Archive of Our Own ^beta

Jisung comes to bed unusually early, out of the going-out clothes he had been wearing when Chan last had eyes on him and his proverbial tail tucked between his legs. Chan moves his laptop to his nightstand in anticipation of whatever it is that’s about to be asked of him because that must be what’s happening here. Jisung never gets this way otherwise.

“Hyung,” he mumbles, sounding small as he shuffles his feet, “they hurt.”

Vague, if Chan didn’t already acutely know the issue that has been plaguing the young alpha for the past few months since his presentation—and in turn, the solution Jisung is seeking when he comes to Chan like this.

It’s not like it’s a hardship to participate, not if Jisung doesn’t try to take more than he’s allowed, and nothing compares to the self-satisfaction that comes with successfully solving a problem for the young alpha. “We can’t have that,” he says. He gives Jisung a smile and pats the spot next to him. “Come here.”

Jisung visibly relaxes on his way to the bed, fully deflating once he’s landed in his spot and gotten his hands on Chan’s skin. “Thanks, hyung. I promise I’ll be quick.”

He won’t be, is the thing. He never is. Chan has already mentally carved out at least an hour for this entire ordeal, and that’s once again dependent on Jisung’s ability to behave. It’s entirely possible he’ll be a victim to Jisung’s tendencies until they fall asleep, but that’s a non-issue. Chan only worries about how clean the bed will be at that point.

“Be gentle,” Chan warns, leaning back and spreading his thighs in invitation.

Jisung crawls on top of him like he imagines a predator would their captured prey, overeager and full of false bravado as he gets Chan under his thumb. Chan sighs adoringly, tries to get a little more comfortable before Jisung dives in.

He doesn’t manage to shift much before Jisung is latching onto his neck, front teeth nibbling at his throat. Not a second wasted as he successfully digs his canines in with a pressure just light enough that he doesn’t break the skin.

“Gentle,” Chan reminds him, hands falling to Jisung’s waist in warning. Jisung groans, slumping forward with his entire weight and sighing pitifully.

“I’ve gotta—harder,” he says through clenched teeth, frustrated. “Just hurts more if I tease myself like that.”

Chan lets out a noise between a scoff and a laugh. “Then work me up to it, baby. You can show some restraint for just a minute.” He senses Jisung’s pout before it materializes. “Or we can stop this altogether.”

Jisung grumbles, but he’s slow about securing Chan’s neck in his teeth this time.

“There we go,” Chan praises him. The most successful way of teaching the alpha, he’s learned; rewards for good behavior and punishments for everything else. There’s a sigh of relief from Jisung. Whether it’s from having his mouth where he wants it or from Chan’s words, he isn’t sure, but it gets to him all the same.

This time, it’s barely a nibble. A gentle gnawing on his skin, so light it’s almost like it isn’t there. He hears Jisung let out a disgruntled noise, but it’s okay that he’s mad. He’s a forward person after you break through all of his initial shyness, so he gets especially fussy when he’s forced to reel himself in. It’s part of his charm.

Chan hums, pleased. “Good boy.”

Jisung, predictably, is not so satisfied. He lets his discontent be known with a low growl, the sound one he still hasn’t managed to master in his months since presenting so it doesn’t even register as a threat to Chan’s alpha. He fights the urge to laugh at him even fondly, knowing it would only frustrate Jisung further.

“Hyung,” he says through gritted teeth. “This isn’t helping.”

“Hm,” Chan pretends to ponder, tilting his head inquisitively. “What does my baby need, then?”

Jisung groans, shoving at Chan’s shoulder. “Why do you always have to make me say it?”

“It’s good for you,” Chan reasons. “Keeps you from getting too spoiled.”

The look Jisung levels him with is deadpan. His annoyance is palpable in his tone as he complains, “You’re teasing me.”

Chan clicks his tongue. “It keeps you from getting too spoiled,” he repeats.

“Fine,” Jisung huffs. “It would help if I got some other… relief.”

“Mm,” Chan continues, unamused. “Like what?”

Jisung sighs, grumbling under his breath, “My knot.”

“Oh,” Chan says in pretend shock, like this wasn’t the inevitable outcome of what Jisung started, like it wasn’t the solution he had been seeking when he came to Chan. “You want hyung to play with your knot?” Jisung clenches his eyes shut and nods begrudgingly, like the answer had to be ripped from his insides. Chan strokes his head to give his approval, a silent appreciation of his willingness to comply despite how clearly he wants to do anything but. “You want his hands or his mouth?”

Too many beats pass while he awaits Jisung’s decision, which is odd—this is usually one of the only things he’s sure about before he ever even makes his way to Chan. He isn’t left to stew in his worry for too long before Jisung is shifting forward, pressing his knee between Chan’s thighs intentionally. “Is there a third option?” he prompts hopefully.

It doesn’t take long for Chan to understand what he’s asking for, and even less time for him to know his answer. “Not today,” he says softly, hating to tell Jisung no but he knows he’s not in the right headspace to get fucked right now and he’s even less receptive to the idea of being knotted, which would be the next thing Jisung would ask for should Chan let him get inside of him. But… “There is a fourth option,” he offers, running his fingertip along the inside of Jisung’s thigh, “if you want.”

The way the touch gets him shivering seems to be answer enough, so he’s shocked when Jisung shakes his head. “No,” he says, “Feels too… couldn’t focus. Would just distract me.”

Chan hums, removes his hand from between Jisung’s legs to come to his lips. Jisung drops his mouth open on reflex, the obedient little thing, and allows Chan’s finger to run over his aching teeth. “Isn’t the whole point of this to distract you?”

“Hyung,” Jisung whines, halfheartedly batting Chan’s hand away.

“I know,” Chan can’t help but relent with a smile. “I’m just teasing.”

“Don’t,” Jisung grumbles.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t bully the baby alpha when his poor little fangs are sore.” He feels the corners of his own lips turning up into a sly smile, unable to keep it in when he’s faced with an adorably disgruntled Jisung.

Jisung begins to squirm like he’s uncomfortable, which has Chan instinctively looking for the cause. He spots the tent in his pants a moment later and sighs in equal parts relief and arousal. This is good, he thinks. A horny Jisung is a manageable one.

“Come here,” Chan urges with a tap to his thigh. Jisung follows his whims without a second thought, allowing Chan to maneuver his limbs however he pleases with zero resistance. With Jisung’s cooperation, he manages to get them positioned correctly in minimal time—both of Chan’s thighs between Jisung’s spread legs, his knees resting on the mattress for stability while Chan shifts underneath him until their cocks are perfectly aligned. The first touch has Jisung whimpering, collapsing into Chan’s chest.

“Oh God,” he breathes, thighs squeezing like he wants to close them but can’t with Chan so thoroughly blocking his path. “Can’t—”

“Shh,” Chan soothes him, stroking the back of his head. “You can. You know how to hump, sweetheart.”

“Fuck,” Jisung curses under his breath. His hips jerk forward, pressing their bodies so close that Chan can feel his cock twitching against his own. That first involuntary movement breaks the dam, and suddenly Jisung is panting and rutting into him helplessly, desperately, drooling from his open mouth directly onto Chan’s scent gland. “Hyung, I need to—now.”

And it’s Chan’s responsibility to be the level-headed one. He presented long before Jisung ever had an inkling he was going to be an alpha so he has more experience, even if his presentation never gave him this particular symptom. He’s had more time to learn how to keep his instincts in check while Jisung is still trying to get used to the flood of new emotions and biological changes his body finally thrust upon him just a few short months ago. It’s up to Chan to keep in control, to lessen Jisung’s load in any way he can, to make things as easy as possible for him.

But at the end of the day, Chan is still a man. A man with strong desires and he can’t help that Jisung fits them all so well that his mind gets a little clouded.

“Go ahead,” he says, tone rough with arousal. “Bite me. Bite hyung, take what you need from him. It’s okay, hyung wants you to.”

The words are all it takes for Jisung to dive in, like he’s afraid waiting even a second would give Chan time to change his mind. Chan feels his hot breath for only a moment before fangs pierce his skin, dangerously close to his scent gland—testing but not quite crossing that boundary. He hisses at the initial sting, a part he’s come to anticipate with poorly concealed lust.

Then—the wetness running down his neck in slow rivulets, too thick to be Jisung’s spit, followed by the telling scent of iron in the air.

This time it’s Chan who moves his hips, gripping Jisung’s waist tight to tether him in place while he grinds into him. It’s a reflex, something he’s come to expect now after so many times of doing this same song and dance. Jisung bites, Chan gets aroused. Like clockwork.

He tried to convince himself it was just the shock of something new getting to him the first couple of times it happened, but as time has gone on and his reaction has stayed the same, he’s had no choice but to accept the truth—that he’s a freak who likes it when the baby alpha needs him so badly he makes him bleed.

“That’s it,” he praises though his voice is weak. “Doing so well, baby.”

There’s a quiet moan, and then Jisung is finally pulling away for air. He sits back, meeting Chan’s gaze with deranged, lustful eyes. A tiny dribble of red lines the corner of his mouth, his entire lower lip stained with the same substance—blood. Chan’s blood.

“Hyung,” he says, but it no longer sounds like a plea. He sounds hungry.

Chan swallows, tilts his head to offer up the unmarred skin on the other side of his neck for the taking. He notices the moment Jisung locks in on his target, teeth already bared like something to be feared.

That fact registers in his brain, at least. He should be afraid, the same way any living being would be when faced with a monster who thirsts for their blood. But all Chan can see is his sweet little Jisung, so needy for it he’s gone insane, and Chan will gladly offer up his pound of flesh for him every time.

He bites quickly this time, more sure of himself. “Ah,” Chan moans, thrusting up against Jisung’s length as a means to balance out the sensations, but his movement only serves to rile Jisung up more. While his teeth stay lodged in Chan’s skin, his hips begin to undulate, slow for only a moment as he finds his footing before it turns hard, fast, and desperate. It’s like Chan’s yearning is bleeding straight from his veins, all to be eagerly consumed by the young alpha who craves it so badly.

His neck is let loose, hurried puffs of breath tickling his skin. “Hyung,” Jisung forces out, still rhythmically rocking into Chan. “Everything feels so good, hyung. You feel so good, always. Want to—fuck—want you so bad all the time.”

The words light up Chan’s insides, warmth blooming from his core. “Hyung is yours,” he promises.

“So perfect,” Jisung continues, like he hadn’t heard Chan speak, like he’s so delirious with want that he can’t pay attention to anything else. “Always take everything so—ahhh—so well, even when I—when I take too much, hyung. I’m sorry I take so much, but you’re so—and you always—fuck, you bleed so pretty for me, ‘m sorry I make you bleed—”

“I’m yours,” Chan interjects, fiercely determined to keep Jisung from feeling anything negative about this, especially when it directly pertains to him. “You can take whatever you need from hyung because he belongs to you, okay? That’s what I’m here for, baby, so don’t feel guilty.”

He keeps his eyes locked on Jisung’s face while he says it, to convey just how much he means it and eager to watch the words sink in. He’s a beat slow, distracted by the increasing blood flowing to his knot no doubt, but he catches the moment it clicks, when Jisung’s expression grows awestruck and his mouth starts opening and closing like he isn’t quite sure if he should ask—

“Chan,” he pleads, licking his lips, “Hnn, need—”

And Chan reads him so easily, readily, already has his arm extended to be in Jisung’s reach. “Go ahead,” he says, forearm pressed to his lips, “Don’t stop until you’re satisfied.”

“Hy’ng,” he attempts, so muffled by Chan’s skin it’s almost indecipherable but his wide eyes tell Chan everything.

He uses his other hand to grab the back of Jisung’s neck, forcing their faces closer, and waits until he has Jisung’s eyes locked with his own. “Until you’re satisfied,” he repeats more firmly.

Phrasing it like an order works wonders; Jisung stops hesitating and scrambles to obey. His lips part only centimeters away from the crease of Chan’s elbow, tiny fangs digging in like needles. He doesn’t go as deep as he had on either side of Chan’s neck, this one little more than a surface scratch in comparison. He simply holds the flesh in his mouth, nibbling and gnawing like a pup who just grew their first set of teeth.

Chan would scold him for holding back, but something about the way Jisung is acting keeps him quiet. His teeth are growing less insistent but his hips kick up in pace, a heat forming between them from the friction. Chan takes one quick glance down to find the front of Jisung’s pants damp and his prominent bulge seeming to swell right before his eyes.

It becomes immediately obvious that he is far from holding back—he’s close.

“Almost there, baby,” he sings, unable to hold it in even if he wanted to. “You’ve done so well so far. Just one last thing. Can you do it, Jisungie? Can you knot in your pants for me?”

Jisung loses his balance and in turn his rhythm, his gyrations growing sloppy the longer he goes. “Hnngh,” he groans, sending vibrations all the way up Chan’s arm.

“You can,” he decides for him, the way he does everything else pertaining to Jisung’s wellbeing. He trails his hand from the back of Jisung’s neck all the way down his spine until it rests on the swell of his ass. He grips hard and uses his hold to pull him closer, wiggles his own hips until he finds the magic spot that forces their dicks to press against each other so perfectly. “Hyung’s close, too,” he admits, “so keep going and make us both feel good, hmm?”

The alpha’s pace stutters, mouth releasing Chan’s arm so it flops uselessly back onto the mattress, focus drawn elsewhere. He falls forward like he’s trying to cage Chan in, head landing by his throat. He pants wetly against the skin, hips rolling forward like he’s trying to fuck Chan through their clothes—

“Ahhh,” he shouts as his knot finally swells and bursts, a telling warmth spreading between the two of them as he comes.

“Fuck,” Chan curses, taking advantage of having control over both arms again as he cups Jisung’s ass and holds him still while he rocks up into him. He can vaguely hear Jisung’s whines of oversensitivity by his ear but it’s okay, he can hold on a little longer, he’s close, he just needs a little more, just a little—

Seconds later and he joins Jisung over the edge, coming so hard his vision blurs at the edges and his brain shuts off.

The first thing he registers after is a tongue kitten-licking at his neck. The vague sting he feels with each flick makes realization rocket through his body; Jisung is trying to groom him.

His inner alpha attempts to rear back on instinct at such a bold challenge, but even that is weak and short-lived once he recognizes the person doing it to him. He quiets down without a fuss, like the beast understands Chan on a human level. Nobody else can do this but him, they agree. We don’t get angry at this one.

Perhaps Jisung’s spoiled nature is partially Chan’s own fault, but he can’t find it in himself to stop. Jisung is still a baby alpha, after all, and after he’s had the time to settle into his designation, the day may come where he doesn’t need Chan to be quite so doting and attentive anymore—a day he awaits and dreads in equal measure.

Jisung seems to finish his cleaning of Chan’s wounds, rocking back onto his knees again so they can face each other head on. He lets his eyes rake over the aftermath of the havoc he wreaked, tentative fingertip tracing over a patch of dried blood. “We should clean up,” he notes softly.

“Mhmm,” Chan confirms, still jelly-limbed and so, so fond of the person in front of him. “Will you keep your hands to yourself if we shower?”

“Yes,” Jisung promises a little too quickly, followed up with his reason why: “I’m hungry, so we need to finish fast.”

“Ah,” he hums in understanding, grin tugging at the edges of his lips. “Am I cooking?”

“You’re always cooking.”

“Even after you mauled me?”

Jisung’s eyes widen, worry finding its way onto his features. “I said I was sorry—”

He’s interrupted by Chan’s laughter. “I know, I know,” he promises, leaning forward to press a kiss to the corner of Jisung’s mouth. “Hyung’s just teasing again.”

A petulant huff. “You’re not funny,” he complains, but doesn’t make any attempt to back away from Chan’s affections.

He shrugs, unperturbed. “That’s okay.”

With the evidence in front of him, Chan amends his earlier hypothesis; maybe it’s entirely his own fault that Jisung is so spoiled.

Chan enjoys indulging him far too much to stop.