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It’s fun, Jisung can begrudgingly admit as he squeezes himself between Minho and Chan.
As the sky darkens, Jisung drags his chair next to Chan’s while they both watch Minho run around like an overzealous toddler on his first camping trip. It’s endearing how genuinely elated Minho is about all this.
Sighing, Jisung rests his head on Chan’s shoulder. There is something so comforting about the other’s scent; Jisung’s can’t put his finger on it, because obviously Chan smells nice all the time, but he smells extra soft and sweet today—like a mouthful of cotton candy.
Chan gives him a questioning look but says nothing, so Jisung shrugs and turns back to admiring the flames.
In front of them, the fire crackles, flickering in faint wisps to the rhythm of the rapidly cooling breeze. He’s content, belly full from the food and snacks, and his heart full after spending the better part of his day in the presence of two of his favourite people.
‘Are you alright, pup?’ Chan asks, dipping his head to look Jisung in the eyes.
Jisung blushes. It’s been a while since Chan has called any of the younger members pup, and he only slips into the habit when he is in one of his particularly doting moods.
‘I’m fine. Why?’
Chan shakes his head, and offers him a cryptic smile. ‘Nothing… I’m probably just overthinking.’
Probably. Chan tends to do that a lot.
Jisung is busy digging through Minho’s sparsely packed luggage—he would have come more prepared if Minho had told him that they were actually camping—for something warm to help him survive through a night in the woods, when Chan, his beloved hyung, their amazing leader, and traitor extraordinaire, announces, ‘I think I’m gonna get going.’
To say that Jisung is appalled would be an understatement.
He has not felt this level of betrayal since Felix tearfully admitted that he was the one who ate Jisung’s cheesecake at the recording studio. And well, it’s not like Jisung can stay angry at Felix, ever, so he got over that extremely quickly.
However, Jisung does not want to let Chan off so easily.
The cameras are gone now, since the filming crew has left for the night, meaning that Jisung has no qualms about causing a scene to convince Chan to stay. It’s not fair if he has to suffer the whims of Minho alone.
‘Channie-hyung!’ He whines.
The older omega throws his hands up and shrugs at him, as if to say not my fault, when it most definitely is his fault that he is leaving Jisung to perish in a forest where the only source of warmth is a small fire and Lee Minho.
‘Aw, hyung,’ Minho drawls, tipping the chair back so far Jisung is afraid he’s going to tip over. ‘You mean, you don’t want to snuggle up with me and Jisungie in this tiny tent?’
He points at the tent which Jisung had blissfully forgotten about until now. It is way too small for three grown, adult men, but they can probably make do with it if they had to—the concept of personal space has never mattered much to them anyway.
‘Hm, not particularly, no,’ Chan deadpans. He rolls his eyes and pushes Minho’s chair back down so that he’s sitting properly upright again. ‘It’s bad enough that you dragged me all the way out here to third-wheel you two. I already do that everyday in the city.’
Minho snorts; he stands up, straightening his back, momentarily forgetting about the ball on a string still attached to his forehead, and manages to clock Jisung in the back of his head again.
‘Seriously?’ Jisung grumbles. It doesn’t hurt at all, since the ball is made of cheap styrofoam, but he makes a show of rubbing the spot anyway.
Ignoring him, Minho turns to Chan. ‘I mean, you’re always welcome to join us, hyung.’
‘You just don’t want to camp,’ Jisung accuses.
‘You caught me,’ Chan agrees. And then, to Minho, ‘maybe another time. Don’t forget to use protection!’
Chan throws a wave over his shoulder, laughing when the alpha flips him off. Then he’s disappearing down the winding path, and off into the trees.
‘I didn’t bring any!’ Minho shouts after him the exact same time Jisung yells, ‘we are not going to fuck in the middle of the woods!’
Jisung wakes up sweating—the tent was a bad idea.
They say hindsight is twenty-twenty, but unfortunately Jisung needs glasses and it’s currently too dark to see much of anything anyway.
Awareness comes to him in stages, but even before he is conscious enough to even register being awake, he knows something is wrong. He feels trapped in a cocoon of sweat and heat so intense he can hardly breathe. When he tries to push his arms out, he finds that he can’t—he’s anchored in place but an invisible weight.
Distressed, Jisung bites down the urge to scream, because the last thing he wants to do is freak Minho out and cause another baseball bat incident.
His bed has never felt so claustrophobic… wait. He is not in his bed right now; they are not in their apartment. They are in the middle of a fucking mountain, crammed inside a tiny tent where Jisung is sharing a sleeping bag with Minho, who is plastered against his back.
As if on cue, Minho makes a deep rumbling sound into the back of Jisung’s neck, his lips parted just enough for Jisung to feel the slightest hint of teeth.
Jisung’s skin prickles, hairs standing up, goosebumps exploding at the point of contact. His fingers go numb and in the next second, all of the wind up energy seeps out of his body, leaving him boneless and deflated.
Sweat trickles from his hairline, sliding down the sides of his face, over his nose, before disappearing somewhere behind his ear. He needs to get out of here—he needs some fresh, cool air. Except as he tries to wiggles out of Minho’s grip, he is met instead with Minho grinding his hips insistently into Jisung’s backside.
‘Hyung,’ Jisung gasps out, breath hitching.
Sensing the movement, Minho’s arms tighten around him, and the alpha lets out another noise, this time closer to a growl. The sounds sends a shiver along Jisung’s spine, and also something else leaks from between his legs. Something hot and wet.
Slick.
What the fuck. What the fuck, why is he slicking?
‘Hyung,’ he says again, more urgently this time.
He can’t… he can’t be in heat. It’s way too early. He isn’t due for another couple of weeks—he remembers this clearly because he had felt so relieved that his heat was going to end just before their schedules picked up again.
Jisung’s always had a hard time perceiving his own scent, but even he can smell the heat overtaking everything inside the tent, overbearing and intense as always.
Finally, Minho stirs into what Jisung hopes is wakefulness. He curls into Jisung, nuzzling at his neck. ‘Hmm, Sungie? Smell so good…’
‘I’m in heat,’ Jisung whispers into the night
He doesn’t know why he’s so embarrassed, but it probably has something to do with the fact that they are in the middle of the woods that Jisung told Chan he wasn’t going to get fucked in.
To his credit, Minho doesn’t seem bothered.
‘Okay,’ he says.
He dislodges one arm from Jisung’s waist so that he can unzip the sleeping bag holding them hostage. Jisung lets out an audible gasp at the blast of cool air that hits his torso, finally feeling like he can breathe again.
It’s a double-edged sword, because now that Jisung’s body isn’t in flight mode, the full intensity of his heat is going to hit—he can already feel the searing fog encroaching on his mind. In another couple of minutes, the heat is going to become unbearable, and Jisung is so glad that Minho is here with him. Even though it’s entirely Minho’s fault that his heat is early.
‘You’re thinking about how this is my fault,’ Minho chuckles. His chest vibrates into Jisung’s back. Jisung’s own chest burns with want.
‘Isn’t it?’ Jisung hisses through gritted teeth.
Minho doesn’t answer, just continues nosing along Jisung’s neck, stopping only to lick a long, wet, stripe over his scent gland. A pathetic moan escapes Jisung’s lips, and he unconsciously pushes back into the alpha’s touch.
Strong hands settle back on his waist. Minho rubs slow circles with his thumbs, soothing the dull ache pulsing through Jisung’s hips. ‘Eager… and so wet for me already.’
Jisung would make a snappy comment about how busy they’ve both been, so can you blame me? but he’s all out of words, and frankly, he’s kind of mad that Minho is so uncharacteristically chatty right now when he should be inside him. The sharp dip in his scent makes Minho laugh.
‘Aw, baby’s angry, hm? Impatient,’ Minho says, breath hot against the sensitive shell of Jisung’s ear.
It’s too dark for Jisung to see what the other is doing, but his entire body goes lax when Minho’s hands slide between his legs, fingers just barely grazing his inner thighs. Another wave of slick gushes out, pooling around them and undoubtedly coating Minho’s hand.
He lets Minho undress him, peeling off his shorts that are thoroughly soaked anyway. Then, he looks over his shoulder and through hazy eyes, watches Minho take his shirt off, and then his own pants. Jisung tries really hard not to stare at the alpha’s cock, but it’s the only thing on his mind right now—he’s so hard, and his hole is aching and so, so empty.
There is some more rustling behind him, and before he can react, Jisung feels Minho wipe something—his own slick—over his scent gland, only to immediately lick it off.
Gross, is what Jisung would have said if he was in his right mind, but he isn’t, so the only thing he says is, ‘nngh.’
Jisung is so far gone he can’t even pretend to protest when Minho manhandles him onto his front with his face pressed into their poor excuse of a pillow. Like this, he is technically on his hands and knees, but his arms are nowhere near steady enough to hold himself up so he is essentially being held up by Minho’s single arm curled over his torso. Jisung shouldn’t find it as hot as he does, but fuck Minho’s casual assertion of strength is always so sexy.
More slick rolls down his thighs. Minho coos in his ear, pressing a quick kiss to his temples.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Minho touches Jisung properly. A gentle hand, the one not holding Jisung up, travels down his stomach, to his lower abdomen, and then dips in-between his legs again. His fingers slip in easily, pushing past the sensitive folds to caress his walls.
As if Minho needs to worry about hurting him, given how wet Jisung is.
To prove his point, Jisung uses every ounce of energy he can muster into a single thrust backwards. Still, Minho’s fingers can’t fill him the way he wants to be filled. It’s so frustrating that tears begin to build in the corners of Jisung’s eyes, threatening to fall.
‘Sshh,’ Minho says, breaths heavy. ‘Hyung will fill you up so good… until you feel it all the way here.’
Minho’s hand sneaks down his chest, fingers splaying possessively over his stomach. Jisung almost blacks out from the electrifying pleasure barreling into him.
‘Yes, yes please,’ Jisung hears himself moan, and he practically screams when Minho enters him, fucking into him in one swift motion, all the way to the hilt.
The volume is a bit concerning. If anyone was unfortunate enough to be within a hundred metres of their tent, they might think someone is being mauled by a bear. Are there bears here? Jisung doesn’t know, and he doesn’t care. Not when Minho’s cock is finally filling him up, rubbing at all the right places inside him. And clearly, bears are the least of Minho’s concern as well, if the enthusiasm with which he drapes himself over Jisung and pins him to the ground is anything to go by.
Minho sets a mindnumbingly brutal pace for someone who was just teasing Jisung for being the impatient one. His thrusts are fast and deep, hips pulling back until only the tip remains before he fucks back into Jisung.
It feels divine—every spike in Jisung’s heat is met with an equally intense thrust. Minho’s cock hits the exact same spot every time, the spot that makes Jisung’s vision blur and his eyes roll back. Again, and again and again, in tandem with the increasing demands of his heat, until Jisung can no longer remember what it was like to be without it.
Jisung shoves his knuckles in-between his teeth in an attempt to stifle the sounds he is making. His arm trembles under the weight of it all, acting like a brace to stop himself from falling flat on his face now that Minho’s two hands have shifted their focus to keeping his ass raised and back curved.
Another gasp is punched out of Jisung when Minho pulls him back by the waist, fingers digging into his hipbones hard enough to bruise. Minho reaches so deep that Jisung fears his might really break. The rough thrusting motions send a nauseating wave of pleasure through him, leaving him lightheaded and dazed, tittering on the edge of overstimulation.
‘Hnngh…’ Jisung whimpers, lips parted, tongue out, and drooling like a dog.
Minho’s dog, a small voice in the back of Jisung’s mind reminds him. It’s the heat talking, but even so, the thought alone makes him flush hotter, if that is even possible.
Minho pauses, a brief reprieve for both of them to catch their breathes. Their scents have become entangled, a delicious union of Minho’s sharp yet comforting musk and Jisung’s mellow sweetness. To Jisung’s heightened senses, it smells like home.
‘Is it too much?’ Minho murmurs into his temple, lips soft.
Jisung frantically shakes his head. He chokes on a shuddering moan, reaching back blindly to make sure that Minho isn’t pulling away. The mere thought of being empty fills him with so much dread and physical anguish that he starts crying again—the tears won’t stop.
‘No, no no, need you, hyung… it hurts,’ Jisung sobs. Make it go away, he wails into the back of his hand, where he’s left teethmarks over his knuckles. ‘Minh–ah, alpha…’
A tender hand strokes Jisung’s sides, soothing the agitation coursing through him. He knows it’s irrational, because Minho has always taken good care of him, and Jisung knows he will continue to do so. But maybe it’s the fact that they aren’t in the safety of their home, or Jisung’s nest, that sends Jisung’s nerves into overdrive.
‘I know, baby,’ Minho hums. He trails light kisses along Jisung’s nape, nosing at the hairs sticking to damp skin. ‘But I need you to breathe for me, okay?’
A wet sniffle escapes him as he tries to wrestle his breathing under control so that he is not on the verge of passing out. It’s promptly drowned out by the loud squelch that echoes through the air the moment Minho pushes back into him. Jisung clenches around him, facilitated by an involuntary full-body shudder—he can feel every twitch of Minho’s cock, squeezed tightly by his walls.
‘So good for me.’ Minho’s breath hitches.
Jisung barely registers being flipped onto his back until Minho is kissing him.
‘Mnngh, f-for you,’ Jisung hiccups into the kiss, gasping, choking, whining around the other’s tough.
Minho’s hands are on his face, brushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes. He laps at Jisung’s tears, kisses over his eyelids, and licks into his mouth with such fervour Jisung worries he might burst.
‘You’re still tense,’ Minho whispers.
Jisung wraps his arms around the alpha’s neck and buries his face under his chin, breathing in his scent. His mind is fuzzy, so he says the only thing he knows how to. ‘Want your knot.’
The next few minutes, maybe hours, passes Jisung by in a blur. Minho has him in every possible position that their enclosed space will allow—on his back, on his side, on his front, until Jisung starts whining about the stiffness in his shoulders from lying down. Soon, Jisung is on his front again, pinned down by a hand between his shoulder blades. Minho is heavy against his back, sweat mixing with Jisung’s own.
When Minho comes, he spills into Jisung with a strained grunt.
Moaning, Jisung instinctively clamps up, wanting to milk Minho for everything he has to offer and to make sure that not a single drop of him leaks out. This proves to be a fruitless endeavor, as a flood of come and slick trickles out of Jisung’s fluttering hole the moment Minho attempts to move again. He doesn’t pull away this time, choosing instead to line Jisung’s ass with his hips, as he slowly pushes his expanding knot into Jisung.
Jisung’s own orgasm follows. His small cock, hard and neglected until now, leaks all over his stomach, and dribbling down into the sheets beneath him.
As Jisung sinks his teeth into his arm, a high-pitched keen is punched out of him in the process of forcing his body to relax so that he can take Minho’s knot without letting the searing pleasure cross into pain. His arches his back the best he can, relishing in Minho’s little groans and gasps behind him.
Minho’s knot settles snugly inside him, sliding past Jisung’s overstimulated folds with a wet noise. Without thinking, Jisung tries to close his thighs; if it weren’t for Minho’s hands on him, he would have fallen face-first into the ground.
The sound of the zipper brings Jisung back into the present, where he’s somewhat clearheaded enough again to remember where he is. With a knot inside him, the overwhelming fog of the heat is beginning to clear. The burning itch thrumming under his skin is still there, but he is no longer delirious with it. He takes a few steadying breaths to ground himself before relaxing into Minho’s embrace.
Now that Jisung can think clearly again, he’s hyperaware of the stickiness clinging to his lower body—a terrible mixture of come and slick against his skin. Jisung’s heat is not over yet, but for now, he’s sated. There’s not much for either of them to do other than wait for Minho’s knot to shrink enough for them to adjust their positions.
Somehow, Minho has managed to wrap the sleeping bag around them—a truly impressive show of dexterity considering they are stuck together by the hips, cock in hole, with Jisung too tired and sore to be able to lift a single finger to help.
However, Jisung does manages to catch a glimpse of his phone, which has been shoved to the side, under his pillow, and notes that it is currently four in the morning. Outside, the wind howls.
It’s impossible to fall asleep like this—Jisung still feels so sensitive, and Minho is so impossibly big inside him.
‘Do you think Channie-hyung knew this was going to happen?’ Jisung asks when the silence begins to eat away at him.
He thinks back to the way Chan was looking at him by the fire, and yeah, Chan definitely suspected something was up. No wonder he went home early—Jisung wouldn’t want to deal with himself and Minho like this either.
Minho makes a displeased noise, his scent souring just a bit.
‘Don’t talk about Chan-hyung while I’m still inside you,’ he groans, pulling Jisung closer. He hooks his chin over Jisung’s shoulder, and even though he can’t see much in the dark, Jisung knows for sure that he is pouting.
Jisung giggles fondly. He would turn around to kiss Minho if he could move, but he can’t, so he settles for putting his hands over where Minho’s are resting over his stomach, and laces their fingers together.
‘Love you, hyung.’
Minho does not answer with words, but the shift in his scent is enough for Jisung to know exactly what he wants to say.
I love you too, forever.