Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“So,” the therapist said gently, her soft gaze fixed on San, who was sitting opposite her on the small sofa, nervously fidgeting with his fingers, “How are you feeling today, San?” 

San swallowed hard. 

The office smelled faintly of lavender and old books, a scent meant to soothe, but it did little for the restless ache simmering beneath his skin. His knee bounced uncontrollably where he sat hunched forward on the sofa, broad shoulders tense beneath the black hoodie he had thrown on despite the warm weather outside.

“I…” He rubbed his palms together, then immediately stopped when the friction only seemed to make him more aware of himself. “Not great.”

The therapist nodded once, patient as ever since they started their sessions. “Do you want to tell me why?”

San exhaled shakily through his nose.

Because I can barely think straight whenever Wooyoung touches me.

Because his scent sticks to my clothes and sheets and skin until I feel insane.

Because my rut is approaching dangerously.

Instead, he muttered, “I think my rut is approaching… And that it is going to be bad this time.”

The words sat heavy between them. His therapist didn’t react with alarm, which somehow made it easier to continue.

“It’s been getting worse the last couple weeks,” he admitted quietly. “Usually I can manage it. I isolate myself before it starts, lock myself in my apartment, make sure I have everything in order like food and water and things that ease the blurry mess…” 

“But?”

San laughed bitterly, dragging a hand through his dark hair. “But now... Wooyoung is entering the equation...”

Just saying it softened his expression for a brief second.

It had been months since their reconciliation, since the talk and the others that followed. Long nights spent talking until the early morning. And somehow San still hadn’t gotten used to it. To wake up to messages from Wooyoung. To dates that ended with laughter. To fingers slipping through his while they walked side by side. To the omega leaning into him so naturally, like he had never stopped belonging there.

Wooyoung had forgiven him.

San still didn’t think he deserved it.

“He makes everything harder,” he whispered, shame flooding him immediately after. “Not in a bad way! Fuck, I didn’t mean it like that, never in a bad way!”

His therapist waited. San stared at the floor.

“But—I’ve always been weak for Wooyoung… His scent drives me crazy, that sweet strawberry that's clingy and intoxicating and damn, it's my all-time favorite smell and flavor.” His voice sounded strained now. “And I can feel it everywhere. Even when he’s not with me, when all he did was stand next to me for a minute I have the impression his scent clings to my clothes.” 

He swallowed. 

“Sometimes he touches me, the lightest touch and I—I stop hearing what he’s saying.”

Heat crawled up his neck.

“Wooyoung’s my weakness… I’m losing control faster than before. My instincts are stronger now that we’re together again.”

“Have you told Wooyoung any of this?”

Immediately, San shook his head.

“No.”

“Why not?”

A humorless smile crossed his face.

“Because he’d want to stay with me during it.”

“And you don’t want that.”

“No.” The answer came too fast.

Then, quieter—

“I do. I just…” His jaw tightened painfully. “I can’t.”

Silence stretched gently around them. San pressed his hands together until his knuckles whitened.

“When I was younger,” he said slowly, “my father used to say ruts show what an alpha really is underneath.” His eyes darkened at the memory. “He’d lock himself in his room for days with some omegas. Sometimes he’d come out angry. Violent.” He forced himself to continue. “And my mom would just tell me to stay quiet until it passed, sometimes joining him because she was just so sweet she would go through hell for him and I had to wait until it ended and watch the bruises covering her body even when she tried to hide them… There were just too many.”

The therapist’s expression softened. 

San murmured, “I don’t want to risk to… every time I feel myself losing control even a little, all I can think is that maybe he was right.”

“We already talked about this San,” the therapist said gently, “What you went through when you were a child, the abuse and the manipulation, it is not how the world is. It is not who you are either.”

“I know,” San retorted weakly, “But I can’t help—I can’t help thinking that maybe it’s buried somewhere inside me too.”

His voice cracked at the end. The confession seemed to drain something out of him, his shoulders slumping as though he had been carrying the weight of it alone for too long.

The therapist stayed quiet for a moment before speaking carefully.

“San, has Wooyoung ever looked afraid of you?”

The question caught him off guard. He blinked.

“No,” he answered automatically.

“Has he ever seemed unsafe around you?”

“No.”

“Have you ever hurt him?”

San’s throat tightened immediately.

“I overwhelmed him with my scent once…”

“Did you hurt him?”

“No,” he whispered.

Not physically. Never physically. But guilt still clawed through him anyway, because leaving him had hurt. Abandoning him had hurt. Years of silence had hurt.

The therapist seemed to read it on his face.

“I’m not talking about the past breakup right now,” she clarified softly. “I’m asking about your control. Your instincts. The thing you’re afraid of becoming.”

San looked down at his trembling hands.

“No,” he admitted again.

The office fell silent except for the faint ticking of a clock somewhere behind him.

“You are not your father,” she said firmly.

His jaw flexed.

“You say that easily.”

“I say it because it’s true. Your father enjoyed power. He normalized violence. You, on the other hand, are terrified of causing harm.” Her expression softened. “Those are not the same things.”

San laughed bitterly under his breath.

“Doesn’t matter if I lose control anyway.”

“You think losing control automatically means violence.”

Doesn’t it? The thought rose instantly.

His therapist leaned back slightly in her chair. “Tell me what usually happens during your rut.”

San grimaced immediately.

“It’s…” He rubbed at the back of his neck, embarrassed. “Messy.”

“That’s alright.”

“I get restless first. Agitated.” His voice dropped lower with every word. “Everything smells too strong. I can’t focus. I get possessive over stupid things. Irritable.” He hesitated. “Needy.”

A flush crept across his cheeks.

“And physically?”

Heat burned hotter beneath his skin.

“It hurts,” he admitted quietly. “The buildup does. I can’t sleep. Nothing eases it, if anything—pleasuring myself makes it worse so I tend to just—Wait for it to pass.”

“And have you ever become violent?”

“No—I don’t think so, I’m just like, super irritable and I think I'm grumbling a lot too…”

“Have you ever lost awareness of your actions entirely?”

San frowned slightly.

“No… not entirely, just sometimes things get blurry.”

“Then what exactly are you afraid will happen with Wooyoung?”

The image appeared instantly in his mind.

Wooyoung beneath him. Soft skin. Sweet strawberry flooding the air so thick San could taste it. Pretty noises slipping from parted lips while instinct screamed mine mine mine—

San inhaled sharply and squeezed his eyes shut.

“I’m afraid I won’t stop wanting more,” he confessed hoarsely.

The room went still.

“I’m scared I’ll push too far.” His voice dropped into something rough and ashamed. “That I’ll be too rough. Too possessive. That I’ll scare him.” He swallowed hard. “Or worse—that I’ll like it.”

The last sentence barely came out audible. 

For a long moment, the therapist said nothing.

Then—

“San,” she said gently, “wanting your partner during a rut is normal.”

He looked unconvinced.

“What matters is consent, communication, and preparation. Not pretending your instincts don’t exist.”

His fingers curled tightly against his palms.

“But what if I can’t control them?”

“You’ve controlled them well so far.”

San let out a quiet, humorless laugh.

“Barely.”

“You’re sitting here,” the therapist pointed out gently. “Planning ahead. Seeking help before it happens. Does that sound like someone helpless against his instincts?”

He didn’t answer.

Because part of him wanted to believe her. And another part remembered bruises hidden beneath long sleeves. Raised voices through thin apartment walls. His mother’s exhausted smile afterward.

Instinct.

That word had ruined too many things in his life.

The therapist folded her hands loosely in her lap. “You’re doing that again San. You let your fears overcome anything else and it makes things harder for you.”

San frowned. Because she was right.

“You treat your rut like something monstrous.” she continued, “Something shameful. So you isolate yourself completely, deny yourself comfort, deny yourself support, force yourself through pain alone.” She tilted her head slightly. “That much stress can intensify symptoms.”

His brows knitted together.

“I’m supposed to just… what? Pretend it’s fine?”

“No,” she said calmly. “I’m suggesting you stop treating yourself like a threat.”

The words landed harder than he expected. The therapist tilted her head slightly.

“Do you trust Wooyoung?”

The answer came immediately.

“Yes.”

“Then maybe you should trust him enough to let him know. Talk with him, discuss the options you have. If you’re really afraid to go through your rut with him let him know, hear what he thinks about it and decide together if you’ll go through it as you usually do or if you’re willing to have Wooyoung by your side this time.” 

San stared at her.

“He deserves honesty,” she continued softly. “Not decisions made for him because you think you know what’s best.”

Guilt twisted sharply in his stomach. Because she was right. Of course she was right.

And Wooyoung would notice eventually anyway. The omega always noticed. The lingering stares. The way San sometimes went rigid when Wooyoung sat too close. The way his scent would spike warm and heavy whenever Wooyoung touched him.

God.

Just thinking about it made heat coil low in his abdomen again. San dragged both hands down his face with a groan.

“I don’t even know how to bring it up,” he muttered miserably.

His therapist smiled faintly.

“You could start with the truth.”

“That sounds horrible.”

“It usually is.”

A reluctant snort escaped him despite himself. The tension in the room eased just slightly.

San leaned back into the sofa at last, exhausted. His heartbeat still wouldn’t settle properly. The itch beneath his skin remained. The restless anticipation curling tighter each day was still there.

***

“I think San’s rut is starting soon.”

Wooyoung dropped the sentence right in the middle of Yunho and Yeosang’s increasingly aggressive debate about whether pineapple on pizza was a culinary crime or a misunderstood blessing.

The argument died instantly.

Yeosang’s head snapped toward him, eyes going wide like he’d just heard a ghost whisper his name. Yunho made a strangled sound and nearly drowned himself in his drink, coughing hard as he thumped his chest. Across the table, Hongjoong and Seonghwa slowly turned to look at Wooyoung, their faces mirroring the same brand of ‘what the hell did you just say’ confusion.

For a moment, no one spoke.

"…Is it scaring you?" Yeosang finally asked, voice cautious, like he was approaching a bomb that might go off if he breathed wrong.

Wooyoung shook his head, unbothered, resting his chin in his palm. 

“It doesn’t. I’m not a baby. I know how ruts are working but…" He paused, lips quivering slightly. "But I think it’s stressing San out. I’m sure he’s overthinking it and he’s acting differently since the past few days.”

That earned a low hum from Seonghwa, who nodded thoughtfully. Yunho had finally recovered, blinking between Wooyoung and the rest of them like he’d missed an entire chapter of a book. Hongjoong leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, expression softening.

"No wonder," he said with a small shrug. "San was always a mess about his rut." His gaze flicked meaningfully toward Wooyoung. "And now that he’s back with you? Yeah. I don’t think that anxiety magically disappeared."

Wooyoung sighed, fingers tapping idly against the table.

“He keeps zoning out lately,” he admitted. “And he gets tense whenever I get too close sometimes, which is insane because two seconds later he acts like he wants to crawl into my skin.”

Yunho snorted into his drink again.

“Yeah,” Hongjoong muttered dryly, “that sounds like San.”

Silence settled briefly over the table.

Then Seonghwa asked carefully, “Did you talk to him about it?”

Wooyoung grimaced and sighed heavily, pressing his cheek even more into his hand. “I did. And every time I bring it up, he changes the subject or cracks a joke… I don’t know what to do without making it worse for him, somehow.”

Hongjoong’s expression softened further, all sharp edges gone now. “San had always hated his rut Wooyoung. Don’t take it personally if he is avoiding the subject with you, it took me a long time to get the words out of him and we are not even as close as you guys are.”

Wooyoung frowned faintly at Hongjoong’s words.

“I’m not taking it personally,” he said after a moment, quieter now. “I just feel like every time we take a step forward despite our fears, something else gets in our way and instead of going around the obstacle, we take three steps back…”

Seonghwa reached out for him when the words left his mouth, hand warm against his as he smiled gently, “Wooyoung, ruts mess with the head more than what we want to let on. Loss of control, heightened instincts, all that fun stuff." His mouth tilted into a wry smile. "For someone like San, it's normal to dread the moment when that will happen. But it doesn’t mean you won’t get over it, it’s just a bad moment that you will overcome.”

“You think?”

“I’m sure.”

Yunho nodded slowly. "Plus, you two just got back together. He’s probably terrified of scaring you off."

Wooyoung’s head snapped up. "He wouldn’t."

"I know," Yunho said quickly. "But he might think he would."

Silence settled again, heavier this time. Wooyoung’s jaw tightened, fingers curling slightly against the tabletop. 

"I wish he’d just… let me in. I want to help him through it, not pretend it’s not happening and be left behind."

Yeosang hesitated, then spoke carefully. "Have you told him that? Like. Very clearly. No joking. No dodging."

Wooyoung opened his mouth, then closed it. His shoulders slumped. "…Not like that."

Before anyone could add anything to ease the soft turmoil inside Wooyoung’s chest, the familiar sound of footsteps approached their table. Warm, unmistakable. Wooyoung felt it before he saw him, the air itself shifted carrying with it the scent of citrus growing more and more charged within the last few days.

San stopped short when he noticed the way everyone was looking at him.

"…Why do you all look like I just walked in on an intervention," he asked, half-laughing, half-wary.

Wooyoung smiled at him, patting the empty chair beside him as if nothing was wrong. 

"Sit," he said lightly, smiling easily, like the table hadn’t been buzzing with San-shaped anxiety two seconds ago. "We were just bullying Yunho about pizza."

"That’s a lie," Yunho muttered. "I was winning."

San snorted and slid into the seat, shoulder brushing Wooyoung’s as he did. The contact was brief, too brief, but the omega felt the way San immediately clocked it, like he always did lately. 

The hyper-awareness. The careful distance.

"So," San said once settled, eyes flicking around the table, deliberately not lingering on Wooyoung for more than a heartbeat. "What crime is Yunho being accused of this time?"

"Pineapple," Yeosang said flatly.

San made a face. "Deserved."

Yunho groaned. "Traitor."

Laughter bubbled up, light and familiar, and for a second it almost worked. 

Almost. 

Wooyoung could feel it, could feel him. The way San’s knee bounced under the table. The way his shoulders were a little too tense, like he was bracing for something that hadn’t happened yet. The way his scent was just a touch sharper than usual, anxiety threading through warmth.

Wooyoung laughed too, because that part was easy, because San was giving them San. Bright, charming, just enough chaos to keep anyone from looking too close.

He didn’t call it out. Not yet. Instead, he slid his hand over his thigh beneath the table, thumb pressing lightly against the fabric of the jeans. Warm. Steady. Anchoring.

San stiffened for half a second. Wooyoung didn’t pull away.

The alpha’s gaze flicked to him, quick and searching. Wooyoung met it, soft and steady, no teasing, no hidden meanings. Just ‘I’m here’.

Something in San’s expression wavered. He looked away first. But he never pulled away.

***

Days passed and the situation with San was getting worse and worse.

Now, the alpha was doing everything in his power to avoid Wooyoung. Pretexting he was busy with work when Wooyoung knew all too well that he wasn’t. Pretending to feel unwell in order to cancel their meetings. Replying to texts minutes, sometimes hours too late.

Avoidance, San-style. Careful. Polite. Devastating.

At first, Wooyoung let it slide. Gave him space. Answered the late replies with the same softness he always had. Didn’t call out the excuses, even when they were flimsy enough to tear.

But a few days. And the air between them kept thickening.

By the fifth canceled plan, Wooyoung was done pretending this was fine. He wanted to help San. To reassure him. Be there for him. But how was he supposed to do it if San wasn’t letting him see him?

So he made a plan, a perfect one and thankfully he had been able to count on Hongjoong and Seonghwa's help to trap the alpha.

He was in his room, adjusting the sheets and blankets with some of his shirts into a perfect and comfortable nest, when he heard the sound of the key turning in the lock. A second later, the sound of the front door closing echoed and San's worried voice called him. 

"Wooyoung? Hongjoong and Seonghwa told me you were sick, so I brought you dinner."

Wooyoung smiled, noting in his head he owned the omega and the alpha a big one before he replied with a weak voice, "I’m in my room."

San’s footsteps didn’t hesitate in the hallway.

Wooyoung didn’t need to see it to picture it clearly.

The way San stood there with a takeout bag hanging uselessly from his fingers before he padded through the apartment (probably to the kitchen to leave the bag there before walking to his room), his brows pinched tight as concern settled across his face. Because no matter how hard he tried to keep his distance, no matter how afraid he was of himself, San never hesitated when he thought Wooyoung was hurt.

That was the part that made this all situation hurt the most. Because Wooyoung knew San was probably and only thinking of his well being.

A soft knock came at the door. 

"Can I come in?"

Wooyoung swallowed. Kept his voice small. 

"Yeah."

The door creaked softly as San stepped inside, cautious in a way that made it seem like the room itself might turn on him if he relaxed too much.

His eyes landed on Wooyoung immediately.

The omega sat at the edge of the bed, very much alive, very much healthy, looking entirely too calm for someone who was supposedly very sick and needed comfort.

San blinked once. Then narrowed his eyes.

“…You don’t look sick.”

Wooyoung’s lips twitched.

“What?” he asked innocently, voice honey-slow with poorly concealed amusement. “Oh. Right.” He waved a hand lazily. “Yeah, no. I’m not.”

San stared at him.

And then the scent hit.

Strawberry. Rich and warm and devastatingly soothing. 

It wrapped around him instantly, thick enough to taste, sweet enough to make something deep in his chest ache. His body reacted before his mind could catch up. Shoulders relaxing, pulse stumbling unevenly, instincts snapping awake so fast it almost hurt.

Heat crawled up the back of his neck. Not from embarrassment. Awareness. Dangerous, heightened awareness.

San inhaled sharply through his nose before he could stop himself, and that was a mistake too, because the scent only settled deeper beneath his skin.

His gaze dragged past Wooyoung then, taking in the room properly.

The blankets piled carefully together. Hoodies and shirts tangled into the sheets. Pillows arranged into soft walls around the center of the bed.

A nest. A very obvious nest. San’s stomach dropped.

“…Did you nest?”

“I did.” Wooyoung stood slowly as he answered, careful, measured.

San immediately stiffened. His hands twitched once at his sides, betraying him. Wooyoung noticed. Of course he noticed. But he didn’t move closer yet.

“I made it for us.”

San’s brows pulled together.

“For us?”

“Yes,” Wooyoung said softly.

And before the alpha could question it further, before he could retreat into panic and excuses and fear, Wooyoung continued—

“I know your rut is coming.”

The words landed gently. Too gently.

“I know you’ve been freaking out about it,” Wooyoung murmured. “And I know you were probably planning to lock yourself away and suffer through it alone again.”

San’s jaw tightened immediately.

“Wooyoung—”

“But I don’t want that.”

Silence. Wooyoung’s gaze didn’t waver.

“I want to be here with you.”

San froze completely.

For one long, breathless moment, the room narrowed down to the sound of his heartbeat and the scent curling around him like warm hands.

There was nothing sharp in it. Nothing fearful. Just openness. Trust. An invitation offered freely.

“You shouldn’t,” San said hoarsely.

The words came out strained, automatic. His fingers curled tightly into fists at his sides, like he didn’t trust his own body anymore. Wooyoung’s expression softened.

“If you really don’t want me here during your rut,” he said quietly, “I’ll respect that.”

San looked away immediately, throat tightening. That was far from what he wanted.

“But I need you to stop deciding for me what I can handle.”

That hit harder than the alpha expected. He looked back at Wooyoung who took one careful step closer.

“I’m not afraid of you,” he whispered. “I’m not afraid of your instincts. And I’m not afraid of wanting you through this too.”

San’s breathing turned uneven.

“You don’t have to hide from me anymore,” Wooyoung continued softly. “You don’t have to pretend you’re some monster waiting to happen.”

A shudder rolled through San before he could suppress it. Every instinct inside him screamed at once.

Closer. Mine. Protect. Claim. Run.

The conflict nearly made him dizzy.

Because part of him still wanted to bolt out the door before this became real. Before he could lose control. Before he could ruin something precious with hands that suddenly felt far too dangerous.

But Wooyoung smelled like safety.

Like home.

And standing there, barely a foot away with soft eyes and unwavering trust, he also smelled like the end of San’s defenses. So San tried to huff a laugh, it came out bitter but not angled to Wooyoung but to himself because of how pathetic he felt.

"You don’t understand what it’s like, Wooyoungie... My head’s already a mess and the rut hasn’t even started. I don’t want to scare you. I don’t want to—" His voice cracked despite himself. "I don’t want to do something that will lead me to lose you again."

That landed harder than anything else. Wooyoung stepped closer again, slow and deliberate, giving San time to pull back if he wanted to. 

He didn’t. He just stood there, trembling, like a man bracing for impact.

"You won’t," Wooyoung said, firm now. No teasing, no softness meant to deflect. Just the truth.

San swallowed hard, eyes glassy with tears that prickled the corners. "I don’t trust myself."

"I do." Wooyoung reached out, but stopped an inch before his skin touched the alpha, letting him decide to close the last inch if he wanted to. 

“I trust you,” he pressed softly. “I trust us.”

His eyes stayed fixed on San’s like he needed him to understand every word.

“And yeah,” he continued, a faint smile tugging briefly at his mouth, “your rut is probably going to be intense. You’re going to be clingy and needy and completely unbearable for at least a few days. You’ll probably fuck my brain out.”

The teasing should have eased the tension. Instead, it made San’s throat ache because of how Wooyoung sounded so unafraid.

“So what?” Wooyoung whispered. “I love you anyway. All of you.” His expression softened further. “Even the parts you think are too much.”

Something inside San gave out. Not all at once. Not violently.

Just—Cracked.

A sharp breath left him, uneven and trembling, his shoulders finally sagging beneath the weight they had been carrying for far too long. Weeks of fear and restraint splintered quietly apart inside his chest.

Then he moved. One small step. One last inch surrendered willingly. 

His forehead dropped against Wooyoung’s shoulder with a broken sort of relief, his arms circling his waist instinctively like his body had been searching for that exact place the entire time.

"I’m so scared," he whispered, voice rough against Wooyoung’s neck.

Wooyoung wrapped his arms around him immediately, firm and sure, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of San’s neck. 

"I know," he murmured. "That’s why I’m here."

San breathed him in, careful even now, like he was afraid of taking too much. "What if I mess this up?"

Wooyoung smiled into his hair. "Then we deal with it. Together. Like adults. With communication. Maybe a safe word," he added, deadpan.

San let out a weak huff of laughter, the sound shaky but real. "You’re impossible."

"And you’re not alone," Wooyoung said softly. He pulled back just enough to look at him, thumbs brushing under San’s eyes.

The alpha was searching his face like he was memorizing it, like he needed to burn this moment into his bones. "You’re really not scared?"

Wooyoung leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek, nowhere near overwhelming. Just reassurance. "No. Not at all."

San closed his eyes and when he opened them again, something in him had eased, not gone, but softened, like a knot finally loosened enough to breathe.

"…Okay," he said quietly. "I’ll try. To stop running."

Wooyoung’s arms tightened around him, smiling warm and victorious in the gentlest way. "That’s all I’m asking."

They hugged after that, it was warm and comforting. It was them.

Only the rumbling of Wooyoung's stomach was able to separate them, though they remained close. The omega burst out laughing, and so did San.

"What did you bring to eat, by the way?" he asked.

"Jjajang, I thought it would make my 'sick' boyfriend happy." San chuckled.

“Let’s go eat then, I'm starving!” 

Wooyoung dragged San out of the room by the hand, his fingers intertwined with his, and San… San smiled, soothed.

They were going to do it.

Everything was going to be fine as long as he was with Wooyoung.

***

Wooyoung woke slowly to warmth wrapped tightly around him.

A solid body was pressed flush against his back, heavy and familiar, radiating heat through the blankets. For a few sleepy moments, he stayed still, drifting somewhere between dreams and consciousness while the steady scent of citrus curled around him comfortingly.

His eyelids fluttered open. He turned around as best he could while strong arms gripped tightly around his waist. He smiled immediately at the sight of San asleep beside him.

Dark hair fell messily across his forehead, his face softened by sleep in a way Wooyoung rarely got to see when San was awake and carrying the world on his shoulders. And of course, his arms were clutched tightly around the omega’s waist, holding him close like instinct had taken over even unconscious. 

Wooyoung watched him quietly, fondness settling warm in his chest.

Then his expression shifted.

Something felt off.

It only took a few seconds to notice the signs.

San’s hair was damp, strands sticking against flushed skin with a sheen of sweat. His breathing came shallow and uneven, lips parted slightly as if each inhale wasn’t coming easily enough. Even asleep, tension clung stubbornly to him. Visible in the tight pull between his brows, in the stiffness of his shoulders, in the way every muscle beneath the sheets seemed wound painfully taut.

And his hand—

Wooyoung glanced over his shoulder where San’s finger twisted tightly into the fabric of his shirt near his waist.

Not resting.

Gripping.

Like he was holding on even in sleep.

And the scent hit him harder immediately. Citrus, lively and bright, mixed with tension and arousal that made his pulse quicken before he fully understood it.

Wooyoung’s chest heaved, his own pheromones flooding softly in response. 

San’s rut had begun.

A soft moan escaped the sleeping alpha, half frustrated, half unconscious. His brows were furrowed, his jaw clenched. Wooyoung inhaled deeply again, letting the citrusy scent fill his lungs and memorizing it.

Then, slowly and deliberately, he moved closer, careful not to wake the alpha too abruptly. His hand rested lightly on his hip, his thumb brushing against the fabric of his tank-top before sliding underneath. 

San's skin burned beneath his touch.

The alpha stirred again, muttering incoherently, and Wooyoung responded by placing a soft kiss on his forehead. The light pressure of that kiss said: I'm here. Just me. You're safe.

San opened his eyes, fluttering them, and for a fraction of a second his gaze was glassy, wild, almost panicked and lost. Then he caught sight of Wooyoung's calm, unflappable face, and his sharp instincts faded just enough for him to recognize him.

“Wooyoung…” His voice was hoarse, strained. “...I—”

“Sshh…” Wooyoung interrupted gently. “Everything is okay Sannie. Breathe… Don’t worry, I’m here.”

San's chest rose and fell with a trembling breath, his hand quivering. He turned his head and pressed it against Wooyoung's collarbone. He nuzzled up against his neck and inhaled the pheromones directly from their source.

Wooyoung's fingers found their way to his slightly damp hair, which he caressed tenderly. The tension in San's body eased imperceptibly, his hands still gripping Wooyoung's T-shirt but gradually relaxing. 

San inhaled deeply, his citrusy scent mingling with the strawberry emanating from Wooyoung.

Silence fell over the room. Only the soft rustling of the sheets could be heard as San moved closer, seeking more contact, more comfort.

It was innocent at first, just two bodies pressed against each other, exchanging the heat emanating from them.

But Wooyoung gasped softly when he felt the first drag of hips against his thigh. He hadn't expected it.

San let out a trembling breath against his neck, occasionally brushing his sensitive skin with the tip of his lips, while his movements were slow but insistent. His hips undulated in a rhythm that was both desperate and exploratory.

Wooyoung could already feel San's erection against his thighs, already quite pronounced, twitching as if it were about to burst already.

"Wooyoung..." His name was just a hoarse whisper against his throat, muffled by a sudden gasp at a more violent, jerky movement of San's hips. "I—fuck..."

“I know,” Wooyoung murmured, tilting his head to place a kiss on San’s temple. His other hand slid down his back, guiding him a little closer. “Don’t think. Keep humping my thigh, Sannie, don’t hold back, I’m yours. Use me.”

A high-pitched, pleading moan cut him off. San's forehead slumped heavily onto the pillow, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Wooyoung could feel his muscles tense, his scent intensify. A sweeter, more vivid citrus filled his lungs, and an intense heat rose in the pit of his stomach. He could feel his own erection swelling against his pants, slick dripping between his thighs. But it wasn't about him right now, it was about San.

It was about easing his pain.

San's movements were becoming more erratic, desperate. It was so good, and yet still not enough.

He needed more.

More. More. More—

With a precise movement, he changed their position before Wooyoung had time to realize what was happening. The sheets scattered around them, messing the nest Wooyoung had neatly made, even though the alpha was far too gone to car as he now stood between the omega’s legs, which he held apart.

Wooyoung still let out a small cry of surprise when San rutted forward, pressing their crotches together hard, but the sound was immediately swallowed by the press of eager lips against his.

San’s tongue slid inside his mouth, punching the air out his lungs while he was claiming the inside of his mouth like he truly wanted to devour him. Alternating between sucking his tongue inside his mouth, biting his lips, forcing his mouth to open more so he could pour all his lust and passion inside.

And all this while continuing to thrust his hips against Wooyoung, increasing the heat and desire in the room. 

They eventually broke apart, needing air, but San immediately pressed his lips on Wooyoung again. As if the distance were unbearable. He kissed his jaw, caressed his neck, nibbled and licked his soft skin until it was red and marked.

Mine. Mark. Claim—

Wooyoung moaned, high-pitched, fingers tightening in the fabric of his t-shirt at his back as San kept rutting forwards in a fastening rhythm. 

His hips buckled up instinctively, chasing friction, chasing him. His alpha. The slide of their bodies together was electric, maddening, yet, too much fabric, not enough skin. He whimpered against San’s ear, trembling with every ragged inhale.

  “San—Sannie…” He chanted his name like a prayer. “Let me feel you—I want to feel you… All of you…”

The alpha seemed barely aware of the words. He looked up. His eyes darkened by desire met Wooyoung's and for a moment, the omega saw the intensity, the possessive hunger in them. Then San took a shuddering breath, his grip on Wooyoung's thighs tightening.

"I—I don't want to lose control—" He panted, his voice a low, guttural sound.

Wooyoung's heart clenched at the vulnerability in his tone. 

His body ached, ached for the alpha, ached for him to trust himself. 

He straightened and pushed San onto the mattress. As soon as San was laying on his back, Wooyoung straddled him, his thighs pressed against his hips, his ass hovering over the tent in his pants.

Wooyoung grabbed the hem of his shirt, passing it over his head and forgetting it somewhere on the ground. He glanced at San who watched carefully, detailing every motion, chest heaving, eyes dark, full of lust.

San swallowed roughly, his gaze devouring the newly exposed skin. He ran his hands reverently up Wooyoung's sides, his touch leaving a trail of heat and electricity. Pausing softly where his tattoo was along his rib before his palms settled on his hips.

"God, you're so beautiful..." The words left his lips in a ragged breath, his thumbs starting to trace slow circles on the jut of his hips. "It's crazy how much I want you... Need you..."

“Mhm,” Wooyoung hummed, a smirk growing on his lips, “I can feel it actually.” And to support his words, he ground down on San's arousal. A long, teasing drag along his clothed cheeks.

He did it once, twice, watching the way San’s eyes closed in the process and his head jerked back on the pillow. How his breath seemed to be caught in his throat. How the grip on his hips tightened until it left red marks behind.

One of his hands moved to rest on the alpha’s chest, holding him still but also allowing himself to remain stable while he continued to rub down on his erection. His other hand reached for his back, sliding his shorts down before managing to remove it without pulling away for too long.

His ass was already slicked under his fingers, dripping down his thighs. Wooyoung took a short breath, teasing his entrance with the tip of his fingers before sliding in one, then two already (because he was growing impatient himself), preparing himself carefully.

A moan escaped him when his fingers reached further, searching, before They finally rubbed his prostate. That sound forced San to open his eyes to see what was happening and he was not prepared for this sight.

“Shit—Wooyoung are you—” His voice came out as a growl.

"Just getting ready," He cut him off as casually as possible, a gasp slipping from his lips as he pushed in another finger. “Don’t you want me as soon as possible? Don’t you remember how good you feel inside of me? How tight I can be just for yaaah—”

Wooyoung was cut off by his own moan when San pushed his own fingers inside him along his. The omega collapsed on his chest, panting heavily as San dragged his fingers against the soft bundle of nerves with every single thrust. Making him see white stars behind his eyelids.

“Sh-shit right there—Sannie—feels so good—”

The next moment, San slammed him roughly onto his back, his body pinning him to the bed, lips sealing against his. San forced his tongue deep into his mouth, the kiss, made of teeth and spit, rough and desperate.

In a swift motion, San’s clothes were discarded on the floor with Wooyoung’s and as they kissed, his fingers found the omega's entrance again. He wasted no time, already pressing in two digits in. 

They broke the kiss with a gasp, both panting hard now.

"Of course I remember," San growled, his chest rumbling with a possessive sound. He leaned into Wooyoung's neck, nipping at the sensitive flesh. His breath was burning up against his skin.

He littered kiss after kiss along the marked skin, his teeth scraping against each bruise and hickey he created earlier and intensified now, while his fingers were still moving, relentless and hard, inside of him, stretching him open.

“How could I ever forget. God, I want you, I always want you. You're all I can think about. All I need, all I ever will need. You're mine."

Wooyoung arched beautifully into him, a broken cry escaping his lips as San’s fingers hit his prostate harder. Slick dripped freely from him now, soaking the sheets beneath them. He clawed at the alpha’s back, leaving red marks in their wake.

“Yours,” he panted, breathless. “Always yours—ah!” His hips jerked forward as a third finger pressed inside without warning.

“San—please—I can’t— I need you now.” Wooyoung's voice was raw with desperation, pupils blown wide with need.

He wrapped his legs around the alpha’s waist, pressing his heels at the small of his back in order to pull him flush against him. Their bare chests slid together, hot and slick with sweat and pheromones.

San smiled, it was soft, hungry for sure, but soft. 

Because in the end, all that remained in his chest was all the affection, all the love he felt for Wooyoung. For the sight of him so open for him, so ready to take him at his best but also at his worst.

“How can I resist you when you’re begging so well,” He hummed, pulling his fingers out only to replace them with the press of his cock.

He locked eyes with Wooyoung as he pressed the tip against his entrance. Wooyoung gasped, lips parted, chest heaving as he waited. Then, San pushed in. Slowly, so slowly that Wooyoung was able to feel every inch of him, of his thick length and veins against his walls. It was a destructive feeling. 

So destructively good.

San bottomed out completely in one go and stilled. Forehead resting against Wooyoung’s as they breathed the same air. The omega wanted to speak or at least react to the feeling that was overwhelming all his senses, but all he could do was gasp and shudder. There was no more air left in his lungs, only the overwhelming feeling of being filled completely and stretched out in the most perfect way. 

Their scents were a powerful tsunami around them both, surrounding them in a cloud of pure desire.

Wooyoung pressed a shaky hand to the alpha's cheek, thumb tracing the shape of his lips. Then moved down to his neck, feeling the tension in his muscles, the quick pulse just beside where his gland scent should be.

"Move." He ordered, pushing his hips back as well.

And who was San to deny him.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, already shifting back slightly before rolling his hips forward in one slow, deliberate thrust. The sensation was electric. Tight heat squeezing around him like velvet fire.

He did it again, deeper this time, and a groan rumbled from San's chest as Wooyoung arched beneath him with a breathy moan that made the alpha lose focus for half a second.

"You feel so damn good," San breathed out raggedly between kisses pressed to any part of skin he could reach without breaking rhythm: The crease of his nose first, the sharp line of jaw then lower… teeth grazing over collarbones…

Then another deep roll of their bodies together sent sparks behind closed eyelids.

“Ngh—Damn Wooyoungie—” 

Wooyoung’s breath hitched as San whimpered above him, the sound going straight to his untouched, leaking cock. 

"God, you're so perfect," the alpha groaned again, capturing his sweet lips again in a messy kiss.

He started moving properly now, shallow rolls at first that turned into deeper thrusts with each passing second. The slick sounds of their coupling filled the quiet room.

"Fucking hell..." San muttered against Wooyoung's mouth when their bodies met just right and stars exploded behind his eyes.

The omega clung to him like he was holding on from drowning, fingers clutched tight in his hair, legs locked firmly around his waist. “F-feel so good San–ah!”

The room spun with heat and mingling scents and sounds. Their names became prayers on each other’s lips.

Wooyoung could feel the coil in his stomach tightening… so close… Each thrust brushed perfectly against his prostate, lighting him up from within. His breath came in broken gasps, thighs trembling as they tightened incredibly around San’s waist.

“San—faster,” he whimpered, voice cracking. “Please—I can’t—I need more.”

"Faster?" San repeated, voice rough with need.

Without waiting for an answer, he obeyed. 

He braced his hands on either side of Wooyoung's head and began pounding into him hard and fast. Hips slamming forward with enough force to make the bed creak beneath them.

Each thrust was sharp, deep, chasing that high only Wooyoung could give him. Their bodies met again and again in perfect rhythm.

"Fuck! Fuck!" San groaned between gritted teeth as pleasure burned through every nerve ending.

Wooyoung looked absolutely wrecked beneath him, flushed cheeks, swollen lips parted in silent screams each time their bodies collided just right.

Wooyoung could feel his release building like a storm at sea, relentless and all-consuming. And it worsened when he felt the base of San’s cock thickening inside. 

San was going to knot him.

“S-shit Wooyoung—” San gasped, his voice strained with pleasure and urgency. “I’m gonna–shit–knot—”

His thrusts became even more erratic as the base of his cock swelled further more and pushed past Wooyoung’s rim, inside tight heat. The stretch was incredible, almost overwhelming.

“So good San, alpha—my alpha—” Wooyoung was almost crying from the overwhelming pleasure caused by San’s knot swelling more and more inside of him now, applying delighting pressure everywhere he needed it the most. “Knot me Sannie—shit—breed me alpha, pump me full of your cum, want to feel it in my womb for days—” he coaxed him into the orgasm.

"Wooyoungie, I'm gonna—"

San's voice broke into a low, guttural moan as the first hot pulse of cum erupted from him. His entire body tensed as his knot swelled fully inside the omega now, pulsing heavily, swollen, thick and hot with claiming intent. Making Wooyoung cum all over their chest at the same time in a broken cry as their bodies were now locked together in an intimate bond that made San whimper with sheer bliss.

"Ah! Fuck—fuck!" He cried out as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over him while his seed filled the omega deep and thoroughly.

Eventually, San collapsed forward onto Wooyoung's sticky chest with shuddering breaths, careful not to jostle the knot lodged deep inside so he wouldn't hurt his omega.

He kissed everywhere he could reach, collarbones, sweaty neck where the scent of strawberry was so sweet and intoxicating, tear-stained cheeks and trembling lips. All messy and breathless from the intensity of it all.

The first wave subsided softly.

Wooyoung's arms encircled his neck, holding him close. A sigh of relief escaped him. This was perfect.

It was them.

“Did so well, Alpha…” he cooed gently, "Knotted me so good, Made me feel so good, was it good for you too?”

San hummed before resting his head in the crook of his neck once again, inhaling him, closing his eyes. Letting himself be wrapped by the warmth of his body and the aftermath of their climax.

“See? You didn’t hurt me San, you’re beyond perfect my alpha. Been so good.”

"...youngie," San murmured, his voice soft and thick with emotion as he nuzzled into the crook of Wooyoung's neck. His lips brushed against warm skin, placing feather-light kisses wherever they could reach.

"You feel so good like this... all mine. So full of me." A content sigh escaped him as he tightened his arms around Wooyoung's smaller frame, savoring the intimacy between them.

His fingers traced lazy patterns along Wooyoung's side, gentle touches that spoke volumes about how cherished and loved he felt in that moment. The alpha couldn't get enough of holding him close after their intense connection.

"I love you," San whispered suddenly, pressing a kiss to his forehead before resting their noses together affectionately. "So damn much."

"Love you too, Sannie," Wooyoung whispered back, his voice tender and warm like sunlight. 

He turned his head just enough to press a soft kiss on San's lips, slow and sweet this time, not hungry or desperate like before. Just pure affection.

His hands came up to cup San's face gently as they kissed again for a few more seconds before pulling away slightly with a smile playing on his swollen lips.

"You're the best thing that ever happened to me. Now let’s get some rest before the next wave hits."

"Mmm, I'm not going anywhere," San murmured against his lips, stealing another soft kiss. "I've got you right where I want you."

His fingers played with strands of Wooyoung's hair as he watched him settle in. The alpha was still buzzing from their intimacy, but now it was replaced by a deep sense of peace.

And when Wooyoung smiled and said “I’m right where I want to be.” He swore he felt his cock twitch back alive again and his scent stirred again.

Oooh this was going to be a few long days for both of them (especially for Wooyoung). But they couldn’t care less. They were right where they wanted to be.

***

At dawn on the sixth day, the rut had subsided.

Wooyoung slowly opened his eyes to an empty bed and cold sheets, awakened by the delicious smell of pancakes and hot chocolate. He sat up on the mattress but quickly regretted it. His whole body was sore and his muscles screamed in pain.

Memories of his last few days flooded back to him. The heat, the moans of pleasure, the scents of strawberry and lemon mingling in a perfect cocktail: sex. So much sex.

Whether it was San pressing him with his full weight against the mattress, fucking into him hard and relentless, or him on top of the alpha, slowly lowering himself onto his cock while all San could do was watch.

And God… Wooyoung regretted absolutely none of it.

He felt full, sated, the only thing he lacked was San himself.

Where did he go?

The omega pushed back the blankets (which had been changed, by the way), revealing his naked body completely covered in marks. Hickeys, bite marks here and there, even San's handprints on his waist and hips. Wooyoung smiled, he wore those marks with pride, no doubt.

He swung his wobbly legs over the edge of the mattress and at the same time, the door of the room opened.

San walked in, holding a tray with a tray of pancakes and a mug of hot chocolate with whipped cream. A soft laugh escaped Wooyoung at the sight, warmth blooming in his chest at the gesture.

The sound made San jump slightly. The moment his eyes landed on Wooyoung, he hurried over.

“Jesus, Wooyoung,” San breathed out, concern woven into his voice as he reached the bed. He set the tray carefully on the nightstand before tugging off his hoodie. 

Without giving Wooyoung a chance to protest, he slipped it over his head and pulled the blankets back over his bare legs. “I knew I should’ve dressed you after cleaning you up,” he muttered.

Wooyoung could only watch in amused silence as San picked the tray back up and offered him a small smile. “Good morning.”

“All of that is for me?” Wooyoung asked immediately, gesturing toward the tray.

San nodded. “Yeah. After everything you did for me, I figured this was a decent way to thank you.”

“What a gentleman,” Wooyoung teased softly before happily stuffing a piece of pancake into his mouth.

San stayed quiet for a moment, watching him eat while absently fidgeting with his fingers. Then, more gently, he asked, “How are you feeling?”

Wooyoung grinned around a mouthful of pancake, syrup dripping slightly from the corner of his lips. 

"Like I got hit by a truck…” he said dramatically before his grin turned mischievous, “but, you know… the good kind of truck.” He wiggled his eyebrows and reached over to poke San’s cheek. “Someone was very enthusiastic during his rut, huh?”

A violent blush spread across San’s face instantly. He buried his face in his hands while Wooyoung burst into laughter, nearly sloshing hot chocolate over the rim of his mug.

“Worth it, though,” Wooyoung added more softly as he nudged San’s shoulder. “Actually, I think that was the best sex I’ve ever had. And the best we’ve had together.”

“Wooyoung—”

“And if you’re about to apologise for being rough, don’t.” he pointed a syrup-covered fork at him accusingly. “I liked it, San. I knew exactly what I was getting into, and I enjoyed every second of it, so don’t start spiraling into guilty mode because I swear I do not want to hear a single apo—”

His rant cut off abruptly when the alpha pressed a hand over his mouth.

Wooyoung blinked at him, thoroughly offended and confused, which only made San laugh quietly for the first time that morning.

“I wasn’t going to apologise,” San admitted, gently pulling his hand away. “Not this time, at least.”

His expression softened as he looked at him. “I was going to thank you properly. So… thank you, Wooyoung. Because of you, I felt safe during my rut. Like I could finally let go of all the pressure and just…” He hesitated briefly, voice lowering. “Enjoy it without hating myself for it.”

San fell silent after that. He drew in a slow breath, then exhaled carefully before continuing.

“I realised something else too,” he said quietly. His fingers twisted together nervously before he forced himself to continue. “Now that we’ve gone through this together… I don’t ever want to do it alone again. Ever.”

His eyes stayed fixed on Wooyoung, raw and unguarded in a way they rarely were.

“Wooyoung, I think I’ve always known you were meant for me. Even when we were just friends when we were younger. I knew I wanted you in my life forever, that you’re just—perfect with me and perfect to be around.” A shaky laugh escaped him. “But now… now I want to truly be yours. Completely yours. And I want you to be mine too.”

He swallowed hard before continuing, words tumbling out faster now.

“I want us to be mates. And I know maybe it’s too soon to say something like that when we only got back together recently, and I know I messed up so much before. I know I’m not exactly easy to love. But…” His voice softened. “I can’t picture a future without you anymore. Not when you make me feel this safe. Not when you accept every part of me, even the parts I hate.”

He took a deep breath again as he looked down at his hands.

“I promise that I won’t ever run away Wooyoung, I won’t hide, I won’t lie, I won’t shut down ever again. I want to face all my fears and become someone who deserves you and your patience and your kindness and—”

A broken sob rang out and San looked up, startled.

“Wooyoung… are you crying?”

Wooyoung hurriedly scrubbed at the tears spilling down his cheeks, though more immediately replaced them. His chest rose unevenly as he laughed through the emotion.

“You idiot,” he choked out. “Of course I’m crying. You say all this ridiculously emotional stuff and expect me to stay calm?”

Sniffling, he pushed the tray away, placing it on the bedside table before throwing himself against San, burying his face into his shoulder like he needed the comfort immediately.

“Damn you, stupid alpha,” he mumbled against him. “Of course I’ll be your mate. I’ve been yours this whole time, even when we were apart.” His grip tightened around San’s shirt. “There was never going to be anyone else for me.”

Something in San’s chest ached painfully at that. He wrapped his arms tightly around Wooyoung, holding him close against his heartbeat as though he never wanted to let go again. He pressed a lingering kiss to the top of his head, overwhelmed by the amount of love swelling inside him.

Nestling into Wooyoung’s hair, San breathed in his familiar scent slowly, grounding himself in it.

“I don’t deserve you,” he murmured hoarsely. “I’ve hurt you so many times, but you still choose me.”

Wooyoung pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes still wet and shining. “I’d choose you over a thousand perfect people,” he whispered firmly. “You’re the only one for me, San.”

Emotion tightened San’s throat.

“And I promise,” he said softly, brushing trembling fingers through Wooyoung’s hair, “I’ll never let go of you again. I’ll never disappear on you again. I swear it, Wooyoung.”

He leaned down to kiss his temple gently.

“I was such an idiot,” San whispered against his skin. “I never should’ve walked away from someone as precious as you.”

Wooyoung only hugged him tighter, inhaling the scent that had always felt like home.

“Better late than never to figure it out,” he muttered, voice muffled against San’s neck.

San laughed quietly, warm and breathless. His hand slid to the back of Wooyoung’s neck, thumb rubbing soothingly over the sensitive skin there.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “But I fully intend to make up for lost time by spoiling you rotten.”

Wooyoung smiled against his throat. “I love you, Choi San.”

San hummed softly, tightening his hold around him.

“I love you more, Jung Wooyoung,” he whispered. “My perfect mate.”

The End.