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“Not bad for a first try,” Beomgyu hums.
The mattang turns out to be a little too sweet for his personal taste, but he knows that it’s the exact amount of syrupy sweetness that other people would prefer. He enjoys the texture, however, when the crunchy glazed skin gives way to softness as he bites into the sweet potato.
Beomgyu decides that he will pack the rest to give to Yeonjun later. He already knows he won’t finish it by himself, and he knows that the older beta tends to forgo self-care entirely when he’s busy with work. It’s mostly experimental, anyway, he wanted to know if he could successfully recreate a random recipe that he just happens to have ingredients for.
That’s when he hears a knock.
Beomgyu makes sure all of the immediate hazards are turned off before scrambling toward the door. A wave of omega pheromones hits his senses just right before he twists the handle, nearly knocking him over.
He blinks, disoriented, rooted in his spot. It takes a few seconds that feels like hours before he remembers what he’s about to do.
When he finally opens the door, he’s greeted by the sight of a tall omega, smiling from ear to ear with dimples on each side of his cheek. The omega looks sweet, reminding Beomgyu of the mattang that he cooked earlier, and he silently wonders if diabetes is something that can be developed from staring at a cute person for too long.
Distracted by the smile, the realisation dawns on Beomgyu a little late that the omega is also visibly pregnant.
Ah, he surmises quietly. This omega is mated.
The pregnancy also explains why his citrus scent had been strong enough to be able to waft through the door, when usually Beomgyu’s beta senses would be unable to pick up on scents unless he’s outright nosing at someone’s glands.
The woes of being a beta. If he had been anything else, the scent of a mated person would’ve invaded his senses firsthand instead of allowing him to stand dumbstruck for a solid minute like he’s never seen an omega in his life.
“Hi, I’m really sorry for bothering you,” the omega starts to speak, slightly bowing his head, pulling Beomgyu out of his reverie with a deep, silvery voice.
It’s fascinating, Beomgyu thinks, how at first glance this person ticks off the checklist of what makes a perfect alpha; but it’s instantly betrayed by the traditional omega demureness that he easily carries himself with.
“I’m your neighbour, Choi Soobin, and I—I don’t know how to say this without coming off as weird—” he breaks off into a nervous laughter, and Beomgyu’s heart does a pathetic little jump inside his chest. “—but your cooking smells fantastic, and if you don’t mind, can I—” he pauses, placing a hand over his bump. “—can we have a taste?”
Beomgyu blinks.
Really, how was he supposed to say no in the face of those big, beautiful brown eyes?
“I’m Choi Beomgyu.” He quickly says, on the brink of forgetting his manners. “And sure, come on in.”
Choi Soobin beams, cheeks rising like dough in the oven, and walks in after Beomgyu, toeing off his slippers by the door next to Beomgyu’s own shoe rack. He’s decked in a light jacket, zipped up to cover his throat, despite the slightly warming weather; and loose cotton pants.
Beomgyu pulls out the island seat for him and prepares a small plate along with utensils in case Soobin wants it—he hopes so, the thought of a stranger coming in to pluck at his food with unwashed hands slightly horrifies him—then takes his own seat across from him.
Soobin sits down gingerly, picking up the chopsticks.
“Are you sure this is okay?” He seems hesitant.
“You’re already seated.” Beomgyu laughs. “Besides, this is my first time making it. I needed the review anyway.”
“Oh?” Soobin’s eyes seem to twinkle under Beomgyu’s kitchen lighting, or Beomgyu is going insane. “They look really good.”
“Thank you, I hope the taste is to your liking.” Beomgyu replies sincerely, and feels slightly like his old man when he encourages Soobin next. “Come on, come on, dig in.”
Soobin wastes no time with bringing a piece to his mouth and biting into it. He slows down from his initial chewing, eyes going round.
“Wah, Beomgyu-ssi, this is delicious.” He gasps, covering his mouth with a hovering palm. “This is your first time cooking it?”
“En.” Beomgyu nods. “I’m trying out a new recipe, since I’m free today.”
“Can I—Can I have more?”
“As much as you like.” Beomgyu smiles, his treacherous, pathetic heart going pit-a-pat inside of his ribcage.
He has always found joy in seeing others enjoy his cooking, but having a pregnant omega express approval means a lot, because if what he heard growing up was right, they’re the pickiest with food.
“Oh my god, Beomgyu-ssi, you’re gifted.” Soobin groans, soft cheeks stuffed with sweet potato.
His confidence seems to grow the more time passes, he seems like the type of person who settles easily into an environment. Beomgyu slightly envies it.
Beomgyu stays where he is, content to just watch Soobin eat. If they were close enough as friends, Beomgyu would pinch his cheek.
“Oh, sorry… I must be scenting up the place. I’ve been wearing blockers and clothes that cover up my neck, but well.” Soobin sighs suddenly, slumping in his seat with a pout. Beomgyu has the passing thought that it makes him look adorable—what with the puffed cheeks and the small bump. “The doctor said it’s because I’m two people right now, that’s why my scent is twice as strong.”
“Take it easy, I’m a beta.” Beomgyu says, waving a dismissive hand.
Soobin seems to perk up at that. “You’re a— oh. That’s why your scent is so muted. I thought you were just wearing a really good blocker, I was going to ask for recommendations.”
Beomgyu rubs the back of his neck, suddenly self-conscious. “Ah, sorry about that. I don’t know anything about blockers.”
“It’s okay. Even the most jacked blocker in the world probably wouldn’t work.” The frown is already wiped off Soobin’s face, reaching for his chopsticks again.
It’s amazing how quickly he’s demolishing the plate. Beomgyu will have to make more if he wants to spare Yeonjun some. He might as well cook some for Taehyun, too.
“Why is that?”
“Why is what—oh, because I’m unmated. My scent isn’t locked.” Soobin says casually, continuing to narrate his life like he’s simply reading from a textbook and not recounting a life-changing decision. “Pregnancy by choice and all that. Got my alpha friend Kai to become the donor—without the knotting part, of course, because he prefers being knotted. Which is precisely why I chose him, as well.” He finishes it with a cheeky smile. “Thoughts?”
“And prayers.” Beomgyu exhales.
Soobin bursts into a fit of giggles.
He’d been way too invested with how animated Soobin had gotten when he speaks, the topic itself taking some time to absorb into his head.
Then, reminded of Taehyun’s wonderful guidance in social cues—there’s no direct lesson really, just Beomgyu deciding that the omega is a model citizen and deciding to imitate his demeanour in unfamiliar situations—the realisation sinks in that he should probably say something kind to acknowledge Soobin’s story.
He clears his throat. “Thank you, by the way, for trusting me with that information.”
Beomgyu tries not to let the internal grimace show on his face. He could’ve come up with something more sincere and less stiff had he not panicked.
“I trust that a beta would be the last to show judgement, no?” Soobin grins, dimpled cheek puffed on one side.
There’s something soothing and slightly clandestine in his expression; warmth, and the invisible reassurance that whatever Beomgyu is willing to share will be met with no judgement, either.
This time, Beomgyu’s smile is natural, entirely unbidden. “Yeah, that’s right.”
—
When Taehyun—his soulmate, the other half of his soul, the bane of his existence—inevitably asks about it, Beomgyu wouldn’t know how to answer.
Yeonjun is already privy to the situation, because Soobin has been coming over enough these past few weeks for his timing to overlap with Yeonjun’s video calls—his excuse to check if Beomgyu is still breathing—and they’ve interacted enough for casual honorifics to be thrown around the three of them.
(Beomgyu only calls Soobin “hyung” if there’s a specific ingredient that he wants Soobin to acquire. Likewise, Soobin only lets the disrespect pass because Beomgyu will share the food with him.)
It’s easy, he thinks, to fall into routine with Soobin. After their first encounter, he had brought Beomgyu food in return for his kindness—shrimp, he ended up peeling them for Beomgyu—then one week after, Soobin had shyly knocked on his door at midnight, cutely asking if Beomgyu still had any sweet potatoes to alleviate his craving. To Soobin’s luck, he did.
It only grew from there.
Yeonjun said that Beomgyu had somehow, accidentally, adopted a pregnant omega; much like feeding a stray cat once out of kindness, but it keeps showing up to your house with its polite face and pleading eyes, so you have no choice but to take it in.
At this point, Beomgyu is inclined to agree.
“Morning to you too, Kai,” Beomgyu greets as soon as he steps foot through Soobin’s door, whatever Soobin and Kai were bickering about on the phone was loud enough to be heard through the door.
Soobin is sitting on the couch, long legs stretched out, one hand steadily rubbing over his bump while the other holds his phone away from his face. He’s wearing a loose shirt and criminally tiny grey shorts, riding up his milky thighs with every small movement. Beomgyu swallows, quickly shifting his gaze before he gets any ideas of running his mouth over them.
“Morning, Beomgyu-hyung!” Kai returns his greeting cheerfully, both of them pausing from their overlapping argument. “What do you have today?”
Much like Soobin and Yeonjun, Beomgyu has also grown acquainted with Soobin’s alpha best friend, Kai, who comes over every Friday to watch anime with him and steal his food—by default, the recent addition of Beomgyu’s homemade delicacies.
“Chapssaltteok.” Beomgyu places Today’s Menu on the low table before lifting up Soobin’s legs, plopping down on the couch, and setting said legs on top of his own thighs. He keeps his fingers put, circling around Soobin’s ankles, not daring to venture further than there. “Does it still count as cooking if I use a microwave oven?”
“I’ll say yes if you leave some for me!” Then Kai is screeching, “Soobin-hyung, you slut! Leave some for me tonight or your child will be truly fatherless!”
“Congratulations in advance on the knot removal surgery.” Soobin deadpans, biting into the chapssaltteok.
There’s a gasp from the other line, but Soobin doesn’t let Kai respond further, ending the call with a click.
Beomgyu snorts, they never cease to entertain him. “Why’d he call you a slut? His vocabulary is usually much more creative.”
“I told him someone should keep his mouth knotted so he could stop and think before yapping.” Soobin shrugs.
Beomgyu chokes.
Soobin is blind to his predicament, groaning around a mouthful of rice cake, the citrus scent bursting from him in waves. “God, this is so good. You’re so good to me, Gyu-yah.”
Beomgyu’s insides bloom with warmth from the praise, silently reminded of Soobin’s love for his sweet potato recipes, and considers making another batch with that filling next time.
“I bestow you with the free pass to slutshame me, you feed me too well,” Soobin continues, happily picking up another piece of rice cake from the tray.
“I would shame you for many things.” Beomgyu spares a glance at Soobin’s end of the couch, where he’s leaning on the incriminating two-sided 150x50cm Yor Forger Dakimakura, boobs out in the open just like that. She must be cold. “Being a slut isn’t one of them.”
Soobin rolls his eyes, picking up a controller and throwing it in Beomgyu's direction. “Tekken, my liege?”
“I was going to suggest League,” Beomgyu offers a winning smile.
He’s just teasing, of course, they both received enough lectures from Soobin’s obstetrician about paying attention to his blood pressure—and isn’t that funny, they’ve grown close enough that Beomgyu has accompanied him to two appointments now—and so Beomgyu has been losing on purpose more in the past few weeks than he ever had in his entire life.
“Do you want me to have a blood pressure spike? You want to drive a pregnant omega into a stroke, is that it?” Soobin makes a face, taking up the exaggerated tone that he specifically uses just to be annoying.
Beomgyu now understands what his own older brother meant with Beomgyu having a Youngest Brother Bitch Voice, and silently sends an apology his way for being so difficult when he was a teen.
Laughter bubbles up in his throat.
“I would never, Your Highness.”
—
“I’m sorry, you—you gave him permission to have a second nest in your place?”
Taehyun didn’t have a stroke on the spot, thankfully. His eyes of scrutiny and judgement, however, are another thing entirely.
Beomgyu had missed him so much. As soon as Taehyun told him he was free sometime in the weekend—and that he’s demanding an explanation for “whatever Yeonjun-hyung means by your house pet omega” that Beomgyu had cringed at—Beomgyu had no qualms clearing up upcoming appointments. He’d left the fridge stocked and texted Soobin that he’s coming home late or might even stay over at Taehyun’s place, just in case the omega decided to wait up for him.
Soobin has been staying at his place more and more since he entered the third trimester, not that Beomgyu’s complaining. It sets his mind at ease, knowing that Soobin is just around the corner, that Beomgyu is right there in case he needs anything or if something happens.
Besides, he makes a devastatingly cute sight, waddling around Beomgyu’s place, round and pouty.
“Yeah. You know the guest bedroom where I keep all my unused shit?” Beomgyu continues as soon as Taehyun nods. “I cleaned it up. Might as well give him the space, since he comes around so much, and being in my apartment keeps him from stealing my clothes to bring back to his place. I just gave him my previous blanket with the scent and took out a new one for myself.”
Taehyun is silent, staring at him with wide eyes and his mouth slightly open.
“You… and how are you still doubting his attraction for you?”
“I’m not crossing out the possibility of it being pregnancy hormones. Maybe my muted scent is comforting or something.” Beomgyu crosses his arms.
Taehyun looks like he’s about to cry. “Hyung… you know it doesn’t work like that.”
Beomgyu knows. Logically, he knows. He just doesn’t trust the nuances. He doesn’t trust things will go the way he hopes it does, because if there’s anything he learned from being alive this long is that he should be grateful he’s allowed to live in society at all.
He can’t ask for more. He’s supposed to be content with what he has, not wish for the beautiful omega that’s taken space in his home—and his heart—to fall for him in return. It would be a miracle for someone as gorgeous and kind and funny as Soobin—someone who resonates with him and shares all of Beomgyu’s interests, his perfect type—to ever consider a mere beta like him in a romantic light.
“Heats and pregnancies can’t fabricate what’s not there, it only serves to amplify the dormant desires. That’s why, despite how ridiculous it is, omegas without interests can be taken advantage of, because they don’t have a beacon to keep their heads clear.” Taehyun pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling. “If Soobin is seeking your scent in his nest, that means that not only you’re his beacon, but also that his body already considers you as a potential mate.”
“Look.” Beomgyu sighs. “That just—That doesn’t make sense, Taehyun-ah. I can read his mood on a good day, but that’s it. I’m shorter than he is and I can’t gauge his scent nor can I cover his scent with my own. If we mate, he will have to claim me. Why would someone as wonderful as him want that? He’s probably into traditional alphas who are bigger and taller than him or something. Tall omegas usually like feeling small right?”
Taehyun fixes him with a long-suffering look. “You’re self-sabotaging.”
“I’m making a hypothesis.”
“You’re stereotyping him.” Taehyun counters, with a finality to his tone. “You’re providing yourself with excuses so you can give up before you even start.”
Beomgyu winces under his piercing gaze.
“Giving up… is also courage?” He tries.
“Hyung, you can’t let your insecurity deny you from a chance at happiness,” Taehyun gently admonishes. “I know you’ve struggled with this your whole life, but his actions are the beta equivalent of shouting from a rooftop. Trust him, Beomgyu. Trust that he knows his own heart, and trust that he can handle the entirety of you.”
“I’m sorry, Taehyunnie… I’m not the most fun company tonight. I just—I’ve never liked anyone this much.” Beomgyu admits, suddenly feeling awfully like he’s going to choke on nothing. He’s not going to cry. He’s not going to cry over something this stupid, damn it.
“I know, hyung.” Taehyun’s face is kind. “It's alright. It’s rare to see you this distressed that it’s amusing. I’m getting kind of curious if he’s as pretty as you and Yeonjun-hyung keeps saying.”
“Super pretty.” Beomgyu grins, vision suddenly flooded with images of Soobin: smiling, eating, complaining, laughing, having a nosebleed, going off on tangents. He’s so ridiculously pretty.
Beomgyu continues, giddy. “He’s like, a flower. I’m genuinely convinced he was born from a blossom or something.”
“You look stupid.”
Beomgyu scowls, punching Taehyun lightly on his shoulder.
Taehyun laughs. “Also, for a beta, your provider senses are somewhat off the charts. Are you sure you’re not just a really, really late bloomer?”
“I sure fucking hope not.” Beomgyu gasps. “That would ruin the edgy beta vibe I’ve got going on.”
“True. That’s like, your whole thing.”
It’s not an alpha’s provider’s sense as much as it’s Beomgyu trying to make up for what he’s been lacking his entire life, but he doesn’t know how to explain it in a way that Taehyun will understand unless he was born a beta.
“Anyways,” Beomgyu nudges him. “Tell me about that handsome new coworker you keep texting us about.”
Taehyun flushes. “Oh, that. Yeah, his name is Kai.”
Beomgyu blinks.
“Huening Kai?”
—
“Please tell me Kai doesn’t exclusively like alphas,” Beomgyu pleads as soon as he comes home, making a beeline toward the guest bedroom.
Soobin blinks at him. He’s seated on the bed, back leaning on the headboard. He’d been reading through a manga volume while chomping absent-mindedly on a wrung out ice cream stick. It’s obvious he’s been at it for a while.
The room had essentially been transformed into Soobin’s main nest. What started out as a temporary sanctuary has gradually become something more homely.
No less than ten pillows surround the pregnant omega, two of them taken straight out of Beomgyu’s own bed. Three of Beomgyu’s favourite plaid shirts are folded somewhere between the pillows, as well. Beomgyu’s blanket is draped over his knees. Even the 150x50cm Yor Forger Dakimakura has been carried over from Soobin’s place to this room.
Soobin closes the manga, placing it on the nightstand. “He doesn’t mind anything as long as the other person likes being in charge, to be honest. Kai only talks about knots so much because he’s just silly like that. Why?”
“Oh, hyung.” Beomgyu sits down on the edge of the bed. “You’re not gonna believe this.”
He recounts everything that he heard from Taehyun. By the end of it, Soobin is already laying down, dark eyes attentive.
In the middle of his rant, Soobin had tugged on one of Beomgyu’s gesticulating hands and dragged it to the top of his soft hair. Beomgyu had stuttered mid-sentence, but obliged, knowing instantly what Soobin wanted.
“So Taehyun is the coworker that Kai’s been mentioning, funny how the world works,” Soobin chuckles softly. “All this office talk, though… I’ve been thinking about something, actually.”
“Congrats.” Beomgyu beams.
Soobin rolls his eyes, continuing his line of thought, undeterred. “Does the reason you work remotely have anything to do with being a beta?”
Beomgyu halts his movements. “Uh. Why do you ask?”
“Beomgyu… you do know I care about you?” Soobin starts, brows furrowed. “It’s just… you’ve been taking care of me so much these past few months, but it’s quite hard to reciprocate it. You… never seem to open up to me? If it’s because of our secondary gender differences, then I’m trying to understand, because maybe it’ll make you open up to me more.”
“Choi Soobin.” He whines. “You can’t just say things like that.”
Soobin seems determined. “Will you help your hyung understand, then?”
It’s silent after Soobin asks, the question hanging over them heavily. In hindsight, this is not the first time Soobin asked, he’d just never done it so directly; but this is the first time Beomgyu is inclined to divulge the entire truth.
Maybe it’s the nest, being engulfed by Soobin’s presence, despite Beomgyu’s senses not being able to detect anything else but the faint trace of citrus. Maybe it’s Soobin—laying on his side in the nest, palms over his round stomach, peering up at Beomgyu with an earnest gaze. So angelic, so sweet.
Maybe it’s just Beomgyu, who spent the better part of his recent weeks thinking about Soobin’s eyelashes, the way they cast gentle shadows over his cheeks.
Beomgyu wants Soobin to have all his truths.
He keeps one hand above Soobin’s head, going through the caressing motions automatically as the words start to take form in his head; the other hand flies to his jeans, picking at the rips absent-mindedly.
Taehyun’s words echo in his head. Trust him.
Beomgyu already knows what he wants to say. He has told this to his parents, the most impenetrable walls of his life, and he came out unscathed. Soobin can handle this. Then, more firmly, he repeats in his mind: Soobin can handle this. That’s why Soobin asked, in the first place. That’s why he insists on hearing him out—because he cares. Soobin cares about this and he’s willing to learn more because it matters to Beomgyu.
What did he ever do to deserve Soobin?
“You gotta know, being a beta… it’s like,” he starts, then pauses. The words are still arranging themselves in his mind. “All my life everyone around me has been speaking another language? Wait no, no—like, I know this language. I can read the sentences just fine, but I don’t understand what it all means.”
Beomgyu exhales shakily, eyes still fixated on his knees so he doesn’t have to see whatever face Soobin is making. “I spent nearly my entire life mimicking the behaviour of both sides according to what my conversation partner expects, only to find out after presenting that the majority of people don’t do that; because if you were always meant to be an omega or an alpha, the core instincts will be there throughout your life, an invisible guiding hand. You just live life knowing exactly how to behave—and for the more traditional ones, what to do as well.”
For him, it has always been a conscious act. A character that he has to play; complete with a mask, a costume, and a set of dialogues that he has spent his life memorising and rehearsing, flowing out with practised ease according to what the other party requires from him. If it’s a docile omega, then he will do his best to be protective and encompassing; if it’s a commanding alpha, then he will be reserved and helpful; with the more progressive alphas or omegas, he will adjust to their secondary gender instead, imitating them or the behaviour they approve of best.
He continues, steadying his breath, “What most people don’t get is that it—it has affected everything. I can’t apply to most jobs, because even office work relies on being able to scent so you can pick up on social cues, and that’s only the most polite reasoning; some are even outright hostile, disliking that they can’t guess what’s on our minds, so that makes us unpredictable. Most facilities and products are catered to alphas or omegas, as well. It’s rooted in the system.”
Growing up in a traditional and sheltered community, it wasn’t until adulthood—after presenting and meeting other betas—that he finally realised how miserable he’d been, and that he wasn’t alone with all of his struggles and emotions.
“Is that one of the reasons why you love making food so much?”
Soobin doesn’t have to elaborate, within this context, it’s hard not to catch what he means. The way Beomgyu gravitates toward recipes that brings out the strong flavour and scent of the ingredients, because it’s the one scenting he can actually participate in; the way he arranges his presentations, and how he resolves into gifting others with his homemade food as his go-to solution, because how else is he supposed to express his goodwill in a way that people will immediately understand?
Beomgyu’s breath seizes in his throat. He nods.
Never had anyone been able to pinpoint that. Until Soobin.
“Hyung, you… you don’t need to worry so much, okay?” he starts, voice failing him. His throat feels heavy.
This time, he allows himself to be impulsive, even just a little, and his hand slides down from Soobin’s hair to cup his soft cheek. Soobin leans into his palm almost automatically, and his breath hitches.
He continues, “I know you care, because you make an effort to be direct when you speak to me, when I know firsthand how sarcastic you can be with others. You don’t get mad at me for not picking up on scent clues, you don’t play coy the way I’ve seen many omegas do. You’re already so, so wonderful to me. More than I could ever ask for.”
“Oh.” Soobin sounds almost as wrecked as Beomgyu feels. “Then… allow me to be direct again, this time. For a very selfish matter.” He pauses. “Beomgyu, I know mating is quite different for betas than for us, but have you ever… considered it? Specifically, with me?”
Beomgyu bites down on his bottom lip to keep it from trembling.
He always believed he was destined to be alone, content with the untouchable distance brought on simply by being born a beta, forcing himself to come to terms with the knowledge that he will never be understood by anyone that doesn’t share his predicament.
How is Beomgyu supposed to convey that not only has he considered Soobin as a potential mate, but has also found himself wanting? Soobin has planted his roots in the very soil of Beomgyu’s heart, bringing life to a terrain that he previously thought barren.
“All the time, hyung,” he admits at last, voice cracking. “I wake up and think of you. I wonder if you and your pup are doing well, whether they would take after you or Kai; I think about making food for them as soon as they’re old enough, I think about waking up at night to soothe them so you can continue sleeping. I want to be a part of your life so desperately.”
Soobin struggles to sit up, and Beomgyu’s hands automatically go down to assist him, supporting his back and elbow.
“Beomgyu. Baby,” he calls, tenderness in every syllable. The corners of his eyes are wet. “There’s nothing more I could want.”
Soobin has his arms outstretched.
“Hug?”
Beomgyu dives into his embrace, careful with his bump, circling his own arms around Soobin’s waist as he leans his head on the crook of Soobin’s neck. This close to him, Beomgyu is hit by the full force of his unrestrained pheromones, finally able to distinguish his exact scent.
Bergamot. It’s nice, it suits him.
He’s almost dizzy from the fragrance, the unblocked scent invading his senses. Is this what it feels like to be an alpha or an omega? Not for the first time, Beomgyu wonders how they cope with it, if this is what the world feels like to them all the time, like a constant overload of the senses; on top of that, they have to discern all the emotions tied to it.
How complicated.
No matter.
He’s here now, in Soobin’s arms, and he’s trusting the relationship that they have built to lend him the confidence that Soobin is content.
“I was afraid you would say no,” Soobin breathes out a faint laugh, self-deprecating. “I was scared you’d only be into betas, or you’d want omegas who aren’t, well, pregnant. Hell, I don’t even look like one. I’ve been mistaken for an alpha enough times.”
Beomgyu leans back, but doesn’t extricate himself from the hug. Soobin has joked around about this matter to him several times, but Beomgyu hadn’t realised how deep the hurt must have run until now. He’d been stuck so deep in his own head that he forgot he’s not the only one who can suffer.
Soobin. His Soobin. His sweet omega, who’s tall and traditionally handsome and collects ridiculously expensive magical girl figurines; who decides that he wants to have a child outside of mating, who shamelessly makes Beomgyu cook for him and goes on thirty-minute rants over League of Legends.
He rubs comforting circles on Soobin’s back. “Weren’t you the one who said that a beta would be the last to show judgement, no?”
Soobin laughs. “Always using my own words against me.”
“I’ve never had a preference, not until you.” Beomgyu whispers. “After you, everyone else paled in comparison.”
Soobin’s face has gone devastatingly gentle. His hands come up to cup Beomgyu’s cheeks, long fingers framing his face.
This time, Soobin doesn’t need to say anything. Beomgyu knows.
As he expected, Soobin’s kisses are sweet, melting into his mouth like spun sugar; gentle, chaste pecks that evolves into longer, lingering kisses, laced with so much adoration that Beomgyu is going dizzy with it, held in place by his hands, the world reduced to merely the two of them and returning Soobin’s kisses tenfold.
Soobin’s thumbs caresses his cheeks, the grounding touch that tethers him from the endless onslaught of kisses.
“Your signature scent,” Soobin chuckles as soon as they break apart. He turns so he can nuzzle his nose on Beomgyu’s throat, audibly inhaling. “Unexpected, but fitting.”
Beomgyu’s mind is reeling, his hand stills on the small of Soobin’s back. He doesn’t know what his signature scent is. This is the first time he’s ever allowed anyone to get this close, and he assumes that the current intensity of his emotions must play a role in it, too.
“Yeah? What is it?”
Soobin presses a brief kiss underneath his jaw, hiding a smile into his skin.
“Hydrangeas.”