Work Text:
The first thing Jake notices is that Heeseung’s scent has changed.
It’s hard to ignore from the moment he steps through the front door, keys still dangling from his fingers. The apartment smells overwhelmingly like honey, thick and cloying and faintly desperate. He kicks off his sneakers in the hallway, nose twitching.
“Hyung?” he calls out, shrugging his jacket off.
There’s no answer. But the apartment isn’t silent.
A rustle from the bedroom.
Wet, sticky, rhythmic sounds.
Jake’s stomach drops and his mouth goes dry at the same time.
Jake met Heeseung three years ago at university orientation. He'd been a nervous wreck back then, fresh from Australia and still struggling to switch between languages in his head. Heeseung had found him hovering anxiously by the wrong building, clutching a campus map that might as well have been written in hieroglyphics.
“You’re looking for the engineering building, right?” Heeseung had said, smiling warmly. “I’m headed that way. Walk with me?”
That was Heeseung in a nutshell. Always helping. Always giving. They’d exchanged numbers that day, and somehow, three months later, Jake found himself signing a lease as Heeseung’s roommate. Their friends called them the married couple of the group, attached at the hip, sharing grocery runs and late-night gaming sessions and lazy Sunday mornings curled up on the couch watching TV.
Heeseung was the best hyung Jake could have asked for. He remembered Jake’s favorite food, noticed when he was overworking himself, never complained about Jake's habit of leaving his socks all over the apartment. Everything was easy with Heeseung: arguments over who got to be Player One, competing to see who could stuff more ramyeon noodles into their mouths at once, laughing so hard they cried over inside jokes nobody else understood.
Jake had harbored a crush for most of that time. How could he not? But, of course, he’d never said anything, never let it slip. Some things weren't worth risking, and his friendship with Heeseung was one of them.
So, he should turn around, right? He should walk right back out the door and pretend he never came home early from his study group. That’s what a good friend would do. A good, fellow omega friend who understands boundaries and privacy and the unspoken rules of sharing an apartment with someone whose cycles don’t always sync with your own?
But his feet are already moving.
The bedroom door is ajar, five inches of space that feel like an invitation or a warning, Jake can’t decide which. Through the gap, he sees the room in pieces: the lamp left on low beside the bed, casting everything gold, a glass of water knocked on its side on the nightstand, condensation dripping onto a stack of crumpled papers, Heeseung’s discarded shirt hanging from the edge of the mattress. Then, the rumpled duvet, half on the floor.
And then at last, the slope of Heeseung’s bare shoulder, glistening with sweat.
The slow, frustrated movement of his hand between his thighs.
“Fuck,” Heeseung breathes, and it’s somewhere between a moan and a complaint. His voice is hoarse in a way that sends something hot and unfamiliar curling through Jake’s belly.
Jake pushes the door open.
“Hyung?”
Heeseung’s head turns. His eyes are glassy, pupils blown so wide they’ve eaten the big bambi-brown of his irises. He doesn’t stop touching himself—two fingers sliding through slick folds with a sound that makes Jake’s knees threaten to buckle. He doesn’t even look embarrassed.
“Jake?” His voice cracks. “Thought you’d be gone until—ah—tonight.”
“My—um. My study group finished early.” Jake swallows. Steps closer. The air in the room is dense with pheromones, sweet and suffocating. “Hyung, you’re in pre-heat.”
“Brilliant observation.” Heeseung’s laugh is strangled, more gasp than humor. “Jay’s not answering his phone.”
Jay’s a mutual friend of theirs, and conveniently, an alpha. He’s always been there for Heeseung’s cycles—it’s a platonic arrangement they’ve had ever since the two of them presented, according to Heeseung. But Jay is in Busan this week for a family wedding, and Heeseung is here, alone, fingers too slender and too short to reach what his body is screaming for.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jake’s voice comes out sharper than he intended. He’s at the edge of the bed now, looking down at the mess of his hyung’s body—sheets soaked through, skin flushed pink from chest to forehead, thighs slick and trembling.
“Didn’t want to—nngh—make it weird.” Heeseung’s hips buck uselessly against his own hand. “And we’re both omegas. You can’t help me anyway.”
His words feel like a bucket of water over the head. Jake feels something flare up inside his chest, twine around his ribs, and he’s helpless to stop it when his gaze drops to where Heeseung’s fingers are working, slow and clumsy with exhaustion, spreading slick everywhere but never quite getting deep enough.
“Looks like you’ve been at this for hours.”
Heeseung whines, high and miserable, and that’s answer enough.
Jake’s knees hit the mattress before his brain catches up with his body. Heeseung blinks up at him, confusion cutting through the haze.
“What are you—”
“Shut up for a second.” Jake’s voice comes out steadier than he feels. His heart is a trapped bird against his sternum, hammering so hard he’s sure Heeseung can hear it. “Just—just let me think.”
Heeseung’s hand stills between his thighs. The silence that rushes in is worse than the wet sounds were. Jake watches a bead of sweat trace a slow path down Heeseung’s throat, disappearing into the hollow between his collarbones.
He wants to follow it with his tongue.
“You don’t need an alpha,” he hears himself say. The words come out low, almost reverent. His knee sinks deeper into the mattress, and Heeseung’s scent surges up to meet him. “You don’t need Jay. You just need someone who knows what they’re doing.”
“And that’s you?” Heeseung’s skepticism is undermined by the way his hips twitch upward, chasing friction that isn’t there anymore.
Jake doesn’t answer with words. He reaches out instead, fingers brushing the inside of Heeseung’s wrist—the one attached to the hand still cupped between slick thighs. Gently, so gently, he guides it away. Heeseung’s fingers leave a glistening trail across his own stomach, and the sight of it makes Jake’s mouth water.
“You’ve been at this for hours, hyung,” Jake repeats. “Your fingers must be cramping. You’re exhausted. Let me.”
“Omegas can’t—”
“Says who?” Jake’s thumb circles the bones of Heeseung’s wrist, feeling the rabbiting pulse beneath feverish skin. “We know our bodies better than any alpha ever could. We know exactly what we need. Don’t we, hyung?”
Heeseung’s lips part, and for a moment, no sound comes out. His glassy eyes search Jake’s face for something—mockery, maybe, or hesitation—but whatever he finds there makes the tension drain from his shoulders in one long shudder.
“Okay,” he whispers, wet lashes fluttering against his cheeks. “Okay. Just—please. I can’t—I need—”
“I know what you need.” Jake releases his wrist and shifts closer, close enough that his knee presses against Heeseung’s hip. The contact makes them both inhale sharply. “I’m going to take care of you, hyung. But I need you to tell me if it’s too much. Can you do that?”
Heeseung nods, a jerky motion that sends his damp hair falling into his eyes. Jake brushes it back without thinking. He can feel himself growing wet, the slick starting to gather where his thighs press together, and the thought makes him flush.
He shifts his weight and swings one leg over Heeseung’s hips, settling himself on top. The position brings their lower bodies into alignment, and the moan that tears out of Heeseung’s throat when Jake’s clothed cunt presses against his bare one is nothing short of wrecked.
“Shh,” Jake breathes, even as his own hips roll forward instinctively. The friction is maddening through two layers of fabric—his jeans and his underwear—but Heeseung is so wet that Jake can feel the heat of him even through the denim. “I’ve got you.”
“Jake, your clothes—”
“We’ll get there.” He braces his hands on either side of Heeseung’s head and rolls his hips again, slower this time. Deliberate. The ridge of his fly catches against Heeseung’s clit, and Heeseung’s back arches off the mattress like someone’s just run a current through him. “You’re so pretty like this, hyung. Has anyone ever told you that?”
Heeseung shakes his head, eyes squeezed shut.
Jake grinds down against Heeseung’s dripping cunt in slow circles that make them both pant into the humid space between their mouths. The denim is soaked through now, clinging obscenely to the shape of him, and every drag of fabric against Heeseung’s bare folds draws another broken sound from his throat.
“You’re so wet,” Jake murmurs. His voice has gone husky. “I can feel you through my jeans, hyung. You’re soaking through them. How long have you been like this?”
“Since—since this morning. Woke up and—oh, oh—” Heeseung’s sentence dissolves into a keen as Jake shifts his angle, pressing down harder.
His head tips back, throat working around a sound that never quite makes it out, and his hips chase Jake’s through the soaked denim. Jake watches the blush spread down his chest—watches it bloom across the planes of muscle he’s only ever glimpsed in locker rooms and lazy Sunday mornings when Heeseung forgot to close the bathroom door.
He’s always looked away before.
He doesn’t look away now.
“Hyung,” he breathes out. His palm flattens against Heeseung’s sternum, right over his heart, and the heat of the skin there makes his fingers curl. “You’re burning up.”
“Heat,” Heeseung manages. It’s barely a syllable. “Obviously.”
“Obviously.” Jake’s lips twitch. His hand slides up, over the ridge of Heeseung’s collarbone, into the sweat-damp hollow of his throat. The moan Heeseung lets out when Jake’s thumb presses gently against his pulse point is obscene. “But this is worse than usual. You’re really suffering, aren’t you?”
Heeseung’s only response is a full-body shudder.
Jake’s other hand finds the hem of his own shirt. He pulls it over his head one-handed, not particularly graceful about it, and the sound Heeseung makes when skin meets skin—when Jake lowers himself back down and their bare chests press together—is something Jake wants to record and keep forever.
“Better?” Jake asks. His mouth is right next to Heeseung’s ear now, close enough that his lips brush the shell of it with every word. “Feel that?”
“Jake.” Heeseung’s hands finally, finally come up to touch him. They land on Jake’s shoulder blades, fingers spread wide, mapping the terrain of his back like Heeseung’s never been allowed to touch before. “Jake, your skin—you’re so—”
“So what?”
“Soft. You’re so soft.”
Jake’s hips stutter for a second, and he grinds down harder in response. Heeseung cries out, nails digging into the muscle of Jake’s back, and the sting of it pulls a moan from somewhere in Jake’s chest.
“You like that I’m soft?” Jake pulls back just enough to look at Heeseung’s face. His glassy eyes. His parted lips. The way his brows are drawn together like he’s in pain and ecstasy all at once. “You like that I’m not some big alpha with hard muscles and a knot to shove into you?”
Heeseung’s jaw works. Words seem to fail him. His legs come up to bracket Jake’s hips, heels digging into the backs of Jake’s thighs, and the new angle makes them both gasp.
“Answer me.” Jake’s voice is still gentle, still almost a croon, but there’s iron underneath it now. “Do you like this, hyung? Do you like having me on top of you?”
“Yes.” It tears out of Heeseung like a confession. “Yes, I—”
He breaks off on a moan as Jake’s clothed cunt drags over his clit again. The friction must be almost unbearable now—too much fabric, too much distance, not nearly enough pressure—but Heeseung doesn’t try to flip them. Doesn’t try to take control. He lies there, completely pliant and trembling, and lets Jake move on top of him.
It makes Jake’s head spin.
“I’m going to take these off now,” Jake says, sitting back on his heels. The loss of contact makes Heeseung whimper, actual tears welling up in those big brown eyes, and Jake has to close his own eyes for a second against the surge of want that rushes through him. “Shh. It’s just for a second, hyung. Just long enough to get my jeans off. Can you wait that long?”
“Hurry.” Heeseung whines.
“I know.” Jake’s fingers work at his fly, clumsy with urgency. “I know, I know, hyung.”
The jeans come off, then the underwear follows, and then Jake is just as bare as Heeseung, kneeling between his spread thighs, the scent of honey is overpowering now, layered with something more floral beneath it—Jake’s own scent, he realizes, rising to meet Heeseung’s.
“You’re so wet,” Jake says. His eyes are fixed on the space between Heeseung’s legs—on the slick-shiny folds, the swollen bud of his clit, the way his entrance flutters around nothing. “Hyung. You’re so wet the sheets are soaked through.”
“I know.” Heeseung sounds miserable about it. “I’ve been trying to—nothing works.”
Jake hums, then lowers himself again, slower this time, giving Heeseung plenty of time to stop him before their cunts meet.
It’s all wet heat against wet heat, slick folds sliding against slick folds, and the sound that comes out of Jake’s mouth is nothing he’s ever made before, guttaral and shocked.
Heeseung whines.
It’s not loud—the bedroom walls muffle it into something almost muffled—but it’s a whine nonetheless, high and broken, and his hips buck so hard he nearly unseats Jake. His nails rake down Jake’s back, leaving furrows, and the pain-pain-pain bleeding into pleasure makes Jake grind down with everything he has.
“Don’t stop.” Heeseung’s voice is wrecked. His legs wrap around Jake’s waist, ankles locking at the small of his back, and the new leverage lets him grind up into every downward stroke. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t—oh, oh—”
The rhythm they find isn’t graceful. It’s desperate and messy and wet, slick sounds filling the room with every slide of flesh against flesh. Jake can feel Heeseung’s clit against his own, the twin points of sensation sparking up his spine every time they align. He can feel the flutter of Heeseung’s entrance, so close to his own that if he shifted just a little—
“Can I—” Jake’s throat works. “Hyung, can I touch you? With my fingers?”
“Please.” Heeseung’s eyes roll back before Jake even moves. “Please, please, your fingers are thicker than mine, please—”
Jake braces himself on one elbow and brings his other hand between their grinding bodies. The first brush of his fingers through Heeseung’s folds makes them both shudder—Heeseung from the contact, Jake from the feel of it. He’s never touched another omega like this before, never felt the fever-hot slickness of a cunt that wasn’t his own, and the reality of it is so much more than anything he imagined.
“You’re so soft here,” Jake murmurs. His index finger traces the edge of Heeseung’s entrance, feather-light. “Softer than me. Is that—is that just the heat?”
“I don’t—I don’t know.” Heeseung’s hips are still rocking, trying to get Jake’s finger inside. “No one’s ever—Jay doesn’t usually—”
“Of course he doesn’t.” The words come out sharper than Jake intends. “Jay probably just shoves his knot in and calls it a day.”
Heeseung’s laugh is strangled. “Hngh—ah, I don’t know—hn—I guess so?”
“I’m not going to do that.” Jake’s finger circles, slow and deliberate, spreading slick around the rim of Heeseung’s entrance without pushing in. “I’m going to take my time. I’m going to make you feel every single thing I do to you. Is that okay?”
“Jake.” Heeseung’s voice is a sob. “Jake, if you don’t put something inside me right now I’m going to lose my mind.”
Jake doesn’t need more instruction than that. His middle finger slides in—just the first knuckle, just a tease—and Heeseung’s whole body clenches around it. Jake watches his finger disappear into Heeseung’s body and feels his own cunt pulse with sympathetic need.
“More,” Heeseung gasps. “More, more, I can take it—”
“Slowly.” Jake pushes deeper, one slow inch at a time, feeling the way Heeseung’s walls give way around him. The textures inside are fascinating—ridges and soft spots and one particular place that makes Heeseung keen when Jake’s fingertip brushes it. “You’re so tight, hyung. Even after hours of trying to fuck yourself open. How is that even possible?”
“I don’t—ah—I don’t know, I just—”
“Shh.” Jake’s thumb finds Heeseung’s clit and presses. “I’ve got you. Stop thinking.”
“Can’t,” Heeseung chokes. “Can’t stop, can’t ever stop, it’s—”
His hips roll up into Jake’s hand like they’re not attached to the rest of him, like his body’s running on some older, hungrier hindbrain wiring that doesn’t care about dignity or composure or the fact that his roommate is currently knuckle-deep inside him.
A second finger presses in alongside the first.
Heeseung’s back curves off the mattress. The arch of it is obscene—spine curving, stomach hollowing, ribs pushing up against sweat-sheened skin. His knuckles go white, and the whimper that claws out of his throat is so high and desperate that Jake feels it in his molars.
“There,” Jake breathes. His fingers crook forward, searching, and when he finds that slightly rough patch of tissue inside Heeseung’s body, he strokes it with the pads of his fingertips. “There it is. Right there, isn’t it, hyung?”
Heeseung can’t answer. His mouth is open, jaw working around syllables that won’t form, and his eyes have gone unfocused in a way that’s almost concerning. Almost. Jake’s thumb circles his clit again—slow, deliberate, the exact pressure he likes on his own—and Heeseung’s whole body convulses.
“Breathe,” Jake reminds him. His own voice sounds wrecked, and they haven’t even gotten to the main event yet. “Hyung, breathe.”
The words seem to register somewhere in the heat-fogged landscape of Heeseung’s brain. He drags in a breath that’s more sob than inhalation, chest heaving, and the flush on his cheeks deepens to something almost bruised-looking.
“Good.” Jake’s fingers pump slowly—in, out, in, out—feathering over that spot inside with every withdrawal. “You’re doing so good. You’ve been so patient, haven’t you?”
“So long,” Heeseung manages. The word cracks in the middle. “Been—hours, Jake, I tried everything—”
“I know.” Jake leans down and presses his mouth to Heeseung’s collarbone. Not a kiss, exactly—just the pressure of lips against feverish skin, the ghost of teeth. “I know you tried. But your fingers are too short, aren’t they, hyung? You can never quite reach deep enough. Can never quite get the angle right.”
Heeseung shakes his head frantically, damp hair sticking to his forehead, and the movement dislodges a tear that’s been clinging to his lower lashes. It tracks down his temple and disappears into his hairline, and Jake follows its path with his eyes hungrily.
“Roll over.”
Heeseung blinks, glassy and uncomprehending, and Jake’s fingers still inside him.
“Hyung. Roll over. I want to look at you from a different angle.”
Getting Heeseung onto his stomach is an exercise in itself. His limbs don’t want to cooperate—they’re loose and uncoordinated—and every time Jake’s fingers slip out of him, he makes a sound like a wounded animal. But eventually Jake gets him positioned: face-down, a pillow shoved under his hips to tilt them up, thighs spread wide.
The view is practically devastating.
Heeseung’s cunt is flushed dark pink, folds swollen and glistening, slick trailing down the insides of his thighs in slow rivulets. His entrance flutters visibly around nothing, clenching on air, and when Jake exhales against it—just breath, not even tongue—Heeseung buries his face in the mattress and mewls.
“You’re so pretty here,” Jake murmurs. His hands find the curve of Heeseung’s ass, thumbs spreading him open wider. “So pretty and so wet and so empty. Does it ache, hyung? Does the emptiness hurt?”
“Yes.” The word is muffled by pillows and sheets. “Yes, Jake, please, please—”
“Please what?”
“Put something back inside. Your fingers, your—anything, just fill it, I can’t stand it—”
Jake lowers his mouth to the base of Heeseung’s spine instead.
The kiss he presses there is almost chaste. Closed lips against fever-hot skin, right where the dimples form when Heeseung arches his back. Heeseung shudders, confused by the gentleness, and Jake uses the distraction to trail his mouth lower. Down the slope of Heeseung’s lower back. Over the swell of his ass. His tongue traces the crease where thigh meets cheek, tasting salt and honey and something sharper underneath.
“The heat won’t let up until you’ve been knotted. Or at least until your body thinks it’s been knotted.” His eyes travel to the nightstand drawer. “Do you keep anything here? For when Jay’s knot isn’t enough?”
Heeseung’s face contorts, thinking hard. “Drawer—ah—hn, on the left side. The—the purple one.”
Jake reaches over, stretching his body across Heeseung’s to get to the nightstand, and rummages through the drawer—condoms, a half-empty bottle of lube, a receipt for something. Then his fingers close around silicone.
Bingo.
The dildo is purple. It’s also substantial—thick and curved, with a pronounced knot at the base that makes Jake’s mouth go dry. The knot is supposed to inflate to the size of a small fist, maybe bigger, and for a moment Jake just stares at it.
“This is what you take?” He looks down at Heeseung, who’s watching him with desperate, hazy eyes.
“When Jay’s knot goes down.” Heeseung’s voice is thin. “When I need—when the heat is really bad, when I need to be filled up for hours.” He swallows. “Yeah.”
Jake examines the dildo more closely. It’s realistic—veined along the shaft, with a defined head that flares slightly before the knot. The base has a suction cup, which explains why it’s stayed in the drawer. Jake’s fingers wrap around the shaft, testing the give, and the silicone is firm but yielding.
“This is going to stretch you so wide,” Jake murmurs, almost to himself. His own core clenches at the thought. “Your body is going to have to work to take this knot. Is that what you want, hyung? You want to work for it?”
“Yes.” Heeseung’s response is immediate, almost frantic. “Yes, I want—nghh—need—”
“Tell me what you need.” Jake shifts, kneeling between Heeseung’s spread thighs with the dildo in his hand. He looks down at his hyung—flushed and wrecked and still not satisfied—and feels a surge of possessive satisfaction. “Use your words, please. Tell me.”
Heeseung’s mouth works. His eyes are fixed on the dildo in Jake’s hand, and something in his expression shifts—goes hungrier, needier, more desperate in a way that makes Jake’s breath catch.
“Put it in me,” Heeseung whispers. “Please. Put it in me and knot me and fill me up. I want—I want you to—” he whimpers. “Want you to put your pups in me.”
A laugh startles out of Jake’s chest before he can stop it. It’s not cruel—more disbelieving than mocking—but Heeseung whines anyway, hips pushing back toward Jake’s face.
“Hyung.” Jake props himself up on his elbows, grinning. “Hyung, do you even know what you’re saying right now?”
“Don’t care.” Heeseung’s voice is petulant in a way that almost makes Jake forget he’s the younger one here. “Don’t care if it doesn’t make sense. Want it anyway. Want you to—you could, Jake, you could put them in me, I know you could—”
“That’s not how it works,” Jake says, but he’s already lowering his mouth again, already pressing a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the crease of Heeseung’s thigh. “We’re both omegas, hyung. I don’t have what you need for that.”
“You do.” Heeseung’s hips are rocking now, a tiny desperate motion that grinds his clit against the pillow beneath him. “You do, you do, you’re so—your fingers are so—if you just put them deep enough—”
Jake bites the swell of Heeseung’s ass, not hard enough to leave a mark, but hard enough to make Heeseung yelp and stop babbling.
“Okay,” he says, and his voice sounds breathless even to his own ears. “Okay, hyung. I’m going to breed you. I’m going to fill this pretty cunt so full of my pups that you’ll be dripping for days. Everyone’s going to know. Everyone’s going to smell me on you and know exactly what I did to you.”
Heeseung moans, long and low, and his hips cant upward in desperate invitation.
“Turn around.”
Heeseung blinks up at him, glassy and uncomprehending. His lips are swollen from biting them, pink and wet, and Jake wants to suck on them until they bruise.
“Huh?”
“Turn back around, hyung.” Jake says slowly. “I want you on your back. Wanna see your face when I put it in.”
The whimper that escapes Heeseung’s throat is barely human. He flops onto his back, and the pillow stays wedged under his hips, tilting his pelvis up, and when Heeseung’s thighs fall open again, Jake exhales against his pussy—just breath, not even tongue—just to see Heeseung’s head thrash against the mattress.
“Jaeyunie,” he whines.
Jake positions the dildo between Heeseung’s thighs. The head presses against Heeseung’s entrance, and even that small pressure makes Heeseung’s breaths stutter, his hands fisting in the ruined sheets. He’s so wet that the silicone slides against his folds without resistance, slick gathering at the tip.
“I’m going to push inside now,” Jake says. His free hand presses down on Heeseung’s lower belly, feeling the muscles jump beneath his palm. “And you’re going to take every inch of it. That’s how I’m going to put my pups in you, Heeseung-hyung.” He presses down harder on Heeseung’s stomach. “Can you feel that? That’s where they’ll be. Right here.”
“Yes,” Heeseung gasps. “Yes, put them there, put them right there, please—”
The head of the dildo pushes inside.
Heeseung’s cunt swallows it greedily, the slick easing the way, and Jake watches his hyung’s face transform as the silicone slides deeper. The furrow between his brows. The way his lips form a perfect O. The flutter of his lashes as his eyes try to roll back and fail, held by some last thread of awareness.
“Hyung, look at me,” Jake implores.
Heeseung’s eyes focus on him with visible effort. They’re wet and glassy and so vulnerable that Jake’s chest aches, but he doesn’t look away. He pushes the dildo deeper, inch by inch, and Heeseung’s expression shifts with every new stretch.
“Slow,” Jake murmurs. “Take it slow. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Won’t hurt.” Heeseung’s voice is shredded. “Can’t hurt. I’m so—I’m ready, Jake, please just—”
“Just what?” Jake pulls the dildo back an inch, just to watch Heeseung’s face crumple. The silicone emerges glistening, coated in slick, and the sight makes Jake’s mouth dry up. “Just shove it in? Just fuck you stupid and leave you full of my pups?”
A sob tears out of Heeseung’s throat. “Yes—hngh, yeah, that. Exactly that.”
Jake huffs out an incredulous laugh.
The dildo sinks in another two inches. Heeseung’s pussy stretches to accommodate the girth, folds spreading obscenely around the silicone, and Jake can feel the phantom echo of it in his own body. His clit throbs. His entrance clenches on nothing. He’s so wet that his thighs are slick with it, and he hasn’t even been touched yet.
But this isn’t about him. He can wait.
“You’re doing so well,” Jake breathes. His thumb finds Heeseung’s clit, swollen and peeking out from its hood, and circles it with featherlight pressure. “Almost halfway there, hyung. Can you feel me stretching you out?”
Heeseung nods frantically, hair sticking to his forehead in damp strands. A tear escapes the corner of his eye, tracking down his temple, and Jake leans forward to lick it away. The salt bursts across his tongue.
“More,” Heeseung begs. “More, please, I can take more—”
“I know you can.” Jake’s lips brush Heeseung’s cheekbone. His eyelid. The bridge of his nose. “So good at taking it, aren’t you, hyung? So good at being filled up.” His scent sours a little as he continues, “Jay’s been training you for it.”
The mention of Jay’s name makes Heeseung’s hips buck. Jake isn’t sure if it’s guilt or arousal or some tangled combination of both, but he files it away for later examination. Right now, all he cares about is the way Heeseung’s body is yielding around the dildo.
“But Jay’s not here,” Jake continues, and his voice drops into something darker. “Jay’s in Busan, probably drunk at a wedding reception, and he has no idea that his precious omega is spread open on his bed with someone else’s toy inside him.”
“I’m not—I’m not his—”
“No?” Jake taunts. “Is that right, hyung?”
“I’m not—” Heeseung tries again, but the words dissolve into a moan when Jake pushes deeper. “Jake, I’m not his, I was never—ah!”
“Then whose are you?” Jake's thumb presses harder on Heeseung’s clit. “Whose pretty cunt is this, hyung? This tight little hole that’s swallowing the toy so greedily, who does it belong to?”
Heeseung sobs. An actual sob, wet and broken, his chest heaving with the force of it, and his hands find Jake's shoulders, nails digging in hard enough to leave crescents.
“You,” he chokes out. “It’s yours, Jake, yours—”
Jake pushes the dildo the rest of the way in, not slowly this time, one fluid motion that buries the silicone until only the knot remains outside.
Heeseung screams. Not a moan, not even a loud whimper—an actual scream that Jake has to muffle with his palm.
“Shh.” Jake's mouth finds Heeseung’s ear, tongue tracing the shell of it. “The neighbors, hyung. We don't want them calling the landlord.”
Heeseung bites down on Jake’s hand. His hips are twitching involuntarily now, his body trying to decide whether to chase the fullness or escape it.
“Knot,” Heeseung manages around Jake’s fingers. “Jake, the knot, I need—”
“Yeah?” Jake’s hand wraps around the base of the dildo, feeling where the silicone starts to flare. The knot is substantial, bigger than his closed fist, and the thought of forcing it past Heeseung's entrance makes his stomach clench with anticipation. “You need to be bred full, don't you? Need to feel me so deep inside you that you can't tell where I end and you begin.”
Heeseung nods frantically, tears streaming freely now, and Jake realizes he's close.
"’M going to give you what you need.” Jake pulls the dildo back until just the head remains inside, letting Heeseung feel the emptiness for one cruel second. Then he slams it back in, hard enough that the wet sound echoes through the room. “I’m going to knot you so good, hyung. Fill you up so good there’s no way it won’t take.”
Heeseung keens.
Jake fucks Heeseung with the dildo in long, merciless strokes. Every thrust ends with the knot pressing against Heeseung's entrance, spreading him open just a little more each time. The slick sounds are obscene—wet and suctioning and filling the room along with Heeseung’s broken moans.
“You sound so pretty,” Jake breathes. His own thighs are trembling, his neglected cunt aching for friction, but he ignores it. “Such pretty noises for me, hyung. Does it feel good? Do I feel good inside you?”
“Yes, yes, yes—” Heeseung's voice cracks on each repetition. His hands scrabble at Jake's back, again. “So good, Jaeyunie, so big, you're so—ah!—so deep—”
Jake pulls back. Looks down at the place where their bodies almost meet—where the knot is buried deep inside Heeseung's cunt, the base pressing against his clit. Heeseung's folds are spread wide, stretched obscenely around the girth, and slick is leaking out around the seal in slow, rhythmic pulses.
His clit is pulsing and swollen.
Jake’s mouth waters.
“One more thing.” he says, and his voice sounds distant to his own ears. “I’m going to—I need to—”
He doesn’t finish the sentence. Can’t. Words have deserted him entirely.
Instead he lowers his mouth to Heeseung’s cunt.
The first swipe of his tongue over Heeseung’s clit makes them both moan—Heeseung a shattered sob, Jake a muffled groan against slick folds. The taste is incredible, all sweet and musky. Heeseung’s thighs clamp around Jake's head before he can consciously stop them, and Jake lets himself be trapped there—lets himself be pressed against the source of that intoxicating scent as he laves his tongue over the swollen bud.
“J-Jake—” Heeseung's voice is barely recognizable. “Jake, I can’t—I’m going to—”
"Let go," Jake orders, muffled against Heeseung’s puffy cunt. “Just do it, hyung.”
His tongue traces circles around Heeseung’s clit—fast and then slow, wide and then tight—and his fingers find the base of the dildo and press, rocking it just slightly inside Heeseung's body, grinding it against that spot he found earlier—
Heeseung comes with a whine.
His whole body convulses. His back arches off the mattress, stomach hollowing, ribs pushing up against sweat-sheened skin. His hands fly to Jake's hair and pull—hard enough to hurt, hard enough to make Jake's eyes water—and his thighs clamp so tight around Jake's head that the world narrows to nothing but the heat and the pressure and the taste of Heeseung’s release flooding across his tongue.
More slick gushes out around the knot, a thin stream of it that Jake chases with his mouth. He licks it up greedily, tongue pressing flat against Heeseung's entrance where the silicone stretches him open, lapping up every drop that leaks out.
Heeseung is sobbing. Actual tears streaming down his temples, voice cracked and broken and still chanting something that might be Jake’s name, might be please, might be nothing but sound.
Jake doesn’t stop.
He keeps licking—keeps tracing the stretched rim of Heeseung's entrance, the swollen folds, the still-twitching clit—and Heeseung's body jerks with oversensitivity every time his tongue passes over the bud. But he doesn’t push Jake away. His hands stay fisted in Jake's hair, and his hips keep rocking, and his cunt keeps pulsing out more slick that Jake laps up like he's starving for it.
“Can’t—can’t let it go to waste,” Jake mutters against Heeseung’s folds, and he’s not entirely sure Heeseung can hear him anymore. “You’re so wet, hyung. So wet and so sweet. Tastes like—”
He doesn't finish the sentence. Just dives back in, tongue pressing inside alongside the knot, stretching Heeseung even further.
Heeseung shrieks.
Overstimulation is wracking his body now—Jake can feel it in the way his legs shake, in the way his hips try to squirm away even as his hands keep Jake's head pressed close.
“Sshh,” Jake breathes against him, and the puff of air makes Heeseung's clit twitch. “Shh, I know. I know it’s a lot. But you’re doing so well. You took it so well, hyung.”
Heeseung whimpers. The sound is small that Jake's chest aches.
“One more,” Jake says. “One more for me. Can you give me one more?”
“I don’t—hngh—know—”
“You can.” Jake's tongue traces a slow, deliberate line from Heeseung's entrance—stretched around the knot—up to his clit. “I know you have another one in you, Heeseung-hyung.”
His lips close around Heeseung’s clit and suck.
Heeseung’s second orgasm hits with a long, keening moan that seems to come from somewhere deeper than his throat. His body doesn’t convulse so much as lock up, every muscle going rigid at once, his back curving into an arch that looks almost painful. His hands in Jake’s hair go slack, and his thighs fall open, no longer trapping Jake against his pussy but inviting him in, offering everything up without reservation.
Some of the slick drips down onto the ruined sheets, joining the hours-old wet spot that Heeseung created before Jake ever walked through the door. Jake licks up what he can, chases the escaping slick with his tongue, pressing it back toward Heeseung’s body, not wanting to miss a single drop. The taste is addictive. The knowledge that he did this—that he dragged these orgasms from Heeseung’s body—is even more so.
When Heeseung's tremors finally subside, Jake pulls back just enough to rest his cheek on Heeseung’s inner thigh. His breath comes in harsh pants, dampening the skin beneath him.
Heeseung’s eyes are closed, lashes resting against the tops of his cheeks. His chest heaves. Sweat glistens on his skin like a second layer, catching the lamplight and turning him golden. The knot is still lodged firmly inside him, silicone base flush against his folds, and even in the aftermath of two shattering orgasms, his cunt still flutters around it.
“Hyung?” Jake’s voice is hoarse. “Heeseung-hyung?”
No response. Heeseung has gone somewhere beyond words. The honey-sweet scent of his pheromones has changed now—they’re calmer, more satisfied now.
Jake presses a kiss to Heeseung’s inner thigh. Then another one a little higher. Then his mouth finds the base of the dildo and presses there too, a gentle kiss against the silicone, and Heeseung's exhausted cunt clenches weakly in response.
“So good,” Jake murmurs. “You did amazing for me.”
He crawls up Heeseung's body carefully, mindful of the dildo still lodged inside him. Every movement makes Heeseung's breath catch, makes his lashes flutter, but he doesn't open his eyes, doesn’t protest.
When Jake reaches Heeseung’s mouth, he pauses.
Heeseung's lips are still parted. Pink and swollen from all the biting. There's a tiny bead of blood on the lower one where his teeth broke the skin at some point during his second orgasm, and Jake can’t stop himself from leaning down to lick it away. The slight coppery tang mixes with the lingering sweetness of Heeseung's slick on Jake’s tongue.
“Jaeyun-ah,” Heeseung’s voice is barely a whisper, barely a breath, but it’s the most coherent thing he’s said in minutes.
“Here,” Jake’s mouth brushes the corner of Heeseung’s lips. “I’m right here.”
“Did I—” Heeseung swallows, throat working. “Did I really—”
“Ask me to put my pups in you?” Jake’s grin presses into Heeseung’s cheek. “Yeah. You did. Multiple times.”
Heeseung groans, and some of the post-orgasmic haze clears from his expression, replaced by something approaching embarrassment. He tries to turn his face away, but Jake catches his chin and holds him in place.
“Don’t hide from me, hyung,” The words come out gentler than Jake expected. “You said you were mine. Did you mean it?”
Silence. Heeseung’s eyes finally open—glassy, pupils blown wide, but focused on Jake’s face with an intensity that makes his breath catch.
“...Yes.”
Jake kisses him.
It’s their first real kiss—not lips pressed to temple or cheek or collarbone, not the ghost of teeth against gland, but mouths meeting in the middle, soft and searching and infinitely more tender than anything they’ve done to each other so far. Heeseung’s hand comes up to cup the back of Jake’s neck, fingers threading through sweat-damp hair, and his mouth opens under Jake’s with a sigh. There’s no urgency now, no desperate grinding or frantic gasps.
When they finally break apart, Jake’s forehead rests against Heeseung’s, their noses brushing.
The corner of Heeseung’s mouth twitches upwards. “I can feel it coming back already,” he hums. “Give me five minutes. Maybe ten. It’s going to come back worse.”
“That’s fine.” Jake shifts his weight, settling more comfortably between Heeseung’s thighs. His briefs are soaked and uncomfortable and he doesn’t care at all. “However many rounds it takes, I’m not going anywhere.”
“Jake…”
“I mean it.”
Heeseung’s hand finds his, their fingers lacing together on the ruined sheets. The honey-sweet scent is still thick in the air. Heeseung’s pupils are starting to dilate again.
His breath catches. His thighs shift against Jake’s hips, and Jake feels the fresh slick gathering, feels the heat starting to build again under Heeseung’s skin. Even five minutes was optimistic. They have maybe three.
“Jaeyun-ah,” Heeseung breathes, and this time his name is a plea.
Jake smiles against Heeseung’s throat, teeth grazing the gland where his scent is strongest. “I’ve got you, hyung.”
Outside the bedroom door, Heeseung’s phone buzzes on the kitchen counter. Three missed calls from Jay, a text asking if everything’s okay, if Heeseung needs him to come back early. The screen lights up and then goes dark, the message unread.