters raised his mate?
“I’m not—” Jisung pants, but he’s so slick already that his underclothes cling to him. The fabric strains over the significant bulk of his cock and sticks to the wetness between his thighs, his green-good-mate scent swamping Jaemin’s senses the longer Jisung stands there practically dripping in his tent.
“You are,” Jaemin insists, stalking forward until finally, finally, Jisung is in his arms. Jisung’s fists rise to Jaemin’s shoulders, but in the moment he has to gather the strength to push Jaemin away, it clearly fails him. He’s hard against Jaemin’s belly, the fabric of his underclothes clinging wetly to Jaemin’s skin, and Jaemin’s own cock throbs as if to equal him, his hardening length tucked beneath Jisung’s taut balls.
It had been one thing to have his mate’s arms wrapped around him as they rode Hildy away from that godforsaken place, Jisung’s fingers flexing anxiously just above Jaemin’s cock and his slick surely staining the leather of Jaemin’s saddle. Jaemin will have to deep clean it or else he’ll never be useful as a rider again, dreaming instead of the heaven waiting for him between Jisung’s legs. Fuck, it’s already a heady thought, and he hasn’t even tasted his mate for himself yet.
“I agreed to leave with you,” Jisung rasps. “Not—not get on my belly and let you—let you—” He breaks off and licks his lips, his pupils blowing out a little, and Jaemin knows what he tastes on them—he’ll never get Jisung out of his own nose, his mouth, his veins. He thinks he would rip anyone who tried to take Jisung from him limb from limb.
“Your body knows it was made for mine,” Jaemin croons, and it comes out in the same tone he’d use with one of the tribe’s pups who was scared of thunder. Jisung slumps a bit in his arms, panting with an open mouth, and something within Jaemin howls with satisfaction at comforting his mate. “You’re in heat out of season, Jisung. You were made to take my knot, and I was made to give it to you. Why fight what we have been given?”
Whatever spell of comfort Jaemin had managed to bring Jisung under, it unceremoniously snaps.
“What I’ve been given is a physical height and breadth even greater than yours,” he says, twisting his way out of Jaemin’s grasp to take a few unsteady steps, running out of room when he hits the edge of Jaemin’s pallet. “You’d do well to remember that.”
“Yes, darling,” Jaemin can’t help but drawl, humored. “I have excellent eyesight, and I always knew my mate would be strong.”
“Don’t patronize me,” Jisung demands, whirling around, his erection bobbing in a way that makes Jaemin’s mouth water. He’s more than a mouthful, Jaemin’s mate. “You were seeking an omega.”
“And I found one,” Jaemin agrees, all humor gone as he stalks forward into Jisung’s space once more. Jisung’s nostrils flare, but he doesn’t retreat when Jaemin lifts a hand to his forehead. “God, you’re burning up.” Jaemin clucks his tongue, dropping his hands to Jisung’s trim waist, and Jisung shudders. “If you have not lived as an omega—have you ever fingered yourself, sweetheart?” Jaemin asks, wrapping his hands slowly, so slowly around Jisung’s waist, sodden fabric dragging beneath his fingertips as he grips over Jisung’s ass. “Have you fucked yourself here?” He tries to ask sweetly, but he knows his smile turns a little mean when he digs his fingers to ghost between Jisung’s cheeks and Jisung gasps, his head dropping to Jaemin’s shoulder. Jaemin slides two fingers of one hand more fully over where Jisung is sopping and open to drag his underclothes over his hole, while the other he uses to press against Jisung’s length, burning hot in his hand. “Or did you just tug at this pretty cock in your heats, knowing it’s not what your body needed? You must have, if your father wouldn’t even acknowledge what you are. Did he even let you call them heats?”
“I know how to handle myself,” Jisung insists weakly. His hips stutter indecisively for a few heartbeats, like he can’t decide whether to push forward into the pressure against his cock or thrust back to try to get Jaemin’s fingers more firmly against his hole. Then Jaemin bears gentle fingers down into Jisung’s crease, as if he could enter him despite the fabric, and Jisung begins to push his hips back and back, his lovely plush lips parting on a high whine against Jaemin’s skin.
“Do you?” Jaemin chides, his grin a little too wide as he continues to work two fingers over where Jisung is already loosening up for him, even through a layer of clothing. “It must have hurt, pretending it was enough to come from your cock.” Jisung’s open mouth searches out Jaemin’s scent gland, tonguing and sucking over it, drunk on his own heat and Jaemin’s scent. “I should’ve been there to fill you, to give you my knot, to suck you off until you came on my face and then slide inside you while you were still shivering, make you lick yourself off of my tongue while I bred you deep.” Jisung whines half-heartedly, his mouth still busy, and Jaemin is helpless but to try and tip him over the edge. “Is your pussy as wet as your mouth, baby?” he whispers. “Can I find out now?”
Jisung lifts out of his neck with a snarl, pushing Jaemin back out of his space. His underclothes are nearly translucent now, revealing the deep flush of his cock and the blush in his thighs, all his blood rushing south for the dictates of biology. He’s like a peach plump to bursting, just waiting for Jaemin to sink his teeth into its fuzzy, pink-red flesh.
“Alright, omega,” Jaemin laughs. “I’ll earn it. Make me fight you down, if that’s what you need.” He grins once more, flashing his canines just to hear Jisung’s low groan in response. “I’ll have your slick between my teeth soon enough.”
Jisung lowers into some sort of wrestling stance, and Jaemin’s mate is so stubborn, but it’s somehow endearing. He’s strong, his Jisung, corded muscle in his thighs and a defined abdomen just barely visible through the thin fabric of his underclothes. He’s not as well fed as Jaemin, not quite as bulky, but even so, his shoulders are broader than Jaemin’s own.
Still, he’s no fighter. It’s evident in the way he charges forward all at once, barreling ahead with his shoulders down into Jaemin’s middle. It only takes a moderate effort and a few quick twists for Jaemin to wrap around and flip him down onto the pallet, sending Jisung onto his back with an adorable yelp. He drops his own weight down onto Jisung, and his mate responds with a firm oomph that has Jaemin pressing apology kisses along the way as he bullies between Jisung’s thighs and rucks his underclothes up to his nipples. Jaemin was right; he counts Jisung’s abdominal muscles first with his eyes, his mouth dropping open as he imagines counting them with his tongue. A glob of spit falls from Jaemin’s open, panting mouth onto Jisung’s chest, but Jisung barely flinches, entirely too tense with his eyes squeezed tight.
“Baby,” Jaemin croons once more, sending another shudder through Jisung’s body, only this one has him relaxing in its wake. “My stubborn, lovely omega, are we done fighting? Are you ready for me?”
“Please,” Jisung pants weakly. “It’s so hot, please.”
“Alright. Arms up, roll over. It’s easier this way, the first time.”
Jisung blinks blearily up at him as Jaemin rids him of his underclothes, and then finally, there’s only skin between them. Jaemin helps Jisung sit up and carefully guides him over onto his hands and knees, Jisung’s limbs heat-weak and shaking like a newborn foal. His thighs gleam nearly to his knees with dripped slick; it’s impressive evidence of how long he held out, how well he fought for a deserving mate. Jaemin is so hard it aches, knowing he’s earned his partner, but he finds the patience to simply thrust his cock over Jisung’s hole as Jisung settles in on all fours. Up and down, up and down, Jaemin patiently gathers hot, humid slick against his dick and tries not to bruise Jisung’s hips. Jisung’s heat is matting his long hair over his neck and shoulders, and so Jaemin reaches forward long enough to gather it and tuck it over Jisung’s shoulder, hopefully giving him some relief.
“Alpha,” Jisung pleads quietly then, looking over his shoulder at Jaemin with teary brown eyes. “Please.”
“Yeah, baby, okay.” Jaemin finally angles himself with one hand and pushes into Jisung’s smothering, suffocating heat. He’s unbelievably tight; he feels like heaven around Jaemin’s cock as Jaemin works into the body he was made to worship—the person that was made for his love, the cunt that was made for his knot.
Jisung’s moan starts out shaky but grows into a near-howl as Jaemin bottoms out. It swamps Jaemin’s hearing. It feels like it should be loud enough to shake the walls of the tent and rock the earth itself. Jisung’s head drops forward to press against Jaemin’s pallet, the strength leaving his upper body as he collapses down onto his forearms, leaving his hips arched in Jaemin’s tight grip as he tries to let Jisung adjust to him.
“That’s right, sweetheart, I’m your alpha, always,” Jaemin promises, running careful hands up from Jisung’s lithe waist to his ribs, and then back down again. He’s clearly been going without; Jaemin will see to it he never goes hungry again. He’ll feed him by hand, by mouth, until Jisung’s warm and firm and rounded beneath his hands. “Feels so good, doesn’t it? Taking what you were made to take?”
“More, alpha, please—” Jisung pants, deep in the need of his heat. He shifts his hips and whimpers quietly as Jaemin’s cock moves inside him, his knot already pulling just slightly against Jisung’s rim.
“I’ve got you baby, I’m right here.” Jaemin pulls almost all the way out, his cock sticky with slick, before slamming back in with a sharp, wet noise, because his mate is strong. He asked for more; he’s not fragile. Jaemin wants to find out just how much he wants to take, how much he can take, and then give it to him forever.
“Again,” Jisung gasps, finding the strength to push back up onto his hands, to gain some leverage against Jaemin. “Again, there, right there—”
Jaemin thrusts again, a little shorter, a little sharper, but somehow even wetter, and Jisung keens, working his hips back against where his slick has soaked Jaemin’s groin, matting down the hair around his cock.
“Just needed me to make you full, yeah?” Jaemin pants, working his cock in and out of Jisung, spurred on by Jisung’s little whines and groans as his knot begins to swell and catch against Jisung’s rim. “I left you empty for so long, but I’m here now. I’ll fill you up any time you want.”
“Then do it,” Jisung demands, the pride of an omega in heat. His eyes are glazed but burning as he looks back at Jaemin, his bangs matted to his forehead and his lips chapped from licking them—the most beautiful face Jaemin has ever seen. “Now.”
“And my knot?” Jaemin asks breathlessly, because—he’s not in rut, and if Jisung said no, he would find another way, but Jisung is his mate, and Jaemin needs to know—he needs—he needs—
“You took an omega, didn’t you?” Jisung asks him, losing his strength in his arms again, his chest dipping towards the bed as Jaemin hammers the angle he’d said was best. “Take me.”
“No, baby, that’s not it.” Jaemin stills long enough to drop down onto his hands over Jisung’s broad back until they’re pressed together, until he’s touching as much of Jisung’s skin as possible and Jaemin can do little more than grind into him. “I took you, and I’m never giving you back.”
Jaemin fucks his mate as best he can, mounts him down because he’s breeding him, the very first one here. His mate is going to take his knot, he’s going to belong to Jaemin, and Jaemin’s balls are drawn up so tight it hurts, humping into Jisung with little soaked sounds until finally, finally, his knot swells too large to move and Jaemin comes into the warm embrace of Jisung’s body. Of his mate. He opens wide and sinks his teeth into the tender skin of Jisung’s strong shoulder, and Jisung follows him over the edge immediately after, his hips jerking against Jaemin’s knot, his body tensing and releasing as Jaemin fills him up.
Somehow, once he stops spilling cum into his mate, Jaemin manages to get them on their sides through all of his incessant licking over Jisung’s mating bite. His knot tugs painfully for a moment at Jisung’s hole, which makes Jisung hiss with discomfort until Jaemin rolls forward just a bit, pressing Jisung’s front more fully into the pallet.
“Have you ever come like that before?” Jaemin asks, and he can hear the smarm in his own voice, but if Jisung really has been fucking as a beta, then Jaemin will gladly gloat.
When Jaemin worms his hand between Jisung’s hips and the bed to find his cock and feel out his handiwork, Jisung is half-hard again, still so wet everywhere below his waist that there’s no way for Jaemin to tell what’s slick and what’s cum.
“Stop that!” Jisung squirms, his answer half-buried in the pillow. “No, I’ve never come from—your knot, whatever spot you kept hitting—” Jaemin chuffs proudly against Jisung’s bite, kissing over the fresh scars of his own teeth, and Jisung playfully swats back at his arm where it’s wrapped over Jisung’s side. “You’re crazy. I’m sore, okay? Let me rest for a bit until your knot stops pressing on it, just—let me stop talking about this, please.”
“Mmhm, okay sweetheart,” Jaemin agrees, yawning contentedly against Jisung’s neck. “Making your mate come is hard work, wake me up when you need me.”
Whatever Jisung says in response, Jaemin is already too far under to hear it, drifting off with a smile on his face.
Jaemin is awoken by a low, rumbling growl coming from atop his chest. It’s a primal noise—a combat sort of sound, the kind you sometimes hear during raids when their ancestors feel closest.
It’s Jisung. Sometime since he drifted off, Jisung rolled them over, and now he’s draped over Jaemin’s chest and growling at—
The tent flap, Jaemin sees when he cracks one eye open. Fluttering in the early morning breeze. Jaemin can see the barest hints of pink and orange beginning to peek through the trees.
Then Jisung rolls off of him, leaving Jaemin to shiver with his dick still sticky against his thigh, but he doesn’t seem to notice Jaemin has woken. He rises into a crouch and looks around for something to wear, before settling on Jaemin’s robes near the door, still tucked in next to Jaemin’s sword. He shakes the robes out and pulls them on, tying them haphazardly around his waist before he slips out of the tent.
Before he . . . slips out of the tent? It’s too early in the morning to be awake on a day when nothing is supposed to get pillaged, and yet, here Jaemin is, watching his mate attempt to run away from him.
He rolls up into his own crouch and creeps forward to the tent flap, peeking through it to see Jisung walking gingerly around the perimeter of Jaemin’s camp site. His heart swells with simple, alpha pride at being the cause of Jisung’s limp, before it hits him that Jisung is—surveilling. He must eventually reach a point where he’s satisfied with what he sees, because he crosses to where Hildy is tied to the tree. He approaches her carefully, one hand cautiously out before him, similar to the way he’d approached his father the day before, and hell, now Jaemin wants to growl. Perhaps Jisung was too heat-addled to really remember her before, but he needn’t worry; Hildy has an oddly developed sense for who Jaemin would and would not like to injure.
But then he reaches for her reins, and Jaemin’s whole body seizes with panic. Hildy would come to him when he called for her; Jisung would never get far, but the fact that he would still try to leave Jaemin—after everything—
He’s up on his feet and out of the tent just in time to watch Jisung bend forward to retrieve an apple that’s seen better days out of Hildy’s saddlebag; Jaemin was too distracted to take it off her last night, but he’ll make it up to her. When Jisung shifts upright once more, Jaemin notices that the ground below him gleams wetly in a small spatter, and Jaemin’s breath stutters in his lungs.
“What are you doing out here?” Jaemin’s voice cracks humiliatingly for a man with nearly seven dozen kills under his belt.
Jisung’s face immediately hardens.
“I won’t be kept in the tent,” Jisung says firmly, his mouth turned down in a kissable pout. “You don’t dictate what I do.”
“What good would you be to me, my darling, always in the tent?” Jaemin laughs. “Although it is a tempting offer.”
Jisung’s frown deepens. “I’m serious, Jaemin.”
“As am I,” Jaemin promises as he crosses the campsite. "I am gaining the sense you would not listen, regardless." It’s then, of course, that Hildy nudges forward, tired of waiting on the apple in Jisung’s grip. He startles adorably when her nose creeps over his shoulder to blow impatiently in his ear, but he turns to give it to her regardless. It allows Jaemin to wrap his arms around him and march them the few scant steps around the other side of the tree. Jisung’s hair cascades over his shoulders and down the bark like a mountain spring as Jaemin crowds up against him, pressing him against the trunk. “Your heat is not broken,” Jaemin comments on the obvious. This close, he can see that Jisung is sweating at his hairline, can feel the heat of him against his front. “Is that why you didn’t run?”
“Jaemin—”
“Or were you planning to come back to bed after you checked up on things out here?” Jaemin smiles, pressing a thumb against the freckle between Jisung’s plush lower lip. “Because you know as well as I do now that nothing feels quite like my cock deep in your belly, hmm?” he leers, wiggling his eyebrows. “I’ve waited my whole life to knot your sweet little hole.”
“Don’t lie to me,” Jisung says quietly. He lifts his chin up and away when Jaemin leans in to kiss him, stranding Jaemin’s mouth somewhere next to his Adam’s apple. “I know I am not your first. You were not mine.”
“I was where it counts,” Jaemin shoots back, unwilling to walk two steps back after taking such a life-changing one forward. “Don’t create space where there isn’t any. I don’t care how many other cunts you stuck your gorgeous cock in while you pretended it wouldn’t have felt better if you had something inside too.” Jaemin grips at Jisung’s hips and lifts them off of the tree, slipping his hands around Jisung’s backside to where he’s already leaking through Jaemin’s robe. “I don’t want you to ever pretend that you’re anything other than what you are.”
“And what’s that?” Jisung spits, and he sounds—cruel. Unkind. So far from the boy who moments ago was feeding Jaemin’s horse. He squirms out of Jaemin’s grip, tripping back towards the tent on unsteady legs. “A—a bitch?” he asks, throwing his hands up. “I don’t know why we’re doing this. Why last night was— Just put me in the dirt already and quit trying to talk to me if you insist on making me remember I’m an omega—”
“I will not tolerate anyone speaking ill of my mate, and my mate is no exception to that rule,” Jaemin interrupts him, pursuing him across the distance Jisung keeps trying so hard to create. “You think I didn’t see it, you putting yourself between me and the tent flap this morning? You think I didn’t hear that warning growl, huh?” Jisung turns away from him then, as if he has anywhere else to go, flinching in a way that breaks Jaemin’s heart when Jaemin wraps around him once more from behind. “I don’t need a pet, Jisung, and I don’t want whatever horrible definition of an omega your father has subjected your village to. Where I come from, omegas are the strongest among us.”
“Stop lying to me,” Jisung pleads, as if he’s heartbroken too. “Stop giving me—stop making me feel like—why are you doing this? I gave it up; I slept with you, I let you bite me. Can’t you see he was right?” Jisung sobs, an awful, choked noise. “You’re a raider. You threatened to kill everyone I know, but I’m weak. I let you mate me. I even fed your horse.”
“Jisung, what?” Jaemin chuckles, and Jisung thrashes in his grip, his tears landing hot and wet on Jaemin’s wrist. Jaemin immediately regrets his reaction, shushing him, trying to rock his larger frame from behind. “I’m sorry, listen to me, I’m not making fun of you. What you’re saying is just—I’m not lying. It takes strength to decide to bear young. To accommodate the knots that alphas like me need to give you. You were meant to be mine because you are strong, don’t you see?” Jisung finally begins to give up his fight the longer Jaemin speaks, allowing Jaemin to gentle him into a more soothed sort of creature. “Because you made the choice to come with me rather than let harm come to others, even though they hardly deserved it. Because you’ll secure my camp and care for our horse, and then you’ll roll over and let me fuck you until you’re making those sweet little whimpers you can’t quite contain, hmm?” Jisung does him the honor of giving him one of those little whimpers now, his scent spiking with want as Jaemin rumbles possessively against the crook of his shoulder. “Until you’re bearing your neck and pushing back on my cock, because you know I need to knot you, and you want to give me what I need. Don’t you sweetheart?”
“Jaemin—” Jisung gasps as Jaemin runs his hand inside Jisung’s hastily-tied robe, pulling it open far enough to reach back to Jisung’s hole and slip two fingertips into his waiting, ready heat, sending Jisung jolting in his arms.
“I’m yours,” Jaemin swears. “And you’re mine. Every hair on your head, all your strength and your size and your stubbornness, and your tight, ripe pussy, just weeping for my cock to fill it.” He finds Jisung’s prostate then, circling it as Jisung keens in his arms, his thick, rigid cock flexing in the open air where Jaemin pulled the robe open, his tip dripping messily into the dirt. “So say it, baby. It’s for your own good, because I’m not ever taking you back to that place, not with the shape of my teeth in your neck. Not with my cum in your belly. So say you understand, because we're leaving as soon as your heat is broken.”
“You’re mine,” Jisung groans.
“That’s right, darling,” Jaemin croons, rewarding him with a firm press against his prostate that has Jisung unleashing a strangled cry, still clutching the forearm Jaemin has braced against his middle. "I'm yours."
“Then give it to me,” Jisung demands impatiently. “It’s too warm. What’s mine, give it to me.”
“All you ever have to do is ask,” Jaemin says, slipping his fingers out of Jisung just long enough to rip his robe down off of Jisung’s shoulders.
“Not—not in front of Hildy, Jaemin, fuck—” Jisung curses him, and then he’s laughing for the first time since he met Jaemin as he tugs them back through the tent. He’s a little breathless, perhaps a little too self-conscious for someone in still in the throes a mating heat, but somehow still he’s just a bit more bold than his embarrassment, laying down on Jaemin’s pallet and spreading his legs wide, his thighs dewy and his hole still reddened from Jaemin’s previous efforts.
Jaemin gets down onto his hands and knees over him, kissing down his torso until he’s settled on his front with his head between Jisung’s strong, trembling thighs. He licks up one thigh, and then the other, collecting the taste of Jisung’s slick—of Jaemin’s mate—against his tongue, as it sears across his palate in a permanent brand.
When he slips three fingers inside Jisung and seals his lips around the tip of Jisung’s cock, Jisung whines just like Jaemin knew he would, high and loud.
It’s the most beautiful sunrise of Jaemin’s life.