Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“It will be fine, hyung.”

Yoongi’s head rests against the car window. In the end, he opted for taking a taxi rather than driving his own car, even though he prefers having his own getaway option. Not that he expects to have to suddenly flee or anything—but he’s already antsy, as it is.

“I hope so.”

He loosely holds his phone to his ear. When Yoongi was picked up, the driver asked whether he would like the partition between the front and backseats to be closed. He chose the latter, especially because he knew Jimin would be calling him.

“Hey, that’s a big improvement from last night. For a minute there I really thought you’d take the next plane out of the country.”

Jimin is so funny.

“I’m mostly sticking to this plan because cancelling last-minute would make me feel bad for everyone involved,” Yoongi mumbles.

Doing this as in, booking a heat service for his upcoming cycle and spending it at a heat hotel. Accompanied.

Jimin is quiet on the other end of the line before he gives a sigh. “You’re truly one of a kind, hyung.”

He’s nervous. Of course he is. How couldn’t he be? He brought a big suitcase which he has been packing and unpacking for the better part of a week. Yoongi doesn’t know if he’s prepared. At this point, Yoongi doesn’t know anything.

“Thank you, I think.”

“You’re welcome,” Jimin chirps. “I just want you to know I’m proud of you.”

“Jimin-ah…”

The omega promptly breaks into a singsong. “I’m proud of youuuuuuu! I know this is hard for you, hyung.”

Maybe Yoongi’s lower lip wobbles. Not because he needed to hear those words, but because his preheat has been turning him stupidly emotional and absolutely insane. And maybe he misses his best friend who is in Japan for work right now and worried over Yoongi being all alone before and after his heat.

There aren’t many people in his life Yoongi would consider his friends. He was lucky that Jimin moved to Seoul with him. Sure, he has Seokjin hyung whom he met while working in the kitchen of a sushi restaurant years ago to make rent. But if Seokjin hadn’t been so persistent in worming his way into Yoongi’s life no matter how socially awkward Yoongi was, then he wouldn’t have Seokjin hyung either.

He leads a quiet life. But it suits him. And most importantly, it’s his.

“I do feel like I regressed back to a pup who’s still wet behind the ears.”

Rustling in the background on Jimin’s end. It sounds like he’s rolling around in bed. Yoongi wonders where his boyfriend is, if he’s fetching coffee for Jimin who has never been able to get out of bed in the morning.

“Oh, but you were so cute as a pup! So round, with such squishy cheeks.”

Jimin giggles at Yoongi’s exasperated groan.

His mother had no right in sending Jimin those baby pictures on KakaoTalk.

Yoongi recognises the area they’re in from checking the hotel’s location. He swallows against the lump in his throat, nauseous from the anxiety that’s been residing in his stomach for days.

“I’m almost there,” he says. He can hear the utter lack of confidence in his own voice but doesn’t have the capacity to put on an act. Jimin would see right through him anyway.

The warmth in Jimin’s voice feels like a hug despite the miles and miles of distance. “Okay, hyung. Just remember, this isn’t prison. You can leave whenever you want. But at the same, this could be a really, really good thing. If it helps even a bit—”

“—then that’s already a big improvement,” Yoongi concludes the sentence.

“Exactly. Ah,” Jimin clicks his tongue. “Feels like I’m sending my firstborn off to school. They grow up so fast.”

Now he’s done it after all; Yoongi laughs.

“You’re a brat, Jimin-ah.”

Jimin laughter sounds like bells. “Love you, hyung. Call me anytime. And tell that alpha I will personally beat them up if they don’t do a good job.”

Yoongi shakes his head in fondness. Just then, the car comes to a smooth stop. He unbuckles his seatbelt with shaky fingers and takes a deep breath.

“Hyung.”

He doesn’t need to see Jimin to know he’s pouting. Yoongi opens the car door and steps out.

“Love you too.”

***

“You can go right ahead and get settled into your suite. If there’s anything you need don’t hesitate to give us a call.” The front office agent is a beta woman with piercing eyes. She hands him the key card to his room which Yoongi accepts with a bow of his head.

“Thank you. And, uhm, the—my companion…”

His nerves are making him clumsy, stumbling and tripping over his words. But the woman, if she thinks the sight of him pitiful, doesn’t let it show.

“Your heat partner?” Upon his nod she continues speaking with practiced ease.  She checks the time on her tablet. “They are scheduled to arrive an hour later than your check-in time. This way you can take a breather.” Her smile is kind. “We find that our clients feel more comfortable exploring their lodging on their own.”

Yoongi blinks. He didn’t even think about that—Yoongi is going to spend his heat outside of his own home and safety. Of course, it makes sense that he should get some time just for himself. Now that the beta said it, he lets out a big sigh in relief.

“This is your first booking with us, right?”

“Yes.” His hand is sweaty where he clutches the handle of his suitcase. “It was recommended to me by a friend.”

“Most of our customers do return after their first booking, if it is any consolation. I wish you a very pleasant stay.”

If Yoongi hadn’t checked the website of the heat service, he would have expected something… shabby. Maybe he’s just getting old because he still associates places like these with ancient love motels, but as he rides the elevator towards the seventh floor and stares at himself in the mirror, he is surprised with how aesthetically the hotel was designed.

The door to the suite Yoonig booked opens with a soft click. Automatically Yoongi reaches for the light control panel but finds that he doesn’t need it—the suite, as he steps into it, is bright and inviting.

On socked feet he pads across the hallway and into the living room. It’s so quiet, Seoul’s traffic completely muted. Miniature cars barely inch forward with all the traffic lights signalling safe passage for pedestrians. A few minutes ago, Yoongi stood on the sidewalk, though it feels more than just a few minutes ago with how time progresses when he’s nervous.

In the master bedroom, Yoongi turns on the AC and goes to wash his hands in the ensuite bathroom. He eyes the large bathtub and can’t keep himself from rummaging around the assortment of bath salts and oils. Back in the bedroom, he runs his fingers over the linen in appreciation. Not even the sheets in his own nest have this high of a thread count.

By the time there’s a knock on the front door, Yoongi has peeked into all the kitchen cupboards, downed a decaffeinated coffee and checked out the speaker system integrated into the ceiling (and a soundbar for the TV). Although he was watching the clock like a hawk, he still startles at the sudden sound.

He skids around the corner with his heart up in his throat. With his hand hovering above the door handle, Yoongi forces himself to take a deep breath and then—

“Min Yoongi-ssi?”

The scent that greets him is unmistakenly that of an alpha, even if the person in front of him could have been anything but. Green tea, warm and comforting, but with the ability to stir you from deep slumber. Fresh ginger livens up the more subtle notes of the green tea and with each breath Yoongi takes, tension bleeds out of his shoulders, drop by drop.

“Hi,” he says dumbly.

The alpha smiles and Yoongi can’t do anything but stare. Oh no. This is bad.

The smile morphs into a laugh when Yoongi only continues to stare instead of, well, doing literally anything else, like introducing himself or inviting the alpha in. Yoongi’s cheeks flush in mortification when he realises what he’s doing.

He hurries to answer. “Yes, that’s me. Nice to meet you—”

The elevator interrupts Yoongi’s reply. When it announces its arrival, Yoongi sneaks a curious glance. The alpha though, as soon as the doors of the elevator slide open, sniffs the air with a furrowed brow and turns around.

“You?”

***

Like a deer caught in the headlights, Yoongi stands there and stares. “Um.”

“I think I know what happened here,” says the alpha with the smile brighter than a morning in August. He eyes the man beside him without turning his face away from Yoongi.

It makes him nervous, being at the centre of attention, the alphas unintentionally blocking his exit in case he had to flee. Rationally, he knows he won’t have to flee. But the part of his brain that causes fear to arise in his chest apparently hasn’t gotten the notice that predators such as sable-tooth tigers have long gone extinct.

Well, apart from alphas.

“Namjoon-ah, are you sure you’ve got the right date and time?”

The familiar address startles Yoongi. They must know each other. He gathers it from how close they stand, unafraid of casual brushes of their skin against each other’s.

The taller alpha, Namjoon, scrolls on his phone. The confusion in his scent is easy to read. Yoongi opens his mouth shallowly in hopes of avoiding if he doesn’t breathe through his nose.

Bad decision. Their combined scents blanket his tongue and like a dog, Yoongi salivates. Immediately he covers his mouth and nose with the cuff of his sleeve. Screw it, even if the gesture makes him look rude. Social protocol aside, he’s not keen on triggering his heat before he’s been able to have a single conversation with his heat partner.

“Here,” Namjoon says. “See, it’s in the confirmation mail.” He voices it with slight petulance. Hilarious for a man that big, Yoongi thinks hysterically. While the alpha with the slender figure is about Yoongi’s size, Namjoon has a few inches on him. “Maybe you have the wrong date and time, Hoseok-ah.”

Are they same-age friends? With their eyes glued to the phone screen, Yoongi forces his shoulders to relax and digs his toes into the carpet. It’s so plush, he wants to rub his cheeks all over it. His fingers are itching for him to… to nest.

Oh. This is really it, then. He will spend his heat here.

“Yoongi-ssi?”

He looks up from his toes.

There’s something knowing in their gaze. He wonders how they got to know each other, if they were friends before they became colleagues or the other way around. From their appearance alone, he never would have lumped them together. While one of them looks quite boyish with his buzzcut and washed-out sweater weren’t it for the defined lines of his arms and legs showing through his clothes, the other reminds Yoongi of the latest generation of idols, his hair bleached an intense platinum-blond. His features are delicate in some, and eccentric in other, places.

“Would you like to sit down? You look a little pale, Yoongi-ssi.” It’s Hoseok, who watches him with a concerned expression. He asks kindly, nonetheless.

Yoongi shakes his head. Pauses, and then nods. Inwardly, he groans at his reaction, how useless he’s already being. There’s a reason (multiple, if he’s honest) he has preferred loneliness over company during his heats.

He sits on the sofa. The fabric is cool under his palms, must be suede. When he lifts his head, the alphas quickly avert their eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he says, frowning at himself. “This is the first time I booked a service like this. Did something… go wrong?”

“It’s not your fault,” Namjoon promptly answers. The reassurance takes some weight off Yoongi’s shoulders. But mostly it’s how the alpha says it, his deep and smooth voice together with his woodsy, earthen scent. It grounds him like the roots of a tree.

“Unless you requested two heat partners, the system has accidentally booked in both of us for the duration of your heat.”

Yoongi shakes his head. He remembers filling out the forms, ticking boxes and unticking them on second thought. Jimin was there with him, the two omegas cuddled up together on Yoongi’s couch. Jimin had been the one to suggest the heat service after all.

His heart sinks. “So, I have—I have to send one of you home?”

Namjoon rubs the back of his neck, an abashed gesture, smiles apologetically.

He has dimples.

“Technically, since the system matched us, we meet all the requirements you have noted down on your booking form.”

Yoongi doesn’t understand. He’s sure he’d be able to follow the conversation if only his preheat wasn’t slow-cooking his brain. That and the presence of not one but two alphas, on top of the foreign environment. His omega yearns for a blanket to pull over its head.

 Hoseok eyes Namjoon with a curious glint in his eyes. In doing so, he misses Yoongi searching for guidance.

Yoongi’s breathing picks up. It’s a great indicator of how hormonal he must be already because there’s not a single rational thought passing through his mind. “I have to reject one of you?”

His scent starts to curdle.

Immediately, the alphas straighten. In another situation Yoongi would have found the slight panic on Namjoon’s features amusing. Hoseok is the one to take a step closer, hands splayed out in front of him. When Yoongi doesn’t recoil at his advance, he approaches him like a wild animal with a bleeding wound.

“Let’s take a deep breath,” he suggests. Hoseok’s added weight on the couch causes it to shift and immediately, Yoongi is on high alert. Not because he’s afraid—but now the alpha is closer to him. The distance he keeps is respectful and Yoongi’s omega wishes it wasn’t.

There’s a discrepancy between Yoongi and his omega. He knows why he’s here, knew that what he was signing up was intimacy, including sex. But Yoongi already struggles being affectionate with his close friends. His heat, though, always flicks a switch inside of him.

“Here.” Namjoon holds out a couch cushion to him. Yoongi, distracted, takes it and sets it down in his lap. A trace of the alpha’s scent sticks to the fabric, faint as it is, but to Yoongi and his frazzled nervous system it’s as good as physical touch.

Except, Hoseok’s still there, closer than before. He purposefully meets Yoongi’s eyes. He’s beautiful, Yoongi thinks, almost regal. A beauty mark dots one peak of his cupid’s bow. Yoongi wants to hang on this man’s every word.

“I’m going to scent your wrist for a second.”

He gives Yoongi enough time to pull away without the burden of having to make an active decision.

Warmth spreads through him. Like coming home on a snowy day with fingers half-frozen only to sink into a comforting bath, Yoongi lets it comfort him. The skin on the back of his neck prickles, goosebumps breaking out over his flesh. Before he can get overwhelmed, Hoseok takes his wrist away.

The relief lingers, paired with a sudden bout of clarity. Yoongi blinks.

“Sorry,” he says. He finds himself clutching the pillow on his lap, releasing his hold slowly so he can cover his flushed face with his hands instead.

And this is merely Yoongi’s preheat state.

“What…” He clears his throat. “What were you saying?”

“I should have been clearer.” Namjoon pauses long enough for Yoongi to gather himself. Absentmindedly, he fluffs the pillow, smoothing a wrinkle out of the cover. “What I meant to say is that Hoseok-ssi and I have no other obligations. So, unless you’d rather stick to the original arrangement, we could stay with you. Both of us.”

Hoseok’s responding laughter is mirthful. Yoongi cannot read it, senses that it’s directed at the other alpha. Besides…

“Two alphas,” he deadpans.

Namjoon looks sheepish, nearly shy at Yoongi’s tone. The alpha keeps stumping him. “I hope I’m not overstepping but from what I recall, your forms mentioned that your heats are pretty tough on you.”

Oh, this is hilarious. Are they having a whole business meeting seconds after Yoongi almost slipped? But these are professionals, he guesses. They are used to discussing heats and all the gritty details with their clients, even if Yoongi has zero idea on how to proceed here.

Of course they read his booking request. And after all, Yoongi is a consenting adult. He’s paying for a service.

It still feels so fucking awkward though. Yoongi usually struggles less when talking about sex. But usually, he never has sex during his heat in the first place.

Ah. He’s sensing a pattern.

“Yes,” he manages hoarsely. “They are.” He takes a deep breath in. And continues before he loses his remaining specks of confidence. “I’ve been told I’m… quite difficult to manage. When it hits its peak, I’m usually not very lucid and…”

 Yoongi scrunches his nose in mild distaste.

Hoseok, who’s frowning but refrained from interrupting him, leans into Yoongi’s space. The proximity of another body, of an alpha, is, and Yoongi swallows against the lump in his throat here, nice.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Yoongi-ssi. You can speak freely and we won’t judge,” he says.

A headache has been festering behind Yoongi’s temples for days. The closer he came to his heat, the stronger it got. The pain chooses to return now, pulsing, knocking, against his skull. He massages the spot beside his eyes and sighs.

“You know those romcoms from the early 2000s that are all incredibly sexist when you watch them now? Where an omega meets a mysterious stranger who sends them into heat, right in the middle of the street? And then they show omegas as these… animals, almost, who are completely at the mercy of their alpha. The alpha who literally saves their lives by fucking the omega through their heat. And all the while the omega is represented as this… drooling, useless thing.”

“Oh, wow.” Hoseok’s eyes are wider than they were before. “Yes. Now that you say it, yes, of course. Very sexist.”

“He loves romcoms,” Namjoon says. Hoseok glares at him, then turns to Yoongi with a panicked look.

“But not the bad ones! The—the modern ones, where omegas… where subgenders…” He stops gesturing, nearly whining, before his shoulders drop. “They’re just… funny, I swear.”

Yoongi laughs. Quietly, with his shoulders shaking, but he does. He misses how it grabs the attention of the alphas, misses how he captivates them.

“You don’t have to explain yourself.” The last remnant of Yoongi’s laughter fades and desperately, instinctually, avoids any eye contact. “But those over-the-top representations of heats… that’s pretty much how I behave.”

Like in the heat of summer, he swelters in the ensuing silence. He tries to stay still instead of fidgeting, but he’s been in the presence of not one, but two alphas for the past… he doesn’t know how many minutes have passed. His omega is ready to pounce.

When Namjoon speaks, his tone is raw. “Yoongi-ssi, I assure you, that’s not going to be a problem.”

Yoongi lifts his head. The alpha looks at him, certainly serious mixed with… something else, something Yoongi can’t or doesn’t want to identify. It sets his hairs on end, and he wipes his sweaty palms over his pants.

He’s not so sure about not being a problem. He’s heard different in the past. But the fight has left him and so has the energy needed to keep his posture straight and his head clear. “Alright.” He exhales wearily. They’re professionals, he reminds himself again. At least they should keep any comments about Yoongi’s condition during his heat to themselves. “If you’re sure, then I’m okay with both of you staying.”

Like it’s going to be a hardship, having two alphas at his beck and call.

Hoseok’s and Namjoon’s scents tangle in the air, content.

Yoongi hopes they can’t see him blush.

***

After their talk, the omega excuses himself.

“I didn’t get much sleep last night,” he explained, sheepishly. Hoseok noticed his tendency to avoid eye contact early on. He wondered what it said about him that he found it endearing.

The omega was very endearing in general. To put it mildly.

Half-way to the bedroom, Yoongi’s steps faltered. Looking back at the alphas, he clearly had something to say but hesitated.

Hoseok put on an easy smile, turning his body towards the omega right away, trying to appear open and trustworthy where he was still sitting on the sofa. “Don’t worry about us, Yoongi-ssi. I hope you’ll sleep well and wake up feeling refreshed.”

Yoongi nodded but his expression didn’t change. His arms hung lifelessly next to his body, fingers twitching from denied movement. Hoseok’s smile didn’t waver, but he tilted his head. In question as well as encouragement. When Yoongi’s eyes strayed from the alphas over to the suite’s front door, Namjoon caught on.

“Would you like us to stay out here?”

Yoongi’s reply was instant. “I know it’s silly but…”

Where did the omega’s insecurities stem from? Hoseok had a feeling that, had the circumstances been different and they’d met outside of Hoseok’s work, Yoongi would have left a different impression.

Namjoon shook his head. “It’s not. We’ll keep watch. You’ll be safe.”

Oh, Hoseok thought.

Instincts are hardly rational and there was little sense to argue with them. Back in the old days, alphas would guard the nest of their partners against any intruders, especially during the lead-up to a heat. Too high was the chance of having a predator trespassing, taking advantage of an omega’s most vulnerable state.

With a small bow and a low thank you, Yoongi disappeared behind the closed door of his bedroom.

Now, Hoseok walks over to the kitchen counter.

“Would you like some coffee?” He flicks on the coffee machine. “And by the way, there’s zero subtlety in you, Joonie.”

 “Yeah, coffee would be nice.” Namjoon cranes his neck over the backrest of the couch until he’s looking at Hoseok upside-down. “Also, what do you mean, subtlety? I thought you were about to drag him straight to bed.”

He’s stunned. Hoseok points at himself. “Me?”

Namjoon laughs. He imitates Hoseok’s surprised face. “Yes, you. You kept squinting at him as if you were holding yourself back from pouncing.”

“Aish, I was just trying to…” He feels his cheeks redden. Hoseok is no person to get flustered easily. And the heat rising in his body reminds him of—

“Excuse me, but we have something else to talk about.” He slams (no, closes, because he’s very aware of the omega trying to rest in the next room) the cupboard shut after extracting two coffee mugs. “Have you considered that maybe it would be, I don’t know, nice to check in with me before offering us both to a client?”

“Ah, Hoba,” Namjoon drawls, cocky. “Are you really upset about that? Because if yes, then I’m sorry.”

Hoseok concentrates on pouring the coffee.

“Maybe I just missed you.”

He side-eyes the alpha.

“Okay, okay. I wasn’t thinking, I’m sorry! If it’s a problem for you, I can leave,” Namjoon says. He’s softened into his seat, the smallest of pouts on his lips.

“You’re ridiculous,” Hoseok snaps, suddenly fond again. “Why would I have a problem with sharing a client?” He bridges the distance and holds one of the steaming coffees out to Namjoon. “Also, I’ve seen your knot before.”

Hoseok takes a sip from his cup before Namjoon does. He can barely withhold the smug little smile threatening to break through his carefully schooled expression.

“It’s nothing special.”

Namjoon chokes on his coffee. He clears his throat while Hoseok smiles at him, angelic.

“Well, not like I have to fuck you with it.”

This time, Hoseok nearly drops his coffee. “Yah!” He sits down next to Namjoon, shoving at him with one hand. “Who says I would let you?”

Namjoon laughs, Hoseok laughs, and then Namjoon doesn’t, anymore.

“Wait, you—you’ve slept with an alpha before?”

Adorable. For all his progressiveness, Hoseok has always thought that Namjoon was a traditional little alpha at heart. He wants to pinch Namjoon’s cheeks.

He hums. “Joon-ah, I’ve slept with multiple alphas before.”

Namjoon is quiet but his eyes are sharp and twice as loud.

Hoseok rolls his eyes in jest. “Just ask.”

It’s cute, really—Hoseok knows that Namjoon’s hesitation stems from the fear of being insensitive, possibly hurting him. They’ve known each other for so long, weren’t always friends like they are now.

“Is it,” Namjoon starts, but stops himself. He swallows, and Hoseok pats his knee a few times, fondly encouraging. “Does it hurt? Being knotted?”

He talks over the rim of his cup. “Bold of you to assume I’m the one being knotted.” When Hoseok looks at Namjoon again, his cheeks have darkened. He leans forward in fascination. “Are you blushing?”

Namjoon speaks before Hoseok has finished asking. “No!”

“Oh my god, you are! Kim Namjoon, we have sex for a living!”

“That’s not—hey, I’ve had plenty of clients who didn’t want to have sex during their heat.”

Hoseok has to put his cup down on the coffee table lest he spill it all over the couch, that’s how hard he has to laugh.

“You are adorable.” Namjoon clearly disagrees but Hoseok doesn’t let himself get deterred. “To answer your question, it can hurt. It’s not much different from sleeping with a beta though. Some alphas have their heads stuck up their ass so far, they think it’s emasculating to sleep with other alphas.” He shrugs. “Honestly, you just need time and a lot of lube.”

Namjoon scoffs. “Emasculating? Are you kidding me?”

Hoseok smiles. If Namjoon would let him, he could do unspeakable things to him.

Namjoon downs the rest of his coffee and places the empty cup on the armrest. He takes every positive thought he’s had towards Namjoon back as his eye begins to twitch. Lucky for Namjoon, he notices it.

He picks the cup up and carefully places it on the ground. Instead of the table. But at least it’s not in danger of falling anymore.

“Are you really surprised? Or is your little social justice warrior heart beating double-time?”

“I just think it’s pretty manly to take a knot when your body isn’t even designed to do so,” Namjoon grumbles.

Hoseok waggles his eyebrows at him. “Are you interested?”

“Hoseok-ah,” Namjoon says. He sounds abashed and this time Hoseok can’t help himself from reaching out and pinching one of the alpha’s cheeks.

***

Yoongi closes the door and flops onto the bed. Like a starfish.

He resists screaming into the pillow. Instead, he lies there on his belly, motionless, until he runs out of air and rolls onto his back. Luckily, there’s no mirror on the ceiling, as some of the images on the website suggested.

He pictures it. Naked and sweaty, hair plastered to his forehead, body nearly invisible with an alpha blanketing him. A familiar sensation begins to build in his lower belly when his mind provides him with more images, with the sound of hips snapping against his and the sticky-wet feeling of slick clinging to skin.

Yoongi groans. In desperation he drives the heels of his hands into his eyes, thrashing around on the bed like an unruly pup who’s not getting their way. Except Yoongi is getting his way. At least that’s what he thinks. To be honest, he has no idea what way he would like to get in the first place.

Remembering that the alphas who will help him through his heat are just a few feet away from him, separated only by a wall and door, does not help calm him down. At least the suite seems to be sound-proof because all he hears from the living room, if he really strains his ears, is muffled laughter and soft footsteps.

Finally, Yoongi settles on his side. He’s lying on top of the covers because he has yet to change into something comfier. At least he brought the suitcases with him instead of leaving them by the door. They stand next to the built-in closet, staring at him.

If he’d stayed at home for his heat, Yoongi would have been alone. Too long has it been since he allowed anyone to take care of him during; it says a lot about Jimin that he has managed to bully his way into Yoongi’s apartment for the aftermath of his last cycle. The fellow omega had been the one to suggest the heat service to him in the first place. Though, calling it a suggestion was mildly put.

Blood rushes to his face at the memory of being so thoroughly scolded that he no longer felt like hyung in their relationship. He barely felt human after his last heat finally, mercifully, finished. By the end of it, Yoongi had needed an entire IV course because he’d been so dehydrated. Not because he tended to neglect himself during his heats but rather, because he was simply unable to properly care for himself.

He didn’t think it had always been that bad. And he’d told Jimin so.

“I believe you, hyung,” the omega said. “I know you managed just fine a few years ago, but now you’re not. And there’s nothing embarrassing about that.”

Yoongi’s expression said it all.

“It’s not!” Jimin protested, throwing himself at the omega. He put his hands and little fingers on Yoongi’s cheeks and squished them together until Yoongi looked like a duck. “You’re impossible, you know that? All we want for you is to be happy.”

Yoongi gently removed Jimin’s hands and avoided his eyes. “Hyung wants you to be happy too, Jimin-ah.”

“Great.” Jimin smiled, taking Yoongi’s hand and patting the back of it. Always needing to touch a part of him, that omega. “You can make me happy by getting the help you need.” When Yoongi groaned, Jimin’s expression softened, lips forming a pout, scent growing sharp with worry. “You’ve met Taehyung. Do you think he’s weak because he can’t be alone during his heats?”

Yoongi scoffed. “Of course not. But he also has you as his partner.”

“But even I had to learn how to help him at first.” Jimin paused. “They’re actually discussing if heats like his could be a chronic illness.”

And there, with some gentle and a lot of incessant prodding, went Yoongi’s delusions about not needing a partner for his heat.

Now, having followed his friend’s advice, Yoongi burrows deeper into the covers. He should get up and get out of his pants, make himself more comfortable.

Would be nice if he could get his toiletries out at least, and a couple of his clothes. He didn’t bring much from home, mainly because he didn’t want to carry all that weight, but also because he didn’t have the heart to disassemble the nest in his bedroom. Yoongi figured he should be fine after scenting the blankets and pillows the hotel provided.

He unzips the bigger of the two suitcases and does a double-take.

A familiar scent wafts up his nose. Gingerly, he removes the topmost layer, one of his well-loved FOG shirts, and right there—

“Jimin-ah,” Yoongi mutters.

He picks the pillow up. There’s no need to bring it closer to his nose; Yoongi knows Jimin’s scent by heart. Clean jasmine, with a hint of sweet, ripe summer fruits. They’ve never been able to agree on what fruit exactly—privately, though, Yoongi thinks of days spent under the sun, stuffing himself with bite-sized cubes of melon.

Yoongi sets the pillow down on the bed. He stares at it, the first scented item to join what will be his main nest once he starts working on it. He shakes his head, fondly, the affection for his friend so severe his chest aches.

When he finishes unpacking, he sheds his outdoor clothes and folds them neatly. He considers taking a shower even though he showered this morning, but he’s been anxiously sweating all-day, and he knows he will feel better after.

Instead, he falls asleep curled around the pillow, missing Jimin.

***

Namjoon hears him before he sees him.

He moves quietly, softly padding across the living room. When Namjoon inhales, the omega smells less nervous, smells warm and sleep-mussed. He tried hard not to immediately snap his head up when Yoongi walked out of his bedroom. It wasn’t hard to tell that the omega felt out of his element.

Only when Yoongi clears his throat does Namjoon look up. He goes for an easy smile, which grows bigger at the sight of the omega. His cheeks are rosy, creases of what must have been the sheets imprinted on the left side of his face.

“Yoongi-ssi. You look rested.”

Yoongi nods, eyes flickering to the counter and the fruits Namjoon has been cutting up. Well, to be fair Hoseok had done most of the cutting because he doesn’t trust Namjoon with a knife and left him to peel the oranges and tangerines.

“I feel better.” He stares at Namjoon’s yellow-stained fingers. “Also, uhm. You can call me hyung.”

“Hyung,” he repeats, getting a feel for it.

Yoongi’s responding smile is small and sweet. Relieved, as if he feared Namjoon would have declined him. Namjoon bites back a frown. He wipes his hands on a towel before he carefully starts separating the individual segments.

“Do you like tangerines?”

Yoongi nods. “They’re my favourite.”

Namjoon is comfortable with his instincts. Even before he started to work as a heat aid, he has always valued honest communication, and once he presented as an alpha it was as if he became fluent in another language. There was nothing ambiguous about scents because they could not be manipulated. Scent blockers only dampened the excessive pheromones emitted during cycles, but it was impossible to suppress them entirely, make them out to be something they’re not.

An honest language. Honest, like Yoongi, who stands next to him, reserve gradually lowering, smelling curious and receptive and, underneath it all, hopeful.

Namjoon feels a pull. He picks up a piece of fruit.

“Would you like some, hyung?”

Yoongi nods again, reaching for the fruit, when Namjoon shakes his head.

“Let me.”

A soft sound escapes the omega. He remains still as Namjoon moves, guiding the piece to Yoongi’s mouth.

He stops short of the fruit touching to Yoongi’s lips. When Namjoon meets his eyes, the omega is already staring at him, eyes wide.

Yoongi’s lips part. He allows Namjoon to feed him, the tangerine soft under Namjoon’s fingertips, Yoongi’s petal mouth even softer when his digits inadvertently brush against it.

He only closes his mouth once Namjoon motions him to. Namjoon watches his eyelashes flutter as he bites down, a happy hum escaping him.

“Good?” Namjoon asks.

Yoongi nods. “Thank you.”

So polite.

He considers the omega for a moment. He doesn’t say a word, just takes him in, the roundness of his cheeks, the dark hair falling onto his brow, the broad set of his shoulders, the sweatpants pooling around his ankles.

He decides.

“I like handfeeding my clients,” Namjoon says, turning back to the cutting board. “As aftercare, but outside of it, too. I find that it helps many of them settle into a natural submission they can crave in their day-to-day life but won’t allow themselves to ask for.” He hears Yoongi’s breath hitch. “Regardless of subgender,” he adds, even though he rarely has clients other than omegas.

“It can be a very grounding and empowering experience,” he continues, reaching for the next tangerine. Slices of strawberries and melon are already sitting in glass containers behind the cutting board, ready to go into the fridge. “Because heats and ruts often force us to bend to their will. In comparison, deliberate submission to a trustworthy partner offers you a sense of control you might find yourself lacking during your cycle.”

Only when he finished speaking in a calm, measured tone, does he turn to Yoongi again. The omega jerks back; Namjoon caught him staring in a state of mesmerisation. He allows the satisfaction to settle over him like summer rain, drops of it clinging to his skin.

Yoongi hasn’t moved from his spot by the time Namjoon washes his hands. He takes his time drying them before taking the plate of peeled and separated tangerines.

“Would you like to try?”

Instead of answering, Yoongi fixates on the cutting board with a small pout on his lips.

“Can I be completely honest with you?”

Namjoon blinks in surprise. “Of course.”

Yoongi takes a deep shuddering breath in.

He softens his voice in the face of the omega’s anxiety. “Would you like to sit down?”

Yoongi shakes his head. “Pretty sure I’ll lose all courage on the way to the couch,” he says with a self-deprecating chuckle.

He doesn’t see it because his eyes are still stubbornly set on the counter, but Namjoon blooms with sudden tenderness. He knows he’s protective; it’s part of his alpha status after all. But even if he wasn’t an alpha, Namjoon still thinks he’d be like this, wanting to shield and guard the ones close to him.

Except, Yoongi isn’t close to him.

Namjoon wants to keep him safe, nonetheless.

“I’ve never shared my heat with anyone before,” Yoongi says quietly. “I mean, I tried. Years ago. But it didn’t go well.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Yoongi nods. “My best friend suggested this service to me because he knows how hard my heats are for me. And because he’s convinced that I’m making myself suffer for no reason.” Yoongi’s smile is rueful. “Maybe I am. I can see why he thinks I need help. And… and I do,” he says, breath hitching. “But this is so far out of my comfort zone. It’s my own fault, I guess.”

Namjoon wants to smooth out the wrinkle between Yoongi’s eyebrows.

“At college my sunbaes told me to live a little. That I would regret it if I didn’t make use of my freedom. But… but partying and hook-ups were never my thing. When I did get into a relationship, I was told that I’m stuck-up and boring, that no one would want to stick around for an omega whose heats were so difficult because at least that could have saved it. My heats, I mean. But they aren’t enjoyable for others. I was told I’m so—”

Yoongi’s voice cracks and Namjoon’s heart does along with it.

“So needy during my cycle. That it was more work to see me through a heat than it was worthwhile. But I’ve made peace with it. I like the way my life is right now. It’s not much but it’s mine. Even if it’s lonely sometimes.”

“Hyung…” he whispers in disbelief.

“I really needed to get that off my chest. I’m out of my depth here. And that I’m sorry, in advance, how much awkwardness I will create. There’s just something wrong with me and—”

Namjoon is careful to keep his tone even despite the turmoil inside of him. “Hyung,” he interrupts. “Yoongi hyung.”

Yoongi jolts. Finally, he makes eye contact, as fleeting as it is. Splotches of red have appeared on his neck and cheeks.

“I should have let you finish speaking but,” Namjoon feels his jaw muscle clench, inhaling deeply before he continues, “I’m struggling with remaining professional right now.”

“Ah, you can—you can speak freely, it’s alright,” Yoongi mutters, probably expecting the worst, Namjoon realises.

Okay. Okay.

Namjoon doesn’t know what to with his hands; they want to take Yoongi by the shoulders or even worse, by his chin, so he can make sure that the omega will listen to him.

“Hyung. Whoever told you those things about yourself, they can go fuck themselves.”

Yoongi’s eyes go comically wide.

“There’s nothing wrong with you. Nothing,” he says. And means it.

He might have known Yoongi for barely an hour but if he’s convinced about one thing, then it’s that whoever made Yoongi think so badly of himself must have been a complete and utter idiot.

“There’s nothing wrong with having difficult heats. It’s a privilege to be invited into your nest and they clearly abused that privilege. And granted, I don’t know you very well, but all I’ve seen of you so far has only made me want to know more about you. Anyone telling you these things, that you’re boring and not worth to stick around for, they should take a long hard look at themselves.”

When he finishes speaking, the room is so silent he could hear a pin drop. Yoongi is utterly speechless, caught in a stunned daze. He looks younger like this, in the soft oversized clothes, his hair down and fluffy after his nap, feline eyes dark and wide.

“I apologise if I crossed a line but I won’t apologise for what I said.” Namjoon is not going to go back on his words. No way in hell. “Because it’s true.”

He watches Yoongi swallow, watches him thread his fingers through his dark hair, clearly searching for words.

Namjoon’s sweating. He’s going to wait, of course, he’ll wait for permission to touch and scent his client, but god, he’s about to vibrate out of his own skin with the need to stake his claim, leave it all over the omega. And someone told Yoongi he’s needy?

He startles when Yoongi’s shoulders start shaking.

For the fraction of a second, Namjoon is convinced he made his client cry. He already sees himself on his knees grovelling for forgiveness. But then he inhales—and breaks out into goosebumps at the unadulterated affection saturating Yoongi’s scent.

“Ah.” Yoongi covers his mouth but before he does so, Namjoon sees his smile. It’s one of the sweetest sights he’s ever come across. “Namjoon-ah. I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything!” Namjoon rushes out.

“How can I not say anything? You…” He shakes his head and tentatively glances up at Namjoon. One of his arms is crossed over his stomach, clutching at his side. Subconsciously counteracting the feeling of vulnerability, Namjoon knows. But his eyes are clear and honest, his mouth curled up at the sides into a small smile. “Thank… thank you.”

Maybe he shouldn’t care that much. But how could he not when faced with someone like Yoongi? Namjoon blushes. “You’re welcome.”

“For a moment you sounded just like my best friend. He’s always worrying over me even though I’m his hyung.”

He pictures it so easily. Of course, Yoongi would draw others to be fiercely protective of him. “He sounds like a great friend.”

“He is.” Yoongi exhales. Several quiet seconds tick by. “Okay.” He nods. “Okay.”

And then, to Namjoon’s surprise, Yoongi bows his head, just a bit, before craning his neck to the side.

“I would like to try submitting to you. Please take care of me, Namjoon-ah.”