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Summary
"Dohoon... hyung?" Hanjin breathed, his voice pitching higher, a natural, instinctive response to the overwhelming pressure of the alpha's scent. He tried to shift, but Dohoon’s grip was like iron, pinning him to the alpha’s chest.
"Don't," Dohoon groaned, the word vibrating deep in his chest, sounding more like a command than a request. He buried his face in the crook of Hanjin’s neck, inhaling deeply, his teeth grazing the skin just below the jawline. The scent of the omega was intoxicating, triggering a primal need to mark, to claim, to possess.
or, Dohoon unexpectedly goes into rut and Hanjin has to deal with it because he’s unaware.