Archive of Our Own

When people ask how Jaemin knew he was in love with Jeno, he always says this:

“It was love at first sight,” he sighs, tilting his head back and fluttering his lashes at Jeno, who only studiously looks away. “How could I not immediately want to make sweet love to him, when he was the only guy who looked like he showered in an entire classroom full of total nerds?”

“Stop it,” Jeno grumbles, his fingers picking at the frayed denim of his jeans. There’s a light dusting of pink over his nose and cheekbones, though— Jaemin knows he always, always gets flustered when the topic of Feelings comes up. “Just— oh my god, shut up.”

“Love you too, babe,” Jaemin simpers, and if Jeno just snorts and pretends to be looking at something far more interesting than Jaemin on his phone (which is highly unlikely, since Jaemin’s probably the most interesting person Jeno knows), well, he’s not offended at all.

But really, that wasn’t even the first time Jaemin saw Jeno.

That dubious honor goes to that day a year and a half ago when Jaemin saw Jeno walking through the student center, and even if Jeno was just wearing an oversized sweatshirt with their school’s logo on it, he was perhaps the most beautiful thing Jaemin had laid his eyes on that week. Then he pestered all of his friends to give him a name and location, nearly earning himself a good verbal beatdown courtesy of his friends until he found himself plonking down in a tiny chair next to Jeno’s. To be fair, though, Jeno was the cutest guy there. So Jaemin puffed up his chest and said, with his patented seven-million-watt smile, “Sorry I’m late, everyone. I had an interview with a consulting club just now.”

Jeno looked over at him and his fitted suit with something akin to distaste, something like annoyance, and— well, Jaemin’s always liked a challenge.

Well, not always.

“You should really learn to pick fights you can actually win,” Jeno says conversationally, and Jaemin peeks over the covers at him. There’s a mountain of crumpled up tissues scattered around him on the bed and next to his pillow, and Jeno gingerly picks one up before tossing it in the trash bin. He does this until the bed is cleared enough for him to sit down on the edge, his ass barely on the mattress like he’s afraid of catching whatever Jaemin has. Maybe he is— Jaemin hasn’t gone to the doctor to figure out what he has yet, but Jeno has the constitution of a fifteen-year-old Goryeo-era water maid. Better safe than sorry when it comes to him.

“I do pick fights I can win,” Jaemin sniffs, sinking back underneath the covers until only his eyes are showing. It’s comfortable, his blankets providing a shield against Jeno’s judgmental gaze. He coughs into the blanket, wiping his nose with the edge of it. Jeno very visibly winces, but it’s okay, he’ll wash everything on the bed once he’s better.

“Against the weather? Jaemin, show me someone who can pick a fight with the damn weather and I’ll show you something you’ve never seen before.”

“There’s nothing I haven’t seen where you’re concerned.” He tries to leer at Jeno, but the effect’s slightly diminished by the fact that his eyes are puffy and his face is swollen and he can’t go a single minute without feeling like he needs to cough. “Also, me. I picked a fight with Mother Nature. And I won.”

“Came out alive. There’s a difference.” Jeno cuts him a glance, edging away from where Jaemin’s been spewing germs all over the comforter. 

“You don’t have to be so mean to me,” Jaemin whines. He reaches for Jeno’s hand, and Jeno yanks it away, clutching it to his chest. Jaemin gives him a flat stare, since he’s also currently incapable of mustering up the emotions needed for a proper glare. “Meanie. Do you even care about me?”

“Jaemin, you’re sick and I have to tutor elementary schoolers this afternoon. Of course I care, but I can’t just be getting kids sick, too.” Jeno leans forward, brushes Jaemin’s bangs away from his face. “After I get home, I’ll cuddle with you in your nasty blanket and you can even get me sick, if that’s what you really want. One entire weekend of nothing but cuddling while sick. Your favorite.”

He has a point about not wanting to get some kids sick, Jaemin supposes. And he looks properly chagrined, so at least Jaemin knows Jeno isn’t running off to go cuddle with someone who isn’t sicking up in the bathroom every other hour.

“Okay,” Jaemin croaks out, and Jeno bends down to kiss him on the forehead before he gets up to get ready. Jaemin can’t even be properly delighted that Jeno’s undressing in front of him without even managing to get in some heavy petting beforehand. God, being sick sucks.

Chu nudges the door open with a paw after Jeno’s left, slipping into the room all silent and deadly. Seok follows close behind her, trailing after his sister as she hops onto the bed. They curl up by Jaemin’s feet, and he props himself up with his pillows so he can see them more clearly. They’re a lot bigger now, a lot fatter than the starving kittens he found that day in the rain a few months ago, and it’s mostly due to Jeno’s overbearing feeding habits.

“Hi, babies,” Jaemin whispers so his throat won’t rebel against him in protest again, and Chu pads over, laying her paws on Jaemin’s chest before she cuddles up to his side. “Aw, my baby. My tiny little baby, coming to sleep with daddy when he’s sick. So much cuter than Jeno, who even needs him, anyway.”

He nudges Seok with his toes, who just stays there, clearly comfortable in his spot underneath Jaemin’s foot, so Jaemin reaches for his phone to snap a quick picture of the cats. He, of course, sends it to Jeno before texting him SEE SOMEONE STILL LOVES ME... GUESS I KNOW WHO MY REAL RIDE OR DIES ARE... HMM RLY MAKES A MAN THINK...

Jeno’s reply is instantaneous.

THEY ONLY LIKE U MORE RIGHT NOW BC THEYRE ATTRACTED TO WEAKNESS!!!! NEVER FORGET U R JUST A MERE MORTAL NA JAEMIN!!!!!!!

To be fair, at least ninety percent of why Jaemin’s in this situation is his own fault.

He’d gone out drinking with the seniors in his consulting club to commemorate their last year together, walked home in the rain at three in the morning instead of calling a ride just so he could sober up, rooted around in the fridge until he found some day-old fried rice and boba that he instantly devoured, and promptly fell asleep on the ratty old futon next to an open window.

Jeno found him the next morning, sprawled out facedown on the ground in a t-shirt and jeans that were wet and clinging to him, and dragged him back into bed, running his hands over Jaemin’s cold skin and plopping the cats on Jaemin’s chest to warm him up.

Jaemin doesn’t remember that morning too well, just remembers a blanket being draped over his shoulders and getting tucked into bed. Remembers the way Jeno leaned down to press butterfly kisses over his closed eyelids, the way he grasped blindly for something to hold on and Jeno gave him his hand.

He woke up hours later, warm and comfortable for half a minute before he leaned over the side of the bed and puked out his guts into the neon pink bucket sitting there like it’d been waiting for him. That sucked, but at least Jeno was there. He held Jaemin’s hair away from his face and kissed the top of his head and gave him a glass of water, and Jaemin felt warm all over. It was nice to be taken care of for once.

“You should’ve called me to pick you up,” Jeno hisses after wiping the sweat from Jaemin’s forehead as he leans over the toilet bowl. Jaemin closes his eyes, already familiar with this tirade— Jeno’s only complained, oh, about six times. “You should’ve called so you wouldn’t have to walk in the fucking rain.”

“I know, but you were sleeping.”

Jeno sighs, dabbing a wet towel at the corner of Jaemin’s mouth. “I told you, it’s fine. I’d rather wake up to pick you up than have you walking home drunk in the middle of the night. In the rain.”

“Why are you so obsessed with the rain? It rains all the time,” Jaemin wonders, his eyes still shut so he won’t have to see the absolutely flabbergasted expression that he knows is blooming all over Jeno’s face right now. “And come on, it was fine, I got home alright and I didn’t let the cats out. Huge success if you ask me.”

“Jaemin, I know you have the self-preservation instincts of a fucking lemming when you’re drunk, but eating spoiled food and drinking milk when you’re lactose intolerant is really not it.” Another sigh. “Get up, rinse your mouth out, I got you dinner.”

Dinner ends up being rice and samgyetang from the place around the corner. Jaemin should know— he’s the one who introduced it to Jeno in the first place, took him there whenever they were in need of late-night comfort food and sikhye instead of fried chicken and yakult soju shots. Chu hops up on the table, sniffing warily at the container of soup.

“That’s not for you,” Jeno says mildly, moving the container away from her and into the center of the table. Chu meows. “It’s not, hey, stop it.”

“She can have it if she wants it,” Jaemin coos, and Jeno gives him an incredulous look. “Look at her cute little face. How can you ever be a vet if you hate animals?”

“Oh my god, you were the one who didn’t even want cats in the first place, and now you’re like, yeah, I’ll give them all of my food?” Jeno pokes at Chu’s side. “Anyway, I just fed her, she doesn’t need to be eating anything else, especially not human food.”

Jeno moves the container of soup even further away from Chu, staring at her like he can stop her from stealing the food and running away with just the sheer force of his will. She mewls, and Jeno honest to god mewls back like he’s a cat too, and Jaemin decides, for the sake of his sanity, to put an abrupt end to this madness.

“Sorry, baby, whatever your dad says is the law in this house,” Jaemin apologizes, scratching Chu between her ears. She looks appeased, rubbing her face against Jaemin’s hand before she hops back down onto the ground. Jeno puts a small bowl of rice in front of him, and Jaemin looks up at Jeno, who’s settling back onto the other side of the table. There’s an entire chicken in the container of soup, and Jaemin has no idea how he’s going to finish it. “You’re not eating?”

“I’ll eat, I’ll eat.” Jeno scoops some rice out for himself before he stares expectantly at Jaemin. Jaemin returns the stare for a good few seconds before he can’t take it anymore and forces himself to ask.

“What?”

“Take the chicken.” Jeno’s smile is pleasant. Jaemin stares at the chicken.

“No. I’m not an invalid, I’m perfectly healthy. I don’t need to eat any chickens.”

“Take the damn chicken, Jaemin.”

“You have to help me eat it. I’m not finishing that on my own.”

“You puked up half your body weight, you have to eat something to help your body get back what you lost.” Jeno picks up the chicken and tries to drop it into Jaemin’s bowl, but Jaemin grabs his bowl and clutches it to his chest. “Jaemin!”

“Every relationship is a compromise, Jeno,” Jaemin says. “So help me eat this chicken or Chu and Seok are going to get super fat tonight. Like, super fat. If you know what I mean.”

Jeno eyes Jaemin, like he’s trying to decide if Jaemin would really give an entire chicken to their cats to devour whole.

“Fine,” Jeno mumbles, putting the chicken back into his bowl and cutting out small pieces, and as soon as Jaemin sees him pick up a piece, he reaches over the table to grab Jeno’s wrist. “Oh my god, what now?”

“Feed me.”

“No.”

“But I’m an invalid.” Jaemin gives Jeno his very best puppy dog eyes, and Jeno opens his mouth like he’s about to say something like but you literally just said you weren’t an invalid, what fucking gives? but he closes his mouth just as quickly.

Jeno dips the chicken into some salt and pepper before he spoons it into Jaemin’s wide-open mouth, and Jaemin takes it, lets Jeno feed him. When Jeno pulls his chopsticks from Jaemin’s mouth, he only mutters, “You’re damn lucky I love you,” before he gets to working on his own bowl.

Jaemin kicks lightly at Jeno’s feet underneath the table, and Jeno very intently ignores him as he spoons soup into his bowl. So Jaemin drags his toes up Jeno’s leg, and he can see Jeno doing his best not to react as he reaches Jeno’s thigh.

He leans forward, fully intent on ruining Jeno’s dinner, and Jeno looks up, and Jaemin feels a smile curl at the corners of his mouth, and—

Jaemin turns to the side, collapsing into a coughing fit, and it takes a few good smacks on his own back to dislodge whatever it was that got stuck in his throat. When he reemerges from below the table, Jeno has the most shit-eating grin on his face. Bastard, he’s clearly enjoying Jaemin’s momentary bout of weakness.

“Smooth,” Jeno says, amused, and Jaemin gives him the dirtiest glare he can.

“Shut up,” Jaemin says sweetly. “No more footsies for you.”

“Didn’t want any.”

“Ever.”

“Still don’t want any!”

Jeno’s mom once said, a long time ago, that she didn’t want her son hanging around alphas. There was some pushback when Jeno first brought up moving in with Jaemin, some heated arguments late at night when Jeno was at Jaemin’s place to escape from his roommates. Jeno was always careful to keep Jaemin away from hearing the other end of the conversation, but it wasn’t hard to figure out what Jeno’s mom was saying.

“She wants me to bring you over,” Jeno said to him one night at the library when they were hunched over their readers and laptops, and Jaemin looked up only to confirm that no, Jeno wasn’t lying.

“For what?”

Jeno shrugged. “To meet the family?”

So Jaemin found himself taking the train, then a bus, back to the neighborhood where Jeno grew up in. He found himself in front of a high rise building, taking the elevator up to the fourteenth floor, where Jeno’s parents greeted him at the door of their apartment.

“I’m sorry,” his mom apologized. “This must be so much smaller than what you’re used to. But come in, we’ve heard a lot about you.”

Jaemin shot Jeno A Look, which meant something in between “what the fuck have you been saying to your parents about me?” and “I hope to god you didn’t tell them about anything I’d get kicked out for,” and Jeno just smiled back at him. Which, alright, would’ve been fine had the occasion been anything but meeting his prospective roommate’s extremely protective parents. But now Jaemin was on edge, not entirely sure what Jeno had told his parents or hadn’t told them at all.

For example, had he told them that Jaemin was a fantastic cook? Had he told them that Jaemin was covering more than his fair share of the rent per month? Had he told them that Jaemin was just as funny and cuddly as he looked on the outside and knew how to make a mean soy sauce egg rice? Jaemin wasn’t sure if he could trust Jeno to tell his parents everything that clearly made him a catch, so he puffed himself up and went to where Jeno’s mom was preparing dinner.

“Jaemin, what are you doing here?” She quirked an eyebrow at him, her hands stilling. “Jeno’s in his room with his dad if you want to go see what he’s up to.”

“That’s okay, Mrs. Lee, I’d rather be here instead,” Jaemin murmured, settling into a spot next to her at the counter. He looked over at her, and he saw the kindness of Jeno’s eyes and the laugh lines written on her face, and he saw instantly how Jeno grew up to be the way he did. “Do you want these carrots grated or chopped?”

By the time dinner rolled around, Jaemin had completely exhausted his collections of parent-approved topics to talk about (including, but not limited to: opinions on morning talk shows, opinions on afternoon radio broadcasts, opinions of the current state of music). Jeno found him in the kitchen again, hip to hip with his mother as they washed the dishes together while talking about Jeno’s worst habits (sleeping obscenely late, waking up obscenely late, and having a penchant for intentionally doing things that would trigger his allergies).

“Mom,” Jeno said, incredulity seeping into his voice. “What gives?”

“I changed my mind,” she said. She slipped her hands out of her rubber gloves and patted Jaemin’s shoulder. “Jaemin is fine. Do you want me to help with the deposit for the apartment?”

Jaemin caught Jeno’s eye and mouthed I did it! and Jeno’s eyes only tracked from Jaemin to his mother, then back again. “Are you sure?” Jeno asked, and Jaemin barely resisted the urge to bash his head against the counter. They were so close, and Jeno was still—

“Of course, Jeno. You should’ve brought him home earlier,” she replied. She stepped out of the kitchen, but not before throwing a quick reminder behind her back: “Jeno, help him do the dishes! You can’t cook, you might as well learn to do dishes properly!”

Jeno was quiet as they washed dishes, Jaemin soaping up the plates and bowls and Jeno rinsing them off with water.

“What are you thinking about?” Jaemin asked after a few minutes of a comfortable silence, and Jeno just looked up and over at Jaemin.

“I think she likes you a lot,” Jeno said, wonder in his voice. “Just what did you say to her?”

“That’s a secret.”

Jeno pouted, his lower lip sticking out, and Jaemin resisted the urge to pinch him. He kept the conversation to himself, no matter how much Jeno begged to know— he’d never tell Jeno that he spent the entire night waxing poetic about Jeno’s best traits and unexpectedly cute habits, after all. He’d get too big of a head.

It was late by the time they finished up, and Jeno’s mom met them at the door. She waved Jeno off first, hugging him quickly before turning to Jaemin.

“It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Lee,” Jaemin said, and she tutted at him.

“I’m sorry that I was, well. Like that in the beginning. He’s our youngest, so we’ve always been careful with him. Just call me auntie from now on, alright?” She asked, and she leaned in to give him a quick hug, too. “I’m glad Jeno met you, it’s hard to find alphas as good as you are nowadays. Take good care of him for me, won’t you?”

“I will,” Jaemin replied, quiet.

She smiled up at him with watery eyes. “Jeno’s lucky to have found you. I hope the two of you are together for a long time.”

And it was then that Jaemin realized that maybe she’d had the wrong impression all along. Jaemin felt his face burn, felt his ears heat up, and he was certain that his blush was luminescent in the night when he said, “Oh, it’s not like that. We’re just— we’re just friends.”

She gave him a small grin. “I’m not stupid, Jaemin. I see the way you look at him when he’s not looking. Take care, alright? From now on, you’re part of our family, too.”

Jaemin opened his mouth to protest again, but Jeno started loudly screaming his name at the end of the hall and yeah, maybe it was time to catch the bus before the last train left. Jaemin ran off with Jeno, glancing back one last time at Jeno’s mother. She was still standing there in the doorway, her silhouette backlit and her hands raised in a parting wave.

“We got the green light. We’re living together,” Jeno said once they were on their way back to Seoul, and Jaemin was having trouble putting words together, still thinking about you’re part of our family, too.

He didn’t really believe it until Jeno’s first monthly care package came to their apartment, and when Jeno unwrapped the package, he shouted at Jaemin to come over.

“My mom got you one, too!” Jeno said, and the excitement was real in his voice. Jaemin came over, leaned over Jeno’s shoulder (“Hey, stop it, my posture is already shitty!”) and read the writing on the second care package.

To the Jaemin who is like our second son. Take care and be healthy, and please look after our Jeno for us!

Jaemin’s in the middle of sneezing up a storm when Jeno walks into their bedroom, a towel looped over his shoulders and a blanket clutched in his hands. Jeno’s wearing his usual, just a t-shirt and shorts, but the sight of him makes Jaemin’s heart swell. Which, of course, only makes him sneeze harder, since he’s convinced that he’s allergic to feelings or something.

“Bless you,” Jeno says dryly after Jaemin’s done, passing him the box of tissues from the nightstand before he sits down on the edge of the mattress.

“Thanks, baby, you’re the best,” Jaemin croaks, taking the box, and Jeno just gives him a grin before rolling Jaemin and his blanket up into a burrito, pushing him to the side. “Hey, I’m an invalid, you can’t just shove me in a corner!”

“Jaemin, you’re fine. You said yourself it’s just food poisoning, and the worst of it is pretty much over anyway.” A sigh, then the sound of rustling. Jaemin rolls himself back over to see Jeno getting into bed next to him, pulling his laptop from the desk and settling it on his lap over the blanket. “You wanna watch something?”

Jaemin scoots upwards on the bed until he can smush his head against Jeno’s side and see the screen. It’s not the most comfortable position ever, but Jaemin doesn’t feel like being vertical and Jeno’s side is soft enough to be a good pillow. “What do you wanna watch?”

“Dunno. What do you want to watch?”

Jeno’s smile widens, and Jaemin feels a shiver run up his spine. He really should’ve just gone with a rewatch of his favorite romcoms. Damn Jeno and his horror movie addiction.

“It’ll scare the germs out of you,” Jeno promises, typing in some words that Jaemin doesn’t want to see, and Jaemin slaps a hand over Jeno’s before he can hit enter.

“No, literally anything but that, I’m begging you,” Jaemin says, and Jeno pats his head and looks up something cute and funny and wholesome instead, just exactly what the doctor ordered. The movie starts to play, and Jaemin feels Jeno’s arm snake around his shoulders, tugging him closer.

Jaemin’s so distracted by the feeling of Jeno’s fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck and what’s going on in the movie that he almost falls asleep like that, lulled off by Jeno’s ministrations and his scent—

Wait.

Jeno’s scent?

Jaemin leans closer to Jeno, presses his face into the shirt Jeno’s wearing. It’s old and worn with age, soft just like all the other clothes Jeno likes to wear the most, and Jaemin inhales, feeling Jeno stiffen as he does so.

“What are you doing?” Jeno’s voice is laced with curiosity, and he’s stopped scratching at Jaemin’s neck to pause the movie. But Jaemin has other things to worry about.

He was right just now. Jeno’s scent is heavier than it usually is, honey and lavender filling his senses, when it usually isn’t even there in the first place, when usually Jaemin has to strain to catch even the faintest hint of it. The only times Jaemin can really smell it in the air like this are after they’ve had sex, their sweat cooling on their skin and their scents mingling in between them. But they’re just cuddling in bed right now, and maybe Jaemin’s a bit closer to Jeno than Jeno usually lets him sleep, but they haven’t even done anything.

Which can only mean one thing.

“Are you going into heat soon?” Jaemin asks bluntly, pushing himself up, and the way Jeno ducks his head just slightly is all the answer he needs.

“Yeah, it was that obvious?”

“Not really, not right now, it’s just. Like, a little bit.” Jaemin stares at Jeno, who’s very studiously doing his best to look away while he tries to think of why Jeno would be going into heat. He’s usually so careful to take all of his suppressants on schedule before anything like this can happen, and something like this, where Jaemin could scent Jeno this heavily, has never happened before. “You’re not taking your suppressants? Did you run out? Should we get more?”

Jeno’s Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. “No, uh. Actually, we have enough at home. Got a new bottle last time I went to the doctor, it should be in the medicine cabinet.”

“Do you need me to grab it for you?” Jaemin is already halfway off the bed, whipping off his blanket burrito and throwing a leg over Jeno’s so he can crawl off and to the bathroom, when Jeno reaches out to pull him back down.

“Oh my god, no, it’s okay, Jaemin. Seriously.”

Jaemin looks at Jeno in alarm. “Wait, you’re trying to trigger a heat? But—”

“It’s our first anniversary soon, so I thought. Well, I thought it might be nice to see what it’s like. I’ve never really done this ever, and I guess— well, what I’m trying to say is. I went off suppressants for this one because I thought you’d want to spend my heat with me, but you kinda got sick so I totally get it if you don’t want to. But do you actually want to? It’s okay if you don’t want to.” Jeno catches his breath. “But only if you want to.”

Jaemin’s mouth is a desert, and his silence probably makes Jeno think he doesn’t want to, because then Jeno is scrambling to push Jaemin off of him, saying some bullshit like, “I’m just gonna grab my suppressants, then, sorry for making you feel uncomfortable—” and Jaemin has never moved as fast in his entire life than when he grabs Jeno before he can do something crazy and get his suppressants.

“No, oh my god, stay here,” Jaemin hisses, pushing Jeno back down on the bed, and Jeno’s entire face wrinkles in confusion.

“Jaemin, what are you even doing?”

“I’m telling you to stay here. Don’t get your suppressants, let’s do it.”

“Do what?”

Jaemin almost throws his hands up in frustration. “The heat!”

“You want to? Okay, I have to tell you now that I literally only ever went through a heat once, and that was, like, with my own fingers because I was so curious what it would be like, so don’t get weird and jealous or anything.” Jeno pauses to take another deep breath. “So I don’t really know how I’m going to act around you. If you really want to do it, we can, but I just want you to know it’s definitely not going to be like the porn you’ve probably watched—”

“I have not watched heat porn before, Jeno, oh my god,” Jaemin interjects. “What the hell?”

“Hey, it’s okay, all of the alphas at my school talked about how they watched it, it’s no big deal.”

“It’s a big deal to me. Besides,” and Jaemin turns his head away, just slightly embarrassed to be saying this out loud, “I’ve really never watched anything like that, my friends linked me stuff before but it always felt wrong to. I guess I was always the ‘spend your heats and ruts with someone you really love’ kind of guy.”

Jeno is staring at him, his mouth agape and a strange expression on his face. “Aw, Jaemin,” Jeno finally says. “You’re such a softie. Y ou know they’re just acting, right? They wouldn’t really trigger a heat just to film some scenes.”

“Yeah, I know, but isn’t it the thought that counts?” Jaemin looks at Jeno again. “There’s no one I’d rather do it with than you, anyway.”

Jeno surges forward, cupping Jaemin’s cheeks in his hands and kissing him. He nips lightly at Jaemin’s lower lip before he pulls back, his eyes bright. “Me too, Jaemin. Me too.”

“So it’s kind of like our first time, huh?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, neither of us were each other’s first times, but this is bigger than that, isn’t it?” Jaemin muses. “Your first heat with someone, my first time with someone’s heat. You sure you wanna do this? I barely know how I’ll react, I’ve never gone through a rut, much less a heat, with anyone either.”

Jeno nods, his hands fisting in the sheets. “I’ve had to think about what it’s like on my own for way too long,” he says, before a thought visibly strikes him. “Isn’t it weird that your rut hasn’t started? I thought we were synced up.”

Jaemin does his best to banish all the thoughts of Jeno imagining what a heat feels like with an alpha, since he’s likely to go down a Very Bad Path if he keeps thinking about Jeno with a knotted toy in himself, thinking about Jeno thinking about him— which, case in point. “I think mine’s a little later than yours, so if we’re lucky, we’ll end up with two sessions of brainless fucking instead of just one!”

Jeno’s glowering at him, and Jaemin has just half a second to react before Jeno is pushing his laptop aside and grabbing the pillow from behind him and pelting him with it. “Stop making it sound so debased!”

Jaemin catches the pillow easily when it lands in his hands with a soft fwump. “The romance is dead,” Jaemin wails, clutching the pillow to his chest as Jeno’s expression morphs into one of quiet resignation. “What is the point of living when the love of my life can’t take a joke?”

“Excuse you, I can take all of the jokes. I’m the funniest person ever.”

“Yes you are, baby,” Jaemin says kindly, reaching over to pat Jeno on the knee the way he pets Chu when she’s done something wrong but Jaemin can’t bring himself to reprimand her.

“Be careful, or you’re not getting any of this,” Jeno warns, and Jaemin stares at him.

“Yeah?”

Jeno looks down at Jaemin, his gaze narrowing. “Yeah, don’t think I wouldn’t.”

Jaemin hums, and he leans forward, his fingers skittering along Jeno’s thigh, upwards and upwards until they rest on the curve of his hip, thumb brushing against the jut of it. “Really?” Jaemin asks, thumb rubbing in small circles against Jeno’s skin, and it’s no surprise, the way Jeno visibly stiffens and inhales. Jeno’s scent is stronger, heady, and it’s taking everything Jaemin has not to push his hips down into the mattress.

“Yep. What are you even doing, Jaemin?”

“This.” And without warning, Jaemin shoots forward, grabbing Jeno by the waist and dragging him forward so he can press his lips to Jeno’s stomach and blow a wet raspberry into his skin. Jeno flails wildly, and Jaemin knows how ticklish he can be, so he pins Jeno’s hips down, sucks a bruise into his hip, licks a stripe over his tummy, relishes the muffled noises Jeno’s making.

“Jaemin— stop— oh my god I’ll literally murder you, holy fuck—”

Jeno is surprisingly cute even when he’s making death threats. Jaemin lifts his head from Jeno’s stomach, taking just a second to admire Jeno’s nicely toned stomach. He’s been working out recently, spending time at the gym in their apartment complex since he’d rather die than go out for runs the way Jaemin likes to, and Jaemin’s more than happy to note that his efforts have paid off. There’s just something obscene about the way Jeno looks like this, flushed face and his skin wet with spit, and Jaemin pushes himself up to look at his handiwork from a nicer angle.

“You’re so goddamn weird,” Jeno mutters under his breath, dragging the hem of his shirt down so Jaemin can’t see the nice hickey he’s given. “Don’t you need to find a hobby?”

“I have one, and its name is Jeno,” Jaemin announces. He settles onto Jeno’s thighs, laying practically completely on top of Jeno, and he tucks his face into Jeno’s neck. “You smell good. When’s your heat supposed to actually happen?”

Jeno’s hands come up to play with Jaemin’s hair again. Score. Jaemin leans into the touch, letting a noise halfway between a moan and a purr when Jeno scratches at his head just right, and he makes damn sure to do it loudly enough that Jeno can hear it. “I dunno. Maybe in two or three days? I don’t know for sure, though.”

“Can’t wait.” Jaemin noses behind Jeno’s ear before kissing the skin there.

“Are you even going to be over your cold?”

“Yeah, of course, come on. Like you said, it’s just food poisoning, and I’ll just chug a shit ton of meds and it’ll all be good. God, I’m literally so excited. Yay, baby’s first heat!”

“Please don’t say that again, you always make things sound so damn weird,” Jeno complains, but he hooks a leg around Jaemin’s thigh all the same, rolling them over. “I also had a date night planned, but I literally just realized that if I’m going to be stinking up the place wherever we go, we might as well stay home.”

“You’re going to,” Jaemin agrees, something deep inside of him instinctively bristling at the thought of Jeno going outside while he’s in heat. Does he have a death wish? Knowing Jeno, he probably wouldn’t think much of casually just going to the store while he has a giant cloud of pheromones that’s practically screaming FUCK ME at all the passersby on the street, so this is why Jaemin has to play the role of Jeno’s guardian angel instead of trying to convince him to see the outside world for once. “Just stay home with me and we’ll have date night here.”

“Mm, okay.” Jeno sighs into Jaemin’s shoulder. He sniffs at Jaemin’s skin. “Hey, you’re smelling kinda good.”

“I always smell good, Jeno, it’s because I actually shower, unlike you when you’re binge-watching anime or whatever.”

“Hey, rude, I totally shower! But no, I mean, like. It smells more than usual? Not like the way you usually smell, like regular Jaemin, but this is something different.” Jeno’s face scrunches up, and he’s clearly trying to think. He gets the answer then, snapping his fingers. “Alpha,” Jeno says confidently, and Jaemin’s guts twist and he shifts uncomfortably on the mattress underneath him. “It’s like, you, but more you. Does that make sense?”

Not really, but it’s starting to, especially when he considers the automatic reaction his body had when Jeno called him alpha. “I guess so. You wanna know why?”

“Why?”

Jaemin reaches up to pull Jeno down to him, curling his fingers around Jeno’s neck and dragging him down. He leans in so that his mouth is right by Jeno’s ear, before he murmurs, “It’s because my body knows you’re my omega.”

Jaemin hears Jeno’s breath hitch, feels the atmosphere between them shift just slightly when Jeno moves so he can cup Jaemin’s face in his hands, and before he can suggest to Jeno that they lose their clothes and get started on a preview of what Jeno’s heat is going to be like, Jaemin makes a sound. It’s a very small sound, one that would otherwise have been nearly indiscernible to the average human, but unluckily for Jaemin, he’d been speaking straight into Jeno’s face.

Jeno pushes himself up with a dawning expression of horror, and Jaemin has no words, staring straight at Jeno. Maybe if he pretends he never did that, then Jeno isn’t going to call him out on it, but then—

“Did you just sneeze on me?”

Jaemin winces. Sometimes, Jeno can be scarily perceptive, so basically just when Jaemin least wants him to be. “Maybe,” he hedges. “But let’s be real. Was that really a sneeze? Or just a sound? Like an exhale of air?”

Jeno’s expression is one of absolute despair. “Jaemin,” he whines, wiping futilely at his face “You’re so gross, now I’m going to get sick too. Why are you like this?”

“Why is this the line you’re going to draw considering everything else you’ve already put in your mouth?” Jaemin wonders. “You were literally begging me to come in you the other day, and now you’re like, ew cooties, now I won’t be able to wear white at my wedding? Newsflash, I look better in white than you do.”

“If I die of a perfectly preventable disease it’s on you,” Jeno hisses, and he picks his laptop back up from the floor and drags his own blanket over himself. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a movie to get back to.”

“Me too, me too!” Jaemin tugs his own blanket from wherever it’s decided to fall, covering himself in it, and despite his earlier protests, Jeno doesn’t say a word when Jaemin cuddles up next to him and puts his head on Jeno’s shoulder, but he does snake an arm around Jaemin, which makes him preen at the attention. “See, sharing is caring, Jeno. Even if it’s my germs.”

The next few days pass by in a blur. He remembers to take his own suppressants to dull the edge of his own alpha instincts, since otherwise, they’d both be absolutely useless during Jeno’s pre-heat. It’s a good thing that Jaemin’s gotten over his food poisoning and cold, since it’d be hell to take care of both himself and Jeno, but he barely remembers doing anything but cuddling with Jeno and their cats on the bed, burying his face into Jeno’s neck and inhaling, and generally trying his best to physically mold himself and Jeno into one. It hasn’t quite worked yet, but Jaemin’s giving it his best shot.

Jeno just seems more tired than anything else, spending most of his time in bed snuggled up with all of the pillows he’s pilfered from the couch and the blanket from the futon, and he even threw Jaemin’s blanket in the wash before stealing it for himself. Not that Jaemin’s complaining: Jeno seems to be delighting in stripping the mattresses bare to make himself comfortable, and it’s just so cute, the way his hair sticks up in every direction whenever he pokes his head out of the blankets.

“Jaemin, come here,” he demands every time Jaemin starts making food, but there’s really not a lot Jaemin hates more than eating on the bed, so he has to drag Jeno out of his makeshift nest of blankets to sit at the table with him like a normal human.

There’s been a lot of kissing and heavy petting lately, and Jaemin can’t tell if it’s because Jeno is so worked up by not being able to go outside that he has cabin fever now, or if it’s because Jaemin is suddenly so desirable that all Jeno seems to want to do is to jump him whenever he walks through the door. Jaemin’s dick and brain both agree that it’s probably a hundred percent the latter because of Jeno’s upcoming heat and all. Besides, Jeno’s never really liked going outside— he’ll stay inside for days at a time of his own volition, and Jaemin’s pretty sure that before he existed in Jeno’s life, he could’ve spent weeks indoors had it not been for compulsory attendance in his classes.

Just about the only thing Jeno hasn’t let Jaemin do is to actually touch him for real, slapping away his hands once they start to wander a little too far south, once they start feeling up his chest. After the third time Jeno grabs Jaemin’s wrists and pulls them to the side when Jaemin’s settled between his legs and slipping his hands under Jeno's shirt, Jaemin’s had enough.

“What’s the point of you being all clingy and needy if you’re not actually going to do anything?” Jaemin huffs, stubbornly crossing his arms over his chest and thinking about things that are definitely not sexy. The noise nails make when dragged down a blackboard. Hives on his arms whenever he gets allergies. Getting one of those really long ice cream cones and then promptly dropping it on the ground. The way Jeno looks right now, flushed and panting, laying on the bed like he’s waiting for Jaemin to—

Fuck.

“I’m sorry,” Jeno wails, and he covers his face with his hands. He parts his fingers just slightly so that he can catch Jaemin’s gaze. He’s shaking, just slightly, but it’s enough that it awakens something in Jaemin that tells him that he needs to go to Jeno, go to him now, hold him close so he’ll be safe again. Jaemin digs his nails into his knees instead, and he can feel himself shaking. “But I’m afraid that if I start, then I won’t be able to stop.”

And if that isn’t the single hottest thing he’s ever heard Jeno say.

Jaemin crawls forward, pushing Jeno onto his back, and Jeno just stares up at him, confused.

“What are you—?”

“Shh, just. Let me do this for you,” Jaemin says, kissing a trail of butterflies down Jeno’s throat. He stops where Jeno’s throat meets his shoulder, pressing a kiss to the faint flutter he sees on Jeno’s skin. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready to yet, baby. But let me take care of you. Just— you can just use me if you want to get off, yeah?”

Jeno’s painfully hard, Jaemin can tell. He does a good job of trying to hide it with the folds of the blankets, with the angles of his body, but he’s biting his lip so hard that Jaemin thinks he might break the skin. The scent that’s radiating off of him in waves doesn’t help matters, either.

“Jaemin,” Jeno murmurs, breathy, as Jaemin maneuvers them until he’s leaning against the wall and Jeno’s sitting partially on top of him, his legs on both sides of Jaemin’s thigh. “You okay with this?”

“Yeah, babe. Come on, do whatever you want.”

Jeno starts moving, riding Jaemin’s thigh with short, desperate motions, and Jaemin helps him find a rhythm, his hands on Jeno’s ass. A thought comes to him, completely unbidden, but it’s one that he turns over in his brain just once before he acts on it. He gives Jeno’s ass a smack, not too hard, but firm enough that Jeno gasps.

“Come for me, baby,” Jaemin whispers, hoarse, into Jeno’s ear, and Jeno does, his hips stuttering against Jaemin’s and his head dropping to Jaemin’s shoulder to mouth at Jaemin’s skin. Jaemin doesn’t expect it at all when Jeno bites down lightly, and he shifts his grip so he can hold Jeno more closely to him, so he can let Jeno ride out the rest of his orgasm against his thigh.

“Don’t be mean,” Jeno whines when he catches his breath. “Who said you could do that?”

“Which part?”

“The, um. You know.” Jeno’s face flushes pink. “Anyway, you want me to get you off too?”

“It’s okay. Already came,” Jaemin says, giving Jeno a wry smile. He really had, his orgasm slamming into him the second he felt Jeno’s teeth close down on his skin.

“But I didn’t even touch you,” Jeno says, awed. “Am I, like, some kind of sex god?”

Jaemin snorts, doing his best to cover up the way he’s still winded just from Jeno’s body on his. “You wish.”

Jaemin doesn’t mention the way the air is heavy with both of their scents, the way that anyone and everyone could tell what they were up to if they even cracked the window just slightly. Chu and Seok have been avoiding them lately because of the smells, staying in their corner of the living room where the cat tower sits. Maybe that’s for the better. Jaemin wants Jeno to himself for these next days, anyway, and judging from the way that Jeno’s skin is even warmer to the touch than it usually is and the way Jaemin doesn’t even need to be touching him to already feel like there’s something missing, it’s going to be soon.

The next morning is warm. They always are, when Jaemin’s in bed with Jeno and Jeno uses him as his personal space heater. It’s good running an above-average body temperature— Jeno’s like a cat, snuggling up to whatever heat sources he can find whenever he wants to nap. But anyway, it’s warm and comfortable and just so nice in the blanket nest, so when Jeno’s alarm goes off, he keeps his eyes shut and mumbles something incoherent along the lines of I don’t want to get up against Jaemin’s chest.

Jaemin laughs, low and throaty. He’s been up for around half an hour already, content to just card his fingers through Jeno’s hair and use Jeno’s head as a stand for his phone. “Good morning, sunshine.”

“Turn it off,” Jeno grumbles a little bit more loudly, and he digs his nails into the back of Jaemin’s shirt. Jaemin shifts until he can find Jeno’s phone and turn off the alarm, and Jeno snuggles back against him. “You’re the best.”

“Happy anniversary,” Jaemin says, soft, and Jeno hums, scooting in to kiss Jaemin without opening his eyes.

It ends up with Jeno blindly smooching across Jaemin’s face, missing Jaemin’s mouth nearly every single time until Jaemin’s gotten tired of Jeno trying to plant a kiss on his nose instead of his mouth.

“Here,” Jaemin says, meeting Jeno halfway and cupping his face to kiss him. Jeno is the one who breaks the kiss, covering his mouth with his hand and staring at Jaemin with wide eyes.

“Did you already brush?”

“Yeah, of course. I brushed when I woke up.”

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” Jeno hisses, muffled because of his hand, before he moans, rolling over. “God, my boyfriend is such a morning person. Save me.”

“Me being a morning person is the only reason you ever get breakfast, so you should appreciate how wonderful it is that I wake up when the sun peeks in through the window and all the birds outside start singing. Just a thought.”

Jeno rolls back over, peeking at Jaemin. “Okay, fine. But just know that we could’ve been disgusting and made out with morning breath together if you hadn’t decided to be a decent human being and wake up at a normal hour.”

“I’ll cut my losses,” Jaemin says before he pushes himself up onto his elbows, peering down at Jeno. “You feeling alright?”

“‘M okay.” Jeno stretches like a languid cat, sprawled out against all of the pillows he’s stolen from various spots in their apartment. He smiles up at Jaemin, curling his fingers around Jaemin’s wrist before lifting it to his mouth and pressing a kiss on the inside of his wrist. “Happy anniversary, Jaemin.”

Jaemin manages to get Jeno out of bed to brush his teeth and get ready to eat breakfast, and by “getting Jeno out of bed,” he means physically carrying Jeno and his blankets out into the living room, shoving him onto the couch while Jaemin goes to cook, and sticking a spoon with rice and egg on it into Jeno’s mouth once he’s brought a plate of food and fruits over.

“It’s like you’ve forgotten how to be a real human,” Jaemin muses as Jeno continues refusing to use his hands to eat. “Are you going to be this useless whenever you have heats? Because if so, I dunno if being your personal babysitter is enough to justify whatever’s gonna happen next.”

Jeno finishes chewing the last bite before he responds. “Of course I am, and of course it is. Can you run down to the corner store and get me a milk tea? One of the ones in the clear bottles, not the ones that have the pearls inside. I’m really thirsty.” Jeno punctuates the last sentence with a pout.

“We have milk and tea at home, can’t you make it yourself?”

“It doesn’t taste the same.” Jeno wrinkles his nose. “Anyway, please? When you come home, we can watch a movie or something and then order delivery for dinner and I’ll give you your present and then—” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, and yeah, Jaemin can take a strong hint that isn’t even really a hint at all, more like a billboard with flashing lights that say THEN WE CAN FUCK LIKE RABBITS!!!!

“Yeah,” Jaemin says automatically, a knee-jerk response to anything Jeno wants from him. “But let me put on pants first.”

Jaemin steps outside, and his first thought is wow, the air is so clean nowadays before he realizes that it isn’t the air outside that’s changed— it’s Jeno’s scent, and how strongly it’s permeated their small apartment. He breathes in the absurdly humid air, reorients himself in the space where Jeno isn’t, and heads down to the convenience store. He manages to find the drink that Jeno wants, and after looking around, grabs a few snacks and some bread and pays for it all.

When Jaemin gets back to their apartment, there are several things that he notices in quick succession:

One, Jeno isn’t sitting on the couch anymore, the living room bare of any boyfriends. It doesn’t take a genius to realize where Jeno’s wandered back to.

Two, Chu and Seok are huddled at the very top of the cat tower, squished together when they very rarely like to share the same space.

Three—

Jaemin inhales, exhales. Inhales, exhales. And then he knows.

He barely remembers the tote bag of groceries dropping to the floor when his fingers go slack, barely remembers kneeling to pick it up and stashing all of it in the fridge, barely remembers walking on leaden feet to the bedroom.

The door is closed, and when he pushes it open, gingerly, like he doesn’t know what to expect when he knows perfectly well what awaits him, he’s bowled over by a wave of a cloying scent, sweet and heady and addictive. Jaemin takes one step forward, then another, then another, until he’s standing at the edge of the bed.

“Baby,” Jaemin says. “Look at you.”

Jeno’s been watching Jaemin ever since he stepped inside the room, his gaze dark and heavy. He’s nestled in his blankets, but there’s just something so much more irresistible about Jeno now, and Jaemin can’t put his finger on it. He’s still on suppressants, which is probably the only reason he hasn’t flung himself onto Jeno and run his hands all over Jeno’s naked skin, but the scent that’s emanating from Jeno right now is testing him like nothing else. He looks— smells— and Jaemin leans down, tilts Jeno’s head back, kisses him slow and deep— tastes delicious.

“I think it got pushed up because you left, the cats got so freaked out. I tried to calm them down and tried to stop it,” Jeno pants, his fingers catching onto Jaemin’s shirt and dragging him down onto the bed. Jaemin lands on his knees, braced above Jeno’s body. “But I think I just want you to fuck me now.”

Jeno smiles at him, small and beautiful and everything Jaemin’s ever loved about him, and Jaemin lets himself give in to what his body’s been telling him all along. He presses his entire body against Jeno’s, feels Jeno’s hardness against his thigh, and kisses him until he’s whining into Jaemin’s mouth, making all of these short, beautiful noises that can only be described as desperate.

It feels like a betrayal of the worst kind when he extricates himself from Jeno’s hold so that he can tug off his shirt and his shorts, but he’s back on top of him so quickly that Jeno barely has the time to miss him.

“You smell so fucking good, so good for me,” Jaemin whispers, sucking hickeys down Jeno’s throat, and Jeno only whines in response, buries his hands into Jaemin’s hair. “Did you think about me when I was gone? Did you touch yourself when I wasn’t here?”

“No,” Jeno gasps, arching off of the bed when Jaemin moves downwards, his mouth sucking and biting at Jeno’s nipples, his fingers roving over Jeno’s toned stomach. “I didn’t want to— didn’t want to come when you weren’t here for it. Want it to be special, right?”

Jaemin hums into Jeno’s skin, secretly pleased at how much restraint Jeno has even in heat. “Yeah, I do. You’re so damn pretty, Jeno,” he says, and he kisses Jeno’s belly, the supple skin there. “You and your pretty eyes and your pretty lips, and your body, god, there’s no one like you.”

Jeno’s cock is hard, flushed against his stomach where it curves just slightly to the side, and Jaemin licks a wet stripe from the base of it to the tip. There’s precome already beading at the tip, and Jaemin takes the head into his mouth, tastes Jeno on his tongue, and Jeno whimpers when Jaemin pulls off. “Look, your cock is so cute, so eager for me. You want me to suck you off, baby? You want me to make you come? Or do you want me to fuck you with my fingers, eat you out?”

“Jaemin, yes,” Jeno sobs. “Please. I want you, I want anything, please.”

“Anything?” Jaemin asks, and he reaches down to rub a finger around Jeno’s rim, and his mind goes blank at the feeling of the unfamiliar wetness there. He’s always, always had to use lube with Jeno, and now, he doesn’t have to. Because he wants me, because his body wants me, Jaemin thinks, and the heat haze in his mind is only getting stronger and stronger. He presses a finger into Jeno’s hole without any resistance at all, and he crooks a second one inside, making Jeno squirm against him.

“Anything,” Jeno sighs, and Jaemin’s never been able to resist him. He ducks his head down, pulls his fingers out so he can spread Jeno wide and tongues at Jeno’s entrance, and Jeno thrashes against the one-handed grip Jaemin has on his hips. “More, Jaemin, wanna come, please—”

Jaemin pushes his fingers back in, deeper now, scissoring them, probing until he finds Jeno’s prostate, fucks Jeno with his tongue and his fingers, and Jeno is moaning so loudly that Jaemin’s surprised no one’s banged on their door to tell them to shut the fuck up. Or maybe they can smell it, smell the heat from outside, and they know not to bother them. Jaemin doesn’t think he cares much about what their neighbors think of them anymore.

Jeno is still begging for it, grinding back onto Jaemin’s face, his thighs clenching around Jaemin’s head, begging to be fucked. So Jaemin fucks his tongue in and out of Jeno’s hole, crooking his fingers just right, and Jeno comes with a shout, his cock spilling over his stomach and chest and his thighs falling limply to the side.

“Good?” Jaemin asks, and Jeno stares at him. He knows what he must look like, his lips shiny with spit and slick, his hair messy where it’s been pulled and tugged by Jeno’s own hands. Jeno’s cock is still half-hard, and Jaemin drags a finger through the mess on his stomach, brings it to his own mouth. “Wanna taste yourself?”

He surges forward, kissing Jeno all wet and open-mouthed and messy, and Jaemin tastes sweetness in Jeno’s mouth. Jeno tastes like the mangoes and cherries he’d had with breakfast, and Jaemin licks into his mouth, chasing his tongue, sucking on his lip. This proximity to Jeno is making his head spin, the heat almost overpowering, and it takes everything he has to break the kiss and stare down at Jeno, to drag his knuckles against Jeno’s forehead and brush his hair out of his face.

“You doing okay?”

“Just fuck me already,” Jeno whines, pushing his hips up against Jaemin’s, and when Jeno reaches down to curl his fingers around Jaemin’s cock, Jaemin jerks like he’s been burnt. He’s been so focused on making Jeno feel good that he’s completely forgotten about his own cock, almost painfully hard by now, and Jaemin can practically see Jeno drooling for it. “I want your cock in me, please.”

Jaemin swallows, his throat all closed-up and his mouth dry, his lungs feeling like they’re about to burst, and Jeno lets go of Jaemin to hold his legs apart, holding himself open.

He presses two fingers back into Jeno, who moans appreciatively, and he adds a third finger soon after, scissoring them inside. Jeno is so fucking wet, his slick dripping down his thighs and Jaemin’s fingers, and Jaemin can barely breathe. It’s so hot, so humid, and the nearly feverish temperature Jeno’s running right now doesn’t help cool down the summer heat at all.

“Jaemin,” Jeno urges, fucking down onto Jaemin’s fingers, too fast to properly set a rhythm, and Jaemin grits his teeth.

“I want to make sure you’re ready, Jeno, I don’t want to hurt you—”

“I’m ready, please, I’ve been ready for so long, wanted you to fuck me this entire time, please, just—” Jeno’s voice goes high, almost cracking, when he fucks himself down at just the angle to hit his prostate with each thrust of Jaemin’s fingers. “I want you.”

Jaemin pulls his fingers out, grips Jeno’s thighs and pushes them back, takes himself in hand and jacks himself against Jeno’s hole. Jaemin watches as it clenches uselessly against nothing at all, and Jeno kicks at Jaemin’s side, clearly irritated.

“Shh, shh, I’ve got you,” Jaemin murmurs, more to calm himself down than actually directing it to Jeno, and he leans down and lines up against Jeno’s hole and—

He pushes in, sinking into Jeno’s tight heat, gasping at how good it is, how wet and warm Jeno is for him, how right this feels. Jeno keens, his fingers digging into Jaemin’s back as he bottoms out.

“Jeno— baby, holy shit, you feel so good, fuck,” Jaemin groans into Jeno’s neck, breathing him in, and he feels Jeno loop his arms around his shoulders, tugging him close.

“Jaemin, move, come on, just fuck me, fuck me,” Jeno babbles, and Jaemin braces himself over Jeno, starts thrusting into his heat. It’s too good like this, every snap of Jaemin’s hips eliciting a muffled cry from Jeno, every whine Jeno lets out only fueling the desire that’s clouding Jaemin’s senses.

Jaemin’s already close, has been ever since he first walked in and scented Jeno’s heat so thick in the air. He can feel it pooling, building up the more he fucks into Jeno, and then he doesn’t even realize he’s had his eyes closed until Jeno is reaching up to cup Jaemin’s jaw.

“Look at me, Jaemin,” he whispers, his voice ragged, and Jaemin does.

Jeno’s beautiful. He always is, but there’s just something different, something new about the way he looks right now. Spread out against their sheets, a flush high on his cheeks, his gaze dark and molten. Jaemin wants to imprint this into his memory so he can remember this Jeno, so he can see how beautiful Jeno can be without even trying, so he can drown in this moment for the rest of his life.

“Come in me, Jaemin, fill me up, make me yours,” Jeno murmurs, low, taking Jaemin’s hand and twining their fingers together, and Jaemin’s breathless. His hips stutter against Jeno, and he presses Jeno back to the mattress, clenches his fingers more tightly around Jeno’s. “Make me your omega, don’t you want to? Come on, baby, do it.”

“Jeno, I’m going to—”

Jeno rolls his hips against Jaemin’s, fucking back on him, and it’s purposeful, the way he looks up at Jaemin and smiles and says, “I love you,” and that does it, gets him bucking into Jeno’s waiting body, makes him collapse onto Jeno’s chest, not just from exertion but from the need to be as close to Jeno as he can, his body screaming at him to knot him, hold him tight, touch him more.

So he does, thrusting one last time into Jeno’s body before he’s coming, coming so hard that his vision goes white.

“I can,” Jaemin starts after he catches his breath, lying on top of Jeno, “I can get off if you want me to.”

Jeno stares at him, completely lucid by now— Jaemin knows that the heat comes in waves, and the first one must’ve ended. There’s no telling when the next one is going to hit, so Jaemin buries his face into Jeno’s neck and mouths lazily at his pulse. He leaves another hickey there, this one a mirror image twin of the one on the other side, and thinks to himself how happy Jeno will be to discover what his neck looks like tomorrow.

“Don’t see how you can.” Jeno gestures to where they’re tied together, Jaemin’s knot plugging Jeno up with his come, and Jaemin lifts his head up and blinks. Had he been so out of it that he didn’t even notice? Jaemin moves, experimentally, just to see what would happen, and the knot catches against the rim of Jeno’s entrance, and Jeno moans, so loud and so drawn-out that Jaemin’s certain someone’s going to hear him. “Fuck.”

“Feel good?” Jaemin asks, and Jeno nods. “Do you want me to—”

“Mm, not yet. Just wanna stay with you like this, I’m tired.”

Jaemin ends up falling asleep for just a bit, buried deep inside Jeno, and it seems like no time at all until Jeno pushes at Jaemin until he’s blinking awake and rolling over, until Jeno’s sitting on top of Jaemin, Jaemin’s cock still buried deep inside of him. Jaemin can tell that it hurts, since, well, it’s usually not that big even if the knot’s settled, and he’s about to tell Jeno that it’s alright, he doesn’t have to, when Jeno grits his teeth and puts his hands on Jaemin’s stomach and rolls his hips down.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Jaemin swears, his hands going to Jeno’s thighs, to Jeno’s hips, to wherever he can grab him, press his fingers into Jeno’s skin until the skin’s going to be mottled in the shape of Jaemin tomorrow.

The scent of heat is heavy again, and Jaemin’s content to let Jeno ride him, to use him so he can come, and Jeno does, leaning backwards so he can fuck himself the way he likes and bracing himself with his hands on Jaemin’s thighs as he bounces on Jaemin’s hips, as he fucks down on Jaemin’s cock, as he comes with Jaemin’s name on his lips, as he spills all over Jaemin’s stomach.

Jaemin’s too spent to properly knot him this time, but when Jeno leans down and curls his pretty fingers around Jaemin’s neck, putting just the slightest bit of pressure on Jaemin’s throat, Jaemin thinks he might be able to.

“Baby, please, I can’t—” Jaemin begs, and Jeno’s smile turns filthy, absolutely wicked as he clenches around Jaemin’s cock, squeezing him tight. He presses a kiss to the underside of Jaemin’s jaw, and Jaemin swallows. Jeno during his heat is nothing but unpredictable, nothing but dangerous.

“Knot me, I know you can,” Jeno purrs, pressing his thumb against Jaemin’s pulse, and Jaemin can’t help the way that his cock gets even harder at that, and he thinks that maybe Jeno has a chance after all. “Alpha.”

And, well, here’s the thing about Jeno when it comes to matters relating to Jaemin: he’s always right.

Jaemin begs Jeno for another nap while they wait for Jaemin’s knot to go down again, so when Jeno gives in, Jaemin tucks Jeno against him as they avoid the wet spot on the bed they’ve named the JDZ, or the Jaemin Danger Zone (“Not funny, it’s ninety percent your fault anyway, you and all of your goddamn slick,” Jaemin griped, and Jeno laughed at him until he relented). It’s not bad at all, falling asleep with his arms full of the person he loves the most.

When Jaemin wakes up, it’s late in the afternoon, and Jaemin’s cock is soft enough that he can slip out and just hold Jeno to him for a while. This time, he senses the change in the air before Jeno does, his senses prickling when the now-familiar scent of heat starts to pick up again. Jeno blinks sleepily, scratching at his skin.

“You wanna go again, baby?” Jaemin asks, his hand already drifting to Jeno’s hip, rubbing small circles into his skin. Maybe they can fuck just like this, with Jeno’s leg hooked over Jaemin’s hip. He’s tired, and he’s willing to bet that Jeno is, too. Or maybe he isn’t, Jaemin has no idea if being in heat just overrides the basic human needs to sleep and eat.

“No,” Jeno mutters, and Jaemin’s hand stills.

“No?”

“Just wanna shower, I feel so gross.” Jeno whines, stretching out against Jaemin’s body, and fuck, his dick is twitching in interest again just like that.

“You wanna shower?” Jaemin considers his options. Get clean now or get clean later, Jeno’s probably going to be climbing him like a tree and asking Jaemin if he’s going to fuck him yet either way.

He pulls at Jeno’s arms, drawing him out of bed, and Jeno stumbles, making his way to the bathroom ahead of Jaemin. Jaemin stares at him, stares at the blotchy marks dotting Jeno’s skin like nebulae and galaxies. His hips are mottled with the shadows of Jaemin’s fingers, thumbprints in the curves of Jeno’s body, and Jaemin can see bruises on the insides of Jeno’s thighs, can see the come that tracks down his legs— Jaemin’s come, and that knowledge doesn’t do anything particularly good for his already half-hard cock.

They draw a bath, filling the tub with warm water, and Jeno settles back against Jaemin’s chest, his hair tickling Jaemin’s chin. 

Jeno tilts his head back, presses his lips to Jaemin’s neck, and shifts so that Jaemin’s cock is nestled up against his ass. “I think we should do something more fun,” he sighs, to Jaemin’s utter lack of surprise. “Maybe we should get dirty again.”

He should’ve known Jeno was up to no good.

Jaemin ends up forcing Jeno onto his knees so that he’s bracing himself against the edge of the tub, ends up leaning over his back and sliding into where he’s already loose and open without any prep at all. Jaemin covers the length of Jeno’s body with his own, kisses the back of Jeno’s neck, sucks bruises into his skin.

He fucks Jeno without abandon this time, none of the handholding they’d done in bed, none of the gentle kisses— having Jeno like this, where the pale expanse of Jeno’s skin is a canvas for him to stare down at and ruin, feels so much different. He fucks into Jeno at a relentless pace, his hips slapping against Jeno’s ass, the wet sounds from Jaemin’s cock slamming into Jeno’s hole mixing with the sloshing of the water all around them. It’s obscene and dirty and Jaemin has Jeno coming in minutes, his hand twisting around Jeno’s cock and coaxing an orgasm out of him that’s barely anything at all.

“Jaemin,” Jeno sighs— sobs— as he shakes apart underneath Jaemin’s fingers. He almost slips, his legs trembling under their weight, but Jaemin catches him, holds him tight.

Jaemin keeps going, keeps leaving bites on Jeno’s skin, nibbling along his shoulders and nipping at the shell of his ear, and when he gets to Jeno’s neck, he buries his face in the junction, breathing in where his omega smells the best, and he bites down, licking the bite before he leans in to give him another one. He curls a hand around Jeno’s body, cups Jeno’s slim waist, smooths his fingers over Jeno’s belly, so flat and so perfect, wonders what it’ll look like when it’s round and fat with his pups, and just the thought of that is enough to send Jaemin over the edge, spilling into Jeno with a garbled cry.

Jaemin maneuvers them back into the tub afterwards, and Jeno’s boneless, content to lie there against Jaemin and blow bubbles in the water. They stay there until they start to prune, at which point Jaemin has to drag a giggling Jeno out of the tub (“We’re like raisins now, Jaemin! Oh, no, wait, are our dicks going to be all pruney too now? I knew this was a bad idea!”) and wrap him in a towel and toss him back onto the bed. Jeno’s still laughing when Jaemin comes back from the living room with a bag and shoves it at him.

Jaemin bounces on the edge, dragging a blanket over his lap, and Jeno looks at him, his forehead scrunching up in confusion.

“What’s this?”

“Your present,” Jaemin says simply. “Open it.”

“But we’re naked.”

“Well, I could just put it back and give it to you after your heat’s over, since I don’t know how much time we’re spending not naked. Your choice, babe.”

“I’ll open it now,” Jeno says quickly, digging into the gold foil tissue paper and silver streamers. He unearths a box, and he gives Jaemin a curious glance before he opens it, and then Jeno’s throwing himself into Jaemin’s arms, peppering his face with kisses. “Oh my god, you fuck! I told you it wasn’t a big deal!” Jeno says in between giving Jaemin kisses and giving his new Balenciaga sneakers adoring looks.

Jaemin preens. “There’s a folder of bookmarks on your phone titled shit I’m too poor to get but want anyway, how could I resist?”

“You seriously didn’t have to.” Jeno’s voice trails off, faint. “They’re so much. How can I ever wear them?”

“Just do it, or I’ll wear them. Just kidding, I already got myself a matching pair.” Jaemin rocks back on his heels, watching as Jeno reverently puts the sneakers back into the box and stuffs the box underneath their bed. He comes back up with a tiny black bag. “Ooh, spicy. What is this, a toy? Are these beads?”

He gives Jeno an overly exaggerated wink, and Jeno scoffs at him. “No, but I’m kinda starting to think we shouldn’t be naked for this part if you’re gonna be this horny.”

Jeno reaches into the bag and pulls out an even tinier box, and Jaemin’s throat goes dry.

“I didn’t know what to get you since you buy yourself whatever you want anyway, so, um. Here.” Jeno fiddles with the closure, snapping the box open, and oh, there are two rings nestled inside on a bed of velvet. They’re the same, two bands of onyx inlaid in a sparkling silver setting, and Jeno plucks one out and holds it out towards Jaemin.

Jaemin can’t speak.

He stares at the ring with his heart in his throat and Jeno’s expression changes immediately, his previous shy smile replaced with something like panic, and the excuses come spilling out of his mouth. “It’s just a present, you don’t have to wear it, it doesn’t have to mean anything—”

Jaemin shakes his head, leaning forward so he can tug Jeno’s wrist to him. It’s pretty, and somehow, even though he’d never considered this kind of design before, preferring the dainty kinds of loops whenever he does wear rings, Jeno chose one that was just right. “I want you to put it on me.”

Jeno’s mouth freezes, and he asks, his voice so hopeful that it makes Jaemin’s heart shatter, “Really?”

Jaemin nods, holding out his left hand and wiggling his fingers. “I want it here, right here.”

Jaemin hopes that there isn’t any confusion about what he wants it to mean when he motions to his ring finger, and it feels like he has his entire life in front of him when Jeno ducks his head to slip the ring on. He can’t look away from Jeno’s face, his eyes bright, his teeth biting his lip in concentration, not even when Jeno pulls back and says, “Does it feel okay?”

The metal is cold against Jaemin’s skin, but that’s okay. It’ll warm up the more Jaemin wears it.

“I love it,” Jaemin says, his voice hushed. “It fits— god, it fits so nice. It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

“Good,” Jeno says, and he grins at Jaemin. “I had to tie a string around your finger to get your ring size. But then I kinda messed up and had to get it remade, so I just took the other one instead.”

Jaemin gasps, placing a hand on his chest. “What else did you do to me when I was asleep? Tell me now!”

“Nothing we haven’t already agreed to!” Jeno rebuts before reaching down and taking the other ring out of the box. “You wanna put this on for me?”

His hands shake when he takes the ring, when he lifts Jeno’s hand, when he slips the ring onto Jeno’s finger. And then—

“It’s not going on anymore,” Jeno complains, and he’s right. The ring is stuck at the knuckle, and Jaemin stares at it like it’s personally betrayed him. “But, okay, I kind of expected it. This is the first one that I had made, and then I tried to put it on you when you were sleeping and it wouldn’t fit, so I had to get a new one. Try another finger?”

Jaemin pulls it off, tries to put it onto Jeno’s index and middle fingers, and when those don’t work, he tries Jeno’s pinky, but it just falls off. “What the hell,” Jaemin huffs when he has to reach for Jeno’s right hand. “Why don’t you just get another one? Can’t you get it resized?”

It’s a miracle when the ring slides easily onto Jeno’s right index finger, fitting snugly around it, and Jeno shrugs. “Yeah, we probably can. I just figured that you should have the one that was actually for you, and I could just try to make the other one fit. Worked out, didn’t it?”

Jaemin doesn’t reply, instead pressing their palms together, his left hand against Jeno’s right hand, and seeing their rings like that, a matching pair so close to one another, makes his blood pound in his ears and his vision go hazy. There’s nothing in him now but pure love, pure adoration, and he wonders how Jeno could possibly have ever beaten him to making a gesture like this. Wonders how long Jeno had been planning this, hiding this. Wonders where he kept the rings before today, if he was afraid Jaemin would stumble upon it. Wonders how much Jeno loves him, to do this much.

And he knows.

“I love you,” Jaemin breathes out. It’s a statement, an answer, a promise, and Jaemin brushes over Jeno’s cheekbones with the pad of his thumb, sweeps it past the beauty marks underneath his eye, and tilts Jeno’s chin up and leans down to press his lips against Jeno’s. There’s just warmth, nothing but the warmth of Jeno’s body against his, suffusing through every artery, every vein, every capillary of Jaemin’s body, and it’s everything Jaemin could ever have wanted. It’s everything Jaemin knows he wants from now on.

“I love you, too,” Jeno says, and he pulls away just enough to drag his fingertips across Jaemin’s cheekbones, skimming over his cheeks, dipping behind his ears. Jeno’s ring is cold against Jaemin’s skin, and he leans into the touch, relishes the contrast. Then Jeno’s touches start heading south, brushing over the marks on Jaemin’s throat he’d left with his fingers, down to his chest, then disappears underneath Jaemin’s blanket.

He jerks when Jeno’s hand brushes against his cock, and when he looks down at Jeno’s face, he’s smiling.

“Is it time again already?” Jaemin asks, already shifting to sit up against the headboard so Jeno can crawl over to straddle his thighs. Jeno reaches behind him, pushes two fingers into himself, fucking himself shallowly, and Jaemin can only stare as Jeno takes his fingers back out, wet with slick. Jeno curls his fingers around Jaemin’s cock, thumbing the slit, jacking Jaemin until he’s hard again.

“No, just wanted to do this,” Jeno responds, and Jaemin doesn’t have anything else to say. He pulls Jeno closer until their chests are flush against each other, and lets Jeno drop his head onto his shoulder.

Jeno’s breath comes out in short huffs against Jaemin’s neck, and when Jaemin trails his fingers down Jeno’s back, presses a finger against his entrance, he can feel Jeno’s breath hitch. Jeno makes the most beautiful noises for him, keening as Jaemin presses a finger, then two, then three, into him, and he whines when Jaemin scissors his fingers, finding the spot he knows makes Jeno’s entire body tremble.

“You’re doing so good for me, babe,” Jaemin hums, twisting his fingers inside Jeno again before he pulls them out, kissing Jeno’s jaw. “You’re always so good to me.”

“I know, that’s what I keep telling you,” Jeno says in response, and he loops his arms around Jaemin, sighing when Jaemin lifts him up with his hands on Jeno’s waist so he can settle Jeno down onto his cock, so he can sink into Jeno’s familiar warmth. Jaemin’s hands stay on Jeno’s hips as he rides Jaemin’s cock, his thumbs pressing into Jeno’s skin, leaving only twins of marks that Jaemin’s already made on him.

“What did I ever do to deserve you,” Jaemin murmurs, and Jeno only rolls his hips against him in response, slow, languid, like they have all the time in the world, and more.

“Everything,” Jeno whispers into the space between them, and he leans forward so that he can close those centimeters between them, so that he can lick into Jaemin’s mouth, so that he can make Jaemin feel like he’s drowning in him one more time. “Everything.”

A few months into their relationship, Jaemin took Jeno home to meet his parents. Jeno was a nervous wreck, picking at his nails until Jaemin grabbed his hands and reassured him that no, his parents wouldn’t try to run him out of the country, and no, Jaemin didn’t have a secret fiancé he was hiding away somewhere.

“You totally could,” Jeno argued on their metro ride into the heart of Gangnam as he fidgeted with a loose thread in the cardigan he threw on at the last minute over a nice button-down. “I mean, aren’t your parents old money? What if they try to bribe me away from you with a whole bunch of hundred-thousand won bills like in the dramas?”

Jaemin told his parents to be nice to Jeno beforehand because what he wanted the least was for Jeno to feel intimidated in his home, and they were. They were nice enough and liked Jeno enough to let him stay for dessert (which was a Very Big Deal in his house, since all three of them had the most ridiculous sweet tooth), and Jaemin’s mom pulled him aside while his dad was quizzing Jeno about who his favorite sports teams were.

“You like him, don’t you?” She asked, a curious expression on her face. It was, Jaemin thought, a really stupid question.

“Of course I like him,” Jaemin said. “Why else would I bring him home?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I don’t.”

“You’re avoiding the question,” she pointed out. Her lipstick was red, and Jaemin was briefly reminded of how Jeno complimented her on the shade at dinner. Said that it made her look like she could eat a man alive, and the way Jaemin’s mother smiled was exactly what Jaemin expected when he told Jeno beforehand to tell his mom she looked like she could kill, she loved hearing that. My mom’s last name is Na, not my dad’s, Jaemin told him on the ride over. If my mom likes you, you’re in. “You need to stop doing that, Jaemin.”

“I’m not avoiding shit,” he muttered, trying his best to slip past her, but she stepped in front of him.

“Jaemin,” and her voice was soft, softer than he’d ever known her to speak— she was one of Seoul’s top prosecutors, and even though she raised him in a house full of love, he wasn’t quite sure where all of these sudden emotions were coming from— and he didn’t know what to make of it. “You’ve never brought anyone home, much less just a few months in. Not to mention, you bothered us constantly about helping you two find a place to live, you’ve never done that, not even for people you’ve known for longer.”

“I have to rescue him from dad, Jeno must be bored out of his mind pretending to know everything about short track and hockey—”

“I like him, too.”

And that stopped Jaemin in his tracks, glued him to the ground.

“I hope this lasts.”

“Me too,” Jaemin said, once he figured out how to speak again, how to breathe again. He couldn’t quite meet her eyes. “I really hope so, too.”

He found Jeno in the living room with his dad, and true to form, they were watching a rerun of Lee Seunghoon’s gold place finish at Vancouver.

“Ready to go?”

“Did you know short track speed skaters can go as fast as a car?” Jeno asked in return, but he took Jaemin’s hand anyway, let himself be led outside. “Don’t we need to say bye to your parents?”

“Oh, yeah.” Jaemin blinked, and before he knew it, Jeno was running back inside. Jaemin traipsed through the doors just in time to catch Jeno wrapping his mom in a tight hug and murmuring something in her ear, and when Jeno stepped away, he could’ve sworn that he saw his mom say something to Jeno, too.

It was only later, when they were back home and Jaemin felt like he had home court advantage again among their fairy lights and cat print curtains that he mustered up the courage to ask. “What did she say to you?”

“Hmm.” Jeno leaned back against the wall, stared at Jaemin under half-lidded eyes. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Jeno, this is really important to me.”

“It’s nothing, Jaemin. She just asked me how I felt about you.” Jeno smiled, his eyes crinkling. “That’s it.”

“And what did you say?”

“That I like you, of course,” and Jeno crawled over to Jaemin, plucked his phone out of his hand, cupped Jaemin’s face in his hands. “That I like you a lot.”

“Show me, then. How much you like me,” Jaemin challenged, and Jeno leaned down to kiss him.

His lips brushed, feather-light, over Jaemin’s before he pulled away. His thumbs ran over Jaemin’s cheekbones, warmth following the tips of his fingers, when he moved in so he could press his forehead against Jaemin’s. “I like you so much,” Jeno sighed, punctuating his words with another kiss. “I like you so much that I don’t even know what to do sometimes.”

“Good,” Jaemin said, projecting confidence around the lump in his throat, and he dragged Jeno down, whispering in his ear, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

There’s a box in the kitchen. It’s a really, really small box, one that sits in a cabinet above the sink where it’s hidden in an old jar of coffee grounds. It hasn’t always been in their apartment, though; Jaemin went back home a month ago so that he could touch base with his parents, catch up on sports news with his father, and most importantly, ask his mom a favor.

Jeno is fast asleep when Jaemin slips out of bed that night, tugging on a pair of shorts before ambling to the kitchen. It takes him just a few seconds to find it— he’s had this on his mind for the past few days, after all— and haul ass back to the room. He’s grateful, suddenly, that Jeno sleeps like the dead, that Jeno’s exhausted from everything that happened today, that Jeno doesn’t even move at all when Jaemin kneels on the bed and sits next to him.

He doesn’t even stir when Jaemin opens the box with an absolutely heart-stopping squeak, not even when Jaemin very gingerly takes Jeno’s left hand and slips his great-grandmother’s ring onto his finger.

Time seems to stop.

His heart is beating double-time in his chest, pounding almost desperately, and his vision’s entirely focused in on how that slim band looks on Jeno’s hand. It’s a simple one, plain gold with a small diamond mounted on it. He’d gone to ask his mother for it, expecting more of a fight, more of a pushback, and he was surprised when all she said was, “Don’t rush him into it.”

“You’re not going to stop me?” Jaemin asked, and he’d never felt more vulnerable, more afraid to ask anyone anything.

She’d just looked at him, at where he was sitting on the couch so far away, uncomfortable with what he was asking of her, and she motioned for him to come over until he was sitting next to her, her warmth soothing next to his. “I knew already, that first time you brought him home,” she hummed, running a hand through Jaemin’s hair. “I knew he’d be the one.”

He’d asked Jeno’s mother and father even before that, and they said something similar:

“I don’t know if I’ve ever seen anyone look at our son the way you do,” Jeno’s mother said, her eyes brimming with tears. “I’ll trust you to take care of him.”

“You’d better,” Jeno’s father threatened, and Jaemin knew that he would.

That day, Jaemin left his house with one of his mother’s most treasured belongings, one of his most treasured belongings, and he called the jeweler to set up an appointment. It had been a pain to figure out Jeno’s ring size and to rearrange his schedule and his parents’ and Jeno’s parents’ so that they could all come and watch, but now, looking at the way that the moonlight shines down onto Jeno’s face, casting shadows of his lashes onto his cheekbones, making the diamond on his finger gleam from within, everything was worth it.

Jaemin doesn’t know if he remembers how he knew he was in love.

Maybe it was the day they met, when Jeno seemed like he could barely wait for Jaemin to disappear out of his life. Maybe it was the day they got together, when they realized that they’d just been blind to the truth all along. Maybe it was a day that was completely irrelevant in the grand scheme of things: when they were in bed watching something and Jeno complained that they got a detail about calico cats wrong, or maybe it was when they were at dinner and Jeno insisted on showing Jaemin the right way to pour a soda, or maybe, just maybe it was something that Jaemin doesn’t even remember anymore.

He doesn’t know.

But what he does know is the way that Jeno smiles at him when they’ve been apart for too long, the way that Jeno comes apart under him so beautifully, the way that Jeno treats Chu and Seok like they’re their babies. What he does know is that one day, he woke up with Jeno next to him and knew that he wanted to wake up next to Jeno, to see him like this, for the rest of his life. What he does know is the way that Jeno loves him and the way he loves Jeno and nothing else matters.

Jaemin holds his breath as he takes the ring from Jeno’s finger, irrationally afraid for half a second that it’ll get stuck. But it comes loose, and Jaemin puts it back in the box and hurries to hide it again. When he comes back, Jeno is awake, and his heart stops again. He’s laying on his back, a hand lying on his stomach and the other outstretched, beckoning Jaemin to him, and Jaemin goes to him without even thinking about it.

“Jaemin,” he murmurs, his voice heavy with sleep, and Jaemin leans down to brush his hair from his face, to kiss him on the nose, to lace their fingers together. “Come back to bed.”

“Alright,” Jaemin whispers back. “Sorry for waking you, darling.”

Jeno gives him a soft smile before he tugs Jaemin to him, and Jaemin closes his eyes. He drifts off, lulled away to sleep by the feeling of Jeno’s ring against his and by their heartbeats, beating in time with one another. And really, that’s all he’s ever wanted.