Chapter Text
Jisung had been basically bedridden for five days now and he was sick of it. Pun fully intended.
“Everyone’s presentation is different. It’s best to let it run its course.” His doctor had said when he had gone for an appointment due to persistent abdominal pain and shortness of breath.
He had thought it was a stomach bug back then, wishes it was one now. He would have had a horrible two days but then been back on set or stage or wherever the others were at the moment.
Instead he was the type to present rapidly, all the stupid organ development and hormone nonsense happening within the span of a couple weeks and hurting like a bitch the entire time.
Hyunjin had been a lucky one, his presentation had happened over months and months, with barely any discomfort until he triggered a natural heat without any of them really noticing the changes. They had panicked a bit, thrown a heat kit at him, and Minho and Seungmin had stayed doubled up in other member’s beds for a couple days until it was all over.
Felix’s hadn’t been as smooth, he had been vaguely uncomfortable for three weeks. He had gone to the doctors a week in, had been declared he was presenting, and had just continued their schedules with pain relief patches on his stomach but was otherwise fine. And then he was a fully-fledged omega, inducted into the omega squad by Hyunjin who was excited to have another around to commiserate about alphas doing things.
Jisung doesn’t really remember Chan nor Changbin’s presentations. Chan’s had been before they were a band, he only remembers the couple weeks where Chan had been spirited somewhere else and they had begun to suspect he had dropped out before he showed back up a little stinkier and standing a bit taller.
Changbin’s had happened in the middle of the show, and Jisung doesn’t remember anything about it other than they were all extremely worried it would cost them their shot at debuting. Scrambling to rearrange their songs around a new gap in the lyrics and choreography had cost them a lot of sleepless nights, but his presentation had been blessedly quick and he was back for the next week’s performance.
None of them had been as bad as his, which was annoying because he had no idea how long the pain would continue. Even doped up on painkillers prescribed by his doctor, the pain was too distracting to let him pay attention to any of the shows he tried to watch.
His stomach hurt too much to let him eat much of anything either, so he was both in pain and low-level hungry all the time, which made him also very irritable.
At first the members had tried to comfort him through it, hang out with him when they were home. After he had cussed out Hyunjin for how loudly he ate his snacks and basically banned Chan and Changbin form his room because they smelled too strong, they largely left him alone.
Or at least, some did.
He can hear the door to the dorm opening, followed by footsteps and the familiar scratchy rip of Minho’s insulated lunchbox in the kitchen.
“Do you think you can eat?” Minho’s voice asks across the door a bit later and Jisung takes a moment to filter through the various aches in his body before grunting out an “If it’s light?”
Minho hums in response, walking back to the kitchen to pick out something from what he brought. Minho opens the door and slides in quickly, shutting it behind him immediately. It’s been a rule for the past four days, since despite the fact that Jisung can’t be around their smell without feeling uncomfortable he does currently live with the two alphas.
It’s something that will have to be reconsidered if it continues after his presentation is over.
Minho places the bowl of what looks like plain porridge carefully on his nightstand. It, and his whole room, have gotten a lot messier than usual during his period of invalidity because he refuses to move if he doesn’t absolutely need to. It’s not that moving means more pain as much as staying perfectly still means less pain.
Minho seems to know this, probably having been told by the others, mainly Hyunjin and Felix, the intricacies of taking care of him.
“Do you want to get up or eat like that?” Minho asks, kneeling by Jisung’s bed and surveying his prone form, head propped up a little by a pile of pillows from the last time Hyunjin tried to get him to eat. Jisung had done his best to not move since, zoning in and out on a show and going mildly insane.
“Like this, hurts if I move.” Jisung says, since it hurts especially a lot if he puts any pressure on his lower abdomen.
Minho nods and picks up the bowl, carefully depositing spoonfuls of porridge into his mouth. He quickly finds a box of tissues when half of a spoonful misses and keeps them nearby in case of another emergency.
Eating feels progressively less horrible as Minho continues to feed him, which Jisung hopes is a sign that this nightmare is almost over. He does stop Minho before they reach the end of the bowl, this has been a lot of food compared to what he’s been able to manage lately and his stomach feels like it’s going to burst which is a different kind of uncomfortable.
Minho leaves the bowl on his nightstand and takes a moment to clean up, throwing trash Jisung has just been letting fall near the bed because he can’t be bothered to try to throw it into the bin, and tossing the various towels and other clothes that have piled up as people tried to keep his fever down.
He presses a hand to Jisung’s forehead to gauge his temperature, leaving with the porridge bowl and coming back with a freshly wetted towel and a sports drink that Jisung normally loves but right now can’t conceive of drinking.
Jisung clearly makes a face, because Minho puts the drink on the now slightly tidier nightstand and instead focuses on laying the washcloth across Jisung’s forehead.
“Thanks.” Jisung mumbles, his eyes closed as he soaks in how nice it is to have Minho taking care of him. He’d been busy most of the week, only dropping by quickly to say hi or texting him quirky updates about what the members are up to.
“Feeling better?” He asks and Jisung can feel the mattress shift underneath him as Minho settles beside him. He tenses in anticipation, because even a move that small has been sending shooting pains up his spine but he feels a twinge at most.
Minho’s presence feels like a painkiller, and he takes the opportunity to rearrange himself more comfortably in the bed.
“I read that massages can help with the cramps.” Minho states, which sounds fake because pressing on where it hurts definitely feels like it would just make it hurt more. The dancers all have magic hands though, from their years of working through muscle cramps after their extra practices and while it hurts during he’s usually better off after.
Plus it’s Minho, and he’s trusted him with his life and body multiple times now and despite expectations and Minho’s threats, he hasn’t been killed yet.
He nods sleepily, comfy in his little nest. Minho starts with what’s easiest, fingers pushing and pulling at the skin of his forearm before thumbs dig into his hand and he is forced to extend his fingers out. It’s not where he expected the massage to happen, but he’s probably tense all over from fighting the pain and he won’t complain about it.
He also has no intention of sitting up at all, so when Minho makes his way to his shoulder he has to switch arms instead of trying to tackle any of the stiffness in his neck. He feels nice and relaxed right now for the first time in what feels like an eternity, and he will not be moving unless the porridge decides to evict itself from his stomach.
Moving is bad and full of pain, remember?
Once he’s done with both arms, Minho moves around to reach for the next more accessible body part. Jisung’s sweaty pajama pants are hiked up his leg and he stretches into the pressure as his calves are destressed one by one. His thighs are more complicated because he’s, again, not moving if at all possible. Minho has to massage them through the pajama pants and can only really get to the front but it’s nice and Jisung feels like a happy little puddle.
He’s almost forgotten that he’s supposed to be in pain when Minho moves up to his pelvis and his thumbs dig in right where a lot of the cramping has been. He groans in response to the pressure and Minho’s fingers lift up, a lot lighter when they return to knead up his abs.
It hurts, but not the same way it had before. It’s not a stabbing feeling, more reminiscent of the soreness he gets from a good workout. It’s definitely not great, but it’s not bad and he’s not particularly inclined to stop Minho if he thinks it’ll help.
“Feeling better?” Minho asks him and he thinks he nods but he’s not a hundred percent sure because he’s a puddle and puddles don’t have necks. He does manage to hum something out that Minho chuckles at, moving to check the wet washcloth on his forehead.
It’s evidently too dry, the water boiling off from how hot he feels, since Minho leaves to refresh it. He comes back with the washcloth, a water bottle and a blister pack of little pills.
“Your fever’s still high, open up.” Minho tells him as he pops one of the pills out of its pocket and Jisung opens his mouth to receive it. The cap on the water bottle cracks next and a small amount is poured in his mouth so he can swallow it down.
Minho moves to get up again, but Jisung finds the energy in himself to launch his arms into motion, latching on to Minho’s arm and shirt.
“Stay, didn’t like it when you left.” He mumbles, his eyes struggling to stay open against the incoming sleepiness of the fever.
“I was only gone for a minute.” Minho says with a laugh and Jisung’s too dizzy to figure out if it’s mocking.
“Didn’t like it.” He repeats instead, pulling on the arm he managed to capture until Minho goes along with him finding a spot to lay down on his bed.
It’s not very easy, because Jisung is smack in the middle of it, fabric and pillows and a couple plushies built up around him as a monument to his misery, but he and Minho have shared beds many times and they know how to make it work.
The next time he wakes up his mouth is horribly dry. He reaches over to his nightstand blindly, grabbing the water bottle and downing most of it in one go.
His stomach protests the volume of liquid he just consumed, but his mouth finally doesn’t feel like death and he caps it before tossing it vaguely away from the bed for someone else to deal with.
He doesn’t feel terrible, the pain in his abdomen mostly a dull ache that he can pretty much ignore, so he turns on his side, throws a hand over Minho’s torso and goes back to sleep with minimal fuss.
The next time he wakes up Jisung can tell the fever meds have worn off. He can feel his skin radiating heat, like a hot road in the middle of summer.
His head hurts from it, so does his skin.
Slowly he opens his eyes, hoping they hadn’t boiled in their sockets, and tries to find someone that could help him.
One eyelid isn’t open because it is buried against his suspiciously damp pillow, but the other manages and finds the top of Minho’s recently bleached head in the darkness of the room.
It is moving around a lot, in a way that Minho normally doesn’t because half the reason Jisung preferred sharing a bed with him over everyone else was that he sleeps like the dead and Jisung has never been kicked or pushed in his sleep.
While Jisung is trying to coordinate the muscles in his arm so he can move Minho shifts, arching his back with a pained look on his face, eyebrows furrowed.
The need to wake Minho up from whatever is bothering him accelerates the process of figuring out how to move, though the heel of his palm smacks a little heavier than he had wanted into Minho’s tense chest. It does wake him up though, with a sharp exhale followed by a groan.
Despite being awake now, Minho’s chest doesn’t get any less tense under Jisung’s hand, and Minho never actually opened his eyes, the pained frown still there as he continues to groan softly. Jisung tries to comfort him, moving his arm to pet him in what was intended to be a soothing manner. His brain is currently boiling in his skull though, and it’s not excellent at communicating at the moment.
He ends up managing to lift his hand up and drop it back down into what is functionally a weak slap. It startles Minho though, who moves faster than Jisung’s brain can process and suddenly there’s a hand pressing his bicep into the mattress, his back flat against an awkward fold in a blanket that is getting a little uncomfortable.
He tries to fight the hand on his arm so he can move the blanket out of the way, but the hand presses down even harder, Minho putting his entire body weight on it as he hovers over Jisung. He doesn’t understand why he’s doing this, but he also doesn’t understand much right now.
He struggles against the weight on instinct though, because while the blanket is uncomfortable, the pressure on his aching skin hurts. He tries to squirm out from under him, pain lighting up his nerves on top of the way his muscles are just achey and sore.
Minho says something, but Jisung just hears a mumbled combination of syllables that make no sense to him.
There’s a palm against his forehead, fingers in his hair and he tilts his head back with it, letting Minho feel how hot he is in the hopes that he’ll understand that his fever is back and he needs something for it.
Instead he feels teeth against his throat, pressing in against his trachea.
Immediately instincts kick in and he goes completely boneless, legs falling lax against the mattress where they were trying to push himself higher on the bed earlier. Minho’s teeth are sharp and his skin is so sensitive from the fever, but it doesn’t hurt as much as he thinks it should.
Minho shifts his hand so it’s not pressing down against his bicep anymore, though the hand on Jisung’s head curls so his fingers tighten in his hair and keeps him in place. His mouth stays on Jisung’s neck, breaths cascading over skin so hot they almost feel like a cool breeze.
As the hold continues, Jisung can feel saliva pooling, running past where Minho’s lips lay flush against his skin. The breaths also slow down, from sharp staccato breaths to slow, regular breathing. Jisung’s heart rate slows alongside it, dropping down to just steady beats echoing in his ears.
Eventually Jisung has to swallow, his throat expanding into Minho’s sharp little teeth. Minho follows the contraction, biting in harder against his trachea for a second before pulling back and finally releasing him.
The grip on his hair releases too, and while both of them had hurt, Jisung almost misses the pressure now that it’s gone.
He startles when Minho’s head falls to his chest, none of the dancer’s usual grace or teasing detectable in the move. Minho’s forehead shifts heavily against him when Jisung hears a very unhappy, painful sounding groan below him.
He can’t see much even when he presses his chin to his collar bone, though the action makes the bite on his neck twinge a bit.
The hand that had been in his hair has drifted down below where he can see, and it clearly destabilized Minho’s stance because the next moment he’s sliding to Jisung’s side with another groan of pain. That’s not the side against the wall, the soup that has replaced his thoughts reminds him, and he reaches out on instinct to keep Minho from tumbling right off the edge of the bed.
Minho doesn’t look good, he’s frowning in pain, jaw tight and teeth grinding hard. One hand is pressed against his abdomen, just about where Jisung’s own pain radiates from still. Jisung stabilizes Minho by grabbing his arm, thumb tucked into the elbow joint to keep him from sliding away. The hand from that same arm is fisted in Jisung’s sleep shirt, the collar tugging as Minho pulls the fabric in on himself.
There’s a big, shuddering inhale as Minho tries to take in air through the pain, his muscles relaxing slightly. He uses the break in tension to pull at him, heaving him away from the edge, a leg rising to trap both of Minho’s in the middle of the bed.
He’s also a human hot water bottle right now, and being pressed against his hot body seems to help Minho out.
Minho is still breathing through the pain, the harsh breaths falling across Jisung’s shoulder. When a particularly bad stab of pain shoots through him, Minho bites down on the shoulder and Jisung has to do his best to not squirm away. He hisses out his own pain, whining a little when the teeth don’t let go.
Minho looks worse off, his entire face contorted with pain when Jisung manages to twist his head to look at him. He can see the red imprints of Minho’s teeth when he finally detaches and he wonders what his throat looks like.
He passed out at some point, either from his fever or just regular exhaustion. He knows this because he startles awake to a hand clawing at his chest, nails biting into his skin through the shirt. Or maybe not through the shirt, he realizes as his senses come online, the nails are too sharp to have fabric in the way.
Minho is still groaning next to him, his breath hot against his shoulder. His entire body is pressed tight against Jisung’s side, creating a long burning hot line all the way down to where their legs are intertwined.
That’s how he discovers he’s not the sickest one anymore, his hand displacing beads of sweat when he moves to gage Minho’s temperature.
He’s violently hot against the back of his hand, and Jisung hopes it’s because his own fever broke because otherwise Stray Kids will be out two members as they just boil alive in their sleep.
He should probably tell someone, it’s clearly still night from the lack of light behind his curtains and someone should be home. He’s exhausted though, so tired his bones hurt, but he can see the foil of the fever meds Minho had brought him however long ago on reflecting on his nightstand.
Minho protests the shift when Jisung lurches up to rest on his elbows, the hand on his chest slides to his ribs and clutches at his side as he keeps moving up to sit on the bed. He feels his shirt slide down in two parts, a sizeable tear in the fabric starting right around the middle of his abdomen.
Lethargically he pulls it off, tossing it as far as he can into the room. It was gross and covered in fever sweat anyways.
He has to get up to his knees to be able to reach over Minho and onto the nightstand, something that produces a lot of objecting groans, but he manages to grab the blister pack of meds and the unopened bottle of sports drink he refused initially. It’s very much room temperature now, and it’s going to taste awful, but it’s the only liquid nearby.
He groans as he sits back down on the bed, consciously rearranging himself closer to the wall and Minho shuffles to follow him. The meds are small and he fumbles with their stupid packaging for a second, but he manages to free the pill and shoves it into Minho’s slightly open mouth immediately.
“Drink up.” He tells Minho as he squeezes his jaw to get his mouth open wider, pouring a mouthful of the red liquid in and letting go so he can swallow. He takes a pill himself too, just in case, and drinks from the bottle once he made sure Minho didn’t choke.
It does indeed taste pretty terrible warm. He’s likely super dehydrated though, so he finishes half the bottle without thinking about it.
He caps the bottle and leaves it at the top of the bed, within reach if Minho needs it later. He tosses the fever meds up there too and with nothing keeping him upright, he flops onto his pillow.
Minho’s hand comes back quickly, and they’re pressed tightly together again. It feels good, Jisung has always been the physically affectionate type. He moves to snuggle against Minho more, pressing his mouth against Minho’s damp hair.
It’s a little bit gross, but Minho smells nice so it’s not that bad.
The next time he wakes up it’s because of a very aggressive smell surrounding him.
Every time he woke up before this, the room smells of fever sweat and sickness, and it’s still there but absolutely drowned out by a strong musky smell that covers everything like a blanket.
Minho is still a warm line down his side, maybe a bit too warm. He twists his chest so he can press his hand to Minho’s forehead and Minho whines at the change in positions, but at least he’s not burning up like last time.
Moving has also made the smell even stronger, and Jisung is almost dizzy with it. It’s in his nose, feels like it’s even coating his mouth but somehow he’s still hungry for more of it.
Minho’s hand on his stomach slides across his ribs to grip tighter against him and it makes Jisung shiver. The shift clearly did something, because Minho’s legs squeeze down on the thigh they had trapped and the smell gets so strong Jisung has to take short, rapid breaths to suck in enough oxygen.
Minho’s clearly the source of the smell, the thought confirmed when he leans his head to sniff at him.
He wants to lick the smooth column of Minho’s throat. He wants to see if it tastes as good as it smells.
He rolls over to do just that, running on instinct ever since his brain checked out sometime during the height of his fever.
Minho whines as he is pushed onto his back, Jisung on all fours above him. Minho’s legs never let go of his, so his thigh presses against Minho’s pelvis when he bends down to mouth at the sweat at the base of his throat.
It tastes good, better with the sound of Minho’s moan echoing in his ears. He licks a stripe up Minho’s throat before coming back down to his collarbones. The shirt covering most of the skin there has wicked away the majority of the sweat, but Jisung can still taste the salt on his skin when he sucks it into his mouth.
Minho’s hands are clawing at Jisung’s back, nails leaving long stinging trails as he lifts his chest off the bed so they can be pressed against each other. He ends up having to detach form Minho’s skin when his scrabbling is accompanied with an undulating move by his hips that short circuits his already struggling brain.
Minho’s legs haven’t let go of his, and he might be loosing feeling in it a little with how tightly it’s squeezed between Minho’s thighs. He keeps undulating his hips against Jisung’s leg, crushing his very obvious hard on against Jisung’s pelvis.
It makes Jisung feel a little less guilty about his own, especially when he slides his legs down so it’s pressed against Minho’s stomach. The sensation is so strong he has to stop and breathe through it, but Minho has no such qualms, his hands grabbing Jisung’s waist and keeping him flush against him as he continues to rut up.
His mouth finds the skin behind Minho’s ear, a treasure trove of sweat that he’s immediately licking, sucking away. Minho moves his head to the side so he has more room, more skin to taste. He scrapes his teeth against the skin to get more of that intoxicating smell in his mouth and Minho moans, loud in his own ear.
Minho has to let go of his deathgrip on Jisung’s leg to grab his ass, and it’s clearly worth it because Jisung feels hands crawling their way under his sweatpants. They fight with the elastic of his boxers for a moment before Jisung is being manhandled, skin to skin.
Freeing his leg grants him a range of motion he didn’t have before. One hand has to remain to stabilize him, but the other can start to explore new territory.
Minho whines when he lifts his face away from the skin he’d been marking. He looks so debauched, skin slick with sweat and pupils dilated fully behind lidded eyes. Jisung’s eyes trace the path of Minho’s tongue as it pokes through to wet his lips.
He had wanted to explore new skin, but his free hand curls into Minho’s messy hair and holds him in place when he drops back down to devour his mouth. The kiss is frantic, a bit unhinged and involving a lot of teeth.
Jisung is a bit too far up Minho’s body, and one hand leaves his ass to grab at a shoulder and yank him back down into place. A better angle doesn’t fix the messiness of the kiss, neither are in it for anything gentle. They’re here to devour, to consume and be consumed.
The hand that was once In Minho’s hair is fighting to get under his shirt now, searching blindly for warm skin and places that will make Minho break off their kiss to moan into his mouth. He likes the wet breaths against his lips almost as much as the kiss, the sounds tapping into something deep inside him that ruffles with pride.
The sounds pile on to the haze of instincts that cloud his mind, his thoughts limited to skin and teeth and the need to bury himself somewhere wet and warm.
When he finally wakes up capable of rational thought, he’s in his bed and something on his arm itches horribly. His mouth feels dry and his skin hurts in a myriad of different ways, not all of which he can attribute to a specific cause.
Most he can. While he wasn’t exactly aware of his actions, he was conscious for them and he remembers snippets.
The feeling of sliding into Minho for the first time and the shudders that took over his body in response, nearly making him come on the spot.
Popping his first ever knot, the feeling of being caught in a vice grip as he expanded. Making out and grinding into each other while they waited for it to go down so they could do it again.
The different moans and groans Minho made, the way he sounded in the various positions. Breathier on his back, louder on all fours, punctuated by little gasps and pants when riding him.
The taste of Minho’s skin.
Skin that is right next to him, Minho draped on him chest to chest.
Jisung hadn’t bothered to open his eyes yet, but he can feel the heavy weight of him. He knows it’s Minho from the smell, though it’s softer now, diluted with the smell of soap.
He cracks an eye open and is met with Minho’s back, typically smooth but now peppered with bruises of varied intensity. Some he remembers making, like the one on his shoulder that – yep – he had managed to bite hard enough to get to blood. Minho had retaliated and bit his arm just as hard while he came.
It might be the thing that itches now that he thinks about it.
He lifts the itchy arm a little, craning to look over Minho’s bedhead so he can see his forearm.
It’s not the itchy thing, in fact the arm has barely any blemishes at all. Instead it has an IV line feeding into him, the needle generously taped down against his skin. The tape pulls at his skin when he moves and it doesn’t feel great.
The IV bag, bags are hooked onto the back of his desk chair and almost empty, which is good news for getting rid of the tape problem.
His head falls back on the pillow, Minho shifting a little to arrange himself more comfortably where his head hangs over the curve of Jisung’s shoulder. Minho’s shoulder is almost at Jisung’s chin, he had to crane his neck to see the bite beforehand, and he presses a quick kiss to it before looking at his other arm.
There’s a giant bruise on that one, right in the meat of his forearm. It doesn’t look like Minho bit hard enough for it to bleed, but he sure tried.
He moves the arm to pull the blanket higher up on Minho’s back and falls back asleep.
The next time he wakes up, the itchy tape is gone but so is the weight of Minho on his chest. That’s what wakes him up, a sudden feeling or wrongness taking over and wrenching him from his sleep.
He opens his eyes immediately, ready to do something, he doesn’t really know what, to fix the situation. Instead he’s faced with a very bleary looking Minho sitting between his legs and being guided through drinking a smoothie by Jeongin.
Both IV bags are gone, Jeongin now occupying his desk chair in their place.
Jisung rubs his hand over his face to wake up, and Jeongin turns to look at him with a smile on his face.
“You’re awake, hyung!” He says, lowering the smoothie he’s holding out for Minho. Minho turns to look at Jisung too, responding to his awakedness by suddenly pitching to the side and slamming in Jisung’s chest.
He had just started pulling himself upright, but falls right back down with the weight of Minho back on him. Jisung wraps his arms around Minho to keep him steady, and maybe a little bit because he just likes the contact.
Jeongin doesn’t seem terribly surprised, putting the smoothie down on the nightstand before fishing his phone out of his lap and sending a text to someone.
“I’m telling Minnie-hyung to make you a smoothie too.” Jeongin tells him once he puts the phone back down, scooting on the rolling chair to be closer to the head of the bed.
A drink sounds like a good plan, since his mouth still feels horribly dry and he probably feels hungry under all the soreness. He had a brief moment to look at his own chest before Minho fell onto him, and the patchwork of bruises and claw marks across it was a bit much.
“More tummy time?” Seungmin says when he walks into the room, and it sounds like an insult. It feels like an insult too, when Jisung repeats it in his head, so he decides to glare at Seungmin as he approaches with his smoothie in hand.
The smoothie goes right to the nightstand instead of Jisung’s waiting mouth, and he’s very worried they won’t be able to tell them apart when they pick them up again. So worried he misses the transition from Jeongin being in the chair to standing up and helping Seungmin lift Minho back upright.
Minho is doing nothing to help, possibly even resisting and Jisung is not helping either. His arms squeeze around Minho, keeping him to his chest where it’s safe.
“You can hold him again when you’re sitting, but the straws don’t bend so you have to get up to drink.” Jeongin tells him and that does make sense.
He lets go of Minho, who whines loudly, making Seungmin struggle between laughing at him and being annoyed that he’s not cooperating at all. Jeongin helps pull Jisung up and they’re quickly reunited, Jisung swinging one arm loosely around Minho’s waist as he presses his shoulder into Minho’s back.
Minho shifts so that his head is tucked against Jisung’s jaw, still pretty out of it and not capable of supporting himself. The smoothies come back and Seungmin has to hold Minho’s for him as he drinks and he looks comically put out by it.
Jisung has the energy to hold his, which he does when Jeongin hands his over. Free to do something else, Jeongin instead pulls at the covers on the bed until he dislodges a blanket and wraps it around them both to keep them warm.
“You cleaned?” Jisung asks when he realizes the blanket is nice and soft and not at all drenched in the mixture of fluids he remembers rolling around in.
“Yes. Once you two finally calmed down, Iyennie hosed you off in the shower and I had to strip your nasty bed and do the laundry. Half of this is from Hyunjinnie’s room, so don’t do anything weird to it.” Seungmin grouches, swirling the smoothie cup to break up the clumps before extending it back out to Minho.
“The company called a doctor to check on you, so we had to clean you up.” Jeongin explains, which makes IV bags make sense now. “You’re both ok, you’ll need some time to recover but nothing went wrong during your presentations.”
Nothing having gone wrong was good, obviously. He can’t really remember the doctor so he doesn’t know how much he was able to check, but at least surface level ok was a start. The fact that Minho had presented, unexpectedly and very, very fast, was probably not actually good.
His perception of time was extremely iffy, but it hadn’t felt like all that long.
“How long were we…?” Jisung starts, unsure how to end the question. Out didn’t seem like the appropriate word, and fucking was a bit of a crude way to put it.
“Hyung went to check on you after his schedules on Tuesday.” Jeongin reports. “He didn’t come home that night, which is not that weird so we didn’t think about it. Hyunjinnie checked on you the next morning and noticed Minho was still asleep in your bed. He said he looked really tired, so we let him sleep through morning practice. We tried to call you guys during lunch but neither of you answered and we got worried so Binnie went home and walked in on you two … uh… having pretty aggressive sex.”
Joengin looks a bit uncomfortable with the last bit. Despite his constant insistence that he’s not a baby anymore, he’s still the youngest in the group and it shows sometimes.
“You two fucked nonstop for like two days.” Seungmin adds, sounding tired. “You would posture and growl every time the hyungs came even close to your room so they called us over instead. They’ve been staying at our dorm since.”
“You wouldn’t let us close either, so we couldn’t give you food or water or anything. Just had to wait until it was over or you passed out from dehydration.” Jeongin continues and it’s framed as a joke, but he can see the worry underneath. “Eventually you stopped and we could call the doctor over.”
So Minho had gone through his entire presentation in less than twenty four hours. No wonder he had nearly bitten a chunk out of his shoulder.
The straw in his mouth announces that the cup is empty and he moves to put it down, Jeongin taking it from him and resting it on the nightstand. Minho is still drinking his in slow, sporadic sips.
He looks exhausted, heats are always worse on a person than ruts but he also has the additional hurdle of an extremely rapid and painful presentation right before. He’s going to need a lot of recovering to get through it, not to mention all the healing his skin as to go through.
Jisung hadn’t really ever though that he’d be the mauling type, but evidently he was. Maybe it was just because he hadn’t been in control at all, pure instinct driving him. It was his first rut, after all. And he had started it with a fever.
Minho didn’t surprise him though. The man always threatened to mock bite them, clacking his teeth as a threat when someone didn’t do what he wanted. He was also known for his butt hunting, which was frequently pretty aggressive slapping and groping. He’d always shown affection through violence.
“Do you think you can control yourself around the hyungs now?” Seungmin asks him, clearly interested in being able to go back to his own bed.
“Yeah, I think so.” Jisung says, not really feeling any animosity towards them. He’s honestly surprised that he had reacted like that at all. Chan and Changbin were his best friends, really all the members were. He couldn’t imagine trying to push them away.
“You were really possessive of Minho-hyung.” Jeongin explains, clearly seeing the confusion on Jisung’s face. “We weren’t allowed to even look at him. I only managed to get him in the shower because you passed out.”
Well then, that’s new.
He and Minho had always had this weird closeness to them, personalities clicking immediately. Minho was physically affectionate with him like he wasn’t with anyone else, and Jisung had always loved being his favorite. Reveled in it really.
Minho had also been his favorite, but he didn’t think he acted much on it. He shared his affections with everyone in the group, but evidently not when in rut.
Also the idea that the poor baby Jeongin had had to drag their nasty post-rut/heat bodies into the shower was super embarrassing. None of the members had been involved in anyone else’s cycles so far, it being kept very private and quiet.
“I have seen some things this week that I never wanted to see. Heard things.” Seungmin tells Jisung with a shiver when he notices the blush on Jisung’s face. “I have so much blackmail now that I never want to hear a no ever again.”
Jeongin nods solemnly beside him, face pinched like the memories hurt him.
Minho is finally done with his smoothie, his head leaning back on Jisung’s shoulder, nose mashed behind Jisung’s ear as he drifts in an out of sleep in his arms, when the front door lock makes it’s little opening jingle.
Seungmin is in the kitchen washing out the cups and Jisung can hear a quick discussion from that direction before the group migrates down the hall.
The door to his room isn’t closed, but it isn’t full open either and the hinges squeak a little as Chan hesitantly swings the door open all the way.
“Are we allowed in?” He asks, looking around the space cautiously. It feels unnecessary given Jisung’s room looks pretty normal right now, but he is clearly remembering something very different.
“Yeah.” Jisung says leading a little bit more against the mountain of pillows Jeongin had propped up behind him. He’s starting to get tired again, the smoothie filling him up.
“Are they still naked?” Hyunjin asks, shocked and a little disgusted. Felix giggles when Jisung immediately frowns and moves to lift the blanket to check.
“We managed to get boxers on them, but Minho was squirming around so much trying to get back to Ji that we gave up after that.” Jeongin tells them and Jisung is very glad Minho appears to be fully unconscious against him right now. The knowledge that they had to be dressed by the maknaes is embarrassing for Jisung, and he’s not the fiercely independent one of the group.
“The doctor said he wasn’t fully out of his heat, they just stopped because his body had nothing left to give.” Seungmin says as he returns into the room. “He should be ok now though, he’ll just need to sleep and eat it off a bunch.”
“How was it? Is having a partner good? Tell me everything.” Hyunjin asks, and Jisung is a little confused because he had just sounded disgusted at the idea that they were naked.
“I mean, I don’t remember much.” Jisung tells them. “I think I still had a fever when it started and my mind didn’t really get any clearer after that.”
“You can tell they had a good time though.” Felix says, finger tracing the bite mark on Jisung’s shoulder. It feels kinda nice, Felix’s cold fingers soothing against the irritated skin. It does remind him that he’ll need to apply something on his skin soon so that all the marks don’t scar.
“That one’s from before it started, actually.” Jisung says shyly, the group alternating between looking at the bite and Minho, who is smacking his lips against Jisung’s neck in his sleep. “He went through his whole presentation overnight, and it looked like it hurt a lot.”
There’s a bunch of sympathetic sounds around the room, especially from those that have already presented.
“You two really are soulmates.” Felix muses and Chan smiles fondly, a hand moving to pet Minho’s hair. Minho leans into the caress a little too much, everyone immediately reaching out to stabilize him as he falls to the side. Jisung tries to hold him up, but he’s just as tired and he lets the fall happen pretty quickly.
Minho doesn’t wake up when he’s placed flat on the bed, but he does take most of the blanket with him, revealing the damage on Jisung’s chest.
“Oh the internet is going to have a field day with this.” Changbin says as Felix tries to find Jisung another blanket in the mess on the bed. Jisung doesn’t respond, because he’s very tired and thinking about the fallout of this is well beyond his capabilities right now.
“The betting sites might crash, hyung.” Hyunjin says, almost giddily, at Changbin and Jisung pretends he didn’t hear it as Felix wraps him in something warm and soft.
Once a group earned a certain level of repute, their idols would show up on the sites, with people placing bets on when and how they’d present. It was the same with actors and athletes and anyone famous enough and young enough that they hadn’t presented.
Fame also had the added – thrill? – of making presentations more erratic, so the bets would pay off big if you got it right. Stress, diet, and a bunch of other factors could delay or speed up presentation times, and there were a similar number of things that could impact how you presented.
A lot of it was genetics still, but there had been a study published when he was a kid that being warm predisposed people to presenting as alphas. Parents had bundled up their kids, sent them to saunas regularly, turned up thermostats. And it had worked, for the following three years after the study was published, there were 3% more alpha presentations than expected nationally.
And that had impacted the betting, as well as the stylists. To make someone look like an alpha, they got dressed in several layers of clothes onstage. To project a sense of being a future omega, you got put in a t-shirt and shorts. And the gamblers would analyze their outfits, their actions on and off stage, try to smell them at fansigns. All to try to make an educated guess and win big.
It was rarely an accurate way of predicting anything, because Chan ran around in sleeveless shirts and shorts all the time but had presented as an alpha. His body ran warm on its own, he hadn’t needed to bundle up to activate the enzyme and produce alpha hormones.
The rest of the group is still talking, but Jisung is starting to drift off. He blinks his eyes slowly, lids feeling heavy as he tries, and fails, to pay attention.
Minho isn’t awake yet when Jisung next wakes up, and he immediately makes the executive decision not to move. Minho is facing him, both on their sides with their heads at the foot of the bed and several blankets draped across them.
Jisung doesn’t feel well rested, but he is rested at least. His body is still very sore and his skin is tight and painful in several places, but he’s not on the verge of exhaustion like last time. He’s also very hungry, but that’s something that requires getting up to fix and he’s already decided he’s not doing that.
Instead he stares at Minho’s sleeping face.
In manga and webcomics there’s often that scene where the protagonist sees their love interest asleep and romanticizes their sleeping face. How relaxed and young they look when unbothered by conscious thoughts.
Minho looks beautiful when he’s asleep, of course, Jisung has thought he was stunning from the very first time he saw him. But Jisung prefers him when he’s awake, his face animated and expressive and doing something beyond just being a pretty body with his cheek mashed so hard into a pillow it is almost against his eye.
He knew things would change for them after this. You can’t really go through something as monumental as a mutually triggered presentation without some things having to shift.
They had had sex, for one. Lots and lots of it based on what he remembers. No one in the group had ever had an assisted cycle before, not even with the luxury (read: very discrete) services that catered to the rich and famous.
Their management had tried to keep them looking pristine and young and virginal since their fans primarily fell in the 12-25 demographic. Minho being such a late presenter had been a huge bonus to their image.
That was going to have to change now. Not only was it already out there that Jisung was in the process of presenting – they had had to excuse his absences from scheduled appearances for the past week, but Minho had just missed three days of schedules.
Jisung doesn’t remember what was planned, but they rarely go more than a couple days before something gets filmed for their fans. It will get out that Minho presented, unexpectedly, in the middle of his own.
Not only that, but he doesn’t know how long he can reasonably avoid going back to work. They’re both covered in hickeys and bite marks and various other bruises and some of them will take weeks to heal. In normal circumstances they’d just end up wearing more covering clothes, but with the knowledge that he’d been presenting out in the world a turtleneck would make yellow journalism froth with excitement.
He’s not even sure a turtleneck would cover everything. When he brings a hand to his throat he can still feel exactly where Minho had bitten to hold him down.
“You liked that, huh?” Minho says, sleep still clinging to his voice and Jisung startles. While he had been looking at Minho’s direction, he had long ago moved on to staring past him as he thought.
Minho has a smirk on his face when Jisung looks at him again, turning onto his back but keeping his face aimed at Jisung before he stretches the sleep from his body. Jisung can feel the blush on his face at the statement, and he can’t even say anything back because he’s not exactly wrong.
It hurts a bit every time he swallows and it had hurt a lot when it was happening, but it feels nice at the same time. It’s a reminder of what they went through, a reminder that he’s the one that triggered Minho’s presentation.
Minho lifts his eyebrows in judgement and stares at him pointedly and Jisung realizes he still has his fingers against the mark, pulling them back quickly.
“Are you fully conscious this time?” He deflects, and Minho turns his head to the ceiling, nodding sleepily.
“Mmm. And fully sore.” He quips and Jisung can’t help the smile that forces its way onto his face. “I blame you, obviously.”
“I’m sore too.” Jisung pouts and Minho pretends to be unaffected. It’s their thing really, Jisung acts like a needy baby and Minho says something devastating while doing exactly what Jisung wanted all along.
“You didn’t spend two days being fucked to near-death.” Minho deadpans. “My ass may never be the same.”
His ass will indeed never be the same. He’s an omega now, or at least finally the omega that he had probably been slowly building up to before Jisung put the process in hyperdrive.
When there’s been silence for too long, Minho turns his head to look at Jisung and groans with an eye roll at the shit eating grin on Jisung’s face.
He did that.
“You hungry?” Jisung asks and Minho squints at him in suspicion.
“This better not be a sex thing.” Minho tells him. “I am out of commission for some time still.”
That statement makes a lot of complex feelings erupt in Jisung’s very empty stomach. He needs to get food in there so he can parse out what is butterflies and what is gnawing hunger.
“I’m very hungry. I spend two days fucking you to near death. There are calories to replenish.” Jisung says as he heaves himself up onto his elbows, taking a break before continuing up into a seated position.
Minho opts for a different route, rolling off the bed and twisting into a messy crouch. The blankets tangled at his feet hindered the move significantly, and he ends up half sprawled on the floor.
Whatever nonsense that was cleared the way for Jisung to get out of the bed though, and he steps over the Minho pile before going to his closet to find them clothes to wear.
He comes back with a shirt and pants for Minho once he has his own on. They’ll need to deal with the bruises later, probably put moisturizer on it or something? He might have to ask Hyunjin about that. Anyways, that’s an after food problem.
Minho dresses himself, leaving Jisung to look for his phone before they both wander out of the room, hobbling like old men.
Chan is working on the couch when they walk out, and he looks up immediately. Based on the quick glance Jisung had at his phone, it’s early evening on Friday which is a bit of an odd time for Chan to be home.
Chan types something quickly and the phone in Jisung’s hand buzzes in response. The text preview shows ‘they’re up’ for a second before it’s overlaid by a ‘both of them?’ and a subsequent ‘def soulmates’
When he checked his messaging app there’s well over three hundred notifications on the group chat alone and that’ll be an experience reading over them later.
Hyunjin bursts out of his room, startling Minho and Jisung, who drops his phone with a screech. He approaches them bowing furiously as Minho glares, but Jisung decides to enact his revenge differently.
“Jinnie, I’m so hungry.” He whines and Chan gets up instead, walking to the kitchen where he had clearly planned something for this eventuality. Hyunjin picks up Jisung’s phone for him, and herds them to the table. He runs to the kitchen to get them something to drink instead of hovering while Minho continues to glare.
Food is microwaved leftovers, but neither of them care. They’re scarfing it down immediately , Chan watching them like a proud parent and Hyunjin just hovering around because he loves the drama of it all.
Chan waits until they start to slow down before speaking.
“Had enough?” He asks and Jisung and Minho both raise their heads simultaneously, Jisung moving to guard his plate with a forearm while Minho squints at Chan like he’s grown a second head.
A camera shutter sounds off to the side and Hyunjin giggles to himself before several phones buzz on the table.
“I don’t want your food.” Chan clarified and Jisung slowly retracts his arm. “I do have some things to tell you though.”
Minho puts his chopsticks down at that, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed.
“Music Core has already been made aware you’re not going to be able to host tomorrow. The company wants to release a statement before the episode starts so that fans aren’t upset or worried.” Chan says and Jisung is surprised there’s not already a statement out. Maybe Minho didn’t have anything scheduled that went live yet.
“So far we’ve been telling them the bare minimum, but they need to know the full picture for the statement…” Chan hesitates. Jisung looks at Minho waiting for his cue on how to proceed.
“The company will know eventually, but I don’t want the public to know any details.” Minho says with an authoritative tone and Chan nods. Minho has always been very careful with which details he shares with the fans, showing a lot while keeping anything important a mystery.
“I don’t mind being thrown under the bus if they need me to.” Jisung says, hopefully alleviating some of the burden on his hyungs. “Everyone already knows I was presenting, so it’s not like they’d know anything new.”
Hello this is JYPE.
Lee Know will not be an MC on Music Core tonight due to a medical emergency. He is well now, but will need to rest and recover from his sudden presentation. He asks for your forgiveness for having to cancel on such short notice.
We have also heard STAY’s concerns about HAN missing from two planned appearances. As previously mentioned, HAN has been on a medical hiatus as he presents.
Everything is going well and both can be expected back at schedules next week.
We welcome well wishes for the members,
Thank you.
minsvng95: OMG! They presented at the same time. Absolutely soulmate behavior
- bbokari04:such a rock steady ship. They will never fall apart
LKShipper7: I bet Hannie is an omega. There’s never been a babier baby to ever have babied in kpop before
- alphamin: just look at any minsung compilation for like 5 secs. The dynamic is so obvious
- J14life: did you see the pictures of them going for their check up? The man was had a huge bite mark on his throat. Han is absolutely an omega, no alpha would let that happen.
-- Soyoung_23: the way LK blocked Han from the paps. I want an alpha like that
-- leeknowuknow: the two of them are such couple goals
- Hanniebaby: I want to be submitted by LK so bad now
-- Channiesroom: same
-- taeminsshi: I would die. The man’s so hott
- hyuntwin: you kno those two fucked
-- iykykyah: LK was always my bias, now he’s my kink too. The man fucks violently
--- sungdongdo: I expect nothing else from him. He gives straight unhinged energy in the best way
--- paboracha: Han bites back tho, LK had hickies too
-- alpha5u: I was more sure of HAN being than Hyunjin tbh. He just screams protect me I’m an omega like 24/7
--- felixluvr: I’m so glad I put him down as an omega, I just made 15k won off that bet
LKsmama: I want Lee Know to bend me in half.
- idealSTAY: Hannie would never let you. He may be a princess, but I bet he’d fight
- namkookshipper: LK sits like he has a big dick, Han is probably still ‘recovering’ cuz of that
-- skz_fam6: didn’t you see the way he walked? Big dick confirmed!