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.”

Chapter Text

Hoseok checks his phone again. No new texts after the last one Namjoon sent.

NJ: Try to be quiet when you get back

He takes care unlocking the door to the suite, toes off his shoes and places each of his steps deliberately. Hoseok had left Namjoon at the kitchen counter to prepare some hydrating fruits and snacks and went to check in with admin. Technically, it didn’t fall under their responsibility, but he figured better to update them on the situation now rather than have some poor HR interns try to contact either of them in the middle of Yoongi’s heat.

Hoseok has no idea what Namjoon has gotten up to but from the tone of his message, the alpha is busy and would likely not reply to Hoseok’s follow-up question.

The further he walks down the hallway, the more the smell of happy-sated omega permeates the air. He hadn’t expected Yoongi’s scent to get quite so indulgent, with a hint of spice in its warmer notes. But brown sugar was a rich aroma, after all.

The intensity surprises Hoseok. He raises an eyebrow; Yoongi’s heat isn’t due to start for another day at least.

He tiptoes into the living room.

Namjoon doesn’t acknowledge his presence verbally, but he turns just so. The lines of his jaw soften in the dim light of the floor lamps.

“Shh, easy. You’re okay.”

Namjoon’s arm moves.

Hoseok leans over the backrest of the sofa. As soon as he sees him, his inner wolf assumes a stalking stance, pressing its body and head close to the ground.

There, between Namjoon’s legs, Yoongi sits on the floor. Kneels.

His head rests on Namjoon’s thigh. The alpha’s fingers are in Yoongi’s dark locks, softly running his nails over his scalp in soothing motions.

The omega’s eyes are closed, lashes fanned out over the apple of his cheeks. The sight tempts Hoseok; his lips part on instinct, to take in his scent better, dip into the hidden complexities, coax them out in response to his own pheromones spreading.

Hoseok doesn’t have the urge to compare himself to other alphas, especially not to Namjoon. He knows they are different types, that at first glance Hoseok is mistaken as a beta more often. He’s rarely jealous, seldomly insecure. In comparison to his younger years, Hoseok has long grown into his skin. He is comfortable with who he is.

His confidence is no use now that his wolf is lying in wait for Yoongi who resides so demurely between an alpha’s legs that aren’t his own.

Namjoon puts the book he’s been reading aside and meets Hoseok’s eyes. The need to speak doesn’t arise. A part of Hoseok wants to watch the casual dominance Namjoon wears crumble. He knows he could make him.

Maybe he has been ignoring the tension between them for his own preservation.

The moment lasts until a soft sound, neither Namjoon nor Hoseok the source, breaks through the taut silence.

Yoongi tries to blink himself awake. Namjoon’s fingers stutter, come to a halt, until the omega makes another gravelly noise in irritation. Immediately, Namjoon continues his grooming.

Hoseok inches forward. With his back to the coffee table, he sits down across from Yoongi. His inner alpha growls at the proximity but Hoseok keeps a tight leash over it. He’s already made a beautiful display in one state of submission. Hoseok itches to peel back another layer of the careful countenance Yoongi has shown at their meeting.

But all in due time.

Yoongi smacks his lips in a half-daze. Hazy and flushed, he lifts his head from Namjoon’s thigh. Hoseok wants to urge him right back there. Namjoon can easily bear his entire weight, if must.

Yoongi rasps when he speaks. “How long was I out?” He might have lifted his head but remove himself from between Namjoon’s legs he does not.

“Not long. You were down ten, maybe fifteen minutes,” Namjoon says. His hand has dropped to his side.

He smells like caramelised apple. Like cinnamon, sugary-sweet. Hoseok’s teeth ache, gums itching. Yoongi’s cheeks have darkened with a healthy blush. His scent gives away that his nerves have returned, are returning increasingly, but like this, still kneeling on a soft cushion and looking at Hoseok with half-lidded eyes, Hoseok wants.

Hoseok wants. And he suspects that Yoongi wants, too. It shows in the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips, how he sneaks small glances at Hoseok’s mouth. Hoseok wonders if Yoongi is one of the clients who thinks it improper to ask for comfort and closeness outside of sex. Whether Yoongi’s aware he’s allowed to take and that no one is forcing Hoseok or Namjoon to be here.

They could wait until Yoongi’s heat properly starts. But Hoseok dislikes delayed gratification.

“Hyung.”

Yoongi shifts. He sits up, sits at attention.

Ah. He’s being so good already.

“I would like to kiss you,” Hoseok says. “Would you like that too?”

Yoongi’s breath hitches. His scent reaches out for Hoseok as if it’s been waiting to do so since the omega first stood across from them.

He nods.

The space between them shrinks. Hoseok touches Yoongi’s knee.

“What was that?”

He hears Namjoon shift.

Yoongi struggles to speak; his attention is entirely taken up by Hoseok’s fingers splaying over his knee. “Yes,” he finally says, “yes, you can kiss me.”

Hoseok lifts his hand. It finds a home on Yoongi’s heated cheek. He cups it, his jaw as well, drags his thumb over Yoongi’s skin and lets it sit at the corner of his mouth. Their noses brush but Hoseok waits, one second, two, letting the tension build. It’s a test of some sort, seeing how Yoongi will react, getting a feel for the omega, if he’d be bold enough to go for the kiss himself, if his patience wears out.

But Yoongi waits, even though the suspense makes him squirm.

“Good omega,” Hoseok tells him.

Yoongi’s eyebrows knit together in confusion and Hoseok kisses him.

His lips are chapped. He remembers Yoongi biting on them earlier. Maybe this helps to soothe them, maybe—

Yoongi makes a small sound when Hoseok’s tongue dips out against the seam of his mouth, where rosy-pink petals meet, begging to be plucked. All thoughts of soothing and comforting go down the drain and Hoseok is left with the wild desire to hold the omega between index finger and thumb, to keep him under his care.

Yoongi relinquishes control so willingly, as if he knows Hoseok will treat him well in turn for his trust. Hoseok takes what is offered to him, feels his stupid alpha pride swell at being recognised in such a fundamental way. He wants to offer him the world in return.

Hoseok palms the back of Yoongi’s neck and Yoongi gasps. He parts from him without retreating too far and takes in the expression on Yoongi’s face: Eyes shut tightly, a sheen over his lips, as his breath stutters on his next inhale. He is gorgeous and Hoseok presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth in gratitude.

“Thank you,” he says, and watches Yoongi slowly peel his eyes open.

When he goes to draw his hand back from Yoongi’s nape, the omega’s brow furrows. Hoseok settles right in again, running his fingers through the short hairs there. Yoongi’s expression relaxes again. They’re close enough that Yoongi’s warm breath fans over Hoseok’s face.

“Do you like this?”

Yoongi peels his tongue from the roof of his mouth, swallows drily. “It’s good. Feels… safe,” he rasps. His voice is low, smooth like velvet. The reverberations dance along his neck, right under Hoseok’s fingers.

Hoseok tries not to preen and fails; at least Yoongi doesn’t seem to notice. It does lure out another scent though, one Hoseok has completely pushed aside in the face of an omega in preheat.

The other alpha in the room. There he sits, sulking like a pup. Hoseok allows himself to feel smug. There’s something incredibly satisfying about putting an alpha in line who is used to being the first choice. Not that Hoseok intended to do so, but the consequence is the same.

Once Yoongi takes note of Namjoon, the alpha’s demeanour shifts, his scent clearing of the heavy ozone Hoseok hadn’t recognised as belonging to him.

Namjoon’s hands lie limply on his thighs, a perfect image of nonchalance, if it wasn’t for the tension in his jaw, or the heavy stare he fixes them with.

Without taking his eyes off the alpha, he leans into Yoongi again. Giving him enough time to adjust, he finally withdraws his hold from the omega’s neck, brushing two fingers against Yoongi’s jaw. “I think someone is a little jealous.”

Yoongi’s breath hitches once he understands the meaning of Hoseok’s words. His fingers take on a life of their own, fiddling with the material of Namjoon’s sweatpants. Neither Namjoon nor Yoongi speak and the silence is stifling.

Hoseok is about to pick up the reins and manually manoeuvre them out of their respective limbo, when Namjoon’s resolve hardens.

He pats the space next to him. “Come here, hyung.”

Bold. And clever. Yoongi follows orders like it’s second nature.

After kneeling for so long, he’s wobbly on his legs, a small groan escaping him. Hoseok watches Yoongi pull himself up, brush his hands over his shirt in a nervous gesture. Meanwhile Namjoon oozes poise enough for them both. He simply waits for Yoongi to come to him because he knows that the omega will.

When Yoongi moves to sit, Namjoon reaches for him.

“You don’t have to,” Namjoon says. “But I want you to.”

Yoongi freezes mid-movement.

Hoseok can’t turn his eyes away from the scene. Even though this is a moment between Namjoon and Yoongi, he does not feel any less part of it.

Finally, the omega takes a deep breath before setting one of his knees on the sofa, wincing. His knees must be sore.

Namjoon wraps his hands around Yoongi’s waist, careful not to ruck up his shirt. He pulls the omega, causing Yoongi to flail and grab onto Namjoon’s shoulders for stability with a yelp.

Then Yoongi is straddling him, knees splayed on each side of Namjoon’s hips, face flushed and bewildered.

In this position, Namjoon has to look up at the omega.

“Relax,” he mutters. “Let me take your weight.”

“I’m heavy,” Yoongi protests.

Namjoon’s huffs in amusement and Hoseok mirrors the sentiment with a smile. “Even if you were, I can take it.”

When Yoongi narrows his eyes in defiance, Hoseok laughs. He’s still sitting on the ground but slumps over the free seat on the sofa. It earns him curious looks from both the alpha and omega, but he waves them off, hiding his smile behind his palm. “Don’t mind me. Go on.”

Namjoon tsks, rolling his eyes in theatrical affront, before turning his attention back to the omega in his lap. His eyes are warm. “You heard him, hyung.”

Hoseok doesn’t think Yoongi realises that he’s still holding onto Namjoon’s shoulders. He watches him size the alpha up, lips pursed, while Namjoon lets him.

Namjoon rubs circles into the small of his back. “Go on,” he echoes.

Hoseok is eager to watch this play out. Namjoon might be setting his expectations too high if he’d like him to make the first move. But Yoongi surprises him.

The omega jerks forward with his brow furrowed in determination and hastily cups Namjoon’s face between his hands. They look pale against Namjoon’s darker skin, his fingers long and dusted with dark hair.

He fidgets in Namjoon’s lap as his head turns deeply red the more time passes. But finally, one movement and he’s pressing his lips against the alpha’s.

Namjoon’s eyes widen. Hoseok mouth falls open.

Seconds pass in which Namjoon doesn’t kiss him back. With an embarrassed groan, Yoongi backs off, pressing his palms to his own cheeks. “I’m sorry, I—”

Before he can finish his sentence, Namjoon surges forward and kisses him. Properly.

One hand still on his back, he lets his other one wander down the side of Yoongi’s neck before dragging his thumb to his pulse point. Hoseok is captivated by the image in front of him, the little sounds that spill from Yoongi’s mouth. Namjoon drinks them up like a starving man.

There’s so much space on the omega Namjoon’s two hands cannot cover. Hoseok is itching to touch.

They don’t notice when he sits down sideways next to them. Not when Namjoon’s teeth dig into Yoongi’s lips, reddening them like ripe cherries, shiny with spit.

Hoseok throws his self-restraint to the wind. Fingers reaching out, he tucks a dark lock behind Yoongi’s ear. As soon as Yoongi feels the touch, he breaks the kiss with a wet noise and looks to Hoseok. His pupils are blown wide.

He’s casually propped up on one elbow, letting his eyes roam over Yoongi’s flushed face. He moves his hand away from the omega’s hair to cradle his jaw; Hoseok’s heart does a little flip when Yoongi presses his face into his touch.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Namjoon abandon his original plans. With renewed vigour, he runs his mouth over the neck of the omega, wet little presses, next to his Adam’s apple, closing in on Yoongi’s scent gland. How far will he go?

The answer comes within seconds. A shudder runs through Yoongi’s frame. The spell breaks—Hoseok tears his eyes away from Namjoon just in time for a moan to tumble from Yoongi’s mouth. Seconds later, Hoseok’s mouth waters.

Then, Namjoon stops dead in his tracks.

Before either of them can react, Yoongi’s eyes snap open. He stares at them, horrified, as the scent of slick spreads in the air between them.

***

Yoongi nearly vaults off the couch.

Oh god. He really did slick up because of a few kisses.

Now that he’s no longer being devoured, he can finally think again. Except that his thoughts are just a continuous string of !!! and fuck.

He attempts to get off Namjoon’s thighs, but the alpha’s hands are keeping him in place. Yoongi has no clue what’s going on in Namjoon’s head but if he doesn’t get his ass away from his lap, Yoongi is going to leak onto Namjoon’s jeans. The fabric of his sweatpants isn’t exactly thick since he tends to run hot during his heats. He doubts his briefs are holding up well.

“Na—Namjoon-ah,” Yoongi tries to scold but the familiar address defeats the purpose. He weakly paws at Namjoon’s hands on his waist.

“Hyung, calm down.”

Calm down? Yoongi gapes at him, baffled, neck flushed. He’s sweating now, too. What next? Ah, yes, they haven’t seen him cry yet. Maybe he should, cry that is, just so he can cross all humiliating acts off his list at once.

Since Namjoon isn’t making any sense, Yoongi looks to Hoseok only to find the alpha staring at him through hooded eyes. There’s no mistaking the desire on his face. It strikes Yoongi speechless.

“It’s completely normal,” Namjoon says, and Yoongi whips his head around. He opens his mouth to protest, yes, I know it’s normal, thank you! but if he knows that it’s normal, why is he feeling so unhinged?

In the end, he closes his mouth again, probably looking like a fish or something. He’s not even hard but of course he can slick up a fucking storm.

Yoongi flounders. His heart is racing. Think, think. Say something, anything.

“Your pants,” he half-whines, half-scolds.

Namjoon blinks at him, and then he bursts into laughter. Yoongi’s face is aflame.

“Stop!”

Hoseok, so close he’s shoulder to shoulder with Namjoon, combs through Yoongi’s hair with his fingers. When he comes across a knot, he gently tugs at the strands until it loosens. Yoongi’s eyelids flutter.

“He’ll survive,” Hoseok hums. He doesn’t stop touching Yoongi and Yoongi can’t bring himself to stop him. His scalp tingles. It’s so good, and so distracting.

He shakes his head instead of speaking because he doubts he’d manage a single word right now. Hoseok giggles.

“Yoongi hyung. You do realise your slick is going to end up everywhere anyway?”

Does he have to put it like that? Now Yoongi remembers. And imagines. Him in bed, in his nest that’s not even a nest yet, and the alphas with their bodies on display. Namjoon would part Yoongi’s legs, the soft skin on his inner thighs smeared with slick and clinging together until it separates with a noise. He’s always slicked a lot for an omega, not that there’s anything wrong with it. But when he’s alone and he wants to get off, he’s pouring, no matter if the only thing he’s touching is his dick. Yoongi runs through so many fucking towels, it’s ridiculous.

“But—not.” When did his eyes close? “Not yet.”

“Why not? Looks like you’re enjoying yourself, at least to me.”

Oh, he’s mean. He should have known to watch out for the alpha. Namjoon might seem more imposing at first glance, with his height and… Yoongi shakes his head.

“No? Then what’s this?”

He meant to dispel his less than holy thoughts but of course Hoseok took it as an answer to his question. Yoongi is convinced that Hoseok’s heart-shaped smile when they met was just a front. With how the alpha’s teasing him now, Yoongi feels entirely exposed. He clenches his legs together on instinct, except he’s still on Namjoon’s lap, and ends up shifting his hips forward, nearly grinding.

He shivers when his shirt lifts just enough for Namjoon to sneak his thumb under. He touches Yoongi, dragging his finger over the bare skin above the waistband. The muscles of his belly twitch under Namjoon’s caress.

“Hyung, is this okay?”

What? He squints at Hoseok whose arm is stretched out. Yoongi looks down at his crotch where Hoseok’s hand is hovering.

The yes is out of his mouth before his brain can catch up. Only when Hoseok palms him through his sweatpants does Yoongi realise that he’s hard after all.

Yoongi is absolutely going to ruin Namjoon’s jeans.

Hoseok inches closer until he’s pressed up to Yoongi’s side. His other hand comes to rest on the small of Yoongi’s back, encouraging him.

Encouraging him to… do what exactly?

“You sound so good, hyung,” Namjoon rasps. “Just take what you need.”

He can do that. And gets it, then, that the alphas aren’t moving him as much as he is fucking his hips forward, grinding into Hoseok’s palm. Yoongi’s head falls forward and he groans. His forehead meets Namjoon’s shoulder and then—oh, that scent. He’s right by the alpha’s scent gland. His mouth fills with saliva, gums aching.

“Hmm.”

Yoongi turns his head towards Hoseok, desperately panting, getting a full dose of alpha scent with each inhale. His view is starting to turn fuzzy at the corners.

“Looks like he wants to bite, Joon-ah.”

“This early?”

Hoseok brings two fingers to Yoongi’s lips. Before Yoongi even understands, he’s already opened his mouth for Hoseok to inspect.

“I doubt he’s giving in to his instincts regularly. Considering how quickly he went down for you.” Hoseok runs the soft pads of his fingers over Yoongi’s teeth, his molars, before he presses down on Yoongi’s tongue.

A curious sound floats through the air. Belatedly, Yoongi realises it’s him. He made that noise. He’s whining around an alpha’s fingers in his mouth as he grinds against another alpha’s crotch. And he’s not even in heat.

Hoseok coos. “They must hurt, yeah?”

Yoongi nods, almost choking on Hoseok’s fingers. They hurt, itch, with the urge to sink them into the alpha’s skin.

Yoongi sways on Namjoon’s lap because the alpha moves. He blinks, and then there’s skin, so much skin that Yoongi wants to taste and mark up, every single inch of it.

Hoseok laughs. Namjoon’s shirt lands somewhere behind the couch.

“He’s like a furnace,” Namjoon grits out, a fine layer of sweat on his upper lip, before he pulls Yoongi back in with his hand on his nape. He guides the omega to his neck. “You can bite, baby, it’s okay.”

Omegan bites don’t take. Traditionally, a mating bond is performed by the alpha or beta, the more submissive party on the receiving end. But it did not mean that omegas had less of an instinct to claim. In fact, most mated omegas felt compelled to reaffirm their bond by repeatedly putting fresh bites on their mates. Yoongi was no exemption.

So as soon as he’s given permission, Yoongi latches onto the stretch between Namjoon’s shoulder and neck, and bites.

A shiver runs through his entire body, from head to toe, at the resounding spike in the alpha’s scent. Without letting go, Yoongi fucks his hips forward a handful of times before his belly clenches tightly and he comes, right there, on Namjoon’s lap.

In the aftermath, the room falls quiet save for Yoongi’s heavy breathing.

The more time passes, the more Yoongi comes back to himself. He thought it’s been maybe a minute or two, but then there’s the feeling of a cold washcloth wiping at his sweaty nape. Yoongi sighs in relief. And winces, a moment later, at the stickiness in his pants.

“How are you feeling, hyung?”

Yoongi blearily opens his eyes and blinks at Hoseok. His head is resting on Namjoon’s shoulder, the shoulder he had just…

Immediately, he sits up. There it is, the imprint of his teeth, nearly a perfect ring. Red, and staring back at him. Yoongi’s stomach drops.

“It’s so small.”

Yoongi freezes. Slowly, he faces Namjoon who’s staring at Yoongi’s mark in awe. One of his hands unwraps from Yoongi’s waist and touches the dented skin. “Hyung, you have such a small mouth.”

Yoongi is too mortified to speak. When there’s no answer, Namjoon meets Yoongi’s gaze.

“Sorry. Were you saying something?”

He shakes his head. He was about to apologise but the shock silences him. The shock, and shame, and relief, tangled together into one big, dripping mess. The endorphins from his orgasm are keeping Yoongi alert right now but as soon as they wane he knows he’ll be exhausted.

His fingers are still clawing at Namjoon’s torso. He uncurls them. And stares.

Because Namjoon is… well, he definitely goes to the gym.

He faintly registers Hoseok laughing next to him.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, hm?”

Yoongi scrunches his nose. Ugh, yes. He must stink of slick and—god, maybe they can smell his cum, too. He’s honestly not too sure.

 Alphas aren’t exactly his area of expertise.

***

In the bathroom, Namjoon peels Yoongi’s clothes off him.

“I don’t need help with this, you know,” Yoongi murmurs. When his shirt is gone, he awkwardly tries to cover his chest with his arms. Namjoon doesn’t comment on it but finds it incredibly endearing. Still, he wishes the omega could be more comfortable.

“I know.”

Namjoon gets into a crouch in front of Yoongi. He tugs at his socked feet until Yoongi gets the hint and lifts each foot for Namjoon to take his socks off. All that’s left now are his sweatpants.

“But you’re my client and I would like to take care of you.”

The omega is sporting a healthy blush. It makes his stupid alpha pride roar in his chest.

Yoongi had looked so pretty on his lap. Done so well, listening to them and chasing his own pleasure, letting them care for him. And his scent, fuck. Namjoon doesn’t think he’s ever been presented with one quite so alluring. It sticks to his clothes, sticks to his skin. Namjoon kind of wants to keep it, find a small jar to bottle Yoongi’s aroma up. It’s not a thought he encountered before and usually, he’d ruminate and dissect it for a deeper meaning.

Right now, though, he has an omega standing in front of him who’s in need of a warm shower.

Yoongi’s eyes are nervously flitting about the bathroom.

“Would it help you if I undressed first?”

Yoongi hesitates. He gives a minute nod.

Namjoon is quick to strip, clothes landing on the floor in a heap. Now Yoongi can see all of him. It’s only fair, considering how much of Yoongi they are going to see during the next days. Omegas naturally seek out safety when stressed: covering up, burrowing under blankets, it’s all part of that.

His hands go back to hovering over Yoongi’s waistband. “Okay?”

“Yes.”

He doesn’t take his eyes off Yoongi’s face the whole time he pulls his pants, together with his soiled underwear, down. Even when Yoongi is standing naked in front of Namjoon, fidgeting in place, Namjoon pointedly does not look at the rest of Yoongi’s body.

Taking one of the omega’s hands in his, he reaches for the shower, turning it on and testing the temperature with the other. Out of the corner of his eye he catches Yoongi staring, at his chest, before wandering down, down, to his soft dick. A thrill runs through Namjoon; what is Yoongi thinking? Is he imagining what his knot will look like?

Once Namjoon pulls him into the shower, Yoongi looks so much like a skittish cat clearly desperate to bolt that Namjoon cannot hold back his laugh.

Yoongi makes a noise. His bangs are getting drenched, and he has to brush them out of his eyes in order to see. He pouts at Namjoon. “What?”

“You’re just cute. Let me wash your hair?”

Yoongi’s pout only intensifies but he doesn’t protest when Namjoon works shampoo into his hair, gingerly massaging his scalp.

Working in silence, he’s so concentrated on getting all the conditioner out of Yoongi’s hair that he doesn’t notice Yoongi slumping forward, his forehead bumping against his collarbone. Namjoon winds an arm around Yoongi’s waist on instinct which makes Yoongi inch closer, until their bellies are pressing together.

Like this, Namjoon can feel that Yoongi’s half-hard against his thigh. But the omega doesn’t seem like he wants to do anything about it, or at least not now. It’s common for omegas to stay at least somewhat erect throughout their heat, just like alphas do during their ruts.

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired. Tired in a way I don’t remember being before,” Yoongi mumbles.

“It’s been an eventful day.” Namjoon strokes the back of Yoongi’s head before he reaches for the detachable shower head. “You’ve taken care of yourself for so long and you’ve done a great job, hyung. Of course you’d be tired once you let go.”

Yoongi sighs. His breath is warm against Namjoon’s wet skin. He stays still for another breath or two, before slowly nosing his way towards Namjoon’s neck, where he tucks himself against his scent gland.

Namjoon tightens his hold around his waist. “We’re almost done. Then you can take a nap, if you’d like.”

Giving Yoongi enough time to adjust, he inches his hand down where slick is still covering him. Namjoon parts his cheeks, carefully brushing over Yoongi’s hole, no intention to stimulate but to clean instead, washing the remnants from the backs of his thighs, from in-between.

Yoongi twitches, breathing heavily. When Namjoon washes his old cum from his front, a small moan escapes the omega.

Ah. Namjoon feels him properly harden against his fingers.

The silence is almost too blissful to interrupt. Almost.

“Would you like me to—”

“Please,” Yoongi interrupts.

He cups Yoongi’s cock, mentally settling his alpha who is begging for a glimpse, a taste, anything. It doesn’t help that Yoongi’s small, common for omegas, and fits into his palm so well. His little length throbs in Namjoon’s hand and it feels like no time has passed at all until Yoongi whimpers, once, and spills, shuddering, his cum.

“Just like that, hyung,” Namjoon speaks right beside his ear.

Yoongi stays plastered to Namjoon’s front as Namjoon haphazardly cleans himself. He ignores his own chubbed-up cock, knows this is neither the time nor place.

When they leave the shower, he wraps the omega into a fluffy white bathrobe and pulls the hood over his head. Yoongi’s eyes are half-lidded. Namjoon keeps talking to him in soft tones and doesn’t mind the lack of response. The omega’s gaze remains steadily on Namjoon, following his every move.

Yoongi yawns and Namjoon, before he can stop himself, coos.

He loves small and cute things.

When Yoongi attempts to waddle out of the bathroom himself, Namjoon hoists him up and cradles him in his arms like he’s just a small kitten. Sue him.

***

Yoongi tenses up at the sharp pain in his lower stomach. It’s so sudden that his whole body jerks, his hands automatically clutching at his middle.

The pain disappears as quickly as it arrived but the echo of it lingers. He’s scared to move, scared to breathe, lest he provoke it.

He’s about to consider himself safe when the pain returns. The cramps, Yoongi remembers. As soon as he does, his heartrate accelerates, his breathing picks up. His arms begin to tingle. Soon, they’ll go numb. Yoongi forces himself to close his eyes and focuses on inhaling, exhaling, inhaling, exhaling, but it hurts. He hurts.

And he’s once again alone with it, for days on end.

“Yoongi,” a voice speaks. “What kind of pain is it?”

Yoongi peels his eyes open and finds Hoseok kneeling in front of him. He’s so gorgeous—it comes to his mind even now while he’s struggling to count his breaths. He’s never seen a cupid’s bow so delicately curved as if placed with a single stroke of a brush. His hair makes him look like an angel.

Hoseok’s hands rest gently on Yoongi’s knees.

“Cramps,” Yoongi manages. “Like I’m being pierced.”

He swears he only blinked, but suddenly Hoseok has one of those digital thermometers in his hand and holds it to Yoongi’s ear.

Hoseok checks the display. “You have a fever, hyung.” Despite the news, the alpha smiles up at him. Yoongi can’t tell if the flush on his face is from the temperature or Hoseok looking at him like there’s no one else he’d rather spend his time with right now.

Hoseok’s hand is cool on Yoongi’s cheek. A moment of reprieve. Yoongi didn’t bother changing into clothes, is still wearing the bathrobe Namjoon put him in.

“I thought this might happen,” Hoseok rubs at the skin behind Yoongi’s ear and it feels so nice despite the aching in his lower half that Yoongi lets out a sigh. “I think we triggered your heat, hyung. It’s definitely close, I can smell it on you.”

Yoongi’s muddled brain takes its time to decipher the meaning of Hoseok’s words. When he understands, though, he jolts up.

***

“What? No, it never starts this quickly.”

Yoongi is frowning at him, but his scent sweetens sickly with fear.

“It’s okay, hyung.” Hoseok gets up and slides into the space next to Yoongi. “It’s okay to be scared. I can’t take your worries away, but you don’t have to be alone with them.”

The omega’s eyes are wide and panicked. He’s fixing Hoseok with a look as if he’s drowning in his thoughts. And he understands, not from an omega’s perspective, but as someone who has been doing this job for a while, that sometimes all you need is a single lifeline. Hoseok will do his damned best to be exactly that for Yoongi.

“No, I,” Yoongi shakes his head, frantically looking around the living room. “This is too early, Hoseok-ah. If it’s this early, the pain…” He breaks off.

Hoseok inches closer and takes Yoongi’s hands into his. Yoongi allows him, some tension leaving his face.

“I haven’t even made my nest yet,” he chokes out.

 Hoseok nods. “We’ll get right to it, okay? And we can help you, too. Do you like building nests, hyung?” He tugs gently at where they’re connected and immediately, Yoongi falls forward, as if he’s been waiting for Hoseok’s permission.

He clutches at the back of Hoseok’s shirt, face tucked away.

Hoseok runs a soothing hand over Yoongi’s spine. He’s noticed the omega’s tendency to hide once his instincts come to the forefront, and whether it’s for comfort or for other reasons.

Just then he sees Namjoon approach with a glass of water and a small bag.

“Yes,” Yoongi mumbles. “I do. My nest at home… Jimin-ah calls it a fort.”

Hoseok smiles. “Is that your best friend?”

Yoongi nods against his neck. “But when he sleeps over, he can’t wait to get into it.” He tenses when his muscles must cramp again and exhales sharp puffs of air against Hoseok’s skin.

“I’m sure you have an excellent nest at home,” Hoseok says fondly. He looks at Namjoon, crouching in front of the couch, as he speaks. “Namjoon-ah has brought you something to manage the pain, hyung.”

Reluctantly, Yoongi peels himself away. His hands stay where they are, tightly holding onto Hoseok’s shirt. He watches Yoongi take note of the objects in Namjoon’s hands.

“How… how do you know?”

“Hyung, all the forms you filled out when you booked the service,” Namjoon speaks. His dimples are showing. “Medical records, cycle reports, your questionnaire, we read those.” He winks. “I think it’s time for these now.”

Yoongi takes in the blister pack Namjoon is holding up. Finally, he nods and reaches for them, but Namjoon shakes his head, popping one of the painkillers out of the packaging.

“Open up.”

Yoongi, without hesitation, does. And when Namjoon puts the pill on his pink tongue, Hoseok holds the cup of water for him to drink from.

“Thank you,” he says once he’s finished.

Hoseok wipes away a drop that clings to Yoongi’s lips. Yoongi’s gaze wanders down to Hoseok’s mouth, lingering, and when Hoseok leans forward to leave a quick kiss on his lips, Yoongi’s scent clears of the sickly tinge, happily settling back into its base notes.

Hoseok’s chest does something funny. He clears his throat.

“Let’s build that nest, hm?”

***

Yoongi is so warm.

“Can you turn up the AC a bit more?”

“Of course, hyung.”

He rolls around the bed like a little pup who doesn’t want to settle except he does want to, he just can’t. Once the cool breeze from the air-conditioning hits his face, he heaves a sigh of relief.

He’s still in the robe. It’s too warm but he doesn’t want to take it off when it will leave him nude. That’s too vulnerable, his omega tells him, too early for it yet. Yoongi has yet to ask the alphas into his nest. Once he does, he’ll feel safer, more protected.

But now—

Yoongi jolts up into a sitting position.

Hoseok and Namjoon are immediately alert.

Yoongi really put them to work. He felt bad about it and kept apologising until Hoseok pinned him down and scented his neck so thoroughly Yoongi felt as if he was floating afterwards and had to sit down while the alphas kept bringing him different blankets and pillows.

When the bed didn’t feel like the right place to start his nest, he paced back and forth until he timidly asked them to pull off the mattress. Even when he decided that he didn’t want his nest to be floor-level and the mattress had to go up the bedframe again, neither Hoseok nor Namjoon blinked an eye.

They watched Yoongi cautiously examine the extra sheets in the linen closet, rubbing them against his cheek for good measure, before tossing or keeping them. The items in his suitcase were mostly good to go except—except that Yoongi’s nest would only smell like him.

He stood there, paralysed, with one of his own shirts in his hands.

“Hyung? What are you thinking?”

Looking back and forth between Namjoon and Hoseok, he couldn’t open his mouth.

“Do you need more blankets?”

Yoongi eyed the pile of throws and blankets on the bed. No, that’s not what he needed.

Suddenly, Namjoon lit up. “I completely forgot.” He elbowed Hoseok in the side, the two of them sitting cross-legged on the ground like two students watching their teacher. “We also brought our own things for your nest, if you’d like to take a look at them.”

Their own things? For him? If Yoongi had ears like a cat, they’d stand up high, his attention caught.

“And you’re sure this is okay?”

“Hyung,” Hoseok warned in a low voice.

Yoongi, clutching the sweater (Namjoon’s, if going by scent and size) to his chest, shut his mouth.

“To be fair, most clients prefer their own scented items but we do always provide our own,” Namjoon said with a curious expression, stare fixed on his sweater in Yoongi’s hands.

“But I like how you smell,” Yoongi blurted. “Both of you. I feel like… like I’ve gotten sick of just having my own scent in my nests.” In fact, Yoongi was strangely excited, shivering in anticipation of how this heat would progress.

“Ah, hyung. You don’t know the effect you have on me.” Hoseok leaned back, casually propping himself up on his hands. Yoongi’s gaze wandered down to his lap, put on display like that. “On us,” he added, tilting his head towards Namjoon. “I can smell it on him too, how much he wants you.”

Namjoon huffed. “I’d tell you to shut up if you weren’t so right.”

The way they talked to each other without taking their eyes off Yoongi had him squeeze his legs together at his imminent arousal.

Hoseok cleared his throat. “Better finish that nest now, Yoongi.”

Yoongi blinked a few times before realising what Hoseok had said.

Now, with his nest finally completed to omega’s liking, Yoongi points at Namjoon. “Give me your shirt.”

Namjoon points at himself in surprise. Yoongi is already shrugging the robe off his shoulders but stops before revealing too much skin.

He eyes Namjoon and Hoseok. “Don’t look.”

Hoseok is barely keeping his laughter to himself while Namjoon struggles to undress with his eyes closed. At one point, Hoseok intervenes and tugs at the offending fabric until the shirt is no longer covering his chest. With his eyes carefully averted but a smirk in place, of course, Hoseok holds out the shirt to Yoongi who quickly pulls it over his own head.

As soon as the fabric settles around his body, the strangest thing happens.

All the discomfort, all the unease, the inability to settle down—it disappears. Without being aware of what he’s doing, Yoongi brings the neckline of Namjoon’s shirt to his nose and takes a deep breath.

Faintly, he hears Namjoon and Hoseok talking but he doesn’t bother to listen. This right here, it’s perfect. He sinks onto his back, into his nest, then curls up on his side. His nest is made of clouds.

Yoongi stretches from head to toe before shoving himself back into the cushions, blindly pulling at what’s in front of him. The duvet, it turns out, is perfect for his fingers to curl into, holding on and being held by his nest in return. Never has it felt like this before; never has his heat allowed him to experience safety and comfort.

No, that’s not right. It’s not his heat—Yoongi, simply, has never allowed himself to experience safety and comfort after those disastrous heats of the past scared him off any company.

Scraps of conversation make it through the cotton in his ears and mind.

Just like a cat.

Have you ever had someone so good?

His omega preens and tells him to get those alphas into his nest right now. And if that isn’t truly the best idea he has heard in ages. An absolute genius move. Yoongi peeks over the border of his nest.

The alphas inched closer and are staring right back at him, still on their knees, eyes glinting like they’re two hungry wolves ready to pounce. It makes him giddy to see they’re waiting for his invitation.

But the self-doubt creeps in at the most unfortunate of times: Are they really holding back? Do they want to join him in his nest? They’re—they have been perfect with him, for him. What does he have to offer in return?

“Yoongi.”

He turns his head towards the voice.

Hoseok’s pupils are blown wide. He’s nearly growling as he speaks. “Take a deep breath.”

It’s his alpha who tells him to, so he does. As soon as Yoongi inhales, he understands why.

The alpha’s scents are so thick, so heavy, Yoongi nearly chokes. All it takes are a few second before his arousal returns with a vengeance. Yoongi feels his hole clench, the tell-tale wetness slowly leaking from him and getting him ready.

There’s no mistaking those pheromones. He wants to roll onto his back and show them his belly.

And when it happens, when they enter his nest, it’s because of a single please falling from Yoongi’s lips.

Chapter Text

“What do you want, omega?”

Yoongi shakes his head. Anything.

“On your hands and knees, then,” Hoseok says.

But they don’t let him move on his own. Namjoon grabs his waist and hoists him with more strength than Yoongi expected until Yoongi is straddling the alpha and staring down at him, wide-eyed. The blatant manhandling makes his heart flutter and his cock twitch.

All he’s wearing is Namjoon’s shirt. The alphas however… Yoongi might have ripped at Hoseok’s and Namjoon’s clothes, all the while huffing in annoyance. They undressed according to Yoongi’s orders. Down to their underwear, Yoongi got distracted by the outline of their cocks, so needy all of a sudden that he stopped dead in his tracks.

So Hoseok cupped his face and drew him into a kiss that was more teeth than lips.

Now, sitting on Namjoon’s lap, Yoongi stops thinking and grinds down. His own cock is hard and standing at attention, slick undoubtedly wetting the alpha’s briefs.

Namjoon pulls Yoongi’s shirt up and curses. “Fuck, look at you.”

Yoongi would rather not. He doesn’t get to say so because Hoseok cozies up to his back, all spice and heat, firm lines of his chest, lean and reliable. He peeks over Yoongi’s shoulder and hums in satisfaction at what he sees, like dinner was just served to him.

“Didn’t I say hands and knees?”

Yes. Yes, he did, that’s right. Yoongi places his hands next to Namjoon’s shoulders until he’s hovering above the alpha. A part of him wants to hide, this out in the open and on top of an alpha too, if it weren’t for Hoseok’s looming presence behind him. He inhales their intertwined scents, Namjoon’s earthen petrichor wrapped by Hoseok’s warm ginger tea.

“Come here,” Namjoon mutters.

Cool air hits his lower body, his ass. The backs of his thighs feel wet, cold where they’re exposed even though Yoongi is burning up. He doesn’t know how much he’s leaked, only that he hasn’t stopped ever since he started. They should have put a towel down. He’s going to ruin the sheets and…

Hoseok’s fingers dig into the meat of his ass, massaging, playing. Spreading and looking right at it, at his exposed and messy centre.

Yoongi’s eyes widen. Namjoon lets out a low laugh, lips pulled into a grin.

“You’re tensing up, hyung. Don’t you want to give him a pretty view?”

His words only cause Yoongi to clench harder, a fresh trickle leaking from his hole.

Hoseok drags the pads of two fingers through Yoongi’s crack. Yoongi’s breath hitches in his throat. There’s a sound, like Hoseok… like he has…

“Namjoon-ah.”

Namjoon drags his thumb from Yoongi’s scent glad straight to his mouth. There, he pushes down on his lower lip until Yoongi opens his mouth.

“Here.” Hoseok’s warmth disappears for a moment. Yoongi makes a strange noise at the loss, shivering. But it’s only a second before Hoseok reappears right beside him and places a kiss to Yoongi’s cheek. “Taste.”

In utter disbelief, Yoongi watches Hoseok put his slicked-up fingers past Namjoon’s lips. Namjoon closes his mouth around them and when Hoseok withdraws his fingers, they’re clean.

 Namjoon swallows.

Yoongi has… has never witnessed something so straight-up pornographic. He’s never felt like this before. This wanted, this desired, even if a part of him is so embarrassed he might never recover.

With a hand on his nape, Namjoon drags him down. Kissing Namjoon is like taking a walk through the forest after rain, like the first mouthful of water after conquering a desert. But there’s something else too, something sweet, syrupy. Yoongi tightly squeezes his eyes shut when realisation sinks in: It’s his own taste on Namjoon’s tongue.

One of the alphas brushes a curl of hair behind his ear and he shivers at the touch.

“Sensitive little thing,” Hoseok says. Except he might as well have said he’s going to make a feast out of having Yoongi right here, right now.

Namjoon brushes over Yoongi’s swollen lips. “Never tasted anything like you. What if we just keep him, Hoseok-ah?”

Yoongi shakes his head. He wants it to be true, but how could it be? Not when this is their job. Not when they have seen omegas, many of them without a doubt younger and prettier, less dull, through their heat before. Yoongi cannot let the praise get to him. The alphas are paid for it, after all.

Hoseok is still so close, his breath hitting Yoongi’s cheek on every exhale, when he laughs.

Braving himself, Yoongi opens his eyes. Hoseok’s face is alight with amusement. More than ever does he look like a wolf rounding in on their prey, teeth bared, white hair so blinding where it sticks to his sun-kissed skin.

“What, you don’t think it’s true?”

“I…” His mouth drops open, but he can’t muster another word. Yoongi wants to hide.

Hoseok hums. He strokes his fingers through Yoongi’s locks, bring his hair to his nose and inhaling deeply before fixing him with a sly look. “I fear we can’t let that stand.”

Yoongi’s world spins, back hitting the mattress. In a swift move, Namjoon rolled them around. Without wasting a second, Namjoon rocks his hips down. “Do you think I get this hard just for any omega?”

Yoongi’s own arousal hits him like a punch to the gut. Though covered with fabric, the outline of Namjoon’s cock alone is obscene. Yoongi’s head falls back.

Namjoon shamelessly grinds against him and Yoongi helplessly digs his nails into his back with a choked moan.

He wants to believe it. That these two alphas, gorgeous and kind and so good to him, are here for anything other than their paycheck. That Yoongi didn’t turn them off somehow, with his behaviour and personality. In the past, simply the way he existed had caused offense and invited ridicule when Yoongi had never felt the urge to inflict such treatment on another living soul. He remembers the fierce speech Namjoon had given him earlier. There’s nothing wrong with you. Yoongi repeats it to himself in his mind, quietly spiralling.

His face—he can’t control it—crumbles.

Namjoon stops moving, both alphas alert.

Yoongi’s nose begins to itch. He presses his mouth together to keep his lower lip from wobbling when Hoseok reaches back and quickly pulls the fluffy duvet over all of them, covering nearly all of Yoongi’s body, right up to his ears.

Gently, Namjoon moves Yoongi until he’s lying between the two, who are staring at him in poorly-disguised concern (Yoongi can smell it, after all). But they give him space, no longer crowding him like before and Yoongi’s omega hates it. At least they’re still touching him. Touching and… brushing their wrists against his skin. Scenting Yoongi.

It’s the last straw to his dumb hormonal brain.

He sniffles.

“Hyung, what’s wrong?” Namjoon asks softly.

Yoongi shakes his head. Why can’t he just be fucking normal?

Under the blanket a hand touches his belly, starts rubbing comforting circles into it. It soothes the pain that started resurfacing.

Hoseok’s fingers intertwine with Yoongi’s. “Was it too much?”

No, it wasn’t. They weren’t.

It’s him. And any second now, they’re going to get up and leave.

“Let us help you feel better, hm?” Namjoon gently turns Yoongi’s head towards him by his chin. “You’re breaking my heart here, hyung.”

Yoongi hates that idea even more than the alphas simply leaving. Tears bead at his lash line and the next time he blinks, they escape.

He feels ashamed and so small. This is what he meant when he warned them earlier, that he was difficult and inconsolable at times, that some part of him was just… wrong. The same part of him that had been broken and fixed together all haphazardly.

Hoseok brushes the tears away even though it only causes more of them to fall from Yoongi’s eyes. He closes them and allows his heart to ache all it wants to.

“I just want to forget,” he croaks.

He misses the look Namjoon and Hoseok send each other.

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

But there’s nothing to talk about. He can’t tell them what he’s thinking anyways.

“Please. Please make it better.”

***

Complicated. That’s what Namjoon thinks when he looks at the omega. Complicated, because he’s never had his alpha rear its head like this before, and never had to force down his instincts. Yoongi’s scent, his deep voice, those clever and alert eyes—the omega is messing with his head.

Namjoon looks at the unblemished skin on Yoongi’s throat and pictures himself: The taste of fresh blood and a claim staked.

What’s worse, Hoseok’s presence should have set Namjoon’s alpha off. Yes, they are professionals. Yes, he has known Hoseok for a long time. But when he’s already this on the edge about an omega he has barely met hours ago, he doesn’t understand how his alpha isn’t fighting off Hoseok either.

He has the feeling that his inner alpha knows.

Maybe, Namjoon already knows, too.

But right now, he has his hands full with an omega who’s reeking of sadness and grief. More than anything, he wants to replace that awful scent. To make it better.

Namjoon squeezes the flesh of Yoongi’s chest and takes one of his pert nipples in his mouth.

With Namjoon’s buzzcut, there is no hair for Yoongi to grab and hold onto. So he clings to Namjoon’s shoulders, pressing his chest into Namjoon’s embrace and trying to squirm away at the same time. Like he doesn’t know what to do with the pleasure once it’s given to him.

Namjoon pins his hips down and gives a rough lick to the nipple he just released.

“Where are you trying to go?” he laughs.

Yoongi throws his head to the other side in Hoseok’s lap. “No—nowhere. Ah!”

Despite Namjoon’s weight on the omega, he still bucks up when Namjoon gives attention to his other tit, nipping at where it has some soft give, all while rolling the bud that was in his mouth moments ago between index finger and thumb. Once innocently small, now swollen and ruddy-pink.

In the light of the bedroom, Namjoon gets his first full view of the omega. His shirt has landed somewhere outside the nest, leaving Yoongi naked and shivering in the middle of the bed. He’s lean, his thighs thinner than Namjoon expected, with a lovely set of broad shoulders. But there’s the softness of his belly, right where a trail of pubic hair starts leading down to his leaking cock, wet at its head just like his hole.

He thinks that if he were to swallow the omega’s cock, it would, with a bit of luck, just hit the back of his throat.

“Poor hyung, is Namjoon-ah teasing you?” Hoseok asks with faux-innocence.

As soon as he speaks, Yoongi redirects his attention. His hands seek out Hoseok, who takes them in his, while Namjoon makes his way down Yoongi’s body.

Namjoon is compelled to stop right where hip meets thigh. Here, at his groin, Yoongi’s scent is so concentrated it makes his mouth water. Like a wolf with saliva dripping from his fangs, Namjoon noses at the slope, licks the sweat from Yoongi’s skin and tufts of hair. Yoongi’s cock twitches whenever he tongues an undiscovered area. He decides to takes mercy on the omega by wrapping his palm around him.

It's a cute cock. Head deeply flushed, with a slight upward curve towards his belly, and a single bead of precome decorating his slit. It already left a little puddle on Yoongi’s lower stomach and Namjoon, without hesitation, laps it up.

Once that’s done, he licks the precome from Yoongi’s tip too.

When Namjoon finally swallows his length, the omega makes the sweetest, most overwhelmed noise. He looks up just in time to see Hoseok tug Yoongi’s bottom lip free from between his teeth.

“Let him hear how good he’s making you feel.”

If possible, Namjoon grows harder at Hoseok’s words. And to imagine that Hoseok has fucked alphas before, that he’s been fucked—Namjoon hasn’t popped a knot handsfree since presenting but, god, does the idea of Hoseok’s legs clamping down on Namjoon’s waist do something to him.

Different from an omega, he’d have to open him up carefully. Yoongi has opened for him all on his own.

His fingers inch down until they find where the omega’s searing to touch. A fresh burst of bitter salt bursts on Namjoon’s tongue when he breaches Yoongi’s rim with two fingers. His hole squelches loudly when Namjoon pulls his fingers out and fucks them back in. Yoongi is so wet, Namjoon’s alpha can’t shut up about their omega having slicked up so well because of them, that their knot will have no trouble fitting into him, that they’ll breed Yoongi and keep him, take him home.

“Namjoon-ah, Namjoon, ah, close, close—”

When in heat, omegas usually never take long to orgasm.

Yoongi starts chanting his name and squirms, trying to throw Namjoon off, but Namjoon stays right where he is, with a cock in his mouth and his fingers crooking up against where Yoongi’s prostate should be. Just a little more.

“Fuck, Yoongi,” Hoseok curses. He leans down until he’s mere inches from Yoongi’s face as the omega writhes in his lap. “Baby, be a good omega and let go.” He thumbs at his neck where his scent gland sits, where a mating bite would go.

“We got you.”

Yoongi tenses. He clenches down on Namjoon’s fingers so tightly he can barely move them but he does his best to massage the soft bundle of nerves all the way through his climax, even when Yoongi’s cock has stopped spurting into Namjoon’s mouth, even when Yoongi’s whines turn into dry sobs from overstimulation.

Only then does Namjoon release him.

***

Hoseok tugs the blanket covering Yoongi’s nude form away from the omega’s mouth, just to make sure he can breathe well.

Yoongi’s heat had settled after he’d come down Namjoon’s throat. In the aftermath, the omega lay between them, hands covering his eyes, breathing heavily. When he slowly pulled his hands down and showed them his pretty face, he looked exhausted. Hoseok nearly felt scolded for his own response to Yoongi’s heat—he wouldn’t lie and say there was no way he wanted to get the omega on his knees and mount him right then and here.

But after Yoongi had worked himself up over what exactly Hoseok didn’t know, and asked them to make it better, he seemed settled now, calme, even if clearly tired.

When it became obvious to Hoseok that Yoongi needed rest instead, he made a move to slowly extract himself from the nest. Yoongi’s skin marked up so prettily, different shades of pink and red, but it also looked very sensitive. Hoseok wanted to clean the omega up, for comfort and to prevent a rash caused by his drying slick, as he had observed omegas develop before.

But the moment Hoseok wasn’t touching him anymore, Yoongi let out a pitiful sound.

Hoseok froze on the very spot as soon as it reached his ears, heart thundering in his chest. It took him several seconds to come out of it, but his body continued to thrum with the adrenaline Hoseok had no actual use for.

Somewhere, he heard Namjoon assure Yoongi that Hoseok wouldn’t leave the nest, that they would stay with him; Yoongi didn’t have to be afraid.

Hoseok stared at the back of Yoongi’s head like he’d seen a ghost. He had never reacted, his alpha had never reacted to anyone like this before. Certainly not to an omega.

Yoongi’s eyelids were drooping already when he tugged at Hoseok’s hand.

Quickly, Hoseok pushed his turmoil down.

“Aren’t you uncomfortable, hyung?”

Yoongi shook his head. Hoseok watched the omega burrow into the blankets until he was all curled up. He nuzzled his face into Namjoon’s stomach, arms and hands tucked closely to his own chest and with a single look over his own shoulder to see whether Hoseok was truly staying, he closed his eyes and promptly fell asleep.

“You can probably go now,” Namjoon says now. “I don’t think he’d wake up anymore.”

Hoseok blinks a few times. “No, it’s fine. I just wanted to clean him up.”

They’re facing each other, the omega sleeping soundly in the middle.

“Are you okay?”

He frowns, more at himself than at Namjoon. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You seemed… caught off-guard.”

Hoseok hoped that Namjoon hadn’t noticed. He searches the alpha’s face. Namjoon wouldn’t question his professionalism; they know each other too well for that.

Well enough, apparently, to share a client’s heat and not have it be awkward. Not that Hoseok expected to have a problem with it but out of the two of them he thought Namjoon would show some awkwardness here and there, unused to intimacy with another alpha.

But Namjoon’s face is relaxed if concerned.

“No, I just…” Hoseok trails off. Because he just what? His gaze seeks out Yoongi and how he’s peacefully resting and immediately some of his puzzlement eases. The silence stretches between them. It’s comfortable.

“Earlier, when you were out and I was alone with him, he told me that the hasn’t shared a heat with anyone in years. Said that he’s been told there’s something wrong with him.” Namjoon, despite looking soft and mussed-up amongst the pillows and blankets, frowns. “He actually said there must be something wrong with him because he’s apparently always been too much for others.”

Hoseok would consider himself a level-headed person—not as much as Namjoon, who aims to hear all sides of a story—frankly, Hoseok is too impatient for that. But as he listens to Namjoon, he grows hot and then cold, and supresses the rumble in his chest. After years of working for the heat service, his control is spectacular. But it would be so easy to let the tension bleed out of him in the form of a growl.

Namjoon eyes him as if he knows exactly what’s happening.

“He’s really insecure about this.”

Hoseok’s grimaces. “Do you think that’s why—earlier?”

Namjoon rolls onto his back, carefully, slowly, so Yoongi’s head rests on the bed rather than Namjoon’s stomach, and stretches, putting his arms behind his head. It puts his biceps on an obscene display, together with his armpit hair. Hoseok nips the strange urge to sink his teeth into the bulging muscle right in the bud.

“I don’t know.” Namjoon stares at the ceiling. “But what I do know is that my wolf feels very protective of him. That I feel protective of him. More than usual.”

Hoseok nearly sags in relief. Instead, he disguises his surprise by grabbing a water bottle from the bedside table. He sits up, duvet pooling in his lap. Quiet minutes pass.

“Want a snack?”

Namjoon snickers.

Hoseok side-eyes him. “What?”

“Are you taking care of me?”

He huffs. “Who else if not me?”

“Uh, me?” Namjoon is still quietly laughing.

“Learn to eat three meals a day and stay hydrated and then we can talk,” Hoseok snaps.

“Wah, Hoba, you’re making me feel like your omega.”

Maybe Hoseok is blushing, maybe he’s just very warm in Yoongi’s nest. “Believe me, you would know if you were my omega.”

Namjoon takes a minute to answer during which Hoseok chugs half the water bottle.

“I’m starting to see what you mean.”

Hoseok pointedly doesn’t look at Namjoon when he passes the bottle. Suddenly, he aches for the room to have a window he could open, to see the fresh breeze setting the curtains billowing. But this high up, the windows are screwed tightly shut as a safety precaution.

The only clothes on his body are his briefs and yet they feel stifling. He gets the urge to loosen the tie around his neck, but neither is he wearing a tie nor a tight-collared shirt. Maybe Hoseok shouldn’t have agreed to working with Namjoon so easily after all. In their training they have all been informed over rare but serious cases of alphas resorting to resource guarding when they couldn’t handle another dominant wolf in their vicinity.

But Hoseok has been screened, not to mention his years of experience on the job, and when he lends his inner alpha an ear, it does not respond with aggression towards Namjoon.

Because it’s the easier option, he sets his eyes on the sleeping omega between them. Yes, his wolf’s possessiveness looms over Hoseok’s conscious mind. However, when he imagines taking Yoongi and hiding him away from Namjoon, the scenario doesn’t sit right with him either. Makes him all queasy, in fact, as if he’s unable to properly guard Yoongi on his own.

Hoseok’s heart sinks.

No, that’s not right. He could guard and care for Yoongi on his own. But he doesn’t want to. And isn’t that a thought?

“Namjoon,” Hoseok says.

Namjoon is scrolling through his phone. “Yeah?”

“How long have we known each other?”

“I guess it’s been… what, five or six years?”

Hoseok laughs. It comes out weirdly high, weirdly bubbly.

“So long? Wow. Time surely does fly, huh?” He laughs again. Fuck, can’t someone just shut him up? This is one of his fatal flaws. When it’s important, he can’t shut his mouth and keep things to himself for shit.

“During those years have you ever, you know, had more-than-friendly feelings for me?”

Namjoon drops his phone on his face with an audible smack. He groans loudly, holding his nose in pain. When he talks, his voice comes out muffled. “Ouch, what the fuck?”

Hoseok nearly shrieks. “What are you doing? Oh my god, did you break your nose?” He tugs at Namjoon’s arm. “Show me!”

Namjoon shakes his head. “It’s not broken, just hurts. Fuck.”

“I’ll get you a cold towel.” Hoseok has one foot on the ground already when he looks over his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he says and hurries to the bathroom.

He can hear Namjoon’s mumbled sorry for what? but then the faucet drowns out his voice. Hoseok dips a washcloth under the water and mentally curses himself for losing it so quickly, out of nowhere too. What was he thinking? He wouldn’t mind sleeping with Namjoon—sex has never been limited to his romantic attractions for Hoseok—especially since his friend has never been with another alpha before. The things Hoseok could show him.

But that doesn’t mean he’s suddenly in love with Namjoon. Right? Right? Of course not! But to have a relationship with him…

Hoseok splashes his face with water, lets it run over his underarms, until he feels his nervous system calm down significantly. Whatever it is that caused this freak-out, this is not the time to go digging. He does this sometimes, getting anxious over what turns out to be nothing in the end. It’s fine. He’ll be fine.

With the washcloth in hand, he returns to the bedroom.

Only to find Yoongi not only awake but moreover, nearly hysterically examining Namjoon’s face. Understandably, since Namjoon decided to bleed from his nose.

***

When Yoongi sees Hoseok, he growls.

It stops both Namjoon and Hoseok dead in their tracks.

An omega’s growl isn’t quite the same as an alpha’s. A growling alpha summons the attention of their entire vicinity while omegas may only reproduce the sound itself. Neither does it raise your hackles nor sends your pulse racing like an alpha’s growl would.

Submissive omegas and betas, even a particularly submissive alpha, are biologically wired to, well, submit. Modern fiction has introduced a popular trope among the romance genre called Alpha voice even though it’s nothing more than a myth. Growling, however, can easily turn malicious, going as far as to coerce its audience. For this reason, growling is heavily frowned upon in public and everyday life, the behaviour mostly associated with traditionalist packs.

Hoseok is rooted to the spot. The omega is growling. At him. Dozens of questions pop up in his mind, but no answer is in sight. He short-circuits, mid-movement, feeling strange and out of place.

Namjoon catches up far more quickly.

“Yoongi-yah?” he says steadily, voice slightly muffled because of the tissue he holds to his nose.

Immediately, the growl dies in Yoongi’s chest. He whips his head around and paws helplessly at Namjoon.

“Look at Hoseok-ah—would he hurt me on purpose?”

When Yoongi meets Hoseok’s eyes, he does so barely, squirming under the alpha’s attention. Finally, he drags his gaze away and Hoseok can breathe again. Yoongi shakes his head.

“I did not think so. Do you need to be reminded of your place?”

The omega’s hands drop to his lap, head bowed demurely. He shakes his head. Namjoon discards the tissue and lets Yoongi writhe in the silence for one more breath. Then, Namjoon smiles.

“Sweet omega. Worrying over me.”

Yoongi perks up with the praise, gaze nervous, anticipating.

“But that’s not your job. Right, Hoseok?”

He jerks when suddenly addressed. Namjoon motions for him to come closer and Hoseok does, until he’s touching the edge of the mattress. “Right.”

He waits until Yoongi notices his approach and even though the omega still doesn’t look at him, he reaches for Hoseok’s arms. He allows Yoongi to pull and once he’s fully inside the nest again, Yoongi closes the distance between them head-first, bumping his forehead against Hoseok’s bare shoulder like a cat seeking affection. He noses along his collarbone, his neck, nuzzling Hoseok’s scent gland.

Hoseok’s heart swells to double its size. Absentmindedly, he hands Namjoon the washcloth to clean himself up.

He allows the shock of the moment to melt off him. He cups Yoongi’s cheeks and turns his face. Yoongi doesn’t let himself be redirected from Hoseok’s scent gland easily and his pupils are blown-wide when he meets Hoseok’s gaze.

He gets lost in Yoongi’s features, his ruddy cheeks and button nose, the tiny moles next to it. From this close Hoseok can easily spot the imperfections of his skin, a small acne scar here and there, signs of aging. It only serves as a reminder for how precious of a gift it is that Yoongi is leaving his well-being in the responsibility of someone else. Yoongi is leading a whole life separate from whatever will happen in this suite, and once his heat ends, they will part ways.

“Alpha,” Yoongi says.

It’s the first time Yoongi speaks since waking up.

Hoseok blinks, then smiles. He moves one of his hands to Yoongi’s chin, tickling him right under it. Yoongi ducks his head and frowns adorably. Hoseok wants to eat him right up.

Yoongi makes a noise of protest and pouts. He pushes himself into Hoseok’s space.

“What is it, baby?”

So much bare skin on display. Yoongi’s belly holds a softness that makes Hoseok’s gums itch. He wants to sink his teeth into it, or the pudge of his chest, especially after seeing how the omega reacted to Namjoon biting at his pert little nipples. Though he’s never had a problem remaining lucid for his job, he does welcome the arousal and how it shrinks his focus to what’s right in front of him.

Yoongi’s hands land on Hoseok’s knees and he walks them towards his clothed cock. He’s soft, mostly, but won’t be for much longer with the omega’s pheromones inviting him. It’s an instinct, how Hoseok searches for Namjoon who sits on his side of the bed all casual. An instinct he hadn’t grown aware of before. Their eyes meet for the briefest seconds before Hoseok has to look away from the intensity in Namjoon’s gaze again with his heart pounding in his chest.

Yoongi purses his lips. Then, he kisses Hoseok.

It’s a brief press of lips. Hoseok doesn’t have time to react before Yoongi has gone back to staring at his concealed dick in near-offense.

“Alpha,” Yoongi says. “Knot.”

Hoseok chokes but covers it with a cough. He had expected an apology, maybe. Not that he needed one.

“You want my knot?”

Yoongi starts nodding immediately. “Yes. Will you?”

He takes in the omega’s hopeful expression, his eager little smile. Slowly, his confidence returns.

“Hmm? Will I what?”

Yoongi blinks and tilts his head. He turns to look back at Namjoon, as if the other alpha will help him out. But Namjoon is content to lean back and watch the scene before him.

The omega gives the smallest of whines.

He had already noticed Yoongi’s aversion to speaking full-sentences the more he succumbs to his heat. It’s not terribly uncommon, though Hoseok hasn’t found it this endearing before.

“Alpha,” Yoongi says with a glower. Hoseok bites his tongue to keep his smile suppressed. “I want your knot.”

He caresses one side of Yoongi’s jaw with his palm. He’s so warm.

“You do? Where do you want it, omega?”

Yoongi leans into the touch but furrows his brow in confusion. “Where…?”

He withdraws his hand even though Yoongi seems unhappy at the loss. “Do you want it here?” Hoseok taps Yoongi’s plump bottom lip with two fingers.

The omega’s jaw drops, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip.

A shiver runs down Hoseok’s spine when Yoongi’s tongue brushes the pads of his fingers.

“In your mouth? It’s so little though. I don’t think you could make it fit.” He ignores Yoongi eagerly opening his mouth no matter how wet and inviting it looks. “Or do you want it here,” Hoseok continues, stroking Yoongi’s closed thighs, “between your legs? Could you keep them tight enough for me?”

He jerks under his hands, squirming in place. Hoseok smiles at the fresh burst of slick in the air.

He inches closer, nuzzling Yoongi’s temple. With one hand he reaches behind, sliding it down Yoongi’s back. Though the air conditioning is working and Yoongi is naked, he’s radiating warmth.

“Or do you want my knot here,” Hoseok asks, middle finger massaging the very top of Yoongi’s cleft, knowing Yoongi is hot and aching mere inches below. “In your pretty little hole?”

Yoongi sighs. “Please.”

Hoseok presses a kiss to the side of Yoongi’s head. Curled over the omega like this, he’s looking directly at Namjoon. Eyes wandering down to his lap where the alpha is half-hard. Hoseok didn’t need to look, can smell the fertile morning dew in the alpha’s scent, but Namjoon is anything but an eyesore.

“Please what?”

Yoongi starts shivering in his hold, attempting to press his ass back into Hoseok’s hand, trying to get him to sneak lower. “Alpha—Hoseok, please,” he pleads. “Your knot.”

He’s being mean, he knows. Sinister. He’ll make up for it once he does have his cock inside of the omega. The thrill, however, of having Yoongi begging fuels him as much as the slick steadily leaking onto the sheets. As much as Namjoon holding his gaze without blinking.

A silent exchange passes between them. Finally, Namjoon moves, looming over Yoongi and Hoseok as he grips Yoongi’s waist.

“You’ll get it, baby. Just tell alpha. Where do you want his knot?” Namjoon speaks, smooth as velvet, and so deep.

Yoongi wiggles, wants to see his other alpha, now that he’s also close. But he can’t. They have him caged in.

“Want his knot,” Yoongi pleads, sounding near tears. “In my hole.”

Hoseok relishes in the want spreading through his body, flushing his own chest red. “Your pretty little hole?”

Yoongi nods, tears spilling over. “In my pretty little hole. Please.”

Hoseok wipes his tears away, kissing the tear tracks. “Then you’ll get it, omega.”

***

Later, Yoongi will be embarrassed about his behaviour. He’ll wish he had never agreed to letting them help him through his heat because humiliation is a second skin he wears often and wears it well. He’ll be ashamed for depending, in his entirety, on another to keep him safe and well.

Yoongi takes care of himself. He keeps his fridge stocked and his apartment clean and attends work meetings and lets his extra hours pile up without ever taking time off. When he’s sick, he wraps a scarf around his neck and wears a mask, and when he doesn’t get better, he takes OTC medicine exactly as the leaflet prescribes. He calls his mother every Monday and asks the right questions and listens to her recount the same ailments and neighbourhood gossip he’s heard the week before. Sometimes he considers adopting a cat or two from the local shelter; his apartment is big enough and no longer would he return to an empty home in the evenings.

Yoongi doesn’t have any big dreams. He lives quietly and comfortably and swallows any loneliness the moment it arises because he’d rather endure the stomach aches and migraines than admit to himself that, at times, his life feels so empty, he feels so empty, he wishes he could start from scratch.

Secretly, Yoongi decided that love wasn’t for him a long time ago. But a decision of the mind has got nothing on the nature of his very soul. The truth is Yoongi, like everyone else, wants to be loved.

His heat reveals what Yoongi takes such care not to feed into.

“Do you want to present for us, omega?”

Present. The single word sends his head spinning. Yoongi’s sweat drips onto the sheets. His skin clings to theirs as if the height of summer has found its way into the nest. Bending, showing them where he’s hot and aching, has new slick pool out of him. It coats the inside of his thighs and were he a touch more lucid he’d think of all the past heats he has spent confined to his bedroom, crying onto soiled sheets because his body didn’t know that all the preparation was for naught.

He bends and nuzzles whatever pillow or blanket his head lies on, scent-marking for his own comfort, and arches his back prettily, just like Yoongi’s inner omega wants him to. His eyes are closed because his alphas have proven themselves as trustworthy so far. Hopefully, once they’ve knotted him, he can shed the last of his doubts.

Perfect positioning, he thinks all feverish, and now they’ll mount me.

“Please,” Yoongi through his heat. He needs them to know that he wants this.

A hand brushes over the expanse of his back, another over his cheek, and Yoongi soaks up every single touch, begging for more.

Yoongi opens his eyes to a familiar face right in front of his. Alpha, with those pretty eyes, boring into him as if Yoongi is a book to be studied. Even though it is alpha who’s blindingly beautiful, hair bright as a halo.

“…you want first? Hm, angel?”

Yoongi blinks at him. His tongue feels restrained, immobilised by invisible ties. “Please.”

“You’ll get your knot. Soon,” alpha says, smiling. He puts his palm over Yoongi’s forehead. Yoongi is melting. “Who do you want first?”

He doesn’t understand. “Alpha.”

Alpha laughs. “Poor baby, I’m sorry. I’m torturing you, am I?”

Yes, torture it definitely is, being empty for so long. Yoongi thought he was doing so good. He heard them say so. Did they lie?

The mattress shifts when alpha lifts up. Yoongi’s eyes stay fixed on him.

“Go first, Joon-ah. Your knot is bigger, and we need to get his fever down.”

There’s warmth behind him, then, another body pressing up against the backs of his legs, and Yoongi nearly pitches forward when he feels the hot press of a cock nudging his ass. He fists the fabric under him so tightly his hands begin to shake. But Yoongi needs to be good, needs alpha inside, so he screws his eyes shut and wills himself to be still and stop the clenching of his hole.

Someone shushes him. Gently but firmly, Yoongi’s legs are pried apart. A hot flush of shame—a good omega wouldn’t need correction. But it’s okay, he can do better and—

Yoongi cries out. Between his legs, where his neglected cock has been leaking and twitching, undaring to demand attention, alpha took him into his hand.

“Just getting you nice and relaxed, yeah? Getting you ready for alpha’s knot. I know you’ll take it so well, look at how wet you are.”

Yoongi’s lower stomach tenses. He breathes harshly, gasps wrenched from his throat as his cock throbs with every stroke.

“Can’t wait to get my mouth on you later. Look at this hole.”

Their voices blend into one. Yoongi doesn’t know where he begins and where he ends when his cheeks are pried further apart. He feels a thumb dig into his rim and pull him right open; Yoongi drags his head from side to side in fervour. There’s the thought that he hopes it’s a pretty view, pretty enough for alphas to want to breed him, and then there’s nothing but the edge he’s hurtling towards.

The edge turns into a fall when alpha’s cock glides through the mess of slick between his cheeks and the head of it catches on Yoongi’s hole. He gives a single whimper, his thighs shaking and trying to close if it weren’t for the hand toying with his cock. As is, he clamps them together as much as he’s able to, the heat inside of him spreading, and it’s so much, too much, too much—

He holds his breath and comes onto the sheets. Only alpha’s arms prevent him from collapsing into his own mess.

Yoongi closes his eyes or blacks out for a second, he’s not sure. Neither does it matter. He surfaces once the tide goes out and basks in the soft touches all over his body, places he cannot remember anyone touching before, at least not this reverently, like his belly that no longer looks like it used to, the callouses from playing guitar for half of his life, or the backs of his knees with visible stretch marks and all.

In this moment, Yoongi’s entire being becomes tenderness, becomes affection, becomes love.

He wonders if his alphas can see it too.

They don’t make him wait much longer. After coming down, his mind clears, and he recognises Hoseok lying next to him.

Yoongi commits every little detail of his face to memory. He wants to remember.

Despite his orgasm, his cock has barely gone soft. His omega is insatiable. Hoseok kisses him when Yoongi makes little noises despite himself, completely at the mercy of his heat. Malleable, mouth wet, missing the words to make Hoseok come back when the alpha stops kissing him because he needs to catch his breath. Yoongi, panting, has never needed the touch of another more than the air in his lungs before. Inside of him, surges of what must be desire, as if this state of vibrant aliveness could be reduced to a single word.

Yoongi’s hand drifts down to softly palm at his cock, fondling, not for any reason other than temporary comfort. It’s sticky, slick running down his perineum and the back of his balls, small and unfit for breeding but still there.

Pressure at his hole makes Yoongi freeze. He knows, vaguely, that it’s Namjoon behind him and a part of him mourns not getting a good look at his cock, to guess the size of his knot once it inflates, but Yoongi’s omega shuts him up so quickly, all he can do is hurry to widen his stance on shaky knees and force his muscles to go lax.

Once Namjoon’s cockhead pops past his well-stretched rim, Yoongi sinks. He waited so long. Namjoon is bigger than any cock he’s taken before. Although the alpha doesn’t know this, he goes slow and steady, praising Yoongi the whole time. Before he’s bottomed out, Namjoon pulls back, the drag so intense to his oversensitive body that Yoongi shakes, trying to stuff his whole fist into his mouth because he doesn’t know what to do, how to hold himself together.

Namjoon is gentle opening him up with his cock. With each additional inch his omega keens, settles. Its happiness is blinding.

His hand is drawn from his mouth with gentle but decisive force and Yoongi blearily opens his eyes. When Namjoon’s hips meet his ass, Yoongi’s breath hitches right before Hoseok’s eyes.

He thinks he says alpha but can’t be sure when his last shreds of control are waning. In this moment, Yoongi is wholly theirs. It doesn’t scare him.

Hoseok places two fingers against his lips and Yoongi sucks them in, so thankful, tasting the slight salt of Hoseok’s skin as he’s jostled forward with each of Namjoon’s thrust. Once more he can’t make out their words, only their voices, drooling around Hoseok’s digits, opening his mouth wide for the alpha to drag the pads of his fingers over his tongue. In another scenario Yoongi would be flooded with shame at his own state, but the incessant attention and pandering to his omega don’t leave any room for such contemplations.

Namjoon touches his lower belly possessively, bending over Yoongi’s back again, the slap of skin against skin and the obscene sound of his slick so right in this bedroom, right for a heat. His omega says that the alpha has not mounted them as much as their body has moulded around Namjoon, just like it will mould to his knot.

His knot.

Hoseok withdraws his fingers, thinking Yoongi wants to speak. Maybe he did want to, to beg for the alpha’s knot, to be filled and not left alone. But all that comes out of Yoongi’s mouth is a loud moan. His hand shoots forward to clutch at Hoseok’s before the alpha can pull away. Once their fingers have intertwined, Yoongi clutches to their clasped hands for dear life.

His own pleasure has moved to the background. Yoongi’s cock smacks against where Namjoon is still pressing onto his tummy. Finally, he feels the beginning of Namjoon’s knot nudge his hole. Pretty little hole, he recalls.

Yoongi hears Namjoon groan and can’t help but fuss, anxious for his body to open up this one last bit, feverish, wet gasps still being punched from his chest.

“Almost,” Hoseok says. “Just a little bit more and you’ll be a bred omega.”

At last he understands this, and with a cry Yoongi turns his face into the bedding and comes, cock weakly pulsing, his useless omegan release dripping down.

He cries out again when Namjoon winds an arm around his middle and hauls him upright. He’s pliant, goes where the alpha wants him to. Yoongi cranes his head back onto Namjoon’s shoulder, voice dying in his throat when the position forces Namjoon’s cock even deeper, his knot now acutely wanting in. Yoongi doesn’t have to think; this part will always be nature more than anything else.

Drawing circles with his hips, grinding against him, Namjoon kisses his scent gland, grazing his teeth over it.

And Yoongi, delusional but certain, wants him to bite.

Heat at his front—his nose tells him it’s Hoseok, his eyelids to heavy to lift. He noses at the other side of Yoongi’s neck, calling him things, sweetly, meanly, as his fingers wriggle between Yoongi’s and Namjoon’s flush bodies.

“Hoseok.”

Yoongi groans when his hole is prodded, one finger sliding in alongside the knot being worked into him. Namjoon jolts and hisses right into his ear, nicking his skin with his sharp canines after all. Yoongi welcomes the sting.

“A big boy,” Hoseok hums. “Come on, alpha.”

Namjoon’s scent thickens. Yoongi feels small between the alphas, thoroughly encompassed. Outside, the world could be ending, and Yoongi would neither notice nor care.

On Namjoon’s next thrust, his knot finally sinks inside.

“Fuck. Fuck, Yoongi.”

His knot swells promptly, locking them together. Namjoon pants, hot breath hitting Yoongi’s nape, hips fucking forward with every new wave of his orgasm.

Hoseok runs his fingers around where they’re locked together, testing the seal of Namjoon’s knot, scent satisfied, proud.

And Yoongi lets go, weightless, floating.

Chapter Text

There’s something going on with the alphas. Yoongi excuses his own inattention, considering his heat has pretty much been incapacitating him. His body is covered in cum (exact origins unidentifiable), slick (origin identifiable) and sweat.

After Namjoon knotted him, the alpha moved them carefully to their sides while they waited for his knot to go down. Namjoon being inside of him sure didn’t keep Yoongi from warming Hoseok’s cock with his mouth. The three ended up in an awkward tangle of limbs but Yoongi’s omega was demanding and Hoseok very much hard. As a result, his mouth was filled while he drifted happily, and when Namjoon slipped out of Yoongi, Hoseok was all ready to go. Two for the price of one.

This time, Yoongi wanted to see his alpha. And when he craned his neck, he could watch Hoseok’s cock slide in and out of his swollen hole, riding him until his legs gave out. In the aftermath, Yoongi buried his nose in Hoseok’s scent gland, licking the salt from his skin, and promptly took a nap. Even while asleep, his body kept squeezing Hoseok’s knot, milking every last drop from him.

Now, he sits on the counter of the ensuite bathroom. His naked feet dangle without touching the floor. Yoongi eyes his pretty, pretty nest, secretly preening over how he had managed to entice not one but two alphas into rolling in it with him. Though his mind has significantly cleared after this wave finally crested, Yoongi’s omega looms right over him, bustling about and cheerfully going over Namjoon’s and Hoseok’s performance again and again.

He loses himself in contemplation while the alphas move around the suite. They’re careful not to leave him alone. But what’s much more curious to Yoongi is the way they cross paths now. While Hoseok’s replies are still peppered with snarky wit, he refuses to meet Namjoon’s eyes, nearly flinching whenever they brush against each other. In contrast, Namjoon stares at the back of Hoseok’s head whenever he thinks Hoseok won’t notice (and Yoongi isn’t looking).

Yoongi must have missed something. He has gathered they are friends, have been for years. But is that really the true scale of their relationship? He doesn’t want to assume just because of the field they’re working in… but how likely is it for the alphas to limit sex to romantic relationships in their private life?

The longer he turns it over in his mind, the more Yoongi convinces himself Namjoon and Hoseok surely must have slept together at least once. Right?

Where it’s common for young omegas to help each other out after their presentations, alphas are supposedly unable to stand another alpha’s guts right after presenting. That’s what they used to teach at schools, at least to the omegas, Yoongi included. Not that Yoongi found teachers and adults and their info about outdated worldviews that dictated him to pop out five pups by the time he hit twenty-five particularly trustful. 

From his experience, alphas who insisted on their inability to get along with other alphas, turning it into their whole personality, were usually queerphobic—they’d pull disgruntled faces when hearing about newly-mated alpha couples. But omegas fucking other omegas? Top five favourite porn category.

Yoongi looks from Namjoon to Hoseok and back again.

What if their surprise at finding the other at the door of Yoongi’s booked suit wasn’t just simple surprise over the unexpected? Now, Yoongi wished he had paid more attention while they… well, while they took care of him as his heat demanded to be sated. Right from the beginning he thought Namjoon and Hoseok worked well together, their chemistry so palpable, familiarity colouring their exchanges. It did not make him jealous—there was nothing to be jealous over since Yoongi did not have a claim over them—but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t make him more insecure to be so visibly uncomfortable and anxious in front of acquainted strangers.

Acquainted. No, that’s not it. They care for each other, no matter how awkward they’re being right now. What is it? What is Yoongi missing?

Even though he would never admit to his best friend (he’d simply never hear the end of it), whenever Yoongi gets stuck on a problem or situation, he thinks of Jimin and how the fellow omega would view the issue at hand. Their perspectives are usually so different that Yoongi always gains valuable insights.

So, he thinks of his best friend. What would Jimin say about the alphas?

Instantly, Yoongi hears his voice pipe up in his head. He has to cover half of his face to hide the laughter threatening to bubble out of him because Jimin, without a doubt, would say:

Those two? Are you kidding me? They fucked. They’re probably still fucking. Are you sure they were never together? Look at them, those men are not straight. I know straight people when I see them. Unfortunately.

And Yoongi gasps. Oh, what if Namjoon and Hoseok used to be together? It would make so much sense! Some people supposedly stay amicable with their exes after all. Not that Yoongi would know but he’d trust that the alphas could make it work. Maybe it’s been a long time ago.

Hoseok perks up when he hears Yoongi’s gasp.

Yoongi blinks at him. His gaze wanders from his neck to his chest where Hoseok is sporting red scratches. He vaguely remembers his tongue darting over the alpha’s scent gland, though the bite marks littered around it speak for themselves. Apparently, he used more than just his tongue.

Though they broke the first wave of Yoongi’s heat, it raises its head at the view in front of him, simmering short of the surface. His mouth goes desert-dry.

“Hoseok,” Yoongi says, not knowing why. But the alpha’s name feels right on his tongue. Like the weight of his cock while Yoongi was warming him.

Hoseok shifts to standing and walks up to him. Like Namjoon, he’s naked except for the briefs he threw on and Yoongi has the sinking feeling they did it to protect his modesty or something. As if he’s not so swollen that his hole doesn’t even properly close anymore. Or, well, it wouldn’t, if Namjoon hadn’t pulled the sleek black plug from the bedside table and promptly used It on Yoongi once Hoseok’s knot went down.

(To be honest, Yoongi had panicked for the few seconds of emptiness. He can’t explain where the dreadful feeling arose from, only that it seized him completely, cutting off his breath and sending his heart racing. He was about to shove his own shaking fingers inside of himself, no matter how poor of a substitute they’d be.)

Hoseok braces himself on the counter, trapping Yoongi between his arms. Yoongi is spell-bound, unmoving, as Hoseok studies his face. The intensity in the alpha’s eyes is mirrored by his mouth, its corners turned down. This up close he’s even more striking. Chest lean, the dip between his pecs nearly delicate, leading to a taut stomach that has none of the softness of Yoongi’s own belly. But then there are Hoseok’s thin legs and strong hips that have done terrible, terrible things to him and as a result, Yoongi could be two heads taller than the alpha and still feel bite-sized.

Hoseok hums. His hand is warm when he cups Yoongi’s cheek, thumbing at the fat of it. Yoongi breathes shallowly, willing to be made into anything the alpha wants him to be. Anything at all. His breath hitches when Hoseok winds his fingers into his hair, combs through the strands—it’s knotted from hours spent winding this and that way in his nest and the slight tug on his scalp causes goosebumps to break out over his skin.

Yoongi looks down at Hoseok’s mouth. He’s sinking.

The tension snaps when Namjoon walks into the bathroom. Yoongi startles and heat spreads over his body like he’s been caught with one hand in the cookie jar, but Hoseok doesn’t allow him to move away. Flustered, Yoongi glances at the alpha who has stopped in the doorway to watch the pair.

“You’re supposed to wash him, not get him worked up again,” Namjoon says drily. Yoongi’s attention returns to Hoseok just in time to see his mouth twitch. Their eyes meet and something mischievous lies in Hoseok’s.

Hoseok steps back and takes his body heat with him. Yoongi shivers at the shift in temperature.

“I’m not doing anything.” He leans against the counter next to Yoongi, looking at Namjoon. “Was I doing anything, hyung?” Hoseok has the gall to put his head down on Yoongi’s shoulder and bat his eyelashes at Namjoon innocently.

Yoongi looks from one alpha to the other. The air between them is charged. He licks his lips as his belly grows taut. They wrapped him up tightly, in a large pink towel, and Yoongi has the distant thought they did it more to spare Yoongi’s sensibilities than anything else. That Hoseok asked him a question, no matter how rhetorical, Yoongi does not realise.

Yoongi’s attention returns to the present moment when Namjoon gingerly sweeps his hair off his forehead. Yoongi’s eyes close.

“How are you feeling?”

With Namjoon right in front of him and Hoseok plastered to his side, he feels…

Ah. A twinge in his chest. His nose begins to itch. If only this moment could last forever.

“Good, alpha,” Yoongi says. He’s hoarse, voice dropping to the lowest of his registers, with emotion. His eyes are still closed. Yoongi doesn’t know what picture he gives off, what they can smell on him, but what felt teasing before now turns sombre. Hoseok shifts so he can hug Yoongi to his body and Yoongi lets him, for once not thinking about how he needs to give back, how he could reciprocate so this would feel more equal instead of Yoongi just taking, taking and taking.

His heart grows heavier by the second. He’s already withdrawing when Hoseok starts making noises, like his life is full of sound effects, and tickles Yoongi under his chin. Yoongi startles and moves away on instinct, but Hoseok doesn’t let him go far. He hops off the counter and tugs on Yoongi’s towel so that Yoongi all but topples over and right into Namjoon’s arms.

“Time for a shower and then we need to get some food into the baby,” Hoseok announces and skips over to the showerhead.

“What baby…?” he mutters, brain slow from the emotional whiplash. Above him, Namjoon laughs. Yoongi tilts his head, looks up at the alpha who is still holding him. He’s confused but the confusion fades into the background at the sight of those dimples, accompanied by Namjoon’s scent reaching out happily, fondly.

“You, of course,” Hoseok says and turns on the shower.

Yoongi catches just a glimpse of Hoseok’s bare ass before he disappears behind the opaque glass. His mouth snaps closed, and he presses his lips together, embarrassed, shy, maybe pleased. It’s unclear to him what he’s feeling but maybe he doesn’t have to figure it out now.

Namjoon marches him over to the shower and unwraps him at the last possible moment.

“Are you…”

“Do you want me to?”

Yoongi nods. So Namjoon tugs off his briefs as well. When they hit the ground, Yoongi’s eyes immediately go to the alpha’s crotch. Even soft, he’s still impressive. Even more impressive that Yoongi managed to take him and his knot. He knows that his body is made to, meant to, but it doesn’t change the fact that he could still feel the stretch.

It feels ridiculous to Yoongi, to call it vulnerable how Namjoon’s soft cock sits between his thighs. Especially when the alpha doesn’t have any qualms about Yoongi just staring at it. His hands twitch at his sides. He wants to get on his knees and let Namjoon feed him his cock, feel it get hard on his tongue, see if he can taste himself. Suddenly he can’t remember if he managed to get his mouth on the alpha’s balls before, hanging heavy, virile, and he wants to, he needs to—

Namjoon takes him by the waist and pushes him under the spray.

He sobers immediately.

The water is colder than he expected and he yelps.

“Sorry, hyung,” Namjoon says, not sounding sorry at all. “But you were about to trigger the next wave of your heat and you really need to eat before that.”

Yoongi pushes the hair out of his eyes and frowns. On a rational level, he understands that food is important, that the alphas know better and he needs to listen to them. But to his omega it’s just a stupid excuse to take from Yoongi what is his. So he frowns even harder.

Namjoon’s hands retreat and Yoongi has a single second to panic and apologise, to promise that he’ll behave and be good, when Hoseok settles in behind him. “Poor hyung,” he says. “His alphas are so mean.”

Yoongi’s heart skips a beat when he hears his alphas. His omega skips, rolls onto his back to expose its soft belly. Yes, it barks, I’m yours, take me, take me! Yoongi grunts in response. Be quiet. Not now.

NOW!

“Shush,” Yoongi hisses. Hoseok halts in his movements, peeks over Yoongi’s shoulder and at his face. Yoongi’s cheeks burn. “Not you.”

Namjoon points at himself in question.

Yoongi shakes his head. “Forget it please.”

The alphas say nothing. Then Hoseok kisses his neck. “Whatever you say, hyung.” One of his hands that has been possessively resting over the root of Yoongi’s cock makes its way towards Yoongi’s back, sneaking down. “We need to clean you out, okay? We’ll make it quick.”

Oh. Yoongi tenses.

“Let me wash your hair,” Namjoon offers. Yoongi says nothing to both and trusts them enough that they can read it as compliance. Despite his announcement, Hoseok does nothing but rest his fingers on the plug and slowly, Yoongi relaxes.

“He’s good with his hands, hm? Wouldn’t believe how clumsy he can be when he uses them like that.”

He takes Hoseok’s words and turns them into something else. Something like Namjoon being especially careful, making his touch soft, relying on his skills, just for someone he considers precious. Someone he cherishes.

And there’s the intimacy again. How long the alphas known each other. When Namjoon rinses the shampoo out of his hair, Yoongi exhales deeply.

Hoseok’s lips nearly touch the shell of his ear when he speaks again. “Just like that. Relax, angel.” His fingers slip to right where his rim closed around the plug, massage the muscle. Yoongi’s toes curl. He gasps when Hoseok grips the base because he knows he’ll pull now, that Yoongi needs to let go.

When his hole stretches around the widest part of the plug, he makes a wounded noise. Namjoon shushes him, pets over the scent gland on his neck, and then, with another tug, the plug pops free. Immediately, the alphas’ spend starts to trickle out of him following the inside of his leg.

“There we go,” Hoseok says. “Good boy.”

Yoongi doesn’t feel very good. He feels empty.

With practiced hands, Hoseok fingers more come out of him. Yoongi fights the urge to clench down to keep it all in but he’s weak now, muscles tired, and wouldn’t be able to hold on for long. His next breath hitches in his throat.

It’s almost like the alphas never knotted him at all.

Yoongi doesn’t realise the wetness on his cheeks is unrelated to the water trickling down from the showerhead until Namjoon buries a hand in his wet hair and guides Yoongi’s head to his neck. But, of course, he’s crying. It happened before during his heats, and he’s always felt ashamed because there is no rational explanation for it. It’s not about being bred, really. Yoongi doesn’t want pups, at least not now. But the emptiness after being filled… all it brings to the table for Yoongi is a sense of inadequacy, of being no-good. Like he’s not worthy enough of an alpha. Of belonging.

The alphas don’t seem to mind, though. With his nose against Namjoon’s scent gland, Yoongi inhales the alpha’s pheromones straight from the source. He smells calm. Emotional, but not like he’s pitying Yoongi. Compassion, in Namjoon’s petrichor scent, like drizzling rain, barely noticeable until you’d stop for a moment and realise all your clothes are wet.

They speak to him as well as over him but it’s clear they don’t expect an answer. When Hoseok deems him clean enough, he massages his rim without any intention, just to help it close.

They soap him up and rinse him down. It’s a lot of wet skin. Yoongi thinks he can hear Namjoon’s heartbeat where he’s pressed up against him, feel Hoseok’s through his back. His arms hang uselessly at his sides.

The angle is weird and he has to strain his neck but he needs to see Hoseok too. He looks over his shoulder and meets Hoseok’s eyes. The alpha’s expression smooths out immediately, like it makes him genuinely happy to see Yoongi and before Yoongi has thought it through, he’s leaning forward for a kiss.

Hoseok’s mouth is hot and Yoongi wonders if his own felt half-as-good when he was mouthing at Hoseok’s knot what feels like hours ago. Hoseok nips at his lips and Yoongi gasps, loses focus when Hoseok sneaks a palm down to his belly. He doesn’t move further, just holds him there even though his hand is squished between Namjoon and Yoongi now. But that’s fine, everything’s fine again when he’s being kissed.

So much for emotional permanence.

When his neck starts to ache from the position, Hoseok manually turns Yoongi’s head to Namjoon who doesn’t waste a second before claiming Yoongi’s reddened mouth too. Immediately, an image of the alphas kissing surfaces to the forefront of Yoongi’s mind. Because it’s Hoseok that Namjoon licks from Yoongi’s lips. His saliva, his warmth. Rivalry tastes different, Yoongi thinks. This is not Namjoon wanting to eradicate Hoseok’s traces. This is like he’s trying to swallow every molecule of the alpha through Yoongi.

Yoongi, desperate for breath, pulls back. He inhales air that’s heavy with them and whimpers. He needs… he wants…

“Can you kiss?”

***

Namjoon licks his lips. He doesn’t dare look at Hoseok yet.

Yoongi’s eyes go comically wide when he realises what he’s asked. Shocked at his own words, he opens his mouth. But nothing comes out.

He’s sitting on one end of a seesaw. Before he stepped into this hotel room, he sat on the end that was poised in the air. On top of himself, on top of things. But after crossing the threshold, the seesaw has been teetering, tilting, around the mid-point. 

Now, Namjoon plunges to the ground.

What can he say now? Place the decision in Hoseok’s hands like a coward? Go along with whatever Hoseok dictates. It doesn’t sit right with his alpha. It’s unfair.

So he looks from Yoongi, who’s still fumbling, over to Hoseok, who is already watching him. Namjoon nearly does a double-take at the alpha’s expression.

“You… you don’t have to. Don’t know what I was thinking,” Yoongi mutters.

“But you want us to?” Namjoon asks. “You’d like that?”

The omega stares at the shower wall beside Namjoon’s head. He presses his lips together, cheeks bunching. He doesn’t say anything but his scent blooms. Namjoon nearly smiles but then he meets Hoseok’s eyes again.

“What about you, Joon-ah?” Hoseok asks. The question feels loaded, like a jab. Almost provocative. What, Hoseok doesn’t believe Namjoon would go through with it? Was scared of kissing him? Of course not. Anyone with eyes in their head could see that Hoseok was attractive. Namjoon could. Even if they were both alphas. But was this really about subgender?

Namjoon thinks back to Hoseok asking about their relationship, if Namjoon has ever questioned the nature of it, had feelings other than platonic. The answer is: He could. So easily, too. Because this was Hoseok whom he’d known for years, the alpha with his nail art and boisterous laughter and unwavering loyalty—and to Namjoon, categories like romantic or platonic were rarely as clean-cut and clearly outlined as society made them out to be. If life decided to put a Hoseok before him who asked Namjoon for a relationship, then Namjoon would give it his all. Because that’s the kind of person Namjoon was—and because with Hoseok, everything would be possible.

So instead of answering to Hoseok’s teasing, he takes the alpha’s elbow between thumb and two fingers and pulls him in. He doesn’t give himself time to think about the expression on Hoseok’s face when he realises what Namjoon is doing—and then he’s kissing one of his best friends.

They’re still in the shower so it’s wetter than Namjoon would have liked. But that is easily made up by the fact that Hoseok’s a great kisser. There’s a stunned second where neither he nor time moves and all Namjoon can feel is the heat of Hoseok’s lips. He can’t help but compare Yoongi and Hoseok with each other; Hoseok’s mouth is small too, Namjoon thinks, but where Yoongi was pliant and taking whatever he was given, Hoseok immediately cups the side of Namjoon’s face and gives as good as he gets. Maybe even more than that.

He can feel his inner alpha and it rumbles in satisfaction.

Hoseok’s hand is small on Namjoon’s cheek. He’s always thought of them as dainty. Definitely not weak as the alpha’s fingers press into his jaw. Much like gravitation, keeping Namjoon upright on planet earth.

He doesn’t know whose lips part first but Namjoon makes a pleased noise somewhere stuck between moan and sigh when he tastes for the first time the scent he’s known for so long.

Addictive in its clarity. It sobers his mind in the heat haze of the shower cubicle. He pictures spring at its zenith, nature at its most fertile and blooming, ready for mating season.

Hoseok bites down on his lower lip when Namjoon doesn’t keep up and he exhales roughly. It stings, too. He gets the feeling that the alpha isn’t holding back anymore. When he’s released, Namjoon goes in for a second helping but Hoseok’s grip on his jaw tightens.

Open-mouthed, tongue peeking out, Namjoon stops and opens his eyes. Hoseok is staring at him, the look on his face dark.

Someone whimpers.

Their heads snap over to Yoongi who looks caught. Having kept out of the spray, his hair has curled at the ends. He twitches under their combined and sudden attention.

“I… uh,” he stammers. He licks his lips.

Namjoon shifts and feels the omega’s cock pressed against his thigh, hard and hot. He raises an eyebrow. Just from watching them make out? Not that Namjoon is judging. When he’s in rut, even a well-aimed breeze could make him come.

Hoseok releases his grip on Namjoon and turns off the shower. He’s the responsible one, taking Yoongi’s hand, pulling him out of the cubicle, wrapping him in a fluffy bathrobe and towelling his hair dry. He doesn’t look at Namjoon even once and for a moment, he panics until he remembers where he is and that he can’t afford to panic now.

Naked and wet, Hoseok drops to one knee to dry Yoongi’s legs too. Namjoon stares. The alpha’s hands inch higher and higher, up to Yoongi’s thighs and Yoongi hastily tugs his robe closed, barring Hoseok’s access.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Hoseok says and uses the same towel to dry his own hair.

Yoongi’s whole face scrunches up adorably and he looks away, though his erection is poking the fabric, making a little tent in the robe.

When Hoseok turns to him, Namjoon startles out of his stupor. Was he staring? He was staring. Hoseok seems as if he wants to say something and Namjoon’s heart hammers in his chest but Hoseok must think better of it because Namjoon ends up waiting for naught.

***

Bit by bit, a variety of food and dishes is piled up on the low table in the living room.

Yoongi stands to the side, looking like a lost kitten. Hoseok’s gums itch every time he looks at the omega. They pulled a too-large shirt over his head (Namjoon’s) that hangs down his frame to the middle of his thighs.

Armed with chopsticks and a Tupperware container of kimbap, Hoseok does another trip from the kitchen to the living space. His eyes fall on Yoongi’s legs. Yoongi notices and immediately, he straightens, like he has to offer alphas the best possible view. Hoseok averts his eyes—he knows he’s an alpha but sometimes he forgets that just because he doesn’t present very traditionally doesn’t mean he’s free of societal meanings. When he was a pup he wouldn’t understand why omegas and even betas suddenly changed their demeanour in front of an alpha, found it strange and off-putting. But he knows better now and understands what alphan gaze means. In a society ruled by alphas, an omega’s value was often equated with how well they appealed to alphas.

“Has anyone seen my phone?” Yoongi asks.

“I put it on the charger in the bedroom. I’ll get it,” Namjoon answers.

Hoseok sees the exact second protest wants to rise out of Yoongi’s throat but Namjoon is already on the way and calling him back would create even more trouble. At least that’s what Hoseok thinks Yoongi imagines.

He wonders if Yoongi has ever been loved without making himself small for it.

“Wait a second,” Hoseok says. He goes to grab a clean and dry towel and spreads it over one of the flat seating cushions. Satisfied with his work, he points at the seat. “Now sit down, hyung.”

Yoongi’s body follows the command while his expression reads as confused.

Hoseok grazes the back of Yoongi’s head, giving him a few scratches, heads for the fridge to grab a few chilled bottles of water. “Pretty much anything in here is washable but I figured you’d be more comfortable with the towel.”

When Hoseok has everything they need, he returns to the living room. He sits down just as Namjoon comes back triumphant, Yoongi’s phone in hand, except the omega doesn’t notice—too busy covering his face with both palms, ears as red as tomatoes.

Hoseok coos. “Aww, hyung. It’s okay, it’s normal.”

“I know it’s normal. That’s not it. I just…” Yoongi breaks off and doesn’t speak for a while.

Namjoon sends Hoseok a look. His eyebrows pulled together, worried, except—except Hoseok is trying hard to be normal around Namjoon right now instead of reading too much into anything Namjoon does. Each motion, each word, each lingering glance. Earlier in the kitchen, they danced around each other and where Namjoon would have naturally put a hand on Hoseok’s waist to manoeuvre around him without steamrolling him like the taller alpha often does without meaning to, there was… nothing.

It’s fine, he tries to tell himself. Namjoon is probably a little uncomfortable around him now. He’s had it happen before with alphas he kissed or even fucked, who were curious about the sex but not about Hoseok. Not that he had expected Namjoon to be like those alphas even if Namjoon had started out as a posturing little baby alpha back in the days. So different from who he is now. But old habits die hard, don’t they? It’s fine. He’ll give him a bit to get his big brain sorted. Because they’ll get this sorted. Hoseok smiles because that’s what he always does. It’s fine.

Slowly, Yoongi lowers his hands. Hoseok can see his eyes now, but Yoongi seems like he’s not entirely there. He tracks their movements when they begin piling food onto his plate. Not too much to give him a stomachache—­his intake form had mentioned he needs to have light meals or he’ll get nauseous, so lots of hydrating fruit, some rice, some pickled side dishes. Nothing too spicy. The kimbap Hoseok brought from home too but he didn’t prepare them himself. Instead, he has an ongoing arrangement with the auntie that lives under his apartment and runs a convenience store with her husband.

Yoongi folds his hands in his lap. “I’ve always been taking care of myself alone,” he says quietly. His eyes still have that far-away look like he’s talking more to himself than to Hoseok and Namjoon. “A part of me craves the attention and another part of me wants to run away. I feel like I’m always being pulled into opposite directions. And I never know where I should go so I stay stuck. Do nothing.”

Hoseok picks up a melon cube with his chopsticks and folds himself half over the table as he brings it to Yoongi’s lips. The omega goes cross-eyed when he tries to identify what Hoseok is offering him and when he opens his mouth, presumably to speak, Hoseok shoves the cube past his lips. Yoongi frowns at him but chews obediently.

Namjoon is uncharacteristically quiet.

Hoseok busies himself with his own plate. “Can you be honest with me if I ask you a few questions, hyung?”

“I... I can try.”

“Why would you want to be alone now? You can be honest, neither Namjoon nor I will be offended.”

Yoongi’s staring at the side of his face but Hoseok doesn’t look up.

“Because it’s safe. Because no one would see me then.”

Hoseok nods. “Do you think Namjoon and I are judging you?” At the shake of Yoongi’s head, he continues. “No. Then are you ashamed of yourself?”

“Hoseok…” Namjoon warns.

“I guess so.”

“Why?” Hoseok asks.

Yoongi says nothing.

Namjoon tries for humour. “Maybe now isn’t the best time to have these types of conversations.”

“Hyung doesn’t have to answer if he doesn’t want to. He’s an adult who can make decisions for himself,” Hoseok counters. Namjoon exhales deeply, nostrils flaring. The alpha meets Hoseok’s eyes. Tension bleeds through their words.

Namjoon tilts his head, jaw ticking. “Hyung is also in heat right now. He’s already vulnerable. We should watch what we say or what topics we initiate.”

Yoongi’s voice cuts through their posturing. “I don’t know why. Why shouldn’t I? Always wanting the wrong things from people around me even though I should have realised in the first place I was being unreasonable. Of course I’m ashamed. Why do I need to want things at all? Why can’t I be happy the way things are?”

Silence ensues. Yoongi stares down at his plate. Hoseok’s chest tightens over the hurt in his scent and he’s tempted to pull the omega into his arms and put his head in his lap, with a hand on his nape so Yoongi will never forget where he belongs. But Yoongi does not belong to him. If he did, though, if he did—Hoseok would make sure that Yoongi never needed to doubt that happiness was an option for him.

Yoongi’s scent is subdued and withdrawn, the brown sugar of it burnt like resentment or frustration. Like a pup’s without a sense of direction and facing a wall, or a pup that was just given a scolding for misbehaving. Hoseok feels his own brave facade wane, replaced by something more honest and real. He’s sad, he realises, an emotion he doesn’t allow himself to express very often.

It’s so natural then to look to Namjoon. The charged air between them is already forgotten. Namjoon is already looking at him, his expression softened. Despite his broad shoulders and strong physique, despite his clumsy limbs, Namjoon is the one person Hoseok knows to be able of such sensitivity, his capacity for empathy endless. An image appears at the forefront of his mind of Namjoon carrying a crab no bigger than the size of his thumbnail in the palm of his hands, its shell translucent, with two tiny dots as its eyes. Hoseok doesn’t remember where he saw this picture, whether Namjoon had sent it to him personally or he’d seen it while scrolling through Instagram. But everything about it, from Namjoon’s dimples to the creature in his hands, had nearly rendered him speechless thanks to a sudden bout of affection that came over him.

Yoongi’s hands shake when he takes the chopsticks into his hands. Hoseok can’t get a good look at his face, but does he need to? He watches him stuff his mouth and chew furiously, probably trying to will his previous words out of existence already. But once he’s swallowed, it’s as if he deflates like a balloon, and even the feat of holding his chopsticks becomes too much. He drops them, metal clattering against metal, and rubs at his eyes.

Namjoon turns to the omega. “Hyung. Come here.”

At first, Yoongi doesn’t react. Worry worms its way into Hoseok’s heart. Then, Yoongi shakes his head.

“Yoongi,” Namjoon says again. “Stop stalling. Come here.”

Yoongi exhales heavily. Without lifting his head, he shifts on his knees and inches closer to the alpha. He stops right in front of Namjoon and sits, gaze averted.

Namjoon takes the decision off the omega and reaches for him, pulling him right between his spread legs and half into his lap. Even though he seemed so reluctant, Yoongi all but melts into the alpha’s chest. Hoseok sees the tension leave his body—how his omega instinctively trusts that Namjoon can bear his weight—and Namjoon winds his arms tightly around him.

“Do you remember what I said to you earlier? In the kitchen when Hoseok was out?” Namjoon asks. Hoseok blinks; Namjoon is looking directly at him while speaking.

If the apartment wasn’t so quiet, Hoseok would have missed Yoongi’s deep, rumbling assent.

“I’m sorry you were made to feel like there’s something wrong with you. But you can’t let that keep you from living a life that makes you happy. Wanting things, wanting… wanting love, means you’re alive.”

Yoongi’s arms tighten around Namjoon’s neck just as Hoseok breath hitches in his throat. Gradually, Yoongi’s shaking subsides. He turns his head just so, his cheek resting above Namjoon’s collarbones, and noses at the alpha’s scent gland. If he’s doing it on purpose or not, Hoseok doesn’t know—he’s happy about it either way. There’s caring for a client and then there’s caring for a person, wanting to hold them because you feel for them, with them. Hoseok knows that Namjoon and he have crossed that point long ago.

Yoongi coaxes out Namjoon’s spring day scent and Hoseok relaxes. Maybe Yoongi will forget all about them after this is over. Or maybe this experience is enough for the omega to cross that threshold that’s keeping him a supporting actor in his own life.

He’s still thinking about Namjoon’s petrichor scent and the passing of seasons when, like the first sprout after winter breaking through, Yoongi starts to purr.

“Oh,” he says.

Wide-eyed, Namjoon looks at Hoseok. “I’ve never…”

Hoseok wants to melt into a puddle of goo. He crawls over to where Namjoon is sitting, doesn’t care over how foolish he looks while doing it—their omega is purring. Yoongi has his eyes closed but Hoseok knows he’s awake from the fall and rise of his chest, the beating of his heart, so he gently but surely sinks his fingers in Yoongi’s locks and kisses his cheek with an exaggerated sound.

Yoongi scrunches his nose and turns his face further into Namjoon’s neck but Hoseok can see the smile he’s trying to hide, the flush spreading down to his clavicles that’s different from a heat fever. He opens one eye to squint at Hoseok.

Meanwhile, Namjoon is completely frozen in place. Cute. Statistically, most alphas never get to hear an omega purr—it’s just that rare—but that it would render Namjoon completely useless Hoseok didn’t expect. He chooses to rescue the alpha by pulling Yoongi out of his lap and into his own arms, peppering kisses all over his face. Yoongi squawks and squirms but bursts of his happy scent permeate the air so Hoseok feels only a little bad for putting Yoongi through the full force of his adoration. But because the omega doesn’t stop wiggling, they eventually topple over, Hoseok’s back on the carpet and Yoongi sprawled over him.

“Yah,” Yoongi protests weakly. His shirt has ridden up, exposing his ass and thighs. With a glance at the clock, Hoseok figures that they’ll move to the bedroom soon. At least they got some food into his belly.

Hoseok’s hands wander from the small of the omega’s back down to his ass, cupping his cheeks. Yoongi stares down at him, the look on his face nearly expectant, the upward curve of his mouth inviting, and so puts pressure behind his grip, kneads the flesh, fingers digging in. Yoongi doesn’t say anything but closes his eyes with a soft exhale when Hoseok’s fingers spread his cheeks apart.

He makes no move towards the omega’s hole even though he can feel the heat radiating from Yoongi’s centre. Instead, he trails one of his hands to Yoongi’s perineum, ghosts his fingers over it, and relishes in the shudder that runs through Yoongi. And then Hoseok waits.

Yoongi bows his head forward, knees clamping down on Hoseok’s waist. He smells it, Yoongi’s slick, but he only lets out a satisfied hum once it trickles down to where his fingers sit, wetting them.

“—your phone—”

He scoops up what he can and pushes it back into the omega, before petting two fingers over the clenching muscle. Yoongi makes a small sound and Hoseok’s focus narrows in on the omega.

“—should I—”

Yoongi stutters out a few words. Something like just ignore it and Hoseok wonders what it is he’s supposed to ignore. The clear slick coating his fingers or the near violent arousal in Yoongi’s scent? When he looks down at where Yoongi is grinding against him, he sees a small wet spot at the front of the shirt Yoongi’s wearing, his cock having smeared against the inside.

“Pretty, pretty hyung,” Hoseok purrs or growls, semantics hardly matter to him, taking his wet hand away from Yoongi’s hole and wrapping it around the omega’s length, still hidden from view. He’s hot in his palm, throbbing, and Hoseok’s alpha growls, appreciative, when Yoongi immediately ruts into his hand without rhythm or finesse.

After all, they are here to take care of him.

***

“Hello?”

Namjoon would never say this out loud but there is a part of him that enjoys omegas being stereotypically smaller, softer. He likes when he gets to be the strong counterpart, when someone tells him good alpha. And he is a good alpha. Who loves cute things. Cute omegas especially.

When he answers Yoongi’s phone, he forgets, for a moment, that Yoongi’s best friend is an omega too.

“Who is this,” the voice at the other end of the line all but barks at him. “Where’s Yoongi? Why do you have his phone?”

If Namjoon had a tail, he would be tucking it between its legs.

“Jimin-ssi,” he starts again only to be interrupted.

“Give the phone to Yoongi now.”

Namjoon turns his head back to where he had left Hoseok and Yoongi to get to Yoongi’s phone.

“He’s… he’s a little preoccupied,” Namjoon says, staring right at Yoongi’s pink, glistening hole. His voice comes out strangled. From the looks of it, Hoseok is nearly gone; there’s the up-and-down motion of Hoseok’s arm and Yoongi’s responding moan and then Namjoon has to look away again before he, too, goes into a craze. “I mean...” He clears his throat. “Sorry, he couldn’t pick up so I did. I’m Kim Namjoon, one of his heat companions.”

Silence. Namjoon is about to check whether he was hung up on when he hears a small oh.

“I’ve been trying to get ahold of hyung to check in with how he’s doing. But he forgot to charge his phone, did he?” Jimin sighs. Meanwhile, Namjoon walks out of the living room and into the hallway. He doesn’t think Yoongi’s best friend necessarily needs to hear him have sex and, apart from that, he desperately needs to clear his head too.

“He did. We can do check-ins with family but Yoongi hy… Yoongi-ssi didn’t choose the option on the check-in form.” He feels bad. He would have liked to give Yoongi’s friend a better answer. “I can tell him to talk to you as soon as he’s able to.”

Jimin, as if able to pick up on Namjoon’s guilt through the phone, clicks his tongue. “Just let him know I called. I can lay into him myself. But…” Hesitation. “He’s okay?”

“Oh.” Namjoon’s heart beats fast. He wants to reassure him instantly. “Yes. Yes, he’s doing well. I promise. We’re managing all his symptoms and he’s—”

Being so good for them, his brain uselessly supplies.

“—a very pleasant client,” he croaks, voice going through several octaves.

The other end of the line is quiet. Namjoon clears his throat, cheeks burning.

“I’m glad, then,” the omega says, nearly whispering. “He’s been spending his heats alone for so long. After each one, I felt like he was withdrawing even more. And… and my boyfriend, we’re both omegas, and he’s had to have a heat companion in the past because of a medical condition, you know? And even though it was tough, the alpha was very kind and helpful and…”

He stops for several seconds.

“It could have been so much worse. So I thought that hyung, that he… that this could also help him.”

Namjoon listens. When he picked up the phone, Jimin had sounded so confident that his inner alpha cowered. But now he sounds small, younger. Yoongi mentioned his best friend recommended the heat hotel to him and how sure of it Jimin was. That it could help, that it would be a good experience. But now Namjoon understands, from the way Jimin talks, that Jimin had worried too.

“I’m glad that you and your boyfriend got help,” Namjoon says softly. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. We all need help sometimes and your partner didn’t choose to have health problems. It’s very common with our clients, actually.” He lets his curiosity get the better of him. “Was it our service you used?”

“Yes. The alpha’s name was Jungkook.”

Namjoon smiles. Of course.

They hang up after Namjoon promises him to make Yoongi call or text once he ‘has the time’. Jimin’s actual words were more crude, something about Yoongi no longer sitting on knots, and had Namjoon blushing like he was Mary, the holy virgin herself, even though at least one of said knots belonged to him.

He rubs at his face, trying to gather his bearings, remember the date and time, when he hears a chirp. Before Namjoon can put into conscious thought into it, he’s moving.

In the living room, Yoongi is on his knees, shirt discarded. With each of Hoseok’s thrusts, he’s jostled forward, his small cock bobbing up and down like a toy. He has his head thrown back but the second he notices Namjoon, he opens his eyes and glares, or at least tries too.

“Alpha, you left,” he accuses in-between his panting.

Namjoon’s mouth drops open but all the blood that works the language part of his brain has rushed down to break the world record of ‘fastest boner’, the seam of his shorts digging into it uncomfortably.

“Yes, alpha,” Hoseok says. “You left.” His tone is mocking, teasing, in that slightly demeaning but playful way he gets sometimes. His hands are splayed across Yoongi’s body, one over his chest, grabbing at the softness Yoongi has there, and the other above Yoongi’s pelvis where dark, trimmed hair frames the root of his cock.

There’s something wild in Hoseok’s eyes as he looks at Namjoon. Looks him up and down, like he could easily do to him what he’s doing to Yoongi. Like he wants to.

Like a hiccup, he can’t suppress the growl that builds in his throat. Hoseok hooks his chin over Yoongi’s shoulder, driving into Yoongi with mean snaps of his hips. Sweat is dripping down his temples and he grins at Namjoon. 

The image of them, Namjoon thinks, deserves to be painted by the Old Masters who could convey emotion in brutal, visceral ways.

He sinks down to his knees in front of Hoseok and Yoongi, not knowing who it is that he wants exactly.

Chapter Text

Namjoon’s seen this before; an omega’s fever doesn’t always break with a knot or two. So they had to get a little creative. In Yoongi’s case, they continuously milked him while he was knotted, so much so that his body finally got the notice that it was enough. That everything has worked properly, that he was held down, mounted and bred—that the omega’s heat had served its purpose and that he got to rest now.

Yoongi throws his head to one side, then the other. “I can’t, I can’t,” he gasps.

“Yes, you can,” Namjoon says. His teeth are bared. That he can speak at all when his knot is buried in the omega is a testament to his self-restraint and knowing how to put himself last. This is not about his pleasure, even though Yoongi is hot around him, wet and soft like he’s meant to be. Namjoon had panted through his orgasm, gasped for air much like Yoongi is doing now, with every new pulse of seed he pumped into the omega, with every contraction of the muscles in his pelvis.

Yoongi scrambles for purchase in the sheets, squirms and throws his head back. Namjoon tightens his grip on his waist when Yoongi tries to get away despite them being locked together.

Maybe this is what Yoongi had meant when he said his heats were difficult. During the waves, he could neither stand being away from the alphas nor being empty. At the same time, he’d work himself up until he was so overstimulated that relief felt impossible despite Namjoon and Hoseok knowing better and trying to tell him so. He would listen because he wanted to be good, but his body was overwhelmed with so much sensory input.

Namjoon, of course, didn’t see anything about this as particularly difficult. To him, Yoongi was simply in heat, beautifully surrendered to his instincts, and he’d be damned if he didn’t do a good job at seeing him through it.

“One more, omega,” he says, commands, when Yoongi shakes his head with a cry. His cheeks are glowing, cherry-red blotches like small love bites mottled across them. Namjoon puts his hand around his neck, not applying any pressure, just to give him the illusion of restraint, of a boundary. This is not for you to decide. From Yoongi’s neck, Namjoon drags his hand down between his pecs, along his sternum, to his belly button where the omega’s useless cum has formed a puddle.

When Namjoon said he can put his own pleasure aside he did not mean he's a saint either. He swallows the growl rising in his throat when he feels Yoongi's flat stomach because he can picture it so easily, the rise and swell of it if he was pupped. His alpha is very displeased knowing both Yoongi and he himself are on birth control.

With the little give he has, Namjoon grinds his knot back and forth, rocks his hips by mere increments. Yoongi’s back arches like a bow when Namjoon accidentally brushes against his small cock.

The words just tumble out of him now. Alpha, can't, please no more, alpha, too much. Namjoon wants to coo, wants to show him that he can and will, is about to show him when Hoseok pulls at Yoongi’s hair, exposing his unmarked neck, and delivers a nip to the skin. He doesn't release his tight grip even though the omega goes limp with a whimper. Instead, he keeps the omega's neck bared and bends down until their noses are just about to touch.

“Shush,” Hoseok mutters. He sounds raspy, like he smoked a pack of cigarettes. “Listen to your alphas.” Yoongi’s eyes are wide dark orbs against glassy white. Hoseok closes the gap between their mouths with a quick kiss and a scolding bite to Yoongi’s bottom lip. “Be good now and let Namjoonie make you come one more time.”

Yoongi, teary eyed, nods. “Alpha,” he whispers. 

“What, omega?”

Yoongi turns his teary gaze on Hoseok. “Alpha,” he says again, grasping Hoseok’s hand in his hair. Hoseok says something to him that makes Yoongi clench down on Namjoon’s knot. He drags in air through his clenched teeth, watching the trembling of Yoongi’s stomach as his breathing hitches in his throat.

Yoongi shakes his head. He doesn’t want to listen? The omega tugs on Hoseok’s hand, guides it down his body and finally, to his cock. He looks at Hoseok through his lashes and wets his lips with his pink, pink tongue, begging without words. When Hoseok realises where the omega is headed, he laughs hoarsely.

“Want me to touch you? Make you cum?”

Yoongi nods fervently. He jolts when Hoseok touches him, then cries out as one of his nipples is pinched meanly. Hoseok leans down closer to his ear.

“I thought you couldn’t take more? And now you won’t even do the work yourself. Lazy little omega.”

Yoongi turns his face away, hiding it against Hoseok’s naked thigh. “Not lazy,” he whines. When Hoseok starts jerking his half-hard cock (Yoongi couldn’t get properly hard after the number of orgasms they’d wrung out of him), Namjoon stares at the angry-red colour of his cockhead once it peeks past Hoseok’s dainty fingers. The image burns itself into his retinae.

Yoongi pulls his knees up only for Hoseok to push them apart again. He starts writhing like he can’t decide whether he wants to give in or escape the stimulation when the choice has already been made for him. 

“No, not lazy,” Hoseok concedes despite his teasing just now. There’s a tired smile on his face, sweat on his brow and Namjoon wants to lick it from his skin. Air heavy with their pheromones, he lets his tongue loll like he’s really just a dog, tasting his mates like this, too. “Just wants to be taken care of. Right?”

Yoongi doesn’t respond. He’s panting, exhaling short bursts of breath, eyes squeezed shut. Namjoon searches for his hole, roughly drags his thumb along Yoongi’s rim, around the tight seal he’s created around his knot. He leans forward so he can loom over Yoongi, feeling Hoseok’s hand brush against his stomach as he keeps jerking the omega’s cock. Namjoon shivers, hips thrusting without his permission, and a sound nearly like a yowl is punched out of Yoongi’s throat.

“Clench,” Namjoon tells him. Yoongi hears him. His eyebrows draw together in confusion. 

“Clench down,” he says again, growl slipping through, and this time Yoongi does. The heat around his knot tightens as Yoongi squeezes around him. Namjoon groans and drops his head, brow resting against Yoongi’s shoulder, except his gums are itching this close to the omega’s unblemished skin.

Barely a second passes and Yoongi tenses, toes curling, and with a weak shout he stumbles, falls, over the edge, his hole starting to weakly flutter around Namjoon. He doesn’t need to look to see that there’s no cum spilling over Hoseok’s fingers—the omega has nothing left to give. What Namjoon does see, however, is Hoseok sinking his teeth into the flesh between Yoongi’s neck and shoulder without breaking the skin—just like Namjoon does, on Yoongi’s other side, each alpha caught in the other’s eye.

Then Yoongi goes limp.

***

“You’re still hard.”

Hoseok has one palm placed over Yoongi’s heart. It beats steadily and he imagines his own heartbeat syncing up in response.

Even after Yoongi’s fever broke, the omega kept shivering, body twitching every now and then with the aftershocks of his last orgasm. Unable to move even a finger, he had opened his eyes, a silent witness to Namjoon pulling out his deflated knot… and the mess that followed it. Hoseok, who hated messes and wanted to get up and grab a towel, reconsidered when Yoongi blinked his eyes open.

Too tired to say anything, Yoongi had held Hoseok’s gaze steadily. Hoseok waited for the omega to avert his gaze like he usually did but instead, Yoongi’s stare only grew braver. It tracked him when he moved to pull the duvet over his body. They had relocated to the bed after Namjoon came back from that ominous phone call and Hoseok’s knot went down. Even if they did fuck like animals, they could do that on the bed, atop a mattress.

Yoongi had grown fussy and asked for his nest anyway, so Namjoon used those muscles of his to carry a leaking Yoongi over to the bed and Hoseok, still dazed from both his orgasm as well as the hormones flooding his system once he popped his knot, padded after them on feet less steady than he would have liked. 

Yoongi clung to Namjoon like a lifeline—and despite it, the alpha still glanced up at Hoseok who had stopped under the doorframe and frowned at him. Hoseok chose to ignore this, teetering towards the bed. Once he’d dropped on it, Namjoon told him he could have carried him too.

Hoseok opened one eye to look at him and the omega who was wrapped around the alpha like a koala and thought, sure, alpha.

Now, Yoongi sleeps. He’s on his side, hands tucked between his legs, curled in on himself. Hoseok didn’t think when he took the omega into his arms and buried his nose into Yoongi’s crown. He knew what his instincts wanted and that this was not the time and space to suppress them.

But, of course, Namjoon has to point out his boner.

Hoseok doesn’t bother facing the alpha. It would have been easy to rut against the bunched-up duvet or his own palm a few times, mind immediately wandering to what had happened just a few moments ago, when Namjoon had been close enough that with each of his exhales Hoseok automatically breathed him in, hot air teasing his lips. But now, with Yoongi sated and sleeping, he didn’t have it in him to attend to the simmering warmth below his navel.

He hums. He didn’t think Namjoon would care.

He didn’t expect Namjoon to care.

But when the mattress dips, it’s not on Yoongi’s unoccupied side—instead, the alpha, Namjoon, his friend, closes in on Hoseok.

Confused, Hoseok tilts his head. On his knees, Namjoon still is much taller, imposing, even. He places one hand on the bed near Hoseok’s hip and crawls forward, eyes sharp and dangerous, and Hoseok stills. He’s naked—all of them are—and Hoseok’s gaze drops down to where Namjoon’s cock is neither hard nor soft. He must have cleaned himself up while Hoseok stayed curled up around Yoongi because there’s no shine to Namjoon’s skin, no dried slick or cum. Despite his size, Hoseok can’t help but think of Namjoon’s cock as nearly demure, innocent even, with the base, where his knot would sit, deflated.

The contrast is too much. Human brains are notorious for handling ambiguity particularly poorly and Hoseok is not exempt from the rule. He can’t put together a cohesive image of the man above him, the hungry glint in his eyes paired with the eagerness of a pup, the well-defined muscles in his arms and thighs and chest, an alpha in his prime, together with his thick scent that reaches out for…

For him. And not for the omega next to Hoseok.

“What are you doing,” he says more than he asks because a part of him doesn’t want to hear the answer. He doesn’t want to hear the answer because he’d rather Namjoon put an end to the push and pull in his mind with actions.

Hoseok detaches himself from Yoongi and rolls onto his back.

Namjoon reaches out. “Let me,” he says and touches the tips of his fingers to Hoseok’s stomach. It caves with Hoseok’s fluttering exhale. They stare at Namjoon’s hand like neither of them can quite believe that it’s real. Hoseok says nothing, the anticipation much like the swooping feeling of losing the ground under one’s feet, the moment just before taking the plunge on a seesaw.

Namjoon’s fingers slide down.

Hoseok doesn’t want to be responsible. He wants to let it happen. To close his eyes and let the world turn. But the trust between Namjoon and Hoseok—it’s there, it’s strong—but for something like this? To trust enough that this won’t change them irredeemably?

In his mind, Hoseok curses. To Namjoon, he says, “Are you sure?”

But Namjoon doesn’t give him the chance to let his rationality stop this. He touches his thumb to the tip of Hoseok’s cock, pulling his foreskin down like he could expose more of Hoseok this way, like he needs to undress him past the possible. Hoseok’s glans is flushed and red and Hoseok is mortified when he sees his cock spit out a fresh tear of precum at the barest of touches by the other alpha.

The silence in the room is so tense that Hoseok feels himself break into a sweat at the small of his back, the backs of his knees. For once, he’s completely out of his depth, his mind spinning. For reasons that are beyond Hoseok, it only makes him harder, the arousal in his middle tightening. It’s overwhelming.

When Namjoon takes him into his hand fully, Hoseok bites his lip and brings his arms up. With his forearm shielding his eyes, he only has to feel Namjoon touching him and not see him as well.

The rhythm Namjoon sets is slow, the drag too dry, and still Hoseok fights to keep his mouth shut. A part of Hoseok doesn’t want to give Namjoon the satisfaction of hearing him. But just when Namjoon’s strokes are getting firmer, the alpha stops and shifts.

Namjoon would never make him uncomfortable on purpose, Hoseok knows, but the suspense is killing him. So he lifts his arms, ready to deliver a verbal bite to Namjoon except when he opens his eyes, Namjoon’s face is so close that Hoseok freezes with the quip still on his tongue.

“There you are,” Namjoon says. “Are you shy?”

First the disbelief stumps him. Then it grows teeth.

“Don’t push your luck—”

Hoseok doesn’t finish his sentence. An aborted noise between a groan and a squeak is forced from his throat when Namjoon’s hand moves down his shaft and quite literally grabs him by the balls.

“Gentle, gentle,” he hisses, rising to his elbows.

Namjoon lets up without letting go, cupping them instead. The sight of his hand between Hoseok’s legs makes him short-circuit, unable to look away. 

“Sensitive,” Namjoon remarks.

Blood rushes to his cheeks. “Can you shut the fuck up?”

Namjoon tsks at him. Hoseok is not a violent person at all, but more of this and he’s pretty sure he’s going to slap Namjoon.

With his head, the alpha points to the other side of the bed.

“Hyung’s sleeping, Hoseok-ah. Let him rest.”

That’s it. Hoseok takes a deep breath. ready to commit first-degree homicide. Before he can put his plan into action, Namjoon’s hand retreats. He cups it and brings it to his mouth, letting a long line of saliva spill past his lips. All momentum lost, Hoseok’s lungs deflate, the air streaming out of him gradually, softly.

Namjoon touches him again and this time, the glide is wet. It’s neither lube nor slick but that’s easy to set aside when Namjoon rubs at the underside of his tip right where his frenulum sits. Hoseok has half a mind to wonder why the fuck he’s so good at this when he remembers that Namjoon indeed has a cock of his own and that maybe he’s not used to jerking off other alphas but, like…

Hoseok moans when something hot and wet drags over his nipple. Emboldened by his reaction, Namjoon flicks his tongue over the stiffened peak of it again and again. Namjoon’s gaze sharpens. Next thing Hoseok knows is the blunt pressure of teeth tugging at his nipple and the sharp, nearly painful sparks firing off in his body in response.

He goes to grab Namjoon’s hair but—that stupid fucking buzzcut! So he ends cupping the back of the alpha’s neck, a gesture notorious to set other alphas off, except this is Namjoon, his Namjoon, who looks up at him now, who’s so close that Hoseok’s wolf pumps out his scent as if it could scent him through the air alone—and Namjoon doesn’t growl or snap at him, is spurred on instead.

Hoseok closes his eyes. It feels good to be blanketed by Namjoon like this. There’s still space between their bodies but Hoseok has always enjoyed someone bigger, larger than him, when the mood struck. There is something very powerful about allowing an alpha to pleasure him, seeing their enthusiasm play out on the stage that is Hoseok’s body.

“You smell so good,” Namjoon right by his ear. Hoseok shudders violently. If he looked at his cock, it’d be dripping with precum, something that happened especially when the focus lay on him without any pressure to reciprocate.

Hoseok’s breathing gets heavier. He muffles his sounds with the back of his hand, his other suspended mid-air, twitching, looking for an anchor to hold on. He finds it in the tensing muscle of Namjoon’s upper arm.

Shit. He can’t believe he’s going to come from just a handjob. When he has the time to go all out, he likes to play with his hole, use his fingers when he’s already close. Does he want Namjoon to finger him? Fuck. Shit. No, no way he would just let him. Not if Hoseok couldn’t touch him first. He’s not going to give some straight alpha straight-up access to his asshole. It’s hole for hole or nothing.

Except this is not just some straight alpha.

He says Namjoon’s name. Sees him lick his lips while looking at Hoseok’s. Namjoon’s strokes become quicker, tighter, focused on his cockhead and Hoseok starts to quiver like an aspen leaf, moved by the slightest breeze. Needing the closeness, he winds his arms around Namjoon’s broad shoulders, his skin hot to touch, damp from sweat. All he can smell is rain. It’s everywhere. Dripping into his mouth when that little bit of distance finally, finally disappears into thin air and they are kissing again. It doesn’t matter who started it.

Hoseok lacks the strength to do anything else than lick into Namjoon’s mouth like a man possessed, craving more and more, connection, enmeshment, disintegration.

He comes like that, unaware of where he ends and Namjoon begins.

***

When Yoongi wakes up, he’s alone.

Slowly, he sits up. The room is dark and smells unfamiliar and he’s cold. He shivers. It takes a moment until he identifies the whooshing sound in the background as the A/C on full blast and he stares at the thing in irritation, pulling the duvet up and over his chest.

Under his fingers, the covers feel crisp and clean. He is clean. All he can smell is the scent of fresh laundry and a hint of his arousal. Usually, Yoongi doesn’t really notice his own scent until in heat when it becomes so prominent and musky that it’s hard not to.

He remembers falling asleep like sinking into a tub of hot water, as easy as an exhale, his whole body releasing tension he didn’t know he was holding. There’s a little bit of dried drool at the corner of his mouth he wipes at as he tries to make sense of things. 

Most of all, he remembers not being alone.

Yoongi is caught in immobility. His thoughts are frozen. He tries to make his way over the ice, clumsy on his bare feet, but no matter what direction he takes, he does not reach an outcome that sets an end to his sense of desolation.

So he makes do with what he has.

Gathering what’s around him, he builds a nest. He considers wedging himself into a corner of the room, but decides to stay on the bed. At least one side of it is still warm from his sleep.

The nest itself is small while the borders are high, creating a hollow. There’s just enough space for him to pull up his knees to his chest and curl his hands under his chin.

Yoongi thinks of old animals who leave their homes to go and die alone. He’s cold on the inside but at least his nest grants him the illusion of warmth.

He closes his eyes and imagines he’s invisible, eventually falling into a dreamless sleep.

***

Hoseok stuffs the last of the sheets into the washing machine. Systematically, he pours in the hygiene detergent, then the scent remover. Only when he hears the washer announce the start of its cycle with a short melody can he finally relax. He leans against it and closes his eyes.

“You’re quick.”

He jumps. In the doorway to the laundry room Namjoon stands, towelling his hair dry. He’s not wearing a shirt. Hoseok doesn’t say anything for a moment. The laundry room is small and the light is bright. He wants to stay here were everything smells like fresh air, powder and cotton, no matter how artificial.

“That was highly unprofessional,” he says.

Namjoon has the decency to avert his eyes. “Yeah.”

They’re quiet.

“I think I need a break.”

Namjoon lifts his head in surprise. “From what?” He sounds hurt. Hoseok does not have it in him to alleviate it.

He crosses his arms across his chest. “I don’t know.” Shrugs and looks away. “This job.”

Namjoon lets the silence linger between them. Hoseok stares at his own naked toes peeking out of his pants. Otherwise he would have noticed Namjoon working his jaw.

“Did I push you?”

Hoseok doesn’t understand at first. Push him how? Sometimes Namjoon does forget his own size and Hoseok ends up awkwardly squeezing in next to him. But then he sees the colour on Namjoon’s cheeks, on his chest, and the realisation hits him.

He nearly laughs. What comes out of him is something between a huff and a snort. Namjoon frowns.

“You regret it.”

“Joon-ah.” Hoseok pushes off the washer. “Look at me. I never do anything I don’t want to do.” He speaks with incredulity. Namjoon should know this. Namjoon has to know this. Hoseok is simply not the type to go along with something just for the sake of others. That’s not how he exists.

“We still shouldn’t have done that. If he had woken up and seen us—”

“But he liked watching us make out.”

Hoseok wants to roll his eyes. “Yes, but he asked for it. Our job is to take care of him and his heat, not of each other. He’s already so insecure, do you think us fucking next to him would have made him feel better about himself?”

Namjoon thinks about this. His eyes move up and left, imagining the scenario.

He can feel a headache oncoming. When was the last time he had a coffee? What time is it even? He’s not normally this out of sorts. Hoseok loves his job—what changed? He thinks about his calendar. He’s going to spend his off-days recuperating, treat himself to face masks and expensive food, maybe get a massage. But the next client is already waiting.

Taking care of others comes easily to him. Hoseok likes to see people happy. When he was younger and part of a dance crew, his moniker was Hope. He didn’t choose it himself.

But the emotional part of it, the connection to his clients… In his mind he sees Yoongi, standing at the door of the suite, colour high on his cheeks due to pre-heat, the fear of the unknown. Hoseok’s instincts had flared immediately, wanting to wrap the omega up in his scent, sending him straight to his nest and protecting their den until his heat was over. 

It was rare for Hoseok to get permanently attached to his clients thanks to their job’s tight framework: Make pre-heats more comfortable, break heats with a few knots, and ensure aftercare for an overall pleasant and positive experience. 

He should have known that things would be become more personal when Namjoon joined him unexpectedly. That he’d be affected differently. But blaming it solely on Namjoon was not only unfair but also overlooking the reason they were here in the first place.

Hoseok jolts when he feels touch on his arm.

Namjoon holds his hand up, like he’s trying to tame a wild animal. “Sorry. Sorry, but you smelled…”

He looks up at the alpha. His mouth was still a bit swollen. He shivers, remembering how it felt when Namjoon ran his lips over his neck. Hoseok had never considered taking someone’s bite over his scent gland, never seen the appeal of it. But for a second, just one second, Hoseok imagines belonging to someone.

His hunger grows sharp and poignant, right before he shuts it down.

***

In the living room, Namjoon lies on his back. The floor under him is cold and hard. It’s exactly what he needs.

He thinks. The world is buzzing around him. He can smell himself, the scent of a forest fire. There’s no dampness, no aliveness, just smoke. He can’t recall a moment where it’s been like this before. It’s this place. It must be. So cut-off from the rest of the world, like a little universe.

He checks his forehead. Is he running a fever? Namjoon is months off from his next rut. His wolf begs to differ. It leaves scratches in the ground, blows up dust with its claws pawing at arid dirt.

“What do you want,” Namjoon says out loud.

The images it responds with are clear. His wolf wants to drag Hoseok and Yoongi close by their necks and not leave them out of sight for even a second until… Oh, it’s embarrassing. Humiliating, really, the way his wolf tries to bargain with him, that this is pack and Namjoon the alpha in charge of them. That, together, they could protect them so well, if only Namjoon could stop being stupid.

Namjoon drags a hand over his face, notices the stubble on his chin from the passage of time. Even Namjoon is not exempt from the flicker of shame that licks at his insides when his wolf is being exceptionally bestial.

His alpha is so proud at the thought of a three-person pack. It's posturing. Namjoon can only watch, unimpressed, as it preens and barks. If Hoseok knew about this, he’d judge him so hard.

After their conversation in the laundry room, Hoseok had left Namjoon alone, using the guest room for a nap. Namjoon doubts that he’s really that tired—it’s more likely that Hoseok wanted to be alone. Especially after his admission that he needed a break. Namjoon wants to go back in time and whack himself over the back of his head for how he had reacted, how the first thing he had felt was abandoned and hurt.

He shakes his head. What is going on? What in the world happened when they crossed the threshold of this apartment?

He sits up. That’s when he hears it, the crying.

Namjoon’s heart sinks in his chest. He hurries over to the door of the master bedroom that he’d left slightly cracked when Hoseok left him in the living room. It had been clear to him that they’d broke the last wave of Yoongi’s heat, that only the aftermath of his cycle was upon them now. It was a bittersweet thought that Namjoon pushed aside in favour of dealing with his Hoseok-shaped feelings.

This was usually the easiest part. Aftercare came easily to Namjoon, like parsing the needs of someone who wasn’t entirely sure just what they needed. Tears happened, too. From relief, from exhaustion, from confusion or the entire weight of the feelings wheel. Namjoon didn’t necessarily need to know what someone was feeling but he was good at helping others figure things out. Together. Namjoon was good at chasing loneliness away.

But this time, when he hears the soft gasps and suppressed cries, Namjoon is afraid.

At first, it’s hard to make out anything in the darkness but then his eyes adjust, lycan senses sharpening. Almost a minute passes before Namjoon sees Yoongi because the omega is so hidden. He tastes salt on his tongue.

He disregards the lack of lighting and climbs on the bed instead. He’s feverish with the ache at seeing Yoongi with a hand pressed to his mouth, shoulders trembling. Namjoon has never seen a nest so small and compact. Looking at it, he feels like he’s standing in front of a door that he doesn’t know how to open.

But it’s not actually a door and Yoongi is not locked away. Namjoon calls his name and reaches for the omega who seems like he’s choking on the held-back sobs. He touches him and Yoongi jerks back violently, eyes wide and terrified.

In another situation, Namjoon would have never touched an omega’s nest without permission. But here, on his knees, hovering over Yoongi, Namjoon knows that respectful distance is only going to make it worse. Respectful distance is only going to make him feel more alienated.

When Yoongi recognises him, he wilts. His face is red, his eyes are swollen and for a second, Namjoon wants to bite him. Well and truly sink his teeth into his neck where a mating bite would go and make it go away, whatever it is that’s hurting Yoongi so. Instead, he wraps his arms around Yoongi’s body, his waist, presses against him until there’s no space between the two, until he’s sure that if Yoongi shakes apart, at least Namjoon can hold onto the pieces.

Yoongi is tense in his arms, trembling, and cold. That’s okay. Namjoon is warm enough for both of them. Yoongi can take all of his warmth, and the shirt off his back too, even if it was the only piece of clothing Namjoon owned. He holds the omega so tightly until his wolf is convinced that no one could take Yoongi from them anymore. That he was safe.

Timid fingers touch his chest, then curl into the fabric of his shirt. Yoongi’s arms are trapped between them but Namjoon heaves a near-sigh when Yoongi moves, when Yoongi presses back into him.

The shock had momentarily halted Yoongi’s crying. Namjoon can be foolish but he’s no fool. The front of his shirt soon becomes hot and wet with tears.

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi cries. “I’m sorry.”

Namjoon doesn’t understand what Yoongi needs to be sorry for. But the apologies continue to rain out of him. Namjoon doesn’t say anything until he does.

“It’s okay,” he keeps repeating. “It’s okay, you’re okay.” It’s not meant to diminish Yoongi’s feelings—clearly he is not okay—but after a while Yoongi’s frantic apologies taper off. When he goes quiet, breathing still laboured, Namjoon wants to look at him. But at the first increment of distance, Yoongi panics, his fear a sharp, shocking note in the air.

Immediately, Namjoon tells him he has no intention of leaving. He’s here, he’s staying, no matter how long. Gradually, Yoongi relaxes again and Namjoon manages to tilt his face up. The skin around his eyes and on his cheeks is raw. The salt in his tears must burn. Yoongi looks so sad, so tired. Namjoon doesn’t think before he begins to gently lap at Yoongi’s face.

He licks at Yoongi’s scent gland too. Yoongi shivers and Namjoon runs his tongue over the patch of skin again and again, no intent behind it other than to comfort. It’s the closest thing he can do apart from claiming him outright or using his teeth.

He rolls onto his back and takes the omega with him. Grabbing for blankets, he pulls them over their bodies, tucks Yoongi in tightly, every inch of him covered. Namjoon has no nesting instincts but the wish to comfort the omega has him acting before his rational brain can catch up. Behind Yoongi’s ear, where his scent is soft and pure, Namjoon runs his nose back and forth along the skin, one wrist working at Yoongi’s nape, his other arm resting over Yoongi’s ass—just holding him. He rubs his scent into the omega’s neck; maybe that will help chase the bad feelings away.

Yoongi wriggles in his hold. Namjoon nips his cheek, no longer wet with tears, and Yoongi relaxes.

Eventually, hoarsely, “You can let me go. I’m okay.”

Namjoon has no intention of doing so.

Yoongi waits but when Namjoon doesn’t react, he stutters. “I’m… I’m okay. I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t growl, okay? It’s not a growl. More like a deep rumble from within his chest. But Yoongi freezes nevertheless, like a chastised pup. He opens his mouth and Namjoon hears the beginning of an s-sound when the omega stops himself.

“Why did you cry?” The words feel strange in his mouth when he speaks. Like he shouldn’t be able to talk. His wolf is hovering, pressed right against his back, and Namjoon gets the feeling that it’s just waiting for its first chance to pounce.

Yoongi is quiet for a long time. Namjoon is wide-awake, not letting his attention drift.

“I woke up and…” The omega nearly whispers. “I was confused. I thought I was back home but there was no familiar smell. I could barely smell you. I couldn’t tell if I was dreaming or not. But I was alone. I thought I was alone.”

This time, Namjoon does growl. Yoongi responds with a small sound of his own and bares his neck as much as he can. Immediately, Namjoon feels guilty.

“We wouldn’t have just left.” Hoseok lying on the sheets, naked. “We wanted to clean up a bit.” Namjoon waiting for the alpha’s hot release in his hand. “We should have realised that it would be disorienting, waking up in a clean bed, alone.” Green tea and ginger on his tongue as it met Hoseok’s. “I’m sorry.”

Yoongi’s scent does a strange thing. It uncurls, reaches out… but it’s muted and sad.

Did he say something wrong? He tries to catch Yoongi’s eyes but Yoongi doesn’t let him.

“But you will.”

Namjoon doesn’t understand.

“You will leave,” Yoongi says. The words linger in the air, float like foam, like soap bubbles. Namjoon thinks that when they pop, they will do so violently. “My heat is over.”

It’s true. Namjoon has done so dozens of times before. It’s his job. He’s not going to see Yoongi again. They will move on with their lives. Yoongi will go home, recuperate. Maybe stay home for his next heat, maybe book another heat service. Maybe he’ll find a partner, a mate, who can help him. But the fantasy… Namjoon’s alpha hates it. It’s angry, baring its teeth, because no one would deserve the omega. Even if they lied at his feet, it wouldn’t be enough.

But his alpha hating it is only half the truth. Namjoon hates it too.

“Please let me go,” Yoongi says.

Namjoon doesn’t want to.

***

Hoseok looks at himself in the mirror. His roots are starting to show, dark against his scalp and the bleached white of his hair. Should he grow it out? Go back to the dark, nearly-black brown? Go back to a place he hasn’t visited in so long, try on clothes that would fit him, but differently than they used to?

He sighs. He drums his fingers against the sink, massages at the ever-tight muscles of his jaw. A part of him doesn’t want to leave the guest room, weary of dealing with shit like a responsible adult. But that’s what Hoseok is. That’s how he got to live a fairly enjoyable life, by doing the hard things and not taking himself too seriously. He could think about how it was, growing up in Gwangju with his sister and parents, who, without any ill intent, raised him conservatively, could think about the melancholy that possesses him every time he visits home.

But he doesn’t. It’s not who he is. Hoseok, above all, is content to live in the present, and hope for a good future.

So he cracks his neck and steps out of the bathroom—and is immediately hit with the scent of territorial alpha.

Namjoon, Hoseok thinks immediately. What did you do?

He finds Namjoon wrapped around Yoongi like a vice. Hoseok pulls the sleeve of his sweater over his nose.

Hoseok meets Namjoon’s eyes. The alpha blinks at him, owlishly, but when Hoseok steps closer, Namjoon bares his teeth. Hoseok does a double-take and irritation crashes into him like a wave surging against a cliff.

“What are you doing?” he hisses.

Yoongi’s head snaps into his direction. Immediately, Hoseok wants to take it back, swallow the harsh words down his throat.

“It’s my fault,” the omega says. “I think I triggered something in him. He won’t let me go.” He sounds calm and quiet. His unstyled fringe hangs into his eyes, frizzy, soft. Hoseok wants to brush his fingers through it, touch him reverently until the colour has returned to Yoongi’s cheeks. Because right now he’s paled. Smells unsure, his heat gone.

Namjoon is still staring at Hoseok, not saying a word.

“Namjoon,” Hoseok says.

Namjoon bares his teeth. Hoseok squints and comes closer. He’s not afraid of a little alpha posturing. And he’s certainly not afraid of Namjoon.

He’s ready to scold him like a misbehaving pup but Yoongi looks worried, held against the alpha’s chest, his cheek flat against Namjoon’s pecs. In another situation, Hoseok would have laughed, maybe taken a picture, but he has to snap Namjoon out of it first.

He holds Namjoon’s gaze. “Let him go, Namjoon-ah.”

Namjoon frowns. Just one more step and he could touch the alpha, scruff him if necessary. Yeah, that’s right. Hoseok has one or the other trick up his sleeve too.

“What are you doing, hm?” Hoseok eyes Namjoon’s arms, the fierce grip he has on the omega. He changes tactics. “Protecting your omega?” Namjoon’s fingers twitch. “Good alpha. But we’re safe here. You can let him go.”

“I think he’s relaxing,” Yoongi whispers. He wiggles a bit, testing for leeway.

Good. Hoseok reaches for Namjoon, open palm hovering near his neck, while he touches the other to the back of Namjoon’s hand. For a second, Hoseok considers his approach a success… and then, at once, everything starts spinning.

Hoseok yelps as he’s bodily yanked onto the bed. Somewhere, he hears Yoongi spluttering, before his back hits the mattress. He kicks at Namjoon but the alpha is quicker and pins him down, manhandles him until Hoseok is trapped under the blanket and wedged in between Yoongi and Namjoon.

With one leg thrown over his hip and one arm reaching for Yoongi, Namjoon lies half on top of Hoseok. Where his back is pressed against Namjoon’s chest, Hoseok feels hot despite the shirts they’re wearing. Alphas don’t purr exactly, but they can make a similar sound; the vibrations rattle through Hoseok’s body.

Great. Fantastic. He’s going to kick Namjoon’s ass. As soon as he’s no longer being flattened into an alpha pancake.

Yoongi blinks at him sheepishly.

“Namjoon-ah…” Hoseok begins, honeyed, threatening. He has half a mind to curse him out if it weren’t for Yoongi across from him. “Namjoon-ah, you better listen to me now.” 

Namjoon, of course, does not listen. Namjoon starts thoroughly scenting him instead.

Hoseok’s eyes nearly bulge out of his skull when Namjoon goes straight for his neck. He chokes on nothing, breaking out into a full-body sweat. He can feel his ears burning—not that Namjoon cares. He simply rubs his cheek against Hoseok’s mating gland, happily huffing when Hoseok stays limp. 

Hoseok mostly stays limp out of sheer disbelief.

Yoongi opens his mouth. “Um… Should I…” He tapers off, seemingly also at loss.

Hoseok inhales. Bad idea. His nose fills with nature walks and morning dew and musk. He’s dizzy. Probably from all the oxygen going to his brain after Namjoon bodily pressed the air from his lungs. That’s definitely it.

Why the alpha couldn’t have just gone for his wrists beats him. To be honest, Hoseok has never seen Namjoon like this before. He’s incredibly respectful of boundaries, except for when he’s drunk and stops using that big brain of his so obsessively. Hoseok loves when Namjoon lets go. But even when Namjoon’s drunk and lets go, he has never scented Hoseok above tamely brushing their wrists together, his little baby alpha.

No. No, he’s definitely not Hoseok’s little baby alpha now. Namjoon nuzzles at Hoseok’s hairline and he shivers at the warm, damp puffs of breath that hit his skin.

“Should, should I call someone?” Yoongi asks, wide-eyed.

Hoseok wants to laugh except it’s not that funny. Yoongi, who thinks that he could leave, that Namjoon would let him move even an inch, waddling down to the reception reeking of a concluded heat. Deep down he’s not better than any other single-minded, toxic alpha, Hoseok thinks, because he’d rather nip Yoongi than let the omega get any other (stupid, his wolf says) ideas.

“Namjoon,” Hoseok snaps. Namjoon stops and puts some distance between their faces, no longer nosing at Hoseok’s clavicles. Hoseok perks up—it’s working!—but then Namjoon meets his eyes, frowning, and growls at him.

Hoseok bristles. Later he’ll admit that it wasn’t his proudest moment, but right now? He growls back.

Namjoon recoils. Yeah, that’s right. Whether Namjoon’s wolf sees Hoseok as his or believes they’re going to have a little mating romp…

Hoseok uses the moment of surprise to free one of his arms and grabs Namjoon’s chin, fingers digging in roughly.

“Cut it out,” he hisses.

Neither of them averts their eyes; neither of them backs down. Namjoon snarls, a bizarre sight. The hairs on his arms stand on end and his skin crawls while Hoseok’s body reacts to the intimidation. But Hoseok has the upper hand here, he’s in possession of his rationality and Namjoon is not. So he reinforces his grip on Namjoon’s chin until Namjoon makes a hurt sound and finally, finally lowers his gaze.

Immediately, Hoseok lets go off him. He winces at his aching fingers and curls and uncurls them a few times. As his mind clears, he notices the sweat at his nape, the speed of his pulse and he swallows heavily. It’s not every day that Hoseok challenges adult alphas.

Slowly, the adrenaline fades. It does something strange to him. Namjoon looks like a kicked puppy now and Hoseok feels the urge to comfort, to douse him in his pheromones, reassure his place in Hoseok’s inner circle.

Hoseok turns onto his back, breathing heavily. He can feel Yoongi staring at him. A deep exhaustion settles over him.

“Let’s all just take five,” he mutters. His eyes close.

Chapter Text

Yoongi is okay.

He goes to the office and politely responds to small talk from the colleagues that have known him for years but really don’t know him at all. On the way home from work, when he’s on the subway and holding onto the handrail above his head, swaying with the movement of the carriage like a blade of grass in the wind, he pulls up a mask over his mouth and nose because, for some reason, he has become particularly sensitive about the scents surrounding him. He keeps wincing inwardly at every alpha or omega whose scent blockers have worn off after a long day and doesn’t understand what bothers him about it.

Jimin and his boyfriend have returned from their overseas trip and brought him a plethora of little gifts. In fact, they brought him so many that Yoongi couldn’t help but get flustered, protesting at the amount of money they must have spent on him, but he could feel his omega getting all worked up, mistaking the souvenirs as an attempt at courting. Now, when he goes to bed in the evening, he puts his glasses down on his nightstand right next to this… this thing, squishy and shaped like a cat. When Yoongi taps its head, the cat lights up warmly, just enough for him to read a few pages of his current book. Jimin proudly announced that they obtained the lamp because they both thought it looked like Yoongi. He acted embarrassed about it but is secretly pleased to be compared to something so sweet and comforting.

For a while, Yoongi manages to fend Jimin off when he inquires about how Yoongi’s heat went. Hyung has an appointment for a check-up at the doctor’s, hyung is helping Seokjin hyung with an emergency at the restaurant, hyung wants to see pictures from your trip, Jimin-ah.

“You know, hyung,” Jimin says. “If you don’t want to talk about your heat, just say so.”

Yoongi looks up at his best friend in surprise. Jimin sounds serious. And hurt. Yoongi’s heart beats in double-time at the thought of upsetting him. The younger omega doesn’t even glance in his direction, seemingly too occupied with aligning stickers of illustrated cats on his phone case, with a pair of tweezers and all. It’s a Friday night and luckily, neither Yoongi nor Jimin works on the weekends, so they have established a routine of hanging out together, either at Jimin’s or Yoongi’s place. After Jimin’s boyfriend moved in with him, they’ve done so more often at the latter.

“I just thought that maybe…” Jimin trails off, lost. “I guess I had this naive thought.”

The cheap paper of the crossword puzzle in his lap is starting to suffer under Yoongi’s sweaty hands.

“What thought, Jimin-ah?” he asks softly.

Jimin shrugs half-heartedly but Yoongi, who has known him for years and years, can see that the omega is upset with emotion. He waits until Jimin sets the sticker sheets aside, folds his hands and sighs.

“Hyung, please don’t take this the wrong way.”

Yoongi looks at the letters he has already put into the blank spaces of the crossword. They all look the same to him.

“I hoped the heat hotel would be a good experience for you. I thought, maybe, maybe you would come back and realise… that it can be nice to have others around.”

The pen in his hand shakes. Or is it his hand that trembles instead? “You don’t have to beat around the bush, Jimin-ah,” he says hoarsely.

Jimin looks at his lap like a chastised child and says nothing. Yoongi is about to pretend the conversation didn’t happen for the sake of them both. Just smile and go on.

“I was selfish. I wanted you to realise that you don’t have to be so lonely all the time.”

The crossword slips from Yoongi’s lap with the total absence of sound. He curls his hands into fists until his knuckles turn white as his bangs fall into his eyes.

“I’m not lonely all the time,” he whispers. He has his parents, no matter the emotional distance between them. They don’t really understand him but he still loves his eomma and appa. And his Seokjin hyung, too. His colleagues never forget his birthday since he started working at his company. Yoongi is okay. “I have you.”

“Yes,” Jimin agrees. He’s shuffled closer and puts his palms over Yoongi’s fists. “You’ll always have me. But it’s not good what you’re doing, hyung. Don’t settle just because you’re afraid of other people hurting you.” He sniffles and Yoongi’s eyes widen. When he inhales, the lavender in Jimin’s scent has become heavy, like it is too welling up. “I care about you so much, hyung. I want you to be happy. And I don’t think you have been happy for a long time.”

Jimin’s words cut him to the core. They lay his chest bare and pry it apart with a pair of pliers, hold him open. He didn’t think that it could be possible to feel this much or so intensely. Everything hurts.

“I’m sorry, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi says softly.

Jimin shakes his head. He got his hair dyed while in Japan and now he looks like an angel. Yoongi doesn’t deserve him.

“No, I don’t want you to apologise.”

They sit in silence. Jimin wipes the tears from his face while Yoongi sits beside him, tongue frozen. Usually, he’s good at fixing things, finding solutions, analysing and coming up with a report and a recommended course of action. He stares at the fibres of his plush carpet and tries to think of anything, something.

Seeing his best friend, his Jiminie, cry over him, for him, has sent the foundations of his self crumbling. Perhaps it’s this, and not any part of his heat, that finally sets off the butterfly, wings fluttering, to change the further outcome of his life.

***

Hoseok is not okay.

“Hyung, you’re acting weird.”

Hoseok side-eyes the alpha. “Do you want me to pay for your food or not?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes and stuffs his mouth with a, frankly, inhumanely large mouthful of rice. “That might have worked on me a year ago.” He puffs out his chest a bit. Hoseok tries really hard not to laugh so he scowls instead. It’s difficult and kind of strains the muscles of his face and he does not go through a half-an-hour skincare routine every night to give himself wrinkles by being a hardass.

“I guess you’re lucky I’m not Kim Namjoon,” he sighs.

Jungkook splutters.

“What does Na–Namjoon-ssi have to do with anything?”

Well, Hoseok thinks, looking at Jungkook’s red cheeks. Well.

“Oh, it’s Namjoon-ssi? Has he not offered you to call him hyung?”

“He has! It’s just…” Jungkook trails off, squirming in his seat. Poking his rice with chopsticks and shy eyes, Jungkook reminds Hoseok of when he first met the younger alpha and quickly took him under his wing. It certainly helped that he was also queer, something Hoseok figured out almost immediately. And that Jungkook, once over his initial shyness, often clung to Hoseok like an overgrown puppy asking for affection.

“You’re just shy,” Hoseok teases. “And have a big fat crush on him.”

Jungkook’s chopsticks clatter to the table and he covers his face with his hands, kicking his feet like a schoolgirl. Hard to believe that he’s the same person who is covered in tattoos and piercings and has the pain tolerance of a naked mole-rat. Which is next to insensitive to pain.

“I know what you’re doing, hyung,” he whines. “You’re just trying to shift the focus off you by embarrassing me.”

Hoseok takes a sip from his iced yuja tea and leans back in his seat. “Nah.”

Jungkook glares at him, still red-faced.

“Okay, maybe. But my problems don’t have to concern you. You’re still a baby.”

Jungkook mumbles something through his mouthful of food.

Hoseok laughs. “What?”

“I’m unimpressed by your behaviour,” Jungkook says and slurps on some noodles. Hoseok will never not stop marvelling at how much food Jungkook eats in one setting. “I’m just as emotionally mature as you.”

Now it’s Hoseok who stares at his dongsaeng. He’s always been sensitive, his Jungkookie, easily picking up on the moods and needs of others. From the outside, he might look like a typical alpha but on the inside, Jungkook is as soft and squishy as a tapioca pearl.

“Ooh, he knows big words,” Hoseok blurts because, clearly, he has a problem.

Jungkook wipes the oily residue off his mouth with the back of his hand and points a finger at him. “Hyung, I think you’re depressed.”

Hoseok does a double-take. Bodily. Nearly falling out of his chair.

 “What did you just say?”

“Don’t you dare laugh it off!” Jungkook huffs, eyebrows knit together, nose cutely scrunched up, and the gesture reminds Hoseok of someone… but he casts the image away. Meanwhile, Jungkook has deflated. “I’m serious. I think you’re going through something and I’m worried because you won’t talk to anyone about it.”

“Ah, Jaykay…”

Hoseok feels his cheeks heat up. He’s always been uncomfortable with others worrying about him. That’s his job. He doesn’t need anyone to worry about him because if there’s a problem, he’d rather take care of it himself. That way he can’t be let down.

“I don’t think I’m depressed,” he says, carefully, not wanting Jungkook to feel like he doesn’t take him seriously. “I’ve just been tired, I guess.”

“You haven’t been answering my texts and you haven’t touched your food either.” Jungkook points at the bulgogi which is Hoseok’s favorite, usually. The meat is still steaming. Logically, he can see that it would taste delicious, nearly melt on his tongue. And it’s expensive too.

Hoseok glances at the bar, away from the food and Jungkook. His leg starts to bounce up and down, a nervous habit.

“You don’t have to talk to me… but please. Maybe you can talk to Namjoon-ssi?”

He pulls a face and immediately, Jungkook’s eyes narrow.

“What? What happened? Did you fight?”

Hoseok taps his fingers against his empty glass and thinks about Namjoon trying to shove his tongue down his throat. “Not exactly. But we… we, uh. Had sex. Kind of.”

Jungkook’s eyes go comically wide. “You and–?!”

He wants to say it was inevitable. But was it? Maybe from his perspective but he would have never thought that Namjoon would reciprocate his…

The younger alpha is leaning over the table, nearly climbing into Hoseok’s lap. “What the hell do you mean, ‘kind of’. How do you fuck, but only kind of?”

Hoseok shushes him, cheeks glowing. He’s not a prude by any means but they’re not at work but rather in a standard Korean restaurant and he doesn’t think the ahjussis talking business on the other side of the establishment would like to hear about Hoseok’s sex life.

“I mean,” he hisses, “that we didn’t go all the way. He jerked me off.” But my, did Namjoon jerk him off. He refuses to feel guilty over any late-night thoughts while doing the same to himself while in bed or in the shower.

Jungkook leans back, mouth half-open. “So that’s what’s thrown you off?”

Hoseok ignores the hint of disbelief in Jungkook’s voice. The disappointment. As if Jungkook is saying, that’s all?

Is that all?

Hoseok wishes that was all.

“It happened at work.”

“Oh.” Jungkook blinks, surprised. “Oh, right. I heard you got assigned to a client together.”

“It was more of an admin mistake but we rolled with it. I’ve never worked with Namjoon, like together. But it was fine. We were fine.”

“Until the sex,” Jungkook fills in.

Hoseok shrugs. “I guess.”

Jungkook makes a thoughtful sound, playing with the piercing on his lip. “But there’s more.”

He frowns. “What do you mean?”

“That’s not the actual problem, is it? You’re very practical, hyung. If it was only sex, you’d just talk about it. There’s something else,” he says and then, turns his round eyes on Hoseok, glancing at the meat that’s probably going cold. “If you’re not going to eat that…”

Hoseok gestures for him to go ahead and with a series of happy little sounds, Jungkook picks up the meat off Hoseok’s plate.

Something else? Hoseok watches Jungkook eat as he thinks. Well, there’s the thing with letting Namjoon touch his cock not being the most professional behaviour while at work.

He rubs at his temples. “Hooking up with Namjoonie is one thing but doing it at work while our client, the actual omega in heat, could have seen? It leaves a bad taste in my mouth. It just… shouldn’t have happened.” Hoseok knows he’s dwelling on this. And he’s not the type of person to dwell on things in general. But he’s been mulling it over, again and again.

“So, your client didn’t even notice?”

Hoseok shakes his head. “He was asleep.” Luckily.

Jungkook tilts his head. “But what now? Do you want to report yourself to management? For neglecting your client even though there was no neglect?”

For the first time in a while, Hoseok lets himself actively think about Yoongi. He hadn’t wanted to—which should have been enough of a hint. He was surprised, Hoseok thinks, surprised and afraid. The strength of his feelings towards the omega felt foreign to him and instead of dealing with it, Hoseok had put them into a neat little box and told it to get lost. Sure, Hoseok and Namjoon didn’t actually neglect him. All in all, he knows they did a good job, apart from some bumps in the road. But the thought… the idea that Yoongi could have felt neglected or… that he could feel lonely now…

Hoseok aches. He rubs his chest, his emotions pressing up against his ribs.

“Ah,” he says. “Shit.”

Jungkook smiles, small and encouraging. “Do you want to talk about it, hyung?”

***

Namjoon is having a great fucking time and if he just keeps telling himself that, maybe it will become reality. One hour he’s fucking happy, one hour he’s fucking sad, one hour he loves his life but— 

He also hates everything.

If it wasn’t biologically impossible, he’d say he’s pregnant. Alas, he’s this way without an actual reason.

In the taxi, he pulls up Naver.

Mood swings are caused by changing levels of brain chemicals. Sometimes they are a natural part of life like sleep or hunger. Alternatively, they can be a symptom of underlying conditions like menopause, anxiety or traumatic brain injury.

When Namjoon catches himself rubbing over his head, he curses and stops.

“Trouble in paradise?”

It takes him several seconds to realise that the driver addressed him. “Sorry?”

The driver motions to Namjoon’s phone with his chin. “You got an omega at home? Take it from an old man like me, the best thing you can do is apologise to the missus, no matter what’s it about.”

This can’t be real, Namjoon thinks. “I’m gay.”

“Ah.” The driver nods, smiling politely, and doesn’t say anything else. When they arrive at the location, the driver drops Namjoon off without another word. The evening air carries a light breeze and Namjoon sighs, tugging at his shirt that’s sticking to his sweaty back. He’s always sweating.

Hoseok is already waiting in front of the restaurant. He’s wearing a big pair of sunglasses and typing at his phone so quickly, Namjoon nearly gets dizzy. There’s a jacket with a leo print hanging over Hoseok’s arm and some ugly little creature hanging from one of his belt loops and sometimes Namjoon has trouble believing they’re from the same generation, not to mention the same birth year.

Like he’s sensing Namjoon’s presence and thoughts, Hoseok looks up and over the rim of his sunglasses. “Oh, hey.”

“Shit,” Namjoon blurts. “I just told the taxi driver I’m gay.”

Hoseok blinks once and puts his phone away. Before he can open his mouth, Namjoon holds the door open and gestures for Hoseok to enter first.

“Why the fuck did I do that? What is wrong with me? Don’t answer that.”

Hoseok sits down at the table; Namjoon takes the seat opposite of him.

“I’m not gay.”

“Joonie.”

“I’m not! I’m probably bisexual or pansexual or, I don’t know, do people even use labels anymore?” Namjoon adjusts the sauces on the table so they’re perfectly aligned. “I still like omegas. But I also liked having your dick in my hand.”

“Okay, so we’re doing this,” Hoseok mutters, palming his forehead.

Suddenly, the most beautiful man on earth manifests out of thin air and hands them menus. “Welcome to Super Tuna, I’m Kim Seokjin and I’ll be your chef today. Anything I can get you started on?”

Namjoon’s jaw drops and he stares with his mouth open until Hoseok kicks him. He jolts, swallowing a hurt sound, and turns, again, to the handsome chef.

“I don’t eat seafood.”

Kim Seokjin’s left eye twitches although the smile stays. “Then why are you at a sushi restaurant?”

Hoseok folds his sunglasses and leans forward. “I’m sorry?”

“We also have a great vegetarian selection,” the chef continues despite his remark. “It’s at the back, behind the drinks, desserts and allergens. I’ll let you browse.”

Namjoon flips through the menu. “They must have bought all those 5-star-reviews,” he mutters and then shakes his head. “Sorry, that was weird.”

“That guy? Why are you apologising for him?”

“No, I mean springing that on you without a warning. But Seok, I need to talk about it. We need to talk about it.”

Hoseok sighs. “Yeah, I know. I’ve been thinking about it too. But we had plans already so I thought it could wait until then. Maybe I waited too long. I shouldn’t have left you alone with it.”

Namjoon is taken aback. He puts the menu down and eyes Hoseok. It’s easy to forget that Namjoon doesn’t know everything about Hoseok, even though he has known him for what feels like a lifetime. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Hoseok says and crosses his arms over his chest, “that you have never done anything with an alpha before.” With his fingernail, he scratches at a chip in the table. This close, Namjoon can see that his nail polish is chipped. “To be honest, Joon-ah, I didn’t forget as much as I didn’t…” Hoseok winces. “I didn’t want to deal with your crisis because I was too busy avoiding mine.”

“Oh… but I didn’t have a crisis.”

Hoseok lifts a brow.

“I’m serious. I wasn’t married to my heterosexuality or anything.” Namjoon pauses, the deflates. “Marriage, the most heterosexual institution in our society. Anyway.” He misses the quirk of Hoseok’s lips, a half-smile gone as quickly as it appeared. “I’m a grown man, I don’t need you to hold my hand like you’re my gay mentor.”

Hoseok swallows his laugh. “Understood. You’re perfectly fine with being not-straight.”

“It’s not like I want to jump just any alpha I see, though.”

Now, Hoseok does laugh. “Do you think that’s how I walk through life?”

“No! It’s just, I liked doing things with you. I wouldn’t, uhm… I wouldn’t mind doing things with you again.”

“Aish, Joon.” When embarrassed, Hoseok likes to counteract his own embarrassment with big gestures, distract from himself. Namjoon knows this. “Doing things? Are you twelve?” He wrinkles his nose. Namjoon finds it terribly cute.

Okay, then what? Should he just say it? Hoseok is going to hate him. But he needs to get it out in the open. He puts enough trust in their relationship that this is not going to ruin it. If he didn’t have that much trust… well, then Namjoon wouldn’t be here, would he?

“I wouldn’t mind having sex with you again.”

Seconds tick by as Hoseok stares at him.

“Are you ready to order?”

They both jump. “Fuck,” Namjoon curses, clutching at his chest. Kim Seokjin glances at him, unimpressed.

“That’s not on the menu.”

Hoseok looks just about done with the chef. “You know what?” His voice thinly veils his disappearing poise. “Surprise us. No seafood for him.” He points at Namjoon. “And I’m fine with anything.”

Kim Seokjin shrugs. Namjoon wonders if there’s anything on earth that would unsettle this man. “Sure. Two beers?”

Namjoon and Hoseok exchange glances.

“That would be great,” Hoseok says between clenched teeth and hands back the menus. He watches the man disappear behind the bar into what must be the kitchen and turns to Namjoon. “What the fuck is wrong with him?”

Namjoon giggles nervously. He doesn’t want to repeat himself. As Hoseok takes a few breaths, Namjoon’s leg starts bouncing so much that he knocks his knee against the table. It doesn’t hurt but he still winces because of his behaviour.

Hoseok ends his peril. “So,” he sighs. “You want to fuck?”

“Don’t say it like that.”

“But you just said…” Hoseok frowns, tilting his head.

“Shit, Hoseok.” He rubs a hand over his face. Once this conversation is over, he’s not going to be emotionally vulnerable for at least two days. (Though it sort of comes with being himself.) “When have I ever been interested in just that? I’ve never had a fuck buddy.” He’s always been a relationship kind of person. After his last one, he took a break from dating and then just never went back there again. That’s when he found his job, too. Because he was unattached and good at helping others, not because he wanted to have sex a ton.

Meanwhile, Hoseok has gone quiet.

“I don’t just want to have sex with you,” he says again, with emphasis. “I know you could be a safe person to explore the whole same-subgender attraction with.” And if Namjoon was just a smidge less dedicated, if one of the pillars of his own self wasn’t built on authenticity and the need to live a true life and to live it well, then maybe he would have left it at that. Taken the safe route and settled for a friendship with benefits. Briefly, he wonders if Hoseok is going to resent him for not choosing the easier path. But when he looks at Hoseok, the alpha isn’t drifting away from the conversation but waiting for whatever comes next.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that… if you’re willing, I would like to explore the possibility of us going beyond a friendship,” Namjoon says. And falls back into his seat for support. It holds his weight and Namjoon s grateful.

Hoseok stares at him for a while and Namjoon, truly, does not mind. He does not feel lonely in the silence.

“You want to date,” Hoseok says.

Namjoon thinks. Yeah. That sounds about right. He nods.

“You want to date me?” Hoseok puts his arms around himself, making himself smaller. Namjoon doesn’t think he notices that he’s doing it. “Namjoon, I… I love you, but I’m not in love with you.”

It’s the first time that true joy sparks inside of him since stepping into the restaurant. He laughs. Irritation flashes over Hoseok’s face and Namjoon gestures to him to wait, please just wait.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have laughed but… Hoseok-ah, I know.” He smiles. “I’m not in love with you either.”

He hesitates. Namjoon can see it in the set of his shoulders, the down curve of his mouth. Hoseok hesitates and then, nods, once, curtly. At first, Namjoon doesn’t understand the meaning of this. His body understands before his brain does, face going warm, warm, warm.

“Joon,” Hoseok says. “There’s something else though.”

Namjoon perks up. nodding before he even knows what Hoseok is going to say. The elation is making him light-headed. Hoseok could probably ask him to jump off a building right now and Namjoon would seriously consider it.

“I was talking to Jungkookie the other day. About something that’s been bothering me, I guess.” Hoseok’s jaw clenches. Namjoon gets the urge to reach for him and promptly shoves his hands under his own butt. He watches the tension on Hoseok’s face increase, the furrow on his forehead deep, until it crests and finally falls away with a sigh from the alpha. “It’s about Yoongi.”

Namjoon tries, he does, to reign in his surprise but his eyes widen, nonetheless. Like it’s been given a kick, Namjoon’s heart speeds up and blood rushes to his nape, heating up. He tugs at the collar of his crew neck shirt, shifts in his seat.

Meanwhile, Hoseok, who clearly had more to say than just the omega’s name, has stopped speaking. His eyebrows are raised, his mouth pulled into an irritated frown. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. I mean, what?”

“You’re being weird,” Hoseok says. “Why are you being weird?”

“I’m not being weird.”

“You look like you’re about to bolt, Joon.”

Namjoon blinks. He takes note of himself and how he’s at the very edge of his seat. Half-way out of his chair, to be honest. “Uh.”

“You’re upset.”

It takes him genuine effort to relax and ease back into the booth. “I’m not upset.”

“Then why do you smell like you are? Is it because I brought up Yoongi?” Hoseok sounds so confused, like Namjoon is a riddle he cannot for the life of him solve. Namjoon doesn’t want to be a riddle to him. But he’s not clarifying anything, not saying a word, and Hoseok takes his silence as a yes. He squints at Namjoon as if he can’t believe what he’s about to say. “Are you… are you jealous?”

“No!”

The volume of his voice takes both of them aback. Namjoon breathes heavily, meeting Hoseok’s stare, feeling as bewildered as Hoseok looks.

“I’m… I’m sorry. That’s–I don’t know what just happened.” Or does he? Isn’t this exactly how he’s felt back at the hotel? When he couldn’t let go neither of Yoongi nor Hoseok?

He’s saved from spiralling by the arrival of their food. They wait politely until the chef is done explaining the platters (or Namjoon does, at least, because Hoseok is busy glaring at the man) and fall into silence after he leaves. Namjoon’s heart is still racing, and his own scent is starting to make him nauseous so he forces it down as much as he can, no matter how exhausting it is to quell one’s wolfish parts.

Hoseok sighs. He’s been doing it a lot recently, especially today. Like there’s nothing better to do than eat, Hoseok haphazardly picks up the chopsticks and reaches for a piece of sashimi first. Namjoon goes for the inari sushi and pops it into his mouth rather unceremoniously.

They start speaking at the same time.

***

“Holy shit,” Hoseok says. “This is so good.”

“What the fuck,” Namjoon mutters. He picks at the second inari on the plate, looking at the fried tofu pouch from all sides, before eating it, too. “This is delicious. What did they put into this?”

Hoseok moans. Namjoon doesn’t fault him. “This is literally the best sushi I’ve ever had. How is this possible?”

For a second, Namjoon wonders if they’re being filmed and about to end up on a show as a part of some prank or skit. It would explain why the restaurant is so empty as well. But as they dig their way through the platters, nothing happens, except for their various exclamations of disbelief over some rice and fish and veggies. Hoseok makes little noises with every bite.

“I seriously didn’t expect this place to be so good.”

Namjoon pauses. “I thought you’ve been here before.”

“I thought you’ve been here before.”

“But who recommended this place to us then?” Namjoon asks, incredulous.

A shadow falls over the table, accompanied by a familiar sweetness.

“Everything alright?”

Namjoon half-expects it to be the chef again. He notices the bottles of beer at the edge of his vision and bows his head in thanks. But when he looks at Hoseok, the alpha’s completely frozen mid-motion. That’s when Namjoon sees him:

Yoongi, with their drinks and a bottle-opener, in his hands.

Namjoon gets up.

It’s clear that the omega wasn’t aware of whom he was approaching. Namjoon sees his eyes widen and the moment stretches, like it’s in slow-motion. He turns his head, looking from Namjoon to Hoseok, from Hoseok to Namjoon, and his scent goes sharp in distress before levelling out to a carefully neutral slate.

“Yoongi,” Hoseok whispers.

“What… what are you doing here?” Namjoon asks, unable to take his eyes off him. He’s wearing a pair of oversized jeans, light blue, with giant vertical rips in the fabric showing off slivers of skin with every movement. Namjoon could easily stick his hand through the holes and take hold of Yoongi’s legs. The black tee is large on him too, with a random print of a face on the front. And his hair… Yoongi must have not cut it since they last saw each other.

He looks good.

“My hyung, uh…” Yoongi meets Namjoon’s gaze for a second and averts his eyes, studying the beer bottles instead. “He owns the restaurant. I help sometimes.”

Hoseok’s expression is soft. “But you have a full-time job.”

Yoongi moves back slightly, startled. Like he didn’t expect Hoseok to remember. It takes him a moment to find his voice again and he wets his lips with his tongue before he answers with the slightest edge to his words, “He’s my hyung.”

“Do y-you…” Namjoon stutters. “Do you want to join us for a moment?”

Yoongi looks him up and down. Hoseok hisses at Namjoon to sit down and it’s then that Namjoon notices he’s just been standing around for no reason. He drops into his seat, not taking his eyes off Yoongi.

Instead of answering, Yoongi places their beers on the table and opens them with quick movements of his wrist.

“I don’t think…” Yoongi scratches at his cheek. He turns his head left and right, checking the scenery, and then their table full of food. “Are you on a date?” he blurts. His cheeks are pink and he resolutely doesn’t meet their eyes.

Hoseok, with the rim of the bottle still touching his lips after taking a sip, nearly spits out his drink and coughs loudly. Namjoon immediately moves to pound on his back but Hoseok waves him off. “I’m fine, I’m…” More coughing. “Fine.”

Yoongi groans quietly. “Sorry. Forget I asked that. Sorry, I mean, I can’t.” His cheeks are so red. “I’m working.”

Aside from Hoseok and Namjoon, there are no other patrons in the restaurant. The absurdity of his excuse catches up to Yoongi quickly though, and a sheepish expression settles on his face.

The coughing has turned Hoseok’s throat a little raw. “Yoongi hyu—” He cuts himself off and Namjoon would bet good money that they’re thinking the same thing. Are they even allowed to call him hyung anymore? Hoseok swallows loudly. “I, I think…”

Whatever confidence he usually carries with him has left Hoseok abruptly. He looks younger, pup-ish, and afraid. Or not afraid, Namjoon reasons, but like he’s trying his all to avoid the failure of his quest which, in turn, cloaks him in insecurity. 

“Can we talk? Please?”

***

“There are two alphas at table seven. Awkward as hell, probably on their first date.”

Yoongi grunts, heaving a sack of rice across the kitchen.

“Sounds like one of them is having some sort of queer awakening,” Seokjin says. “Which is whatever. Congrats. Good for you, big boy. But Yoongi-yah.” Theatrical pause. “He doesn’t eat fish! If he doesn’t eat fish, then what is he doing here? I was about to kick them out.”

Ah, this hyung. Always up to his antics. Yoongi is convinced that Seokjin is only playing it up because he thinks Yoongi’s sad, or something. He shouldn’t have let Jimin and Seokjin meet.

(And he is not sad.)

Seokjin always does this. Pretend that he has some sort of personal vendetta against vegans and vegetarians when he used to cook at a vegetarian Omakase-style restaurant back in the day. Yoongi has long given up on understanding his hyung, if he’s honest. But that doesn’t keep him from teasing Seokjin every now and then. “Sounds a little homophobic, hyung.”

“Homophobic?!” Seokjin yells. “ME?”

“I don’t get the problem. You’re the one who put vegan options on the menu.” He eyes Seokjin, who’s gone the same colour as a cherry tomato. And just to be a little shit, he adds, “Actually, I was thinking about giving up meat too.”

The ensuing silence is eerie. It makes Yoongi put his knife down and fully turn around, just to check that Seokjin did not spontaneously combust. He’s like a pressure cooker that way.

“And hyung supports you on your journey,” Seokjin says tightly, like it physically pains him.

Yoongi bursts into laughter and calls him ridiculous.

Standing in front of Hoseok and Namjoon minutes later, he no longer feels like laughing. He hadn’t taken any of Seokjin’s blabbering seriously but, of course, now that he sees the alphas together, their familiarity with each other is like a slap in the face. He saw it back in the hotel too but the confirmation that Yoongi doesn’t know them at all while they share their whole lives with each other… before he can stop himself, he blurts out that stupid damn question.

He doesn’t even wait for an answer, too humiliated by his own lack of impulse control. His palms are wet because of the condensation when he took the beers from the fridge, and he wipes them on his jeans. But they stay damp with cold sweat.

Yoongi had never expected to come across either Namjoon or Hoseok after his heat. They live in the same city, yes, but millions of people reside in it after all. What were the chances?

The way he left the hotel was not one of his proudest moments. But after his heat ended and Namjoon found him crying and refused to let him go until Hoseok managed to bodily wrestle him out of it… it had been too much for Yoongi. He needed to leave, to be alone, because the alphas already managed to get under his skin like no one else had before and it terrified him. Yoongi told himself that he wanted his little life in familiar solitude back until he believed the lie. Or, at least until his lie grew bigger than the remorse and longing he felt.

So once the sun had risen and the streets grew busy, Yoongi had packed his suitcase, utilising the early morning and that the alphas were too sleep-riddled, yet to be caffeinated, to raise valid protests. They saw him off at the door where Yoongi avoided meeting their eye. He felt more than he saw how Namjoon wanted to stop him, get him to sit down and talk but Yoongi knew if he did, he would never leave again and that… that simply wasn’t possible. He’d gone to the heat hotel for a transaction, and the alphas didn’t owe him anything. He couldn’t make them stay in his life just because his omega, just because Yoongi, wanted them to.

He couldn’t stop his scent from blooming in relief when Hoseok kept Namjoon from rambling. He chanced a look at the alpha then, caught the understanding in Hoseok’s eyes, despite how regretful it seemed. It allowed Yoongi to take his leave.

Now, he wants to flee. From their table, from them, but also from himself. Even though it’s been weeks, he remembers Jimin’s tears like he’d cried them yesterday. Yoongi teeters after saying no to the alphas, like something else is keeping them there. It’s not hard to guess what the something else contains but Yoongi would rather hold it back from morphing into clear thought.

This is it, then. He needs to go back to the kitchen. Yoongi nods to himself.

And then, Hoseok calls his name.

His eyes widen as the alpha stutters. Hoseok, who was such a steady anchor during his heat, an immovable object. The few glimpses he caught of Namjoon and Hoseok together let Yoongi construe a picture of Hoseok as the one with the upper hand. Over what, Yoongi wasn’t sure. But the impression remained: If the circumstances revealed a crisis, it would have been Hoseok whom everyone could fall back on.

But Hoseok’s scent has withered, the green tea and ginger gone out of season.

“Can we talk? Please?”

Yoongi stares.

“Talk?” he echoes. “About what?”

Hoseok winces. “I…” He lowers his gaze.

Yoongi didn’t mean to sound so bewildered, but—what would they talk about? About Namjoon and Hoseok, a long-established unit, while Yoongi was the odd one out? How the heat made things weird between them and that they blamed Yoongi for it, that they needed to have a conversation so they could go back to how things were? About the humiliation Yoongi felt, that this heat had been a radical experience for him, dividing time in before and after? About the fear of doing this again with anyone else but them? About missing them, even though he had no right to? About…

His head hurts. He looks from Hoseok to Namjoon and back to Hoseok and is rooted to the spot by their insecurity. Yoongi… he’s still their hyung. Maybe this is something he can do for the two alphas, give back to them for how much grace they have extended to him. He can be their hyung for an evening. He wants to be.

Yoongi takes a deep breath. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. Let me just…” Yoongi looks over his shoulder, eyeing the kitchen. “Let me ask my boss and then we can talk.”

Hoseok sags with relief, unable to say anything. Namjoon, though, beams and immediately breaks the tension. “Your hyung, huh.” There’s an undertone in his voice and Yoongi, for how often this has happened, isn’t surprised.

“Yeah…” Yoongi drawls, already turning away. “You’d think it was all an act but unfortunately, he’s just like that.” He has to smile, just a bit, as he walks away from the table.

“Hyung,” he calls out. “When do you want to close tonight?”

Seokjin pops his head out of the cold room. “Thought of midnight. Why?”

It’s just past ten. “Do you need more help?”

“You’re leaving? You’re leaving your poor hyung to man this giant restaurant on his own?” 

Yoongi throws a dish towel at his head that Seokjin easily catches.

“It’s completely empty out there.”

Finally, Seokjin closes the door to the cold room. Yoongi rubs his naked arms, shivering. “You never know, Yoongi-yah,” Seokjin singsongs. “Maybe the president of South Korea is going to walk through those doors at any moment.”

He’s not in a laughing mood, goddammit. It’s always this hyung. “If the president of South Korea plus entourage appears, I give you permission to call me back,” he deadpans. “Or you call any of your actual employees that are serendipitously all on vacation right now and whom you definitely did not give a day off tonight.”

Seokjin stares at him. Not a single muscle on his face moves. Yoongi has no idea how he does it. “Alright.”

“Alright,” Yoongi echoes, biting down on the inside of his cheek to hide his smile. “I’ll get going then.”

He grabs his jacket and bag from the staff room and waves Seokjin goodbye, except Seokjin stops him with a hand on his shoulder just before leaving.

“Wait a second,” Seokjin says, eyes narrowed. He peers into Yoongi’s face, studying him like he’s a puzzle. Or like he’s appraising Yoongi’s skin. Yoongi, amused, just lets it happen.

“The secret is not using a cleanser in the morning.”

Seokjin frowns. “What?”

Yoongi points at his own face. “I only wash my face with water in the morning. It’s better for dry and sensitive skin.”

“That’s… I… That’s great, Yoongi-yah.”

“Wasn’t that what you were going to ask?”

Seokjin blinks. “No. But it doesn’t matter. I already know you’re going home with those two alphas.” He pats Yoongi’s shoulder. “Please use protection. I’m too young to become an uncle.”

Yoongi’s smile drops. Instantly, he goes red, shrugging Seokjin’s hand off. “What are you on about,” he mutters. He’s not going to have sex with them. Where did he get that idea from? Yoongi never just hooks up. They’re just going to talk. The idea of him getting… being… He shivers, hand going to his belly without his explicit approval. When he notices, he rips his palm away, ignoring Seokjin’s smug expression.

“Goodbye, hyung.”

“Bye, Yoongichi!” Seokjin yells after him, through the closing kitchen doors.

Yoongi grumbles, tugging at his lobe, ears gone warm. Seokjin hasn’t used that nickname in years. He never embarrasses Jimin like this even though he’s his hyung. It’s more the other way around. Actually, his friends just love to embarrass him, Yoongi thinks.

Namjoon and Hoseok have cleared their tables by the time Yoongi returns. Hoseok notices him first, Namjoon sitting with his back to the aisle, and he visibly perks up. Yoongi’s heart does a strange thing and he has to concentrate on setting one foot in front of the other not to trip.

“I’m off for the night,” he announces. “We can go over to my place.”

The alphas look at him wearing twin expressions of astonishment.

Yoongi stares back. “What?” He recalls his suggestion. He’d rather be in his own home if they’re going to have a serious conversation. That’s his safe space. Why are they gawking like that?

Oh.

“Just to talk! I don’t want to do it here.” To do it? “I mean, it’s going to be more comfortable that way—” Yoongi snaps his mouth shut, palming his face. “You know what I mean.”

“Hyung, we get it,” Namjoon says. Yoongi peeks at him from behind his hand and the alpha’s smile takes his breath away for a second. It’s instantly calming. Warm.

Yoongi drops his hand and nods. He’s said enough for now.

“We’ll pay and then we’re ready to go.”

Yoongi nods again. And as he watches them walk over to the front counter, he suddenly realises that this means…

“Wait!” he calls out. “I can get you the bill!”

But he’s too late. Seokjin’s already behind the counter. Yoongi considers just leaving and waiting for them outside.

“Has everything been to your satisfaction?”

“Actually,” Hoseok says. “I have never had sushi this good.” He sounds defeated.

Seokjin tilts his head a little, pursing his lips as if to say told you so. He unlocks the iPad to put in their dishes.

Yoongi sighs and stares at the ceiling.

“And here’s your total.”

Namjoon stops Hoseok from paying. Their eyes meet and even though they don’t say a word, Yoongi can see them negotiating. When Namjoon doesn’t back down under Hoseok’s impressive glare, Hoseok tucks away his credit card, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Namjoon’s smile is satisfied.

“Thanks. Can you add a…” A pause. “What is that surcharge for?”

“Think of it as a deposit you get to borrow my Yoongi for.”

Yoongi wants the ground to swallow him whole.

Namjoon coughs. “Okay. Uh. Will I… Will I get it back? Since it’s a deposit?”

“No.”

“Hyung,” Yoongi hisses. Three pairs of eyes turn to him. He resolutely looks at Seokjin only.

“What?” Seokjin’s expression is bewildered. “I’m not even allowed to make sure you’re safe now?” At least he has the audacity to flush too. “You don’t even know these two! This one doesn’t eat seafood!” He points at Namjoon.

“Alright,” Hoseok snaps. “That’s it. What’s your problem with the fucking seafood?”

“Oh my god,” Yoongi whispers. He’s mortified. He shoulders past the alphas and taps the counter with a finger. “Take it off their tab. Now.”

“Yoongi-yah.”

“I know them!” he blurts. “We know each other, it’s fine, we’ll be fine!” Seokjin gapes at him. “Now take it off so they can pay and we can leave!”

For once in his life, Seokjin does as he’s told, but not without pouting. He looks ridiculous. A grown adult and he’s pouting! Yoongi is losing his mind.

“Since you know them,” Seokjin grumbles. “You could have just said so.”

“I’m going to block your number,” Yoongi says. He scans the new total and nods. Without looking at him, Yoongi reaches for Namjoon’s credit card and taps it to the device.

Seokjin raises an eyebrow. “No tip?”

“You…” Yoongi wants to strangle him. “No tip!”

His hyung shrugs and Yoongi takes it as his cue to storm off.

“It was nice meeting you!” Seokjin calls after them.

Yoongi doesn’t slow down the entire way to his car. Once he digs for his keys, he remembers that he’s not alone—or shouldn’t be. He didn’t check if the alphas followed him. But one glance over his shoulders, he sees them. Nervously glancing at each other like two schoolboys. It nearly makes him laugh.

“Hyung. Should you be driving?”

Forget it. He whirls around. “Excuse me?”

Hoseok holds up his hands like he’s talking to a feral animal. One that could rip out his throat. A small part of Yoongi feels proud at that.

“I’m sure you’re a great driver! But…” His eyes wander to Yoongi’s hands and the key he’s gripping tightly, knuckles gone white. “You’re shaking.”

As soon as he’s said it, Yoongi becomes aware of the trembling too. He closes his eyes and takes the biggest breath he’s taken all day and releases it until his lungs are completely empty. What a night.

“You’ve both had a beer.”

“I barely touched mine,” Hoseok says. He sounds so kind.

Yoongi opens one eye, just to check if Namjoon has to say anything.

Namjoon looks sheepish. “I don’t have a license.”

Out of all things it’s this that makes him break. Soundless laughter spills out of him, like clouds of breath during a cold night. He laughs until he has to wipe away a stray tear and, still smiling, he shrugs. 

Yoongi’s too tired to think about it. He throws Hoseok his keys and the alpha catches them. “You two sit in the front,” he says and climbs into the back.