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It was no secret that Jisung had gotten bigger. With countless days spent in the gym with Changbin and Chan, he was bound to gain extra muscle. It was his goal after all. After presenting as an Alpha not long after debuting, Jisung wanted to show off a little bit.
Unlike Felix and Seungmin who kept their leaner frames, Jisung wanted to get a more Alpha-like physique like his hyung’s. However, his sudden need for growth made him a bit more…snappy. And one Alpha in particular was starting to notice this.
The studio air was thick with heat and effort.
Sweat slicked across skin, shirts clung to backs, and the low thrum of the bass echoed through the floor with every beat. The mirrored walls reflected eight shadows moving in perfect sync—every step calculated, every breath drawn in time.
“Again,” Chan called out, voice sharp but low, as always. Calm, but commanding.
Jisung didn’t complain, but the twitch in his jaw betrayed the building pressure in his chest. His heartbeat had been uneven for the past hour—not from exhaustion, but from something deeper, something stirring beneath his skin. That familiar burn at the base of his spine was back, coiled like a snake.
He glanced at Minho through the mirror.
The older Alpha hadn’t broken a sweat. His moves were as fluid and deadly as always, precise to the last toe pivot. Expression unreadable. He hadn’t said much since they arrived, but Jisung could feel his presence like a weight—steady, watchful, impossible to ignore.
They reset positions.
“Five, six, seven—” Minho counted in.
Music surged again. They moved.
One step, two turns, drop.
Jisung spun too fast.
He caught himself, barely, but not before his palm struck the floor with a loud slap. It wasn’t the fall that silenced the room—it was the growl that followed, low and involuntary, scraping from his throat before he could choke it down.
All movement stopped.
Eight pairs of eyes turned toward him. The music cut off, sudden and brutal.
Chan’s brows drew together. “Jisung.”
“I’m fine,” Jisung snapped too quickly, getting to his feet, eyes darting away.
“No, you’re not,” Minho said quietly. He hadn’t moved, but something about his stillness was suddenly dangerous.
Jisung’s eyes flashed—just for a second, crimson and feral, before they faded.
The scent of tension bloomed in the room—sharp, electric, laced with instinct.
Minho stepped forward at last, voice low. “You’re slipping.”
“I said I’m fine,” Jisung repeated, but his voice cracked on the last word. His hands were trembling now, his breath short.
Chan exchanged a glance with Minho, something unspoken passing between them.
“Take five,” Chan told the group, nodding toward the benches. “Felix, Changbin—go grab water.”
The others scattered, quietly.
Only Minho stayed. He approached Jisung slowly, like approaching a wounded animal—careful, measured.
“You’re not sleeping again,” Minho said, tone unreadable. “You feel it, don’t you? The shift.”
“I don’t need a babysitter,” Jisung muttered, but his voice was small now, more fear than anger.
“No,” Minho said simply. “You need to get it under control. Before someone else notices.”
Jisung’s lips pressed into a tight line. He hated when Minho did this—spoke like he knew him better than Jisung knew himself. The worst part? He probably did.
Minho leaned in slightly, voice a whisper. “Your scent’s changing, Ji. If any of the other packs pick it up—”
“I said I’ll handle it.”
Minho’s jaw clenched, but he stepped back.
Outside the studio, the city buzzed on as usual—flashing lights, endless traffic, and the comforting illusion of normalcy. But inside, something was shifting. Cracking.
The pack was stable. For now.
But Jisung’s instincts were sharpening. Something was coming.
And Minho could feel it too.
The laughter didn’t sound right.
Jisung heard it leave his mouth—high, quick, just a little too loud—and immediately hated it. But he smiled anyway, shoulders tense as he tossed a crumpled towel at Felix, who was now dramatically fake-choking from Hyunjin’s water bottle ambush. Normal. Playful. Pack things.
He was good at this part. Faking fine.
But his pulse was still out of sync, skipping like a faulty metronome, and the tremor in his fingers hadn’t stopped since he hit the floor. The moment his palm slapped down—when that sound tore from his throat—it was like something shifted in him. Again.
Something that wanted out.
He glanced toward the far corner of the room, where Minho stood with his arms crossed, watching. He was listening. Jisung could feel it. That sharp, silent scrutiny that Minho wielded better than words.
It made the air feel tight around his chest.
Chan joined Minho. They didn’t speak at first, but Jisung caught the glance they exchanged—quick, subtle, and heavy with meaning.
He looked away fast, blood thrumming in his ears.
He hated this. The eyes. The knowing. Like he was being dissected in real time. Like they’d already decided something was wrong before he even had the chance to figure it out himself.
But deep down, he knew they were right.
Something was wrong.
It had started last week. Restless nights where his bones ached. Dreams where his vision blurred into gold and fire. His reflection flickering—just for a moment—with eyes that weren’t his. Thoughts that didn’t feel like thoughts, but instincts, snarling and primal, clawing at the edges of his control.
He hadn’t told anyone. Not even Chan.
Because saying it out loud would make it real.
“Yo.” Changbin’s voice snapped him back. “You good?”
Jisung nodded automatically. “Yeah. Just—hungry.”
“You’re always hungry,” Felix teased, poking his side.
Jisung grinned, and it almost felt real. Almost.
But even now, beneath the sweat and the fluorescent lights, he could feel Minho’s gaze brushing the back of his neck like a warning.
You’re slipping.
He clenched his jaw and reached for his water bottle. His hand was still shaking. He gripped tighter.
If the others noticed, they didn’t say anything. But Minho? Minho always noticed. And he wouldn’t let this go.
Jisung had to fix it before it got worse.
Before his scent changed again. Before his instincts overtook him. Before he lost himself in whatever was waking up inside his chest—burning hotter, louder, hungrier with every passing day.
He had to control it.
He had to.
Because if he didn’t… he knew exactly what would happen.
And this time, he wouldn’t just hurt himself.
He’d hurt them.
The dorm was quiet.
Too quiet.
Jisung sat on the edge of the couch , elbows on his knees, shirt clinging to his skin from a cold sweat that had nothing to do with dancing. His breathing was uneven again, jaw clenched so tight it ached. The ceiling above him pulsed in and out of focus—like it was breathing, like the whole damn room was closing in.
He dragged a hand through his hair, fingers trembling.
Get it together.
It wasn’t real. It was just stress. Overwork. Nothing he couldn’t push through.
But the low growl that had been simmering in his chest all day was still there, sitting just under the surface, curling like smoke in his lungs. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep it from slipping again.
He didn’t hear the door open.
Didn’t realize Minho was there until the scent hit him—earth and cold air, sharp and steady. Familiar. Infuriating.
Jisung’s head snapped up.
“What?” he snapped before he could stop himself.
Minho raised a brow but didn’t flinch. “You didn’t eat.”
“I wasn’t hungry,” Jisung lied.
Minho leaned against the wall, arms crossed, studying him. That same damn look. Calm. Detached. Like he was always three steps ahead and waiting for Jisung to catch up.
Jisung hated that look.
“You’re trembling,” Minho said quietly.
“I’m fine,” Jisung growled, sharper this time.
A pause.
Then, Minho pushed off the wall. Took a step forward.
Something in Jisung’s chest snapped.
He stood up too fast, his chair scraping back against the floor, shoulders squared. “You think I don’t know what this is?” he hissed, voice low and shaking. “You think I don’t feel it?”
Minho didn’t react, not to the tone, not to the aggression. “Then stop pretending you can handle it alone.”
“I can handle it.”
“No,” Minho said, voice hardening, “you’re trying to smother it. That’s not control, Jisung. That’s denial.”
The growl ripped from Jisung’s throat before he could stop it.
It echoed in the room, a raw sound pulled from somewhere deep and wild. His hands were curled into fists at his sides, nails biting into his palms. His eyes burned—too hot, too bright.
Minho didn’t move.
That only made it worse.
“You’re pushing me,” Jisung snarled, stepping forward. “You always do this. You watch. You wait. You act like you know everything, like you’re not just waiting for me to fail.”
“I’m not waiting for you to fail,” Minho said, quietly now. “I’m waiting for you to stop pretending you’re not about to explode.”
That hit harder than it should’ve.
Jisung’s breath hitched.
He turned away sharply, like he could outrun the heat building in his spine, the way his instincts were clawing to the surface, demanding space. But it was Minho behind him, and Minho never gave space. He gave silence, and in that silence, he made you see yourself.
“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” Jisung said, voice tight. “I don’t trust myself.”
There it was. The truth, laid bare between his teeth.
Minho stepped closer, so close Jisung could feel his presence at his back. But his voice, when it came, was steady. Low.
“Then let someone help you before it gets to that.”
Jisung didn’t respond.
Couldn’t.
His instincts were screaming, and all he could do was stand there—trembling, burning, caught between wanting to snap and wanting to collapse.
Minho reached out, fingers brushing his wrist.
A touch. Not a command.
And yet, Jisung flinched like it was fire.
“Get out,” he whispered.
Minho didn’t.
Not right away.
And that? That was somehow worse.
Jisung was shaking. Not from fear—but from fury.
The dorm felt like a cage. His instincts were coiled so tight they burned beneath his skin, and the only thing in his line of fire was Minho—unmoved, unreadable, infuriatingly calm.
“You done?” Minho asked, arms crossed over his chest.
Jisung’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t talk to me like you’re above me.”
“I’m older than you. I am above you.”
That did it.
Jisung surged forward, all raw instinct and spiralling dominance—but Minho was faster. Smoother. Smarter. He caught Jisung’s momentum with ease, twisting his arm behind him and slamming him down across the nearest surface—the kitchen table.
The thud echoed.
Jisung’s breath hitched, caught between a growl and a snarl. “Get. Off.”
“I told you to stop,” Minho said, voice low. Steady. But there was a sharpness under the words now—intent.
He didn’t loosen his grip.
Didn’t give Jisung space to gather control.
Instead, Minho leaned down—slow and deliberate—until his chest pressed against Jisung’s back and his mouth hovered near his ear.
“You want to play Alpha?” he murmured. “Then act like one. Not like some untrained pup clawing at everything because he doesn’t know what he needs.”
Jisung hissed, trying to buck him off—but Minho’s hand slid up fast and firm, gripping the side of his throat. Not choking—just holding. Just reminding.
And then he did it.
Minho pressed down against Jisung’s scent gland, thumb dragging slow and deliberate along the sensitive skin just below his jaw.
The effect was instant.
Jisung went still—his entire body tensing under the weight of that touch. His knees almost buckled from the flood of heat and instinct, from the command woven into every cell of Minho’s touch.
“That’s right,” Minho whispered. “You feel that?”
Jisung’s breath stuttered.
“You’re all bite until someone grabs you by the throat and reminds you where your place is.”
“Fuck you,” Jisung spat, but his voice cracked at the end—betraying him.
Minho’s grip didn’t tighten. It didn’t have to.
He just leaned in closer, dragging his lips—never quite touching—across the shell of Jisung’s ear.
“This?” he said, pressing down against the gland again, firmer this time. “This is what control feels like.”
Jisung trembled beneath him, eyes squeezed shut, jaw clenched tight—but he didn’t move.
Couldn’t.
Minho didn’t need to fight to dominate.
He just was.
“You’re not broken,” Minho said softly. “You’re just afraid. Of being vulnerable. Of being seen. Of the fact that you want this. You want someone to hold you still. Force you to breathe. Force you to stop running.”
Jisung’s throat bobbed under Minho’s fingers.
“I’m not going to break you,” Minho said. “But I will teach you control—my way.”
And with that, he slowly pulled back, letting his hand fall away from Jisung’s throat.
Jisung stayed exactly where he was—braced on the table, trembling, panting. The room felt charged with leftover heat and unsaid things.
Minho didn’t move far.
Just stood there.
Watching. Waiting.
Still dominant. Still calm. Still present.
And Jisung hated—hated—how much he felt safer with Minho’s weight gone… and how much he already missed it.
Jisung stayed frozen.
Palms flat on the table, spine tight, throat still tingling from where Minho’s fingers had pressed into his scent gland. He could feel it—heat pooling low in his stomach, instincts rioting beneath his skin, screaming at him to regain control.
But he couldn’t move.
Minho hadn’t told him not to—but it felt like he had.
Behind him, Minho didn’t leave. Of course he didn’t.
He stood there, so close that Jisung could still feel the warmth of his body brushing against his back—intentionally not touching him, and somehow that was worse. That stillness was deliberate. Sharp. A noose tightening with every second Jisung refused to admit how much he wanted to lean back into him.
“You’re quiet now,” Minho said, voice low.
Jisung didn’t answer.
Minho stepped forward—just a breath closer. Just enough for Jisung to feel the heat of his chest again, to feel the tension ripple through his own spine like a snapped wire.
“I want to hear it,” Minho continued. “What is it you want, Jisung?”
His name in Minho’s mouth was dangerous—too calm, too knowing. A trigger. A lure.
“Nothing,” Jisung muttered, biting down on the shake in his voice.
“You lie like you fight—sloppy.”
Minho’s fingers brushed the side of Jisung’s throat again, ghosting along the edge of his gland—but not pressing. Not yet. Just teasing. Threatening.
“You want me to stop?”
Jisung didn’t answer.
Minho’s hand stilled.
“Say it.”
Silence.
Minho’s other hand slid down Jisung’s side slowly—his touch warm, steady, impossible to ignore. He gripped Jisung’s hip, pulling him flush against him. No more space. No more denial.
Jisung sucked in a sharp breath, lips parting.
“Minho—”
“Too late,” Minho murmured.
And then—pressure.
Not gentle.
Not cruel.
His fingers pressed down hard on Jisung’s scent gland, reclaiming control with one merciless push. Jisung gasped—his knees nearly buckling, instincts roaring up like a tidal wave. His body arched back involuntarily, spine curving toward Minho, desperate for grounding. For anything.
Minho leaned in again, lips barely brushing the shell of his ear.
“I can keep going,” he whispered. “Or I can stop right here. But you’re going to speak.”
Jisung’s pulse thundered under Minho’s fingers. His eyes were wide, unfocused—his voice stuck somewhere between surrender and defiance.
“I… I don’t know what I want,” he finally rasped.
Minho’s grip didn’t ease.
“You do,” he said. “You just don’t want to admit it.”
Jisung trembled under him—so much instinct, so much heat, and no outlet. His pride fought to stay intact, but his body had already betrayed him. He leaned his head back slightly, exposing more of his throat without even realizing it.
Minho saw it.
He smiled.
“There,” he said. “That’s better.”
Slowly, purposefully, Minho let go—easing off Jisung’s gland. The moment his fingers left, Jisung gasped like he’d been underwater. His legs wobbled. His hands gripped the edge of the table as if it were the only thing tethering him to the ground.
And Minho?
He stepped in close again—wrapping one arm around Jisung’s waist, the other braced beside his head.
“Next time you feel like lashing out,” he murmured, “you come to me first.”
Jisung’s eyes flicked to the side, locking with Minho’s in the reflection of the dark window.
“And if I don’t?”
Minho’s smile turned razor sharp.
“Then I’ll pin you again,” he said softly. “And press harder. Until your body remembers who it belongs to.”
Jisung didn’t reply.
He didn’t have to.
His silence was soaked in submission.
And Minho had already won.
Jisung felt like he was suffocating.
He stood outside Minho’s bedroom door, heart slamming against his ribs like it wanted out. His fingers hovered near the handle. He shouldn’t be here.
But Minho had said it.
“Come to me first.”
And Jisung—wired with leftover instinct, still trembling from earlier—had.
He opened the door.
Minho was sitting on the edge of his bed, head tilted slightly like he’d been expecting him the whole time. His eyes dragged up Jisung’s body—slow, assessing, and completely unreadable.
“You finally decided to listen,” Minho said calmly.
Jisung didn’t speak.
Didn’t need to.
He stepped inside and shut the door behind him.
That was all Minho needed.
“On your knees.”
Jisung froze—pulse spiking.
But Minho didn’t repeat himself. He just sat there, legs spread slightly, jaw sharp with dominance, as if the command had been carved into stone.
Jisung sank.
The moment his knees touched the floor, something in the air shifted. Heavy. Electric.
Minho leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “You remember what I said earlier?” he asked, voice like silk over steel. “About coming to me before it gets too much?”
Jisung nodded.
Minho reached out, cupping Jisung’s chin with one hand and forcing his head up until their eyes met.
“No,” he said. “Use your voice.”
“…Yes.”
Minho’s fingers gripped harder, just for a second. “Yes, what?”
“…Yes, Alpha.”
He smirked. “Better.”
Jisung’s throat burned under Minho’s thumb as it dragged slowly across his scent gland again—this time with deliberate pressure, not enough to overwhelm, but just enough to remind. To warn.
“You’ve been fighting it for weeks,” Minho said softly. “Every time I challenge you, you crack. You think it’s about dominance?”
He leaned down, eyes dark.
“It’s about surrender.”
Jisung’s breath caught.
Minho rose from the bed and stepped around him, standing behind him now—close enough that Jisung could feel the heat of him along his back.
“Take off your shirt.”
Jisung hesitated for a second too long.
Minho’s voice dropped, hard and final.
“Now.”
Jisung obeyed. His hands moved shakily, pulling the fabric over his head and letting it fall to the floor.
Minho’s hands were on him immediately.
Hot. Certain. Cruel in how gentle they were.
He traced every inch of Jisung’s bare shoulders, thumbs dragging down his spine, before pressing once more against the gland below his ear.
Jisung shuddered, mouth parting with a soft, unintentional sound.
“You’re so reactive,” Minho whispered. “So desperate to be touched. To be claimed.”
He leaned down, mouth brushing Jisung’s neck.
“But you’re too proud to ask.”
Minho suddenly grabbed a fistful of Jisung’s hair and pulled—forcing his head back.
“Ask.”
Jisung gasped, back arching. “I—”
Minho waited. No softness. No leeway.
“…Touch me,” Jisung finally breathed. “Please, hyung.”
Minho smiled against his neck.
“There you are, baby boy.”
And then he pushed Jisung forward, bending him down until his palms hit the carpet. Minho knelt behind him, one hand gripping his hip, the other resting heavy on the small of his back—pinning him with a weight that wasn’t just physical.
It was dominance. Pure. Undeniable.
“You’re mine tonight,” Minho said. “And I don’t want you to move unless I tell you.”
Jisung’s breath trembled.
“Yes, Alpha.”
“Good boy.”
The praise hit harder than anything else—leaving Jisung wrecked, shaking, and desperate beneath the one person who could truly break him.
And Minho?
He wasn’t even close to finished.
Jisung didn’t dare move.
Not when Minho had him folded forward, hands braced on the floor, breath coming in short, uneven gasps. Every part of him buzzed—nerves stretched tight from the heat in his veins and the impossible stillness behind him.
Minho didn’t speak right away. He didn’t have to.
His hand rested firmly on the small of Jisung’s back, fingers splayed, grounding. Claiming. The weight alone was enough to make Jisung’s muscles shake.
“You feel that?” Minho said, voice low, composed.
Jisung nodded, jaw clenched.
Minho’s hand dragged up his spine slowly, until his palm rested between his shoulder blades. Then, with a deliberate pressure, he pushed down—not to hurt, but to keep him low. Kept in that place between tension and submission.
“Good,” Minho murmured. “I want you to remember how this feels.”
Jisung sucked in a breath. “Like what?”
“Like not being in control for once.”
That landed deep—deeper than Jisung wanted to admit. He could’ve fought it. Bit back. Scrambled for some edge of defiance.
But Minho was already one step ahead.
He leaned down over Jisung’s back, mouth close to his ear. “You burn so hot all the time,” he whispered. “But when someone finally touches the right place, you melt.”
Minho’s fingers moved to Jisung’s throat again—brushing the line of his scent gland but not pressing this time. Just reminding him how easy it would be.
“You think you’re hiding it,” he continued, “but I can smell it on you. Every time I walk into a room. Every time you try to challenge me.”
He exhaled a slow breath against Jisung’s neck. “You’re starving for someone to hold you down and take the pressure off.”
Jisung’s eyes fluttered shut. He hated how true it was.
Minho shifted again, his thigh pressing between Jisung’s legs—just enough friction to make Jisung jerk forward instinctively, breath stuttering.
“You’re not running now,” Minho noted, voice smug. “No snark. No biting.”
“…Shut up,” Jisung muttered, barely audible.
Minho grinned. “Cute.”
His hand slipped down Jisung’s side, slow and firm, then wrapped around his waist to pull him back, upright against Minho’s chest. Jisung’s body trembled as he was forced to sit on his knees between Minho’s thighs, his back flush with the Alpha’s broad torso.
Minho’s hand slid up to rest flat over Jisung’s chest, directly over his heart.
“Still racing,” Minho murmured. “You want me to calm it down?”
Jisung didn’t answer.
Minho didn’t need him to.
He leaned forward, his mouth ghosting the edge of Jisung’s jaw, lips barely touching. His breath warm, his voice like velvet over stone.
“Say the word,” he whispered, “and I’ll make everything else disappear.”
Jisung’s hands gripped Minho’s thighs where they bracketed him.
Minho waited.
And after a beat, Jisung let his head fall back onto Minho’s shoulder, throat bared—unspoken consent in the way his body softened, gave in, surrendered control.
Minho smiled against his skin.
“There’s my good boy.”
Minho didn’t move.
Not when Jisung leaned into him. Not when the younger Alpha’s head dropped back against his shoulder, throat exposed, breathing shallow.
He stayed still—calm, centered. The quiet storm that had always sat just beneath Minho’s surface, impossible to ignore.
“You hate that it’s me,” Minho said softly.
Jisung tensed, barely a flicker.
“You hate that I can do this to you. That I am doing it.”
Minho’s palm flattened against Jisung’s chest again, steadying him.
“Because you’re an Alpha.”
The word settled heavy in the air—thick with pride, instinct, and unspoken rules they both knew far too well.
“You’re not supposed to fold,” Minho murmured. “You’re supposed to lead. Dominate. Control.”
He leaned forward, lips brushing the shell of Jisung’s ear.
“But here you are. Letting me control you. Letting me touch your gland like I own it. Letting me see you come undone.”
Jisung’s jaw flexed. He didn’t speak. Couldn’t.
Minho’s hand slid up to Jisung’s throat, thumb stroking the sensitive skin near his scent gland—but never pushing, not this time. He didn’t need to.
“You think this makes you weak?” Minho asked, voice low and dangerous. “Letting someone else hold the reins?”
He kissed just behind Jisung’s ear, slow and deliberate.
“It doesn’t.”
Jisung’s breath hitched.
Minho’s grip tightened slightly—just enough to ground him.
“Being strong all the time?” Minho whispered. “That’s what’s killing you.”
Jisung flinched.
“You don’t need someone to challenge you, Jisung. You need someone who sees you. Someone who won’t break just because you bite.”
Minho’s lips brushed the edge of his jaw again, softer now.
“Another Alpha who knows exactly what it feels like… to carry the weight. And still chooses to kneel for no one—except the one who earns it.”
Silence.
Jisung’s fingers twitched where they gripped Minho’s thighs. His entire body was humming—rage, want, shame, confusion—all colliding in his chest like a storm.
Minho pressed his mouth just under Jisung’s jaw and held it there. Not kissing. Not moving. Just waiting.
“You don’t have to fight me,” he said finally. “You just have to let go.”
And that—that—was the part Jisung couldn’t look away from.
Because for all the dominance in Minho’s voice… there was something else, too.
Understanding.
Not control for control’s sake.
But something deeper.
Something real.
Something terrifying.
Jisung's heart pounded in his chest, echoing the words that hung heavy in the air between them. The vulnerability, the raw truth in Minho’s statement, had struck him like a physical blow. It was as if Minho had reached inside him and pulled out the tangled mess of emotions and insecurities that Jisung had been trying so desperately to keep hidden
.Minho’s hand remained steady on his throat, a gentle but firm reminder of the connection between them. The pressure wasn't suffocating; it was grounding. Jisung could feel the warmth of Minho’s breath against his skin, the subtle shift of his muscles as he waited patiently for a response.
“I...” Jisung started, his voice barely above a whisper. He swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. “I never thought about it like that.”
He took a shaky breath, letting the truth seep into his consciousness. The idea that strength wasn’t defined by dominance alone, but by the ability to let go, to trust someone else with your vulnerabilities—it was a foreign concept. One that both terrified and intrigued him.Minho’s lips brushed against his jaw again, soft and reassuring.
Jisung’s chest rose and fell rapidly as he struggled to process the whirlwind of emotions crashing through him. Minho’s hand remained firm on his throat, a steady presence amidst the chaos raging within him. The room seemed to spin around them, the air thick with tension and unsaid words.
“I... I’ve never let anyone see me like this,” Jisung admitted, his voice barely audible. “I’ve always had to be strong. In control.”
Minho’s fingers traced delicate patterns on his skin, sending electric jolts straight to his core. “You don’t have to be strong right now, Jisung. You don’t have to control everything.”
The younger Alpha’s breath hitched as Minho’s other hand slid down his chest, grazing over his nipple before continuing its path southward. Every touch was deliberate, calculated to ignite flames beneath his skin.
“Let go,” Minho murmured against his ear, his hot breath fanning across Jisung’s sensitive flesh. “Trust me.”
Jisung’s hips bucked involuntarily as Minho’s hand dipped below the waistband of his pants, palming him through the fabric. His cock strained against the confines, aching for release.
Minho's hand continued its relentless exploration, teasing and tormenting until Jisung was panting harshly, desire and frustration warring within him. But still, no release came. Minho merely tightened his grip, pushing Jisung harder against the floor until he felt boneless. Grabbing the younger’s sweatpants and hem of his boxers, he dragged them down to his thighs.
"Bratty attitude or not, you belong to me," Minho declared, his voice rough with need. "And I take care of what belongs to me."
Without warning, he delivered a sharp smack to Jisung's ass, relishing the way the younger male yelped in pain and pleasure alike. The sting burned bright before fading into soothing warmth, easing the sting. He repeated the motion on the other side, then dipped lower, seeking out those secret places that made Jisung gasp and shudder.
"I know you want this," Minho murmured, his touch growing bolder, more demanding. "I can smell your arousal, feel your desperation." A firm squeeze around his shaft prodded him forward, seeking friction. "Go ahead, beg for it like the needy little pup you are. Maybe I'll let you cum..."
But even as he spoke, Minho knew the truth - he had already won this round.
Jisung bit back a whimper as Minho's fingers danced along the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, teasing but never quite touching where he needed it most. His cock throbbed, leaking precum onto the cool floor beneath them, pleading for attention.
"Beg?" Jisung spat, his words laced with defiance. "You’re kidding…"
Yet even as he said it, he couldn't help but arch into Minho's touch, craving more of that delicious friction. Minho's chuckle rumbled deep in his chest, sending vibrations through their entwined bodies.
"Pride won't get you off, Jisung," Minho warned, his breath hot against Jisung's ear. "You want to come, don't you?"
With a growl, Minho wrapped his hand around Jisung's shaft, stroking firmly from base to tip. Jisung's eyes rolled back, his hips bucking wildly as he fought the urge to shamelessly hump Minho's fist.
"Please..." he hissed, the word torn from him against his will. "Just... do something!"
Minho grinned, satisfied with his victory. "There we go,"
Jisung’s body trembled as Minho’s grip tightened around his wrists, pinning them behind his back with effortless dominance. His breath hitched when Minho leaned down, lips brushing against the shell of his ear in a whisper that sent shivers down his spine.
"You’re mine, Jisung. Say it."
The command was low, rough, and utterly unyielding.
Jisung’s jaw clenched, defiance flickering in his eyes for just a moment—before Minho’s free hand slid down his chest, fingers digging possessively into his hip. The pressure was just shy of painful, a silent warning.
Jisung swallowed hard, his pulse thundering under Minho’s touch.
"Say it."
A sharp, stinging slap landed across his ass, forcing a choked gasp from him.
"M-Minho—"
Another slap. Harder.
"Say. It."
Jisung’s resistance crumbled. His body arched, his breath coming in ragged pants as he finally whispered, voice trembling with surrender:
"Yours… I’m yours."
Minho’s smirk was dark with satisfaction.
"Good job, jagi."
Jisung lay beneath Minho, panting harshly as the older male continued his relentless assault on his senses. Every touch, every word dripped with dark promise, stoking the fire burning under Jisung's skin. His hips bucked involuntarily, seeking friction against the thick bulge pressing insistently into his thigh.
But Minho simply chuckled, low and wicked, pinning Jisung harder to the floor. "Greedy pup," he murmured, nipping sharply at the curve of Jisung's neck. "Desperate for my cock already?"
Jisung whined, his face flushing hot with humiliation and lust. "N-No, I..." The lie died on his tongue when Minho ground down particularly hard, forcing a choked moan from him.
"Shh, no need to deny it." Minho's hand snaked between their bodies, fingers teasing along the sensitive length of Jisung's shaft. "I can feel how much you want this. How much you need me to fill you up."
With a quick, efficient motion, he flipped Jisung over onto his back, exposing him completely.
Jisung snarled as Minho’s weight pressed him deeper into the mattress, their scents—both sharp, dominant, alpha—clashing in the air between them. His instincts screamed to fight back, to flip their positions and claim Minho instead, but the older alpha’s grip was unrelenting, his teeth grazing the nape of Jisung’s neck in a silent warning.
“You don’t get to call the shots here,” Minho growled, his voice rough with authority. His hand slid lower, fingers pressing possessively against Jisung’s entrance, already slick with arousal despite their shared nature. “You might be an alpha, but right now, you’re mine.”
Jisung shuddered, his pride warring with the primal need coiling in his gut. “Fuck you—”
Minho bit down hard on his shoulder, drawing a sharp gasp from him. “Try again.”
Jisung’s breath hitched as Minho’s fingers pressed inside, stretching him with deliberate, agonizing slowness. His cock throbbed, aching with neglect.
“Alpha,” he gritted out, voice strained. “Knot me already.”
Minho’s chuckle was dark, victorious. “That’s more like it.”
Jisung groaned, muscles tensing as Minho’s fingers worked him open with ruthless precision. The stretch burned—each movement deliberate, calculated to remind him exactly who was in control. His hips jerked forward, seeking relief, but Minho’s other hand clamped down on his waist, forcing him still.
“Patience,” Minho murmured, his breath hot against Jisung’s ear. “Or do I need to teach you how to wait?”
Jisung bared his teeth, a growl rumbling low in his chest. “You’re fucking sadistic—”
Minho crooked his fingers, pressing deep, and Jisung’s voice broke off into a ragged moan.
“And you love it,” Minho taunted, twisting his wrist just so, wrenching another helpless sound from Jisung’s throat. “Beg for it, alpha.”
Jisung’s pride burned, but his body was molten under Minho’s touch, his cock dripping between his thighs.
“Fuck—” His voice was raw, wrecked. “Please.”
Minho’s lips curled in triumph. “Good puppy.”
Jisung’s breath came in ragged gasps as Minho worked his fingers deep inside him, stretching him open with ruthless precision. The burn of it was exquisite, bordering on pain, yet it only fueled the fire raging in his veins. His hips bucked instinctively, seeking more friction, but Minho's grip on his waist held him in place, forcing him to take every touch.
"Fuck, you're so tight," Minho murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of Jisung's ear. "So ready for me."
Jisung whimpered, the humiliation of being pinned and finger-fucked by another alpha threatening to overwhelm him. Yet even as his pride burned, his body melted under Minho's touch, his hole clenching greedily around the invading digits.
"Minho," he gasped, his voice hoarse with desperation. "Please..."
The older alpha chuckled darkly, crooking his fingers just so, pressing against that sweet spot deep inside Jisung that made his vision blur with pleasure.
"And here I thought you'd never beg," Minho teased, his thrusts growing faster, harder. "But listen to you now, little alpha...”
Minho yanked his fingers free in one swift motion, leaving Jisung empty and aching. Before he could protest, the older alpha positioned himself behind Jisung, the head of his cock nudging insistently at his entrance. With a single, powerful thrust, Minho buried himself to the hilt, filling Jisung completely.
Jisung screamed, his body bowing as if trying to escape the intense sensation. Minho's claim enveloped him, hot and heavy, stretching him wider than he'd ever been taken before. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as he struggled to accommodate the girth.
"Mine," Minho declared, his voice a rumble of satisfaction, and then he was moving, each stroke relentless in its intensity. "This is what you need, pup. This is who you belong to."
Jisung could only cling to Minho’s arms, overwhelmed by the dominance pouring off his mate in waves. He was utterly conquered, claimed, and it was both terrifying and exhilarating.
With a wicked grin, Minho slammed into Jisung, sheathing his thick cock balls-deep inside the Alpha’s eager heat. "Fuck, you're so tight," he groaned, savoring the velvety clench of Jisung's inner walls around him. "Like you were made for my dick."
Jisung keened, his body arching as he tried to accommodate the brutal invasion. "Ah! Alpha, please...harder!"
The alpha obliged with a vicious thrust, pinning Jisung down beneath him. "You like that, don't you? Being bred like a bitch in heat?"
"Yes, goddamn it!" Jisung shouted, his nails raking down Minho's back. "I need it. I need you!"
Minho chuckled darkly, snapping his hips with renewed vigor. "That's right, pup. You need your alpha to claim this sweet cunt. To fill you up and make you mine." Having his hole being called a cunt had Jisung moaning embarrassingly loud.
Minho’s canines gleamed in the dim light as he lunged, sinking them deep into the tender flesh of Jisung’s nape—the ultimate act of dominance. Jisung gasped, his body going rigid as the sharp pain melted into dizzying submission under Minho’s bite. The alpha’s weight pressed him flat against the floor, his hips grinding ruthlessly into Jisung’s ass.
"Mine," Minho snarled against his skin, his voice thick with possession. One hand fisted in Jisung’s hair, yanking his head back to expose his throat further, while the other dragged down his spine, claws pricking warningly. "You squirm like a brat, but your body knows who owns you. You fucking love when Alpha fucks you like an Omega.”
Jisung sobbed, his cock twitching against the cold floor, his hole clenching around nothing—desperate for the alpha’s knot as his eyes glossed over. The pleasure of Minho’s cock dragging against his prostate was almost too much.
Minho's eyes flashed with a feral light as he pinned Jisung down, his alpha instincts roaring to life. "You've been a naughty little thing, haven't you?" he purred, his cock throbbing inside of Jisung's ass. "Dripping all over my floor without permission."
He ground slowly in that slick hole, savoring the heat. "I think you need a lesson in obedience," Minho said, voice dripping with dark promise. "A reminder of who owns your holes."
Jisung whimpered, pressing back instinctively. "Please, Alpha...I'll be good, I swear..."
"Oh, I know you will be," Minho rumbled, nipping at Jisung's earlobe. "Because once I breed you, fill this needy cunt with my seed, you'll never forget it. You'll crave me, crave my knot. Beg for it."
Jisung moaned at the filthy words, his hips bucking shamelessly. "Yes, please... Breed me! Knot me! Hyung, please! I need it so badly!”
Minho's gaze locked onto Jisung's, his pupils dilating with hunger. "Look at those eyes," he rasped, his voice rough with need.
His fingers danced across Jisung's chin, tracing the curve of his jaw before dropping lower to tease the edge of his hole. "So soft, so plump... begging to be claimed."
Minho's fingers delved deeper, prodding the entrance with gentle pressure. "Open for me, pup," he commanded, his voice low and commanding. "Let me see your pretty little cunt."
Jisung whimpered, his legs unfolding as he surrendered to Minho's demand. He lay back, exposing himself willingly, his hole glistening with anticipation.
Minho's fingers slid inside alongside his thick cock. "Mine," he growled, slamming his cock in and out of Jisung’s tight hole.
Jisung's moans filled the air, his body arching under Minho's thrusts. "Yes, Alpha... yes!"
Minho's thrusts grew harder, deeper, each one punctuated by a filthy promise. "Feel that, pup?" he growled, gripping Jisung's hips hard enough to bruise. "That's my cock stretching you open, making room for my knot."
Jisung's breath hitched, his nails digging into the sheets. "A-Alpha—!"
"You love it, don't you?" Minho purred, snapping his hips forward. "Love feeling me fill you up, claim you from the inside." He leaned down, teeth grazing Jisung's ear. "Gonna breed you so good, stuff you full of my cum until it's dripping out of you for days."
Jisung whimpered, his thighs trembling. "Y-Yes—!"
Minho chuckled darkly. "That's right. Beg for it. Beg for your alpha to ruin you."
Jisung arched beneath him, voice breaking. "Please—breed me, knot me—I need it—!"
Minho rewarded him with a sharp thrust, groaning. "Good puppy, Jisungie.”
Minho's hands gripped Jisung's waist tighter, his body slamming into Jisung's with forceful thrusts. "Feel that, pup?" he growled, punctuating each word with a sharp movement. He pressed his hand down in Jisung’s stomach, making the younger feel the outline of his cock. "That's your alpha’s cock…”
Jisung gasped, his nails digging into Minho's back. "A-Alpha—!"
Minho smirked, leaning down to bite at Jisung's shoulder. "You love it, don't you? The way I fuck you like you're mine, because you are. All mine." He thrust harder, making Jisung whimper.
"Please, Alpha...please..." Jisung begged, his body trembling with need.
Minho chuckled darkly. "Beg all you want. But I'm going to make sure you remember this for days. The feeling of my cum inside you, the feel of my knot keeping us locked together."
Jisung arched beneath him, voice breaking. "Yes—please—"
Minho's thrusts grew more urgent, his cock twitching with approaching climax. He reached between their bodies, finding Jisung's prostate and rubbing it in tight circles.
"Come for me, puppy," Minho commanded, his own orgasm building rapidly. "Show me how much you need your alpha inside you."
Jisung cried out, bucking against Minho's hand as a powerful orgasm ripped through him. His channel clamped down on Minho's shaft, milking it for every drop of cum.
At the sensation, Minho lost control. With a feral growl, he slammed home one final time and erupted, flooding Jisung's insides with his seed. His knot swelled, locking them together tightly as he rode out his intense climax. Jisung sobbed out, tears rolling down his cheeks at the intense feeling of Minho’s knot pressed against his walls.
As the aftershocks subsided, Minho collapsed onto Jisung, both of them panting heavily. He nuzzled into the Alpha’s neck, savoring the feeling of their hearts beating as one. "Mine," he murmured, already dreaming of their next intimate encounter. “My sweet little alpha...took my knot so well..." Minho corrected gently, smiling against Jisung's neck. He lifted his head to look into the Alpha’s eyes, brushing away the remaining tears with his thumbs.
"And I'll always be here to take care of you, puppy," he promised, his voice filled with love and tenderness. "You shouldn’t be afraid of being an Alpha, jagi. You shouldn’t be scared. You’d never hurt one of us.”
Jisung sniffled, a soft smile playing on his lips. "I know, hyung. I just-…I don’t know. I think gym got to my head…”
Minho chuckled low in his throat, the sound vibrating gently against Jisung’s skin. He shifted slightly, making sure not to crush him, but never fully letting go either. One arm remained firmly around Jisung’s waist, the other hand carding slowly through sweat-damp hair.
“Gym’s not the problem, Sungie,” he murmured, voice thick with warmth. “Your ego is.”
Jisung huffed, burying his flushed face against Minho’s collarbone. “Mean.”
Minho smirked, pressing a lazy kiss to the top of his head. “Bratty little Alpha thought he could push me around. Forgot who the real dominant was in this pack.”
“I didn’t forget,” Jisung mumbled. “I just… didn’t want to give in so fast.”
Minho leaned back, just enough to see his face—his thumb gently brushing under Jisung’s eye where a single tear had lingered. “But you did,” he whispered. “And you looked so pretty doing it.”
Jisung’s cheeks flushed a deeper red, but he didn’t flinch away. Not anymore.
Instead, he nodded slowly, voice quieter now. “Felt…safe.”
Minho’s expression softened immediately. “Good,” he said, bending down to kiss his temple. “That’s all I ever wanted.”
Once Minho’s knot deflated, Minho sat up and scooped Jisung into his arms, ignoring the Alpha’s startled protest. “You’ve got that look,” he teased. “Don’t even think about fighting me. You’re exhausted, your legs are shaking, and I’m not about to let you pass out on the floor.”
Jisung grumbled half-heartedly, but didn’t struggle. He curled into Minho’s chest instinctively as he was carried toward the bed.
Minho laid him down gently, tucking the blanket around him before slipping in beside him. He immediately pulled Jisung close again, spooning him from behind, their bodies molding together effortlessly. One arm wrapped tightly around Jisung’s middle, the other hand finding his scent gland and rubbing soft, slow circles around it—this time with affection, not dominance.
Jisung sighed, melting into him, tension finally bleeding out of his muscles.
“You did well tonight,” Minho whispered. “You let me take care of you. That’s strength too, baby.”
Jisung blinked slowly, drowsiness tugging at his limbs. “Even for an Alpha?”
“Especially for an Alpha,” Minho said. “No more proving yourself, alright? You’re mine. That’s all that matters.”
Jisung smiled faintly, tucking Minho’s hand closer to his heart. “Yours.”
“Damn right,” Minho murmured, pressing one last kiss to the back of his neck. “Now sleep, puppy. I’ve got you.”
And for the first time in weeks, Jisung let go of everything else.
Because Minho wasn’t just stronger—he was safe.
And Jisung? He didn’t need to be anything more than his.