chummiie
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Summary
Chan copes with his pregnant omega's hormones and loves him very much.
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“Hi. Today is... y'know, Friday drinks at the studio, remember? I thought maybe you could come after all. Felix said it'll be fun.”
The pause dragged on. Minho imagined Jisung in his office: big desk, leather chair, city view. Probably sitting, buried in his laptop, with a cup of cold coffee.
“Minho, I told you, deadlines are burning. Dad demands everything ready by Monday. I won't make it.”
Minho gripped the phone.
“You never make it,” the words came out sharper than Minho intended. He took a deep breath. “Okay, forget it. I just thought... never mind.”
or: Minho loves his alpha, but Jisung neglects their marriage because of work. Minho can't stand this and is considering divorce, but due to certain circumstances, he puts divorce on the back burner because a new life is growing inside him. Minho is pregnant.
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“Jisung,” Minho muttered, already drifting off.
“Mhm?”
“Do you really think we’ll make it?”
Jisung looked at the gray ceiling, at the brightening sky outside the window, at the arms hugging Minho. Inside there was no usual confidence he was so good at faking. There was doubt. There was exhaustion. There was fear. But there was also that same hope that refused to die no matter how hard they tried to strangle it.
“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “But I’ll fucking do everything I can to make it work.”
Jisung lay there stroking his back and watched the sun rise outside the window. The first rays broke through the thin curtains, gilding the walls, falling on the scattered clothes, on the cooled mugs in the kitchen, on the pills still lying on the table.
He thought that they would probably never be perfect. That therapy wouldn’t heal all their traumas in a year or two. That they would still slip, scream, slam doors, get jealous, hate and love with the same fury as before.
But maybe the slips would be rarer. The pauses between fights longer. The night calls sober. And the tears not quite so salty.
He didn’t need perfect love. He needed this one.
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He pulled back just enough to see Jisung's face fully. His hands still rested on the alpha's shoulders, but tension appeared in them. He looked straight into Jisung's eyes, and his pupils dilated slightly — not from arousal, but from the sudden, painful resentment that flared up.
“So, in your opinion, I'm a distraction?” Minho asked, and in his quiet voice, there was a clear edge. Not loud, not hysterical, but heavy, viscous, like his own pheromones. “Am I bothering you? Am I pulling you away from your code?”
Jisung blinked, not immediately catching the change in tone. He felt how under his fingers, still gripping Minho's sides, the omega's tension vibrated in fine tremors. The warm weight on his lap suddenly stopped being cozy, turning into a smoldering ember that burned through the fabric of his sweatpants.
“I didn't mean that,” he said quickly, trying to catch Minho's slipping gaze. “You're not a distraction, you... you know. It's just work. One block of code. I need to finish the thought, and then I'm all yours.”
or: Minho is pregnant and wants attention from his husband, and Jisung is buried in code.
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“Do you really want continuation?” Jisung asks, kissing his temple. “We can just sleep. I'm not...”
“I want,” Minho interrupts. “But not like that.”
“Then how?”
Minho is silent for a few seconds, tracing a finger over his chest, drawing intricate patterns. Then lifts his head, meeting his gaze. In the dim light, his eyes seem almost black.
“I want,” he starts and suddenly gets embarrassed — for the first time this evening. Averts his gaze, bites his lip. “Don't laugh, okay?”
“Never,” Jisung touches his lips to his forehead. “Tell me.”
“I want...” Minho hesitates another second, then exhales resolutely: “I want you to eat me out.”