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What they don't tell you about living in a group of five boys is that it can get quite aggravating trying to work around everybody's schedules.
Easier now than it was, Jun will admit. It was a learning curve when they were rookies and still getting to know each other; having to figure out what worked best, who did what and when.
And of course, that doesn't take the biological schedules into account either.
He thinks they got pretty lucky there. Everyone has different symptoms, different cycle lengths, different wants and needs, but blessedly very little overlap.
Jun remembers the day Pepper made a calendar so they could all keep track and not bite each other's heads off for not realizing someone was in pre-heat or rut. He also remembers Dylan snapping that what happened with his body was nobody's business.
He'd retracted that statement eventually, since Dylan has a tendency to forget his suppressants and would have to sit out of performances because nobody knew to remind him.
Jun has learned to keep an extra stash on him at all times since then. He barely has to use them nowadays, but it's a ritual now whenever two or more of the members are out of the house with him; phone, wallet, keys, emergency pills. He carries a stylish little cross-body bag and only sighs when Nano calls him the “mom of the group.”
That title should belong to Pepper, but whatever. The point is that Jun knows his members.
And therefore he should know better than to do what he's doing.
Another component to cycle management is the age-old question: Where does everyone else go in the meantime?
Again, Jun thinks they got lucky. He personally has no reservations about people being around while he's in rut. Thame is much the same—in fact, he actually likes having his members in the vicinity. While two alphas might get testy around each other, and Thame and Jun certainly have, they've been friends long enough to know when space is needed. And since Thame practically lives with Po part-time now, it's really a non-issue.
Pepper has Gam to stay with when he needs to. Nano has his family home as an option, but the MARS house is more convenient and he likes the familiarity. He just gets a little flighty and prefers to spend his time with Dylan as the only other omega.
And aside from Nano, Dylan does not tolerate any other human being within 100 meters.
Which is why Jun is an idiot to be standing in front of the house at this very moment.
They've all made themselves scarce. Thame at Po's. Pepper with Gam.
Jun has accommodations. He’d packed a bag for a day or two, and also made plans to meet up with Nano, content to spend his time editing and going over choreography notes if he's not simply doing nothing.
That was before he got there and realized he'd left his laptop on his bed at home. And seeing as how that thing contains basically his entire livelihood, he needs to retrieve it.
He'd texted Nano about it, letting him know he'd be late to hang out, but also for some input since their youngest is the most likely to know what Dylan is like in these trying times.
[Nano]
he mostly stays in his room
should be fine if you're quick
Which wasn’t really an answer to what would happen if Dylan wasn’t in his room. Jun has seen a temperamental Dylan, and as fun as it is to rile him up on a normal day, he doesn’t feel like finding out.
He’s come this far though. So with a deep breath, Jun tries to enter through the front door as quietly as possible.
And he lets it out when he walks in to nothing but silence and most of the lights off.
But Jun still has to walk past Dylan’s bedroom to get to his own, and he’s reluctant to bother him, or have Dylan realize Jun is there at all. Ideally he’s in and out with no one the wiser.
He walks on the balls of his feet, keeping his steps light and he does manage to get about halfway down the hall incident free when a soft whine stops him in his tracks.
Jun freezes, his heart pounding in his ears.
No. Nope.
Dylan is a grown man. He’s fine.
He doesn’t want Jun in his space anyway, so he really needs to move on with his day, get his computer, and forget about all of this.
There’s some rustling, then another whine rings out, though this one trails off into a bit of a growl. It’s not an angry sound. Frustrated, maybe.
If Jun were any less of the person he is, he might have been able to ignore it.
But he's not. He’s Jun. And while he is an alpha, he’s also a mother hen at heart—regardless of how he feels about it.
His feet move without full permission, and before he realizes it he’s got a hand half raised to knock on Dylan’s door. He forces his arm down and calls out instead. “Dylan?” he says.
The frantic shuffling stops. Dylan’s voice reaches his ears, loud, clear, and completely normal despite the wood between them. “What?” Dylan snaps.
Screw it. Jun bites the bullet and turns the handle, opening the door a few inches to peer in.
He doesn’t know what he expected, really. It’s Dylan’s room. It looks the same as it always does in the times Jun has been allowed in it.
Minus the state of the bed.
Usually fairly tidy and made up, it looks like the entirety of Dylan’s closet threw up on the mattress. Clothes are pushed into random, seemingly nonsensical piles. His blanket has been shoved to the foot of the bed, making a sad little barrier that just barely contains the mess.
In the middle of it all sits Dylan. He’s in a t-shirt and shorts, silver hair sticking up in the back like he’d been furiously scratching at his scalp.
“The fuck do you want, Jun?” Dylan growls, but there’s no real venom in it. He’s annoyed, definitely, but he sounds tired more than anything.
“I, uh…” Good question. “Are you okay?”
Dylan shoves a pair of jeans off the bed. “What does it look like?”
Honestly, Jun isn’t even sure. He thought he knew what nesting looked like, but Dylan isn’t exactly your average omega. Far from it.
He’s seen nests, obviously, though he hasn’t been invited into many. Nano’s is the polar opposite to whatever is going on here. His is colourful, organized, appropriately cushioned, and every MARS member has blanket permission to enter the space. Jun can say from personal experience that it is a delightful place to nap.
He didn’t know Dylan could even nest at all.
“Looks like a war zone, really,” Jun says, latching onto their typical back and forth to distract himself from the fact that regardless of the chaos, it smells…kinda good in here. Like baked apples.
It’s actually not that different from how Dylan normally smells. Just heightened. Warmer. Jun likes it, but he’s never told anybody that, least of all Dylan. He has a hard enough time admitting it to himself.
“Funny,” Dylan retorts, deadpan. “Really funny. Anything else? Or is the entire point of your presence to piss me off?”
Jun rolls his eyes, which isn’t a fair response seeing as how he’s the one encroaching on Dylan’s space. But Jun can’t say he’s ever been normal around Dylan.
He steps back an inch from the doorway. “Sorry for being concerned,” he huffs, ignoring the twinge in his chest and that niggle in the back of his head that says stay. “I'm grabbing something. I’ll get out of your hair.”
He turns, grabbing the door handle to close it behind him. Then Dylan speaks.
“Wait.”
Jun stops, his pulse jumping. He doesn’t look back, but he doesn’t move to leave.
“Come here.”
Slowly, Jun twists until he can see the omega out of the corner of his eye, and carefully he inches his way back into the room. He leaves his hand on the door, ready to bolt if need be, though he doesn't know what it is he’d be running from.
Dylan stares at him for a beat, like he’s sizing Jun up for something. He has no idea.
Dylan speaks again, impatiently. “Come. Here,” he demands, emphasizing with a gesture to the bed.
“In the—?” Jun trails off, refusing to misunderstand what is being asked of him. He shuffles to the edge of the mattress, but not any closer until Dylan explicitly tells him.
“No, under it,” Dylan scoffs. “Get in the nest, Jun.”
Alright. No misinterpreting that request. Jun nods, going to sit cross-legged by the headboard while simultaneously trying not to disturb anything that Dylan might have placed deliberately. “Is that what this is?” Jun tries for a light-hearted tease to hide the fact that this feels weirdly fragile to him. Like he’s being allowed to touch a feral cat for the first time.
“Shut up,” Dylan mutters, pulling a shirt out of nowhere and folding it into his lap. “It’s—I’m trying.”
Oh. Is that what has him so upset? “Have you never made one before?” he asks.
Dylan scrunches up the fabric in his hands, and upon closer inspection, Jun notices that it’s actually one of Pepper’s shirts. He blinks at it, then takes a quick glance around the bed, noting that it isn’t all Dylan’s clothes, but some of the members’ too, as if Dylan went into each of their rooms and dug around for things to add.
With one notable exception.
And it’s fine. Jun isn’t bothered by that one bit. Why would he be? It’s not like they’ve been working together for years in the same group or anything. It’s not like they’re friends. Jun’s only been welcomed in because he happened to be there and Dylan clearly needs some support. He’s convenient. Plus, why would he want Dylan to go through his things just for the comfort of his scent? Obviously he doesn’t need it.
Jun wonders if the others know that their aloof and adorably grumpy friend hoards their things for his nest, or if Dylan returns it all before anyone notices.
He wonders if they know and never said anything to him about it.
Jun doesn’t realize his fingers are twisting in the sheets under him until his knuckles begin to ache from the strain. He relaxes his hands, tucking them under his legs.
Dylan doesn’t seem to notice. “I have,” he grumbles, and Jun needs a second to remember what they were talking about. “I don’t always. It’s not like they’re any good.”
“What’s a ‘good’ nest?” Jun murmurs offhandedly, distracted by the subtle pout of Dylan’s lips. It’s cute.
Dylan shrugs. “One that feels right?” he says.
Jun hums, thoughtful. He knows some omegas are territorial over their nests, often needing them arranged in a way that’s specific to them until they can allow anyone else near it. He doesn’t know if it’s surprising that Dylan doesn’t appear to be like that, given how protective he is over his things on a day to day basis. Jun made the mistake of touching Dylan’s notebook on the table once.
Once.
“Helpful,” he muses. His eyes lock on a speck of blue fabric poking out from underneath the pillow closest to Dylan. Jun squints at it. “Anything I can do?”
“Just—” Dylan isn’t looking at him, suddenly preoccupied with a dent in his wall of clothes, “—sit there.”
Ooookay. Sitting is certainly one of the least offensive things he can do. He slides down and leans into a pillow, settling in for what he assumes to be a long afternoon—or at least until Dylan gets sick of his presence.
Jun’s never been good at being still though, so he lets his eyes wander, taking in his surroundings like they could have possibly changed in the last ten minutes. He always comes back to Dylan though, watching him pick up swaths of fabric and inspect them, sometimes pressing them to his cheek or neck. It looks almost methodical, and Jun feels a strange sense of wonderment witnessing it.
Another thought crosses his mind, and Jun digs his phone out of his pocket, opening up their group chat and firing off a quick text. Dylan’s phone vibrates distantly somewhere, but the omega ignores it.
[Jun]
Do we have any of those cooling patches?
[Pepper]
In the bathroom cabinet I think.
Why?
[Nano]
omg you're alive
yeah what Pepper said
[Nano]
wait are you still at the house??
[Jun]
Irrelevant
[Nano]
no actually it’s very much relevant
you're not coming back here, are you?
[Jun]
I will!
[Nano]
no no
i'm telling you
you're not coming back
Before he can question what the hell he means by that, Nano proceeds to send a string of emojis that he knows Jun has no time or energy to decipher. Pepper just sends a couple of question marks.
Jun knows he’s going to get grilled for this later, but he’d rather worry about that at a more convenient time.
He sits up, swinging his legs out of the nest to stand. Dylan’s head snaps over to him at the abrupt movement, making Jun pause for a beat before he smiles. “I’ll be back,” he assures him, and the omega tilts his head, then nods once. Succinct.
With that, Jun heads straight to the kitchen, trying to remember the last time any of them went shopping.
He rounds up a couple of water bottles, some snacks he digs out of the pantry, and the aforementioned cooling patches he did indeed find shoved into a drawer in the bathroom. He also grabs an energy drink from the fridge; one of the fruity flavoured ones that he sees Dylan hoard with alarming frequency.
Dylan’s curled up in the bed when he returns, face shoved partially into the pillow Jun was leaning on earlier. He’s not breathing too deeply, so Jun assumes he’s just dozing as he sets his haul down on the desk.
His phone lights up with a notification. It’s the group chat again.
[Thame]
Po says “finally!”
I don't know what that means
Of course he doesn’t. Jun leaves him on read, putting his phone face down on the desk.
“Dylan,” he calls softly, sliding a patch out of its package. He sits on the edge of the bed, reaching out to feel the omega’s forehead. His face was getting increasingly flushed in the time Jun’s been there, so he must be feeling feverish at this point.
Despite the fact Jun had been making no effort to be quiet, Dylan still startles at the touch. His eyes open, a little glassy, blinking rapidly awake. “Hm?”
Jun tries not to smile, but it’s difficult. Dylan just looks too much like a sleepy kitten when he first wakes; confused, dazed, usually hungry. He shakes his head, breathing out a fond sigh as pushes Dylan's hair back with one hand and slips the patch over his forehead with the other. “How do you feel?”
Dylan reaches up to touch the strip along his head, looks at his hand, then looks back at Jun in mild disbelief. “You’re still here?” he asks, though it comes out mumbled and groggy.
“I said I’d be back,” Jun replies, grabbing a water bottle next and twisting the cap off before handing it to him. Dylan takes it, albeit suspiciously.
“I thought you were…” he stops himself, then gives his head a shake like he’s trying to physically rid himself of the haze. “Whatever.”
Jun hums, letting Dylan figure out his own thoughts as he watches him down half the bottle in a few gulps. He takes a glance at the rest of the nest and sees that it’s maybe slightly more organized than it was, but it’s hard to tell. Truthfully the chaos of it all is kind of endearing. Very Dylan.
“Nice nest,” he muses, smoothing a hand over the wrinkled sheets when his gaze catches on something.
“Shut up,” Dylan says, too quickly. An automatic response. He turns away from Jun to put the bottle on the side table, but Jun’s attention is already diverted back to the blue fabric he’d spotted earlier. It’s more exposed now, the pillows having been pushed around it.
He reaches for it, dying to know why it’s so damn familiar. And when he pulls it out, the answer presents itself.
“Is this mine?” he asks.
Jun has heard Dylan make all kinds of sounds before, usually in varying levels of annoyance or frustration. But the snarl that rips out of his chest right then scares Jun into releasing the sweater when it’s all but torn from his hands.
It appears to freak out Dylan too, as if he hadn’t meant to do it at all. He holds Jun’s cardigan to his chest, eyes wide. The redness in his cheeks has spread down his neck, whether from his heat or embarrassment, Jun doesn’t know.
Jun’s at a loss for words, so Dylan manages to shake himself out of it first. He doesn’t loosen his grip. “How would I know? You leave your shit lying around all the time,” he snaps.
And Jun might have believed that—that it was an article of clothing that Dylan, in a nesting frenzy, may have simply found somewhere and grabbed without thought. He’d believe that.
Except for the fact that Jun vividly remembers looking for that exact cardigan weeks ago, seeing as it’s one of his favourites.
Apparently it’s one of Dylan’s favourites, too.
Jun, still a little shaken from nearly having his arm ripped off, slowly moves his fingers to the buttons on the sweater he’s currently wearing. Dylan watches his movements curiously as he slips it off his shoulders and holds it out in front of him.
“I’ve been wearing it all day,” he explains when Dylan doesn’t immediately take it. “Scent’s stronger.”
When Dylan still doesn’t move, Jun just tosses it at his head.
That kicks him into gear. Dylan shakes it off so it falls into his lap, and Jun fully expects him to either throw it back at him, or tuck it under the pillows like he did with the other one.
What Jun didn't anticipate was Dylan slipping it on over his shoulders instead. He makes direct eye contact with Jun while he does it, an unreadable expression on his face. It feels like a challenge.
Jun’s brain short-circuits, and for a minute he forgets how to breathe entirely.
He's not gonna lie and say that doesn't do anything for him. Dylan’s gorgeous. He's hours away from going fully into heat, and he's wearing Jun’s clothes.
Jun is a human being but it's times like this that serve as an excellent reminder that he is, unfortunately, still an alpha.
“I, uh…” Jun coughs, tearing his eyes away from the sight of his cardigan resting over the soft expanse of Dylan's thighs. “I should. Go.”
And he tries. He really does. When he attempts to stand, a hand wraps around his arm and yanks him down onto the bed.
Jun falls flat, grunting softly when Dylan's body weight settles on top of him to prevent him from getting up again.
“Really?” Dylan says, his face inches from Jun's. “You're treating me like fucking glass. Cut it out.”
“I'm trying to—” Jun sighs, shutting his eyes like he's exasperated but really he's just trying to calm his body down. God, where the fuck does he put his hands? “I don't want to do anything you don't want.”
“Doing things I don't like is your entire personality,” Dylan intones.
“Yeah, when it's funny.” He gives up and just lets his arms lay at his sides. “This is a very different situation.”
Dylan just blinks at him, unimpressed. “Would you do anything I didn't want?”
“No,” Jun replies with emphasis and without hesitation.
“Good.” Dylan sits up. “Then I don't want you to leave.”
Jun lets that process. It takes him a second, but once it hits that he just got played, he covers his face with his hands and groans loudly into his palms. “You’re a menace.”
“Cry about it.”
It comes out sarcastic as always, but when Jun tilts his head down to get a look at Dylan’s face, the omega is staring back at him with a smug grin. Jun feels himself smiling back. What else can he do? It’s not like he actually wants to leave either.
He can’t give in that easily though. Gotta be dramatic about it first. Jun lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine,” he says, as if this is the most inconvenient thing to happen to him. “Guess I got nothing better to do.”
Dylan snorts. “No. You don’t,” he agrees, taking Jun by surprise, and follows it up by readjusting his position so he’s laying on Jun rather than sitting, tucking his face right into the crook of his neck. “Now stop talking.”
Jun tries not to be delighted by this development. He fails miserably. “Oh, I’m your personal pillow now, too?” he asks.
“Pillows don’t talk,” Dylan points out, mumbling. Jun shivers at the warmth from his breath fanning over his skin. With unsure movements, he gingerly settles his hands over Dylan’s back, smoothing down the sweater he’s pretty sure he’s never getting back.
He physically feels Dylan relax against him, rubbing his cheek over Jun's shoulder and neck before settling, his breathing evening out as he begins to doze once more.
He supposes there really are worse places he could be, and with much worse people. Taking a nap with one of his band members that also happens to be an omega probably doesn’t even make the list of top 10 dumbest things he’s done.
Having a crush on said omega might be up there though.
He came to terms with it months ago. After Po and Thame got together, Jun had to force himself to move on, and he did that with distraction.
If he wasn't trying to find work to drown himself in, he surrounded himself with people as much as possible.
But being an idol came with drawbacks. He could go out to a club and make friends, but someone would inevitably recognize him. He could hang out more with his members, but they often had their own schedules and, of course, their own partners.
A lot of the time Jun wound up staying in the house. The couch became his sanctuary. His laptop was his best friend some nights.
He didn't realize how much of a homebody Dylan was until Jun became one himself. The first time Dylan came out of his room and found Jun sitting in the common area alone, he'd stared at him for a solid minute until Jun told him to "just take a picture, it'll last longer."
Not long after that, Dylan began coming out of his room more and more. It started out as casual trips to the kitchen, then he'd come out just to sit on the other end of the couch a couple times a week for an hour or two.
Then one night Dylan walked out of the kitchen, threw a bag of popcorn at Jun, and they've been coexisting—Jun with his laptop and Dylan with his notebooks and headphones—sharing snacks, and throwing occasional banter back and forth ever since.
Aside from Thame, it was the most comfortable Jun had been with anybody in a long time.
Weeks passed like that; of the two of them orbiting each other, being in the other's space, hanging out in the loosest definition. But they never talked about it. It just became some unspoken thing.
The idea that he might like Dylan didn't scare him as much as he thought it would. It was a thought that passed through his mind somewhere between the third and fifth time he caught himself watching Dylan instead of paying attention to literally anything else.
The thing about it was that it didn't feel as if it came out of nowhere. It felt like it had been growing for a while, nagging persistently at him. The more time they spent together, the more time Jun had to think about all the things that made Dylan likable in the first place.
Dylan has always been rough on the outside. He's quick to anger, generally wants to be left alone, always willing to throw a punch, and rarely shows affection unless he's goaded into it.
Despite his temper though, he isn't mean. He doesn't go out of his way to hurt anyone's feelings, and if he does then he has no problem apologizing—he just might sulk about it first. Really, the only person he actively wants to fight with is Jun.
He shows love quietly. It's in the way he'll give Nano his jacket when it's cold out without him saying a word.
When Thame is struggling with lyrics, Dylan will sit with him so they can work it out together.
Sometimes Pepper panics about silly things, like a good anniversary gift for Gam, and Dylan will be absolutely no help but he will stay put while Pepper talks it out in front of him.
It's also when he seeks his members out in his most vulnerable moments, or rather hoards their things, because he loves them and finds comfort in their presence but he can't always say it.
So maybe Dylan has grown on Jun.
Maybe their grumpiest member saw Jun sitting alone several times a week and decided that, even if they don't speak, he needed to keep him company. Maybe Jun became a little smitten.
Maybe he's alright with that.
Jun must have fallen asleep at some point because he opens his eyes to the sun setting in the window, shining red and orange off the silver head of hair still resting on his chest.
Dylan doesn't stir even when Jun shifts to stretch his arms out. One of them fell asleep holding the omega to him.
Speaking of, Jun lifts a hand to feel Dylan's forehead. The cooling patch he'd put there earlier has definitely worn off by now, and Dylan is beginning to burn up with intensity. Sweat is already beading at his temples, making his hair stick to his skin.
He really doesn't want to wake him, but he's still wearing Jun's cardigan and he'll be damned if Dylan overheats on his watch.
Jun tries to be gentle as he shifts out from under him, laying Dylan down on the sheets and attempting to slide an arm out of the sleeve.
Immediately the omega grumbles at him and starts rolling away.
“Don't complain,” Jun scolds quietly, keeping hold of the sweater so he can't get far. “You're gonna overheat.”
Dylan doesn't even open his eyes, just becomes a dead-weight for Jun to maneuver.
“Why did you put the damn thing on anyway?” Jun mutters, mostly to himself, then sighs in relief when he successfully wrangles one arm from the sleeve.
For a second there's silence, and then he hears murmuring, muffled where Dylan has pushed his face into the bed.
Jun raises an eyebrow. “Wanna try that again?” he says.
Dylan turns his head, eyes half-open and staring at the wall. “Liked how you looked at me,” he says.
Well, that’s…honest. And he shouldn’t ask. He should be afraid of the answer, but—“How did I look at you?”
He finally manages to wrestle the sweater off, with no help from Dylan, and the omega promptly rolls onto his stomach.
His shirt rides up with the change in position, giving Jun a good eyeful of skin; everything from the underside of his ribs, the curve of his waist, the slight arch of his lower back, and one singular freckle just peeking out of the waistband of his shorts.
For a brief, startling moment, Jun gets the insane urge to bite into it that he has to rein in very quickly.
It’s when his gaze trails back up to Dylan’s face that he realizes he was being observed the whole time. Dylan watches him from the crook of his elbow, all too knowing.
“Like that,” Dylan replies.
Jun prays that sheer willpower alone will allow him to force the heat from creeping up on his face. “You’re doing this on purpose,” he accuses.
Dylan raises both eyebrows at him. “Yeah,” he admits casually, languid in the way he turns over onto his back and stretches himself out along the sheets. Jun finds a very interesting spot on the headboard. “Is it working?”
That’s the thing he can’t wrap his head around. First, yes, it is working, but Jun is having trouble accepting that this is something Dylan actually wants, and not just because he's in heat. There would be no coming back from it, emotionally or physically. Jun knows himself well enough that the second he gives in, he’ll be ruined for anybody else. He’ll want to ruin Dylan for anyone else.
“I’m not fucking you,” Jun says firmly. “I can help take the edge off, but I’m not fucking you.”
Dylan looks borderline offended by that, sitting up with narrowed eyes. “Why the fuck not?”
"Because you're not really in the mindset to make that decision?"
Dylan scoffs, the corner of his lip turning up in a sneer. "What, you think I'd fuck anybody like this?" he says. "Just because you’ll stick your dick into any available hole doesn't mean we all have the same desire."
Part of Jun wants to argue that he wouldn't just "stick it in", but he doesn't imagine that it'd be well received. It's also a little hard to think of a good comeback when the object of your affection expresses a desire for you to fuck him through his heat.
"You don't?" he tries to joke, except it comes out breathless.
“Jun,” Dylan growls, putting a hand to Jun’s chest. “I want you to. You.” He punctuates the end of his sentence by shoving him.
Jun sways back, his fingers coming up to wrap around Dylan’s wrist, keeping it right where it is against his chest. “Why?”
Because the answer might break him.
Or it might do the exact opposite.
Dylan’s eyes roam over his face, searching. The hand Jun holds balls up into a fist. “Because for some godawful reason, I fucking like you.”
His brain stalls for half a moment, then his body moves on autopilot, and Jun releases Dylan’s wrist to grab onto his calf instead. He yanks his leg forward, causing Dylan to lose balance and ultimately fall flat onto his back with a yelp.
Jun’s on him before he can blink, straddling his hips, staring down at the omega with an intensity he didn’t even know he was capable of but that he feels all the way down to his bones.
“You like me?” he asks. He needs to be sure. Needs to know that all his pathetic pining hasn't been for nothing.
Dylan had tensed during the brief scuffle, his arms coming up between their bodies, but once it registers that Jun isn’t attacking him, he goes from keeping Jun at bay to slowly reaching up and looping them around his neck. “You’re an idiot,” he tells him.
Those words used to always come laced with some level of contempt. Now they sound…gentle. Almost fond.
And, frankly, just as good of a confirmation as anything else.
“Yeah,” Jun breathes, fingertips tracing the curve of Dylan’s cheekbone. “I am.”
Dylan’s eyes linger on Jun’s mouth, his hold around him tightening. “You gonna kiss me?” Dylan asks, their lips already a hairsbreadth apart.
Jun grins. “Yeah,” he says. “I am.”
“Fucking finally—”
Jun promptly shuts him up by taking his chin between his fingers and slotting their lips together.
Dylan’s response is instant. He arches up into Jun, arms becoming a chain around his neck, pulling him in closer until there isn’t a single inch of space between them.
There also isn’t a single thought in Jun’s head aside from questioning how they haven’t done this sooner.
He revels in the noises Dylan makes when his tongue teases at the seam of his lips, coaxing his mouth open, swallowing down the moans.
Jun skims his hands over Dylan’s ribs, feeling the omega shiver as his fingertips slip under the hem of his shirt, pushing it up and off in one smooth motion, breaking their kiss momentarily in order to do so.
It’s a process that takes only a handful of seconds, but it gives Jun a better view of the man underneath him.
One that leaves him dumbstruck.
The first word that pops into his head is pretty. But that isn't strong enough to convey the picture Dylan makes, and wouldn't do him justice anyway.
His hair is a mess among the sheets, his lips are swollen and bitten, and as Jun stares, Dylan wets them with the tip of his tongue, his skin is flushed pink from his cheeks to his collarbones, and his eyes—
Fuck, those eyes.
They've always been Jun's favourite. Whether he's angry, annoyed, tired, or fucking elated, they're the most honest part of him. They're also just the most gorgeous eyes Jun has seen.
Especially when he's working. When Dylan concentrates on his music, there's an openness and determination there that he doesn't show often. More than once Jun has wondered what it would feel like to have that much focus trained on him instead.
He thinks this is it. Dylan stares back at him, and while he is dazed and gradually losing himself to his heat, there's still an intensity behind the want and desire. An awareness. He's choosing Jun.
Trusting him.
Jun reaches out and lets a thumb drag across Dylan's bottom lip. They part at the contact, allowing shallow breaths to fan over his hand. Dylan closes his teeth over the first knuckle, not biting, but holding him there, waiting.
“First thing’s first, I guess,” Jun says, reclaiming his hand to hook his fingers into the waistband of Dylan’s shorts, wiggling his body downward and pulling them with him until every inch of Dylan is completely exposed, his cock hard against his stomach, and slick shining between his thighs.
He could smell it before, but it's the sight that makes Jun’s mouth water and his gums start aching with the need to bite something. The closest thing would be Dylan’s leg, so Jun hikes one of them up onto his shoulder, dragging the tip of his tongue along the skin until he reaches the innermost part of Dylan’s thigh.
When he digs his teeth in, Dylan hisses, his hand flying to the top of Jun’s head, but he doesn’t push him away, just tugs at the roots until it throbs.
It wasn’t a hard bite, but Jun still soothes over the mark with his tongue. Dylan’s grip loosens some, and Jun is free to lean further in, ghosting his mouth over a hip bone, centimeters away from the hard line of Dylan’s dick. He hears a whine and Dylan’s hips jerk in an effort to get Jun's mouth where he wants it.
“Jun,” Dylan says, a mix of annoyed and desperate. Jun bites back a grin, lifting himself up with a hand on either side of Dylan’s waist.
“Say please,” he says, even though he wants to. He wants to give Dylan whatever he needs without him having to ask. He just wants so badly that it makes him stupid.
Dylan growls at him, his jaw working. Maybe it’s meant to be a threat, but it only sends a wave of heat through him. “Fuck you,” he bites out through gritted teeth. “I’ll do it myself.”
He goes to take his own dick in hand, but Jun is quick to wrap his fingers around Dylan’s wrist and pin it to the bed. “No,” he says, tone growing serious. Because it’s suddenly crucial to him that he be the one to do it. To bring him that relief.
Jun uses his free hand to push a damp strand of hair off Dylan’s forehead. He leans in, pressing the lightest kiss to the omega’s lips. “I got you,” he tells him, and watches Dylan’s eyes widen with the declaration.
Releasing his arm, Jun doesn’t take his eyes off Dylan’s face as he slides two fingers through the copious amounts of slick building between his legs. He doesn't push them in yet, but Dylan’s breath hitches.
“Fuck,” Jun breathes. “Do you always get this wet?”
Dylan has put both hands on Jun’s shoulders, his nails most definitely making indents in the skin. He doesn’t answer, but he gives Jun a look like he wants to curse him out for asking him anything.
Jun doesn’t expect a response anyway. Having Dylan like this, under him, naked and panting, has made any rational thought almost impossible. He thinks he'd come if he got his dick anywhere near Dylan right now, and that'd just be embarrassing.
It’s a good thing he doesn’t need it yet. He smirks at Dylan in a way he knows drives the omega crazy and slides his fingers into that slick heat, curling them inside as he lowers his head to take Dylan’s cock in his mouth at the same time.
Above him, Dylan chokes on air, immediately clenching around the intrusion, hips bucking up so suddenly that Jun needs his free arm to pin them down so he doesn’t choke. Although that might not be a bad way to go.
“Jun,” Dylan whines, tugging at his hair hard enough that Jun’s dick throbs in the confines of his pants. “Gonna make me come—”
Jun just hums, pulling off in a slow, deliberate slide, dragging his tongue over the head. “That’s the point,” he informs him, pulling his fingers out only to push them back in harder.
Dylan throws his head back. “No, I want—” He cuts himself off with a sharp moan, bearing down on Jun’s fingers like he’s trying to fuck himself on them. “—want you to fuck me.”
Watching the twitchy, desperate way that Dylan moves, Jun would love nothing more than the same thing. He wants to see what it looks like when his fingers are replaced with his cock, disappearing into the wet, needy heat of the omega’s body.
“I will,” he says, wrapping his hand around Dylan’s straining erection and starts stroking it in time with the thrusting of his fingers, slick dripping off of his knuckles. “After this.”
Jun is under no illusion that the speed in which Dylan comes has anything to do with his skills in bed, but he’d like to think that it at least helped a little.
It takes minutes. The longer Jun touches him, the more frantic Dylan gets. His thighs shake, he says Jun’s name in a way that will be burned into his memory forever, and when his tongue comes back to lick a stripe up the shaft, Dylan lets out a low groan, coming all over himself and Jun’s hands.
It’s a mess. Jun only stops moving when Dylan does, gentling him through his orgasm until he goes limp. Then he slowly removes his fingers, strings of slick dripping onto the sheets.
Jun gives in to the impulse to lick them clean, making sure the omega sees him as he tastes him on his skin. He’s not surprised to find out that Dylan tastes just as good as he smells. Will probably be even better when Jun gets his mouth back on him.
But this isn’t about what Jun wants right now. It’s about what Dylan needs. And Jun is still far too clothed for that.
His shirt joins the pillows by Dylan’s head and reaches for his pants next. Dylan squirms watching him, impatient as ever, and he shows it by spreading his legs a little wider in anticipation as Jun strips his underwear off.
He breathes a sigh at the relief that gives him. His cock is stiff against his belly, almost painful. Jun strokes himself a few times to take some of the edge off as Dylan eyes him intently, and Jun can see him clench down around nothing.
“Condoms?” he asks. Dylan shakes his head, which gives Jun pause. He thinks he might have some in his room—and if he doesn’t then Thame definitely does—but that would mean putting this on hold and leaving the nest, which he doesn’t feel particularly fond of doing right now.
A soft growl rumbles in his chest, frustrated. “Anything?” he tries, since he’s the only one of them still capable of being responsible.
Then again, it would've been more responsible to have had this conversation about thirty minutes ago.
“Why?” Dylan pants, pulling his knees up to squeeze Jun’s hips. “Don’t wanna breed me?”
Jun has to physically bite his tongue, feeling his dick twitch and a bead of precome drip down the shaft. He grabs Dylan by the waist and pulls their hips flush, cocks rubbing up against each other when Jun leans over because Dylan’s erection never really flagged despite coming.
“I wanna be safe,” he responds, reaching down to stroke them together.
Dylan whines, trying to grind against Jun but lacking the coordination to get the alpha inside him. “I’m—” He forces out a breath, clearly struggling to form a coherent sentence. “Pill. On the pill.”
Thank fucking god. “You sure?” Jun asks even though he’s already guiding the head of his cock downward. It takes every ounce of self control not to just thrust the entire length inside, to feel Dylan warm and tight around him.
“Mm-hm,” Dylan hums, and you know what? That’s good enough for him.
Jun grips one of Dylan's legs under the knee, settling it into the crook of his elbow. "Relax for me, baby," he murmurs, the tip of his cock sinking in with minimal resistance.
There's a tense moment where neither of them move.
"Please," Dylan says, so quiet that Jun thinks he imagined it for a second. It's probably the most polite that Jun's ever heard him.
He pushes in another inch, and then another, gradual and deliberate, keeping his gaze locked on Dylan's face for any sign of discomfort or pain. But the omega takes him easily, enveloping Jun so beautifully that he can't help the moan he lets out when he works the rest of his length in.
Jun's had sex before, of course. A pretty average amount for a young alpha; enough to know what he likes. He can't say any of it has felt quite like this, being inside of Dylan for the first time. Some nights, late into the evening, he's fantasized about it.
Not even his dreams come close to reality.
"Shit," Jun mutters, pulling out an inch or two before thrusting back in. "Fuck, you're perfect."
Dylan's lips part like he’s about to speak, but seems to quickly give up on the idea and reaches his arms out instead.
It takes Jun far too long to realize what he's asking for, but once it clicks, he's leaning in without hesitation, letting Dylan's leg drop in order to slide his arms around him, bundling him up against his chest, the change in angle allowing Jun to press in even deeper.
In turn, Dylan folds his arms around Jun's neck, effectively trapping Jun against him, making these small, punched out moans every time the alpha snaps his hips into him. Jun just presses his lips to Dylan's throat, flicking his tongue out to taste the salt on his skin, breathing him in.
Jun makes an encouraging noise into his neck when Dylan starts moving his hips to match Jun's movements. It's erratic and uncoordinated, like he can't decide between fucking himself or rutting his straining dick against Jun's stomach.
"Poor thing," Jun teases, smiling when Dylan growls at him. "Need help?"
Dylan grits his teeth, then reels Jun in with unexpected force, smashing their mouths together again with very little finesse. Their teeth clack together uncomfortably, and Jun is too stunned to react right away, earning him a sharp sting as Dylan digs his teeth into his bottom lip.
Jun hisses, the taste of copper blooming on his tongue, and rears back to look Dylan in his self-satisfied face.
The alpha decides that he doesn't look wrecked enough.
"I told you," Jun reminds him, getting his hand between them to take hold of Dylan's dick, "I've got you."
He punctuates that statement by driving into the omega so hard that the bed itself thumps against the wall, the motion aiding in the push of Dylan's cock into his fist. It instantly melts away the smug expression, pleasure taking over between one heartbeat and the next.
Jun's knot has begun to swell already, but he tries to keep it to himself a little bit longer even as it catches the edges of Dylan's entrance.
That does something for Dylan, evident when his whole body shudders, his head falling back, baring more of his neck for Jun to obsessively lavish attention on. He can't stop. Jun never falters, determined to make him feel good, cupping the back of Dylan's head as he digs his teeth into the crook of his neck.
Then Dylan tenses up around Jun in several places, coming undone with a drawn-out whimper.
White streaks both of their abdomens, and slick soaks the sheets as well as both of their thighs. It almost sends Jun over the edge on its own. He drops a hand and squeezes the base of his own cock so he doesn't immediately follow suit.
The rapid rise and fall of Dylan's chest is the only indication that he's still conscious. Jun doesn't pull out, but he stops moving for both of their sakes'; so Dylan has a chance to recover and to keep Jun from losing it.
He runs a light hand up and down Dylan's side, the muscles jumping under his touch.
"Still with me?" Jun asks.
Dylan's head lolls to the side, humming noncommittally.
"Can I turn you over?" Because if Jun does get to knot him, he wants it to be in a comfortable position.
Dylan nods, but when Jun tries to do so, he finds himself incapable with the sudden vice grip that Dylan's legs have on him, a low rumble coming from his chest.
Jun doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. "I have to pull out, Dylan."
He doesn't budge, staring at Jun like it's his fault he needs to be minorly inconvenienced. It's a look he's familiar with.
So if logic and reason aren't going to work, then Jun has to switch tactics.
Now, Jun may not be in rut himself, but with the heat and the hormones and the changing scents and Dylan, he cannot be blamed if he starts feeling just a tiny bit feral.
Jun was letting Dylan control the pace, which he will continue to do, but something snaps between them. He hooks his hands under Dylan's knees and unlatches his legs from his waist, then uses the hold he has to flip him on his stomach.
Dylan emits a startled noise, but he doesn't try to get up from the position Jun has put him in. Jun doesn't jump him like he wants to, either. Instead he takes the opportunity to admire him from this angle, gliding his fingers along the inside of Dylan's leg, captivated by the way Dylan instinctively spreads his thighs wider.
The omega tries to get his knees underneath himself, but his legs slip on the sheets. "Jun," Dylan pants, just on the edge of pleading.
Hearing his name nearly makes Jun purr. Maybe Dylan's not far enough into his heat yet to start calling him 'alpha' like some do, or maybe he's just not the type, but the fact that he still recognizes Jun enough to call out to him at all makes something warm and giddy unfurl in his chest.
"I'm here," he assures him, hands now on Dylan's hips to help him up. Two orgasms down and Jun can see how he still keeps dripping for it. "Want me to fill you up, baby?"
Jun never gives a second thought to the pet names. They feel natural, spilling out of him with nothing but sincerity. Dylan hasn't given any sign that he minds, if he's registering them at all.
There's no teasing this time, though Jun does bend down and run the flat of his tongue over Dylan's entrance, unable to resist the temptation when it's right in front of him.
He pushes the tip of his tongue in and that pulls a staggered groan out of Dylan. "Want it," he says, a delayed response to Jun's question, and he spreads his knees wider, his back forming a slight arch.
And since Jun isn't a monster, he can't deny either of them any longer. He straightens up with his hands on Dylan's waist, and when Jun slides back in, he does it all in one go.
He knows right off the bat that he's not going to last much longer.
Dylan clutches at the sheets, his moans weak and tired. He's likely oversensitive but too far gone to care.
It takes no time at all for Jun to get his knot in him. He rests a hand at the base of Dylan's spine, the bulge at the base of his dick pressing insistently against him with every roll of his hips, and the omega pushes back, until it finally pops in and sticks.
Jun comes like that; hard and deep inside Dylan with the seal of his knot binding them together, and a purely satisfied growl escaping him. He has to bite his own bicep so he doesn't go biting Dylan instead. Even if he really, really wants to.
Dylan's legs give out right then. Jun catches him with an arm around his chest, gently lowering them both so they can lay plastered together on their sides. There's a small damp spot where Dylan must have bit into the sheets.
"Good?" Jun asks, a whisper even after they've caught their breath.
He's met with a pause, and Jun thinks maybe Dylan fell asleep. But after a minute he responds.
"Full," Dylan sighs, and it sounds so...
Content.
He completely relaxes in Jun's embrace, his hands coming to grasp the alpha's arms and pull them around him tighter.
It settles something in Jun's chest. An instinct to provide, to protect.
It's something he does all the time for his members, but this goes deeper. There's a difference between helping your friends and helping your omega, and it's distinct enough that it soothes that primal part in a way that your average, every day niceties can't.
Dylan isn't his omega, though. Or he wasn't. Jun is still on the fence about that.
But if he is sure of one thing, it's that Jun is Dylan's alpha. Has been for a while. Probably much longer than he'd like to admit.
Jun doesn't know how long they lie there while he spirals, but he only falls asleep once he convinces himself that worrying about it right now won't help anything.
He's gonna get Dylan through his heat first, and then they can figure it out from there.
It's dark the next time Jun wakes. They must have slept well into the evening, Jun's knot eventually slipping free enough that Dylan has turned over and burrowed his face into Jun's chest.
He looks so peaceful when he sleeps that Jun doesn't want to risk waking him by moving. It feels like a crime. He turns his head to check for his phone before remembering that he'd left it on Dylan's desk across the room, and he rubs a hand over his face with exasperation. Figures.
Jun tries to carefully extract himself from Dylan's body, not even daring to breathe until he's successfully standing up from the bed without incident. He doesn't want to leave Dylan, but he's burning up and Jun needs to somewhat clean before the omega demands his attention again.
He doesn't bother putting clothes on knowing he's going to take them off again later. Nobody else would dare come home right now anyway.
His phone has several notifications from the group chat and a few individual ones from Thame. A cursory glance shows that it's mostly all work related with throwaway comments from Nano going on about "the lovebirds at home".
Jun snorts.
[Jun]
You know I'm still here right?
[Nano]
no you're not
you're preoccupied <3
Jun can't even say that he's wrong. Preoccupied might be an understatement, actually.
He locks the screen just after he checks the time. They were out for a few hours, so it's barely past midnight. He wonders how Dylan's heats are normally, what he's like the longer it goes on. Jun supposes he's going to find out.
With one more glance at Dylan's sleeping form, Jun makes his way to the nearest bathroom, moving on autopilot as he starts to fill the tub with lukewarm water. It's not his preference but they don't need Dylan's body temperature any higher than it already is.
He considers the selection of bottles they have, wondering if adding bubbles to the bath would be a fun idea or if too many smells would bother Dylan. Jun's nose gets a lot more sensitive when he's in rut, so maybe he'll hold off on the more perfume-y concoctions.
When the bath is adequately filled, Jun shuts the water off and goes to fetch his little prince.
Dylan's blinking his eyes open when he steps back into the room, like he'd sense Jun's arrival. Jun doesn't flinch at the look Dylan gives him, confident now that he's not going to be chased out. He stands by the edge of the nest, watching as Dylan eyes him up and down, stopping at Jun's dick, already half-hard just from their combined scents in the air. Evidence of what they've done—what they'll keep on doing.
Dylan's breath quickens, already gearing up for another round. And as much as Jun would love that, other needs take priority first. Like bathing and food.
"Remember when I said I wouldn't do anything you didn't want?" Jun asks a sleepy Dylan, who goes from eating Jun with his eyes to staring up at him with mild apprehension.
Jun leans over, putting his palms flat on the mattress. "I don't think you're gonna like this very much," is all the warning he gives before he's scooping Dylan up bridal-style from the bed.
He doesn't know what sound Dylan makes, but it's a loud and indignant one, flailing and nearly slapping Jun in the face for being taken from his nest.
"Somehow I knew you'd be a brat," Jun muses, then winces at the sharp sting in his shoulder as Dylan bites him. "Ow," he hisses, "are we beyond using words now?"
It's rhetorical. So far much of Dylan's communication has consisted of grunting, humming, or one-word responses.
Then Dylan looks at him, and he adds "withering glares" to that list.
He lets Dylan stand on his own once they reach the washroom. "Get in," Jun says, ushering Dylan to step into the bathtub. Dylan does, sulking like a wet kitten all the while.
Once he's actually seated in the water, Jun grabs a washcloth and crouches down next to him, wetting it in the tub. He turns Dylan's face towards him so he can wipe the sweat off his forehead, but he's stopped with a hand on his wrist.
"Not coming in?" Dylan asks softly, giving a light tug.
Their bathtub isn't exactly built to fit two fully grown men, but the way Dylan says it, with those bright, imploring eyes that Jun would literally kill a man for, he's getting into the bath behind the omega within seconds.
He sits with his back to the edge, pulling Dylan against his chest. The water is basically room temperature, but it could certainly be worse. Dylan doesn't seem to notice it, reclining against the alpha and just resting his head on his shoulder.
Jun takes the cloth and begins methodically wiping Dylan down, starting from his collarbone and down each of his arms. Dylan's lashes flutter shut, breathing out a sigh as Jun cleans him off in rhythmic strokes.
He's reeling from the domesticity of it all, but Jun is nothing but overjoyed that this is something he's been allowed to do. It's not only the sex, the heat, but everything else surrounding it. That Dylan is letting him see him at his most vulnerable and then letting him take care of him? Jun could write his own album on that feeling alone.
Suddenly, while he's lost in his thoughts, Jun feels a nudge at his jaw.
Glancing down, Dylan's eyes are still shut, but he's bumping the side of Jun's face with his nose, searching. It makes Jun freeze momentarily, brows furrowing as he tries to use what little brain capacity he still has to figure out what's happening.
Then Dylan nuzzles along the skin under Jun's ear, inhaling deeply, and Jun just fucking melts.
His jaw hurts trying not to smile, so he resumes cleaning, passing the cloth over Dylan's chest, ducking his head a smidge closer so Dylan doesn't have to strain his neck as much.
"What do I smell like?" Jun murmurs after a minute. It feels wrong to speak any louder than a whisper when they're so close, both of them so singularly focused.
Dylan doesn't respond right away, like he's taking time to think about it. "Basil," he says decisively, then adds, "mint."
Jun vaguely recalls someone once describing his scent as "herb-y" but it wasn't quite as specific as that. "And it's…good?"
"Mm."
He preens at that. Jun presses his lips to Dylan's shoulder, dropping the washcloth in favour of wrapping his arms around Dylan's middle, pulling him tighter against him. One of Dylan's hands comes up and he threads his fingers through the hair at the nape of Jun's neck, nails scratching delightfully over the back of his scalp.
It's then that Jun hears it.
A low vibration; delicate, steady. It has Jun's heart rate spiking with several emotions when he recognizes it for what it is.
Tonight will be a memory he cherishes for the rest of his life. The first time he ever heard Dylan purr.
For him.
Yeah. That settles it. Jun's in love.
He tries to remain calm, fearing that if he brings attention to it then Dylan will stop indefinitely and Jun will never have the honour of hearing it again.
"You're so cute," Jun mumbles into Dylan's skin, pressing a line of kisses from his shoulder to his neck. Dylan pushes back against Jun until there's hardly a millimeter of space between them and Jun stifles a groan at the pressure on his rapidly hardening dick.
If he looks under the water, he can see Dylan is hard too. He'd intended on keeping their shared arousal at bay for as long as possible, but it's becoming clear that their brief intermission may be coming to an end soon.
Despite the coolness of the bath water, Dylan is still very warm to the touch. His lips come into contact with Jun's neck, the hand in his hair trying to urge the alpha closer. He shifts restlessly against Jun, causing the water to slosh around.
To help Dylan, he hooks his legs open over Jun's knees. It makes Dylan slide on the bottom of the tub, but Jun keeps him up with an arm around his waist. He slides his free hand down, palm brushing over Dylan's dick as his fingers move between his thighs, feeling around in glancing touches that have Dylan twitching with anticipation.
"Jun," Dylan whines when it gets to be too much.
He sinks two fingers into the slick hole of Dylan's entrance in response. Just like earlier, they slide in with ease, and Dylan inhales sharply.
"How many before we break your fever, you think?" Jun asks. Dylan, practically in Jun's lap now, clutches the sides of the bath tub for leverage, white-knuckled and desperate.
Jun teases a third finger. Dylan's head falls heavy onto Jun's shoulder, hips circling in an effort to take his fingers even deeper. "Jun—" Dylan chokes again, mouthing at Jun's scent gland, tongue licking at the skin. "Please,” he whimpers. "Please, alpha?"
Jun's hips buck forward of their own volition to seek friction against Dylan's back, cursing under his breath. "Fuck, that's not fair," he growls, and he swears he feels Dylan smile against his neck.
So he definitely knows what he's doing. Jun lets out a humourless laugh, because now he's stuck deciding between getting out to fuck Dylan in his nest properly, or take him right there in the tub.
The nest would be more convenient, but with the way Dylan is moving against him, Jun's fingers pumping in and out of him at a leisure pace, he doesn't think they're gonna make it there.
Dylan starts pushing himself up using the rim of the tub as leverage, trying to position his body in an attempt to get Jun inside him. Jun keeps his arm wrapped around Dylan's waist, his other hand taking the base of his cock to hold it steady at the right angle for Dylan to lower himself onto it.
"Sshh," Jun hushes, rubbing his hands over Dylan's thighs in soothing motions as the head just breaches him, and Dylan's groan echoes off the walls. Gravity does the rest of the work for them, Dylan quickly taking the entirety of Jun's length all at once. "There you go," he murmurs once the omega is seated back in his lap.
Being inside of Dylan is the sweetest kind of torture. He has to make a conscious effort not to roll his hips up, lest he flood the bathroom in his enthusiasm.
There's very little room for them like this. Jun can only really move in increments despite their combined efforts. Dylan's arms shake with exertion holding up his own weight, and Jun considers that a personal failing on his part. He's supposed to take care of him. Dylan shouldn't have to put any work in at all.
Jun slips his hands underneath Dylan's thighs and lifts, taking on most of the omega's weight by himself while simultaneously gaining more space to drive his cock further inside of him. Dylan scrambles for purchase on the bathtub before realizing he doesn't need to anymore, and instead he winds up leaning heavily into Jun, happy to let the alpha do all the work.
And Jun can't complain. This is exactly what he wanted.
To minimize any mess, Jun takes his time this round. There's no frenzy, no race to make Dylan come as fast as possible. He keeps his thrusts shallow and slow, Dylan squirming in his hold with obvious impatience, his muscles clenching around Jun's cock like he could suck him in deeper.
This is only the second time Jun has been sheathed inside of Dylan, but it already feels like this is where he was meant to be. Like Dylan was made for him. Or maybe he was made for Dylan.
He's already learning his tells, too.
When Dylan wants Jun to kiss him, he'll grab him somewhere by the hair. A gentle tug is a question, but a rough pull means now.
And then Dylan will leave his hands there just for something to hold onto.
When he's about to come, his moans will pitch higher and higher until he stops breathing altogether, and his whole body locks up right as his climax hits him. It's mesmerizing to see. He wants to find out how many times he can make Dylan do it, his own release a secondary thought to the pleasure he can offer instead.
By the sounds of it, Dylan is steadily making his way to the edge. Jun's hands become searching, brushing over the hard peaks of his nipples, thumbing over them in circles when Dylan jolts at the sensation.
"Close?" Jun purrs in his ear, nose pressed to Dylan's temple. "You're so fucking gorgeous, baby. You gonna come for me?"
Dylan nods rapidly, crying out on a particularly well-aimed thrust. "Mm. Gonna come," he says, panting. "I'm gonna—"
Jun saw it coming, but it still takes him by surprise when Dylan grabs his chin and reels him in, crashing their mouths together as his orgasm crashes over him. There's nothing graceful about it; more breath and teeth than a real kiss. But there is something to be said about Dylan being so overwhelmed that he needs some other point of contact to ground him while he comes down from his high.
"That better?" Jun absently smooths Dylan's hair back away from his face, now damp from both water and sweat. The bath might have been totally redundant, but at least he tried.
After a recovery period of exactly thirty seconds, Dylan pointedly grinds down on Jun's still achingly hard cock. Jun grits his teeth at the sparks that shoots through him, and he clamps his hands down hard on Dylan's hips to get him to stop.
"No," he growls. He draws the line at being tied together anywhere without a modicum of cushioning. "I am not knotting you in the tub. Come on." Jun tries to coax Dylan into getting off of him, which is much easier said than done, but can thankfully be achieved with enough persuasion, promises, and a little manhandling.
Although it doesn't help when your omega likes the manhandling.
Eventually he's able to untangle their limbs and get them both out in one piece to dry off. Dylan doesn't help; in fact, he very much hinders the process by clinging to Jun's neck and pressing up against him until he has no other choice but to carry Dylan back to bed.
Once he has successfully deposited his grumpy boy into his nest, Dylan rolls away from him and flops onto his back in the middle of it. He stares Jun down, and Jun lifts a knee to climb in himself. Except the moment he touches the bed, Dylan growls at him.
Jun stills, then slowly retracts his limbs so he's just standing there, naked as the day he was born, stunned and a little hurt at the rejection.
But it dawns on him when he meets Dylan's eyes, and the omega's hand starts trailing down his front, his end goal clear when it doesn't stop at his dick.
Oh, for fuck's sake—"Am I being punished?" he asks, exasperation and arousal warring within him. His severely neglected cock pulses between his legs. "For not knotting you in the bath?"
Dylan's lips part on a sigh. He wets them with his tongue, his fingers dipping below his balls.
"Don't," Jun grumbles, not quite a growl but close.
The omega smirks, then he plunges two fingers inside of himself up to the second knuckle. Jun gets the full picture; Dylan writhing on his own hand, fucking himself with his fingers. He can see how they glisten with slick, and the sounds are obscene.
Dylan is trying not to shut his eyes, maintaining eye contact with Jun the entire time even as he moans, spreading his legs wider to give him a better view. He's really putting on a show now.
But he can't just watch, because Jun was never good at being a passive participant, even for his own benefit.
"You are so annoying," Jun does growl this time, hurriedly climbing into the nest to fit himself between Dylan's thighs. He isn't warned off again, but Dylan doesn't take his fingers out until Jun bundles both of his wrists in one hand and pins them above his head. "Why do I like you so much?"
Dylan's eyebrows shoot up, and Jun realizes that was the first time he said it out loud.
"You didn't know?" Jun muses, softening as he maps out the pink of Dylan's skin with his free hand, over his chest and nipples, goosebumps rising with the fleeting touches, then coming back up to frame the side of his face. "I do."
"It's ridiculous how much I adore you. Drives me fucking crazy," he rambles on as Dylan can only gawk up at him, his breath hitching with every admission Jun gives him. He releases the hold on Dylan's wrists, and the omega uses his newfound freedom to throw his arms around Jun's neck, pulling their chests flush together as he hooks his chin over Jun's shoulder, hiding his face from sight.
"Want me to show you?" Jun hikes up one of Dylan's knees so his calf can rest over his lower back.
There's no hesitation. "Yes," Dylan's voice shakes. "Show me."
Jun kisses his shoulder, turns his head to press another one to the side of Dylan's face. "I've got you, baby," he says. And he does.
He always will.
Four days.
Four days straight of fucking the life out of Dylan, and Jun getting the life fucked out of him in return.
Jun is sore in places he didn't know could get sore. He's exhausted to hell, probably dehydrated, and hasn't eaten a single solid meal, too busy making sure Dylan got everything he needed to bother thinking of himself.
But despite all of that, he wakes up feeling good.
Really, really good.
He thinks it's early afternoon by the time either of them even think about gaining consciousness. Jun earlier than Dylan, but Jun just spends that time admiring the marks all over Dylan's back that likely mirror his own.
He hasn't seen himself yet, but he knows there are plenty of love bites that not even a sweater is going to cover. He can't say he's that torn up about it, relishing the idea that they've done nothing but claim each other repeatedly over the last few days.
Dylan sleeps on his stomach, blanket covering only the lower half of his body, hair fanned out over the pillow and his forehead, which Jun lightly tucks away from his face.
The omega blinks awake moments later, his eyes immediately finding Jun's. They stare at each other for a long moment before Dylan scoots over to reclaim his spot in the cradle of Jun's arms.
His temperature has finally returned to normal, and there's no indication that he's seeking anything more than a cuddle. Jun wraps his body around him, planting a kiss to the top of Dylan's head.
"What time is it?" Dylan mumbles into Jun's chest.
Jun shrugs. "Eleven?" he guesses. He glances around for his phone, twisting around to find it on the nightstand and snatching it before resuming his imitation of an octopus around Dylan.
He hasn't looked at it much since the first night, so his notifications are high in number and largely ignored. He navigates to the group chat first.
[Pepper]
Is it safe to come home yet?
I don't want to walk in on anything.
[Nano]
oof
yeah
p'juuuuuun
dylaaaaaaaan
has the house been aired out
plz air it out
[Thame]
It couldn't be that bad could it?
[Nano]
yes
[Pepper]
It could.
"Our friends want to know if it's safe to return," Jun says, lazily thumbing through previous messages.
Dylan makes a thoughtful sound. "No," he decides after a minute. "Couple more hours."
"A couple?" Jun blinks, bewildered by such a vague answer. Dylan doesn't loosen his hold around Jun, propping his chin up on his chest.
"I'm not done with you yet," Dylan informs him, his tone too casual for the bedroom eyes he's giving Jun.
The chuckle that comes from Jun's chest is nervous. "You can't be serious," he says, eyebrows raising. Normally he'd be all in, really, but goddamn he is tired. How can Dylan possibly want to go again right after coming out of heat? He's not even sure his dick still works. "Are you normally like this?"
Dylan lifts a shoulder. "Dunno," he admits. "Never done this before."
That gives Jun pause, frowning. He's never ever? Or just like, during his cycle? "Hold on." Jun pulls back a bit to be able to look at Dylan properly. "You haven't…?"
His face is unreadable as he stares back at Jun. "Not in heat, no."
Jun sucks his bottom lip between his teeth. Fucking hell, why does he like that?
The smile that spreads over Dylan's face is slow and knowing. "Of course that gets you hot," he taunts. "Freak."
To know that he's the first and only alpha to work Dylan through his heat? Yeah, it does. Maybe that makes him weird or possessive or whatever, but he can't be bothered to give a damn when this tidbit of information makes him feel like he just won fifty awards.
"How come?" he asks once he starts breathing right again.
Dylan scoffs. "Why would I let a random, dumb alpha near me?"
Jun, overcome with affection, leans down and rests his forehead against Dylan's. "You let this dumb alpha near you," he points out.
"You're my dumb alpha," Dylan retorts, then he stops, looking up at Jun with a frown. "Right?" he asks. Jun doesn't like how unsure he sounds about it.
Unwilling to let in any room for doubt, Jun smiles, tipping Dylan's chin up to brush a kiss over his mouth. "All yours," he confirms.
Dylan hides his grin by trying to press a more firm kiss to Jun's lips, but Jun tilts his face away. "Seriously, how are you not tired?" he laughs.
His grin turns feral. "What's wrong? You can't keep up, alpha?"
Jun narrowing his eyes is the only warning he gives before he's rolling Dylan onto his back, flattening them both to the bed. Turns out, he could definitely go again with the right incentive.
"Just wait until it's my turn," Jun tells him, peppering small kisses all over Dylan's face and down his neck.
Dylan snickers, wiggling until his arms are free enough to grasp Jun's cheeks between his palms. He pecks Jun's lips, who's pouting now that his face is squished in.
"Don't worry," he purrs. "I'm looking forward to it."