// Omega prince JK becomes first in line to the throne after a constitutional amendment devised by the country’s progressive omega-lead government. Under the new law, the firstborn pup of any sex and subgender will be considered the legitimate heir.
The king is enraged by the outcome, and while he has long since lost his power to veto the parliament’s decisions, he’s determined to take his petty revenge on JK. Which leaves the prince with only one true ally in the court: his royal advisor, alpha NJ.
• namkook (+ some jinkook later on)
• modern AU, constitutional monarchy
• A/B/O with multisex omegas
• language (explicit smut tagged separately)
• CW: abuse – the king is not a good father!
(This thread is vaguely inspired by the Swedish monarchy, which went through a similar change after the crown prince’s elder sister suddenly became the heir to the throne. To this day, the ruling king is bitter about the retroactive change…)
When the news of the vote first reached the royal palace, JK’s father didn’t speak to him for three days.
He refused to acknowledge the very existence of his firstborn son, looking past him as though there was nothing but air where JK stood.
But in some ways, the enforced solitude was a relief to JK, who ate ice cream out of cardboard tubs and watched on the TV how hordes of reporters and news vans swarm the palace gates.
Ironically, he felt almost normal for those few quiet days.
However, the silent treatment proved impractical in the long run; there was a country to run, appearances to keep up, so the king came up with more creative ways to punish JK for robbing his brother of kinghood.
“As they say, an omega is just as fit for the throne as an alpha.”
The king’s favourite line to mock JK with, often followed by:
“But son, you still have much to prove to your future subjects. You wouldn’t want to let your people down when they adore you so much, hmm?”
JK’s sweaty hands curl in the coarse material of his trousers. His old wardrobe of flowy, breathable garments has been replaced with starched button-downs and heavy brass buckles and gold embroidery.
The clothes are meant to embarrass him; JK’s waist is too narrow for his trousers, so he has to cinch them tight with belts, and his underwear has room plenty of room for a knot he does not possess.
But in this room filled with alpha officials, the ill-fitting clothes and snide remarks are the least of JK’s worries.
There’s a good dozen of them, leering, watching JK’s every move as he takes a seat next to his father, wincing at the damp feeling in his briefs.
It’s the second day of his preheat, but his father still hasn’t allowed him to retire to his private quarters to rest and prepare his nest.
In fact, there are several high-profile events marked on JK’s weekly schedule, as if his heat has been written off as nothing more serious than a minor cold.
He’s already overdosing on suppressants, and the side effect are worsening by the hour: skin sensitivity, migraines, scent sickness. The mere thought of having to make public appearances in active heat has panic bubbling in JK’s throat.
At this point, it’s pretty evident that JK is expected to carry out his duties as normal throughout his heat. Because the law now states that there is no difference between an alpha and an omega heir.
And the law is always right, as his father likes to say.
To his relief, JK’s hand doesn’t visibly tremble as he gestures the court members to sit down. Only NJ, the royal advisor, remains standing right behind him, ready to step between JK and any threat to his well-being, no matter how minor.
In the whirlwind-like weeks following the legislation change, NJ has become something of a crutch for JK, a mix of bodyguard and confidant. JK can always trust that NJ is no more than a few steps behind him, his steady hands guiding JK through the long corridors of the palace,
his scent calming his inner omega when JK’s nerves take the better of him. NJ smells like a blown out candle when he’s happy, and like deliciously bitter smoke when upset.
Not that JK would ever want to be the cause of the alpha’s distress.
From the corner of his eye, the king serves JK a glance stern enough to make him wilt in his too-large suit jacket. JK’s preheat scent must be leaking through, even with scent blockers rubbed into his glands and a triple dose of suppressants wreaking havoc on his body.
JK’s always been bad at detecting his own scent, but even he can smell the ripe berries of his slick, seeping into the cotton pad he had to place in his underwear this morning.
The court alphas murmur and squirm in their seats, and JK can’t help the blush creeping up his neck, sweat beading on his nape and under his arms. This is one of the meaner punishments inflicted by his father – being paraded around, put on display.
“This is your life now, son, get used to it,” JK’s father taunted him before bringing him into the room. “A good monarch lives for his people – and thus he’s entitled to everything except for his privacy.”
“The prime minister is arriving soon,” one of the officials says, clearing her throat with a pained expression.
“How dare he waste our time like this?” JK’s father snaps, reaching into his breast pocket for a handkerchief. Apparently JK isn’t the only one sweating today.
It’s common knowledge that the king’s relationship with Prime Minister Min’s cabinet soured after they brute-forced the constitutional amendment through.
The parliamentary vote had been tight, even with the public consensus shifting rapidly. The Traditionalist Party voted against while PM Min’s party, Subgender-Progressives or SP, riled up the other coalition members to support their agenda.
Following their narrow and tumultuous victory, PM Min defied the king’s wrath and personally came to the palace to perform a full bow at JK’s feet.
He even gave JK a fruit basket addressed to the future king: Jeju tangerines and fancy grapes that tasted like cotton candy.
It was all symbolic of course, political theatre at its finest. The prime minister never asked JK if he wanted to be king – he simply became a pawn in the grander mission for omega liberation.
A fresh wave of stomach cramps jolts JK back to the present, and he has to suppress the urge to whine and squeeze his thighs together, if only to alleviate the horrible ache building in his groin. NJ notices his fidgeting as always, discreetly placing his hand on JK’s shoulder.
The door flings open, and PM Min saunters in with a few of his colleagues, among them the minister of education. Minister Park looks almost too pretty for an alpha: sharp canines and slicked-back hair – the youngest democratically appointed minister in the nation’s history.
JK’s nose wrinkles in distaste. He only knows Park JM by name because he’s in the tabloids nearly every day, rumoured to be romantically involved with the PM himself. Weirdly enough, PM Min has never denied any of the accusations, as if his public image means nothing to him.
Somehow PM Min’s blasé attitude feels almost like an insult to JK who’s permanently prohibited from finding a mate and settling down –
it’s a relic from the times when the monarch had actual political power, and people feared that a bonded ruler might end up under the influence of their mate.
“You shall never mate nor submit to another wolf,” JK’s father said to him one night in his study. “That is the price you will pay to sit on the throne, do you understand?”
Knowing that only further public ridicule would await him if he dared open his mouth, JK bit his tongue in lieu of pointing out that he’d never wanted the throne in the first place. A few hours later, NJ found him crying at the koi pond in the palace garden.
JK had always wondered what his future mate would be like – as the second in line, he’d allowed himself to entertain the idea of alpha suitors on his doorstep, princes from faraway lands, and then – a family of his own.
JK’s dam was a concubine who left the country soon after he’d been weaned off breast-feeding, and JK’s younger brother Jungsik was birthed by another omega.
Jungsik had always been nice enough to JK, if a little distant, but when the law changed, his brother became even more elusive, which gave their father yet another reason to take his frustrations out on JK.
The only two people JK can fully trust are advisor NJ and chambermaid HS, a gentle beta who often looks after him when he’s in heat. He has no strategic partners, no friends of his own age.
Long live the king.
JK channels every bit of his vitriol and physical discomfort into glaring at PM Min as he takes a seat at the other end of the table.
Min YG is a broad-shouldered man who dresses according to his station. He never suppresses his honey-sweet omega scent and never lowers his eyes when addressing an alpha.
Is this graceless confidence what is expected of JK, once he ascends the throne?
“Good afternoon, Your Majesty,” PM Min drawls, openly studying the king’s features before turning his sharp gaze to JK. “And Your Royal Highness.”
JK’s tongue feels too big for his mouth as he mumbles out an adequately polite greeting. Perhaps his father would dismiss him if he pretended to faint – at least it would be in line with his father’s beliefs. And surely NJ would catch him mid-fall…
JK shakes his head, drawing a few curious looks. PM Min and Minister Park have started talking about school funding and the royal family’s role as advocates for literacy and anti-bullying programmes. Important causes, sure, but right now JK can hardly stand Min YG in his sight.
“Sir,” NJ mutters under his breath, a gentle reprimand for letting his scent spike. The alpha never uses his given name when others are present, and JK hates how stiff and unnatural the title is in his mouth.
But as JK keeps stubbornly staring at the wall behind PM Min’s head, NJ nudges him between the shoulder blades. The touch sends a sharp jolt of electricity down JK’s spine, and an apology burns at the tip of his tongue, along with the need to bare his neck in submission.
Admittedly, there have been times when the two of them have toed the line between professional and inappropriate, when JK’s been too tired and NJ too enticing.
If JK lives and breathes for the nation, NJ’s existence is reserved for him. He’s had to witness JK at his worst and at his most vulnerable.
Like back at the koi pond, JK puffy-eyed from crying, fragile as a newborn chick. JK only remembers a short exchange from that evening:
NJ: Are you crying because of your father?
NJ: Would you like me to assassinate him?
JK, laughing: But then I’d only become the king more quickly.
NJ: Good point. Can I at least offer you some hot tea?
JK: I’d like that.
The Koi Pond Incident (as JK later dubbed it) had broken some kind of invisible barrier between him and NJ, but the most notable mishap took place just last week: A foreign ambassador tricked JK into drinking some strong alcohol from their home country, and JK, an omega with
a low alcohol tolerance, became so tipsy from just one cup that NJ had to grip him by the neck like an unruly pup and wrangle him back to his rooms. Upon reaching his room, JK fell backwards onto his bed, head spinning, hand curling in the lapel of NJ’s jacket, and
NJ /almost/ used his alpha voice because JK wouldn’t let go – an offence so severe that it could have gotten him exiled or hanged, even in the modern times.
JK purses his lips into a tight-lipped smile, inhaling a lungful of the calming pheromones NJ might not realise he’s emitting. JK’s so close to his heat that they do little to control his cramps, but at least he can think straight again.
“Are you not feeling well, Your Highness?” PM Min asks, tapping the polished surface of the table with one of his long fingers. “Perhaps we could reschedule this meeting for… after you’ve recovered?”
JK’s mouth snaps open. How dare this man point out JK’s condition like that, no matter how obvious it may be?
“I’m feeling quite well, Prime Minister,” JK says, his scent spiking more and more because he’s started to sweat through his blockers.
JK knows that NJ always carries a Scentaway stick in his pocket, but he can’t quite reach it without looking suspicious.
“Oh, look at how time flies when you’re having a good time,” PM Min says, making a show of checking his wrist watch.
“I almost forgot that I had a video conference with Crown Prince Kim of Corea. The prince and his younger brother are coming on a diplomatic visit – oh, but you must already know this, Your Majesty.”
The shortest of glances is enough to confirm that the king is seething at the PM’s impudence – JK might share many of his father’s physical features, but the mean glint in his eyes is something that would be out of place on his own face.
“What is this mockery?” JK’s father bellows, rising to his feet with a fist braced on the table. “First you demand to see me and my son in person, and now you’re leaving to entertain foreign monarchs?”
Minister Park elbows PM Min in the side and flashes an apologetic smile. “An unfortunate scheduling error, but…”
“Do not interrupt your king when he speaks!” JK’s father yells, droplets of spit landing on the side of JK’s cheek.
“This is what happens when the country is left to be run by little boys who think themselves better than alphas, even when we all know full well what they have between their legs? At least my bitch of a son knows his place.”
The room falls eerily silent. JK’s father slumps against the table, chest heaving as ragged breaths wheeze in his throat. To the prime minister’s credit, he doesn’t blush or avert his gaze from the wreck of a man in front of him.
JK feels numb, even though he’s vaguely aware of his stomach cramping again. He licks his lips, tastes salt on his Cupid’s bow.
PM Min stands up and performs a stiff bow. JK knows that no report will be written of this meeting; in fact, it never even happened.
The only things the royal family has left are their honour and dignity, and it’s in the prime minister’s best interests to hold onto the status quo and use JK for his own ends.
PM Min clears his throat, casting a quick glance in JK’s direction. “Terribly rude of us to leave like this when we have so much to discuss, but me and my democratically elected cunt must get back to running the country. Have a lovely day.”
As JK watches the ministers leave, NJ’s hand is back on his shoulder, squeezing for dear life, the scent of bitter smoke thick in the air.
In the next instalment, we will meet Crown Prince Kim SJ of Corea and his younger brother prince TH. Help me choose their subgenders!
A slanted beam of light hits JK’s eyes as the heavy velvet curtains are pulled aside. Oh no, not yet.
“Please hyung, five more minutes.”
“I know, pup… but I was given orders to retrieve you for breakfast in the blue room.” The slight tremble in HS’s voice betraying just how worried he is.
“I tried my best to reason with His Majesty, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. And as he gracefully reminded me, you’re scheduled to tour the palace grounds with the Crown Prince of Corea in two hours.”
An unpleasant image flashes through JK’s mind: poor HS bowing down to his irate father, putting his own head on the chopping block just to buy JK some time.
JK rolls onto his back with a pained groan, thanking HS for the kind sentiment. His words falls on deaf ears.
“I’m so sorry,” HS says, clasping his hands over the front of his grey linen jacket that vaguely imitates the style of traditional garments.
“It’s not your fault,” JK insists. “But please tell me, do you think I’m in heat already?”
The question isn’t even a joke – JK’s been ingesting more oral suppressants than actual food, and he no longer feels like he can trust his own body or his sense of smell. The symptoms of his heat have blended together into a deep, all-consuming ache with no escape.
“I’m not sure,” HS admits, frowning. Betas don’t possess the keen sense of smell alphas and omegas so frequently rely on, which is why HS has been JK’s appointed heat caretaker ever since he presented.
“Can you go get NJ?” JK asks, rubbing his face with the heel of his hand. He has to know what he’s up against if he’s truly going to be thrust into the role of a royal tour guide for the entertainment of Crown Prince Kim and his brother.
JK doesn’t feel particularly aroused at the moment, but it could be the suppressants messing with his system – just like he didn’t feel the urge to nest when he was finally allowed to retire for the night.
He simply fell into bed, fully clothed, and burrowed himself under a heavy blankets so that only the tip of his nose remained exposed.
In a normal preheat, he would be extremely meticulous about scent contamination in his nest. He would also be hoarding calorie-rich foods and preparing soft, loose clothing to wear during his cycle, lighting candles all across the room to have their comforting scent soothe…
HS doesn’t seem to think that it’s a good idea, that much is obvious. JK grimaces softly.
“You know that’s against protocol,” HS says, wetting his lips with a nervous flick of his tongue. “But I can summon the palace physician if you’d like.”
“Please don’t, he’ll just inject me with more suppressants,” JK whines. As a beta, HS is mostly immune to the omegan quality of his whines, but it’s still worth a shot.
“Hyung, you know it’s true… I will literally throw up if they pump more artificial hormones into me.”
“Fine,” HS quickly decides. Bless his soft little heart.
“But he’ll just come in for a minute to check, okay?”
“Yes, what else?” JK snaps, voice sullen. He buries his face in his sweaty hands, barely registering the sound of the door swinging shut behind HS.
JK spends a moment just breathing in and out. The thought of NJ walking through the door at any moment is giving his inner omega all the wrong reasons to be excited, but it has to be done. Rather NJ than someone from the king’s guard.
As anticipation grows in his belly, JK hooks his foot around his other ankle, squeezing his legs together. He’s not leaking slick now, but it’s only a matter of time. And even though more than half of the court officials
have witnessed him in this state, the intimate setting makes the prospect that much more humiliating. The king operates on the basis that no one will ever claim what JK flaunts unwillingly, so it’s easier to distance himself from the shame.
But the reality, as often is the case, is even worse than JK could imagine.
NJ arrives in less than five minutes, immaculately dressed in a charcoal grey suit. He takes one look at JK, jaw clenched and the strong muscles of his throat exposed above the collar of his shirt.
// sexual content ahead
“You wanted me to check… if you’re in heat?” NJ questions. His tone is rigid and unnatural.
JK feels small and dumb, unprepared for this strong alpha in his room when he hasn’t even built a pretty nest to impress him.
JK tries to sit up, telling himself to focus. He can already feel the telltale wetness at the entrance of his heat slit. Just a small, embarrassing trickle.
NJ is still waiting for a reply.
“I uh – if you don’t mind?” JK stutters. “The suppressants I took…”
NJ’s nostrils flare wide for a moment. He looks angry but doesn’t smell upset. JK ducks his head, confused by the whiplash.
“How do you feel?” the alpha asks quietly.
For a moment, JK doesn’t know how to answer the question. He feels disjointed, like a collection of aches and limbs and sticky fluids. JK licks his lips – his hand is resting on his lower stomach, precariously close to the waistband of his briefs.
He really misses his silky omega underwear that fit him snugly, made him feel pretty.
“Hyung,” JK whimpers. The skin of his stomach is hot and taut. If this was a normal heat, he would be delirious by now. On his hands and knees, begging for a knot.
But this heat is far from normal.
“JK-ah, what did you ask me here for?” NJ asks. His voice is a bit hoarse. “You know I can’t stay.”
JK gives the alpha a quick nod. He’s so tempted to touch himself under the blankets – would NJ even notice? He smells sweet enough as it is.
“So you think I’m in heat?” JK says, breathing heavily. His fingertips brush over his mound, teasing over the fabric. His small cock twitches.
What he’s doing is wrong on so many levels; JK is putting NJ’s career in jeopardy, as well as HS’s. He’s selfishly risking the life of the one person who matters to him.
“I think, yes – you are in heat,” NJ blurts out after a long, meaningful silence. His wire-framed glasses have slid down on the bridge of his nose. “I think you’re just more lucid because of the suppressants.”
JK wonders if NJ knows, if his face is giving everything away.
JK’s fingers dip into his slit, the damp fabric of his briefs sticking to his labia. A surge of pleasure-pain shoots from his opening to the tip of his cock, his body screaming to be filled. It’s so hard to keep quiet.
“Are you –?” NJ is leaning closer, ravenous-looking. “Are you doing something you shouldn’t, pup?”
JK wants to sob. His heat remains as a muted and distant force, but there’s no escape from the deep ache in his core.
At least when he’s out of his mind with need, he can ride a knotting toy for hours on end, whining and chewing on his pillows without shame.
“Please, alpha,” JK’s says without thinking. He’s asking for permission, being a good omega.
“Shit, sweetheart… you can’t call me that.” NJ’s voice is rumbling from deep in his chest, and all JK wants is to turn around and present. “Does it hurt a lot?“
JK nods, biting his lip. At the back of his mind, he knows he’s acting ridiculously.
NJ’s hands twitch at his sides, as if he’s tempted to reach out and /touch/. The thought is almost too much for JK, who in the throes of heat often likes to imagine NJ’s large hands on him, cupping him where he’s hot and aching, flicking a thumb over the head of his little cock.
But those fantasies are only reserved for when JK can’t help himself, when he’s so far gone that his mind slips into a baser kind of existence.
“You may touch yourself, pup. If that’s what you need.”
JK blinks slowly. Doesn’t know what to say. NJ smells so nice but he’s so far away.
“Can I have alpha’s scent? To help?” JK knows he’s pushing his luck, knows he shouldn’t.
“Okay,” NJ says, just like that, and starts removing his suit jacket – exposing broad shoulders and fabric that stretches and ripples…
NJ throws the jacket across the room, and it lands on the bed. Without thinking, JK hauls the garment into his arms and nuzzles his cheek into the silk lining.
Saliva pools in JK’s mouth at the richness of NJ’s scent, almost straight from the source, the jacket still warm with the alpha’s body heat. JK’s stomach clenches at the idea of cool silk against his swollen…
NJ is still in the room, watching silently with his mouth open. HS must be getting worried.
Knowing he must hurry, JK turns to lie on his belly with NJ’s jacket bunched up under his hips, underwear pulled down just enough to expose his cock and heat slit.
JK rolls his hips tentatively, cheeks warm with embarrasment, and almost screams at the feeling of warm, slippery silk pressing into his most sensitive parts.
“Can I –?”
“Go ahead, pup,” comes NJ’s ragged voice.
JK doesn’t waste any more time, mindlessly chasing his pleasure in front of the alpha. His blanket still covers him from the waist down to preserve an illusion of modesty,
but there’s no denying how debauched he must look, humping the bed with small noises of pleasure spilling from his lips. NJ’s eyes don’t leave him once – not until he grinds himself into a long, shudder-inducing orgasm,
cock throbbing as he smears trails of clear omega release and slick all over the lining of NJ’s jacket, wailing at how devastatingly empty he is inside.
NJ lets out a low growl as JK twists his upper body to meet the alpha’s gaze, like a deer in the headlights. His legs tremble from the aftershocks of his orgasm.
“Do you feel a bit better?” NJ asks, voice velvety smooth.
“Yeah,” JK says. “Uh – thank you.”
“Can you get dressed without assistance? The Crown Prince is quite keen to meet you, and he’s an alpha, so make sure to apply a double layer of scent blockers.”
JK gulps, shifting his hips. His cock twitches in oversensitivity, squished between his belly and NJ’s jacket.
“What about your…?”
“I was clumsy and spilled coffee all over my jacket,” NJ says, turning to the door. “You have ten minutes to get ready or your father will come looking.“
“Introducing His Royal Highness, Crown Prince of Corea,” the captain of the king’s guard announces.
While his father remains seated, JK rises to his unsteady feet to welcome the prince. Rulers from the northern kingdom rarely pay diplomatic visits to neighbouring states,
as relations between the nations have been strained ever since the war that resurfaced centuries-old tensions and drew ancient borders back on the map.
Dark spots dance at the edges of JK’s vision, but he blinks them away just in time to witness Crown Prince SJ strolling into the room, dressed in a sleek black suit. JK has a vague recollection of meeting the prince when he was a child and SJ a scrawny teenager.
Years have done him good – every bit of news footage JK has watched pales in comparison to how effortlessly handsome the prince is.
“Also welcome His Royal Highness Prince TH, Duke of Kangwon.”
The next person to enter is even more of a surprise to JK. Prince TH has lead a sheltered life, raised in a mountain palace in the far north – a precious jewel in the royal collection. The Kim dynasty reigns a country even less progressive than the one JK lives in.
JK has always been allowed and expected to partake in court life and make appearances at carefully picked charity galas. Growing up, he also had access to the best tutors in the world who would teach him anything he wanted to learn.
According to the rumours, Prince TH has never enjoyed the same liberties and luxuries as him.
And it shows; the omega prince is all but plastered to his brother’s back, head ducked meekly as the guards bow to him.
The poor thing seems mildly terrified of the pomp and circumstance of the court.
JK would feel bad for the prince, if he didn’t yearn the kind of anonymity TH has been blessed with.
There are very few photos and portraits of the prince available online, and no one really knows where he went to school to, or if he already has an intended mate.
The adjutant introduces the king first, and then: “Crown Prince JK of Chosun, Duke of Silla and Earl of Jeju.”
JK grimaces at the newest additions to his title – his father’s idea of course. He inclines his head to a polite bow, and the two princes follow his lead.
With the formalities out of the way, breakfast is served swiftly: tea poured into tiny, cold-rimmed cups with a distinctly colonial flair, poached quail eggs, steaming hot rice and soup, western pastries arranged pretentiously on a multi-story tray.
Out of habit, JK takes a bit of everything on his plate and then goes pale at the thought of taking a single bite.
He takes nervous sips of tea, opting to breathe through his mouth as Prince SJ’s crisp but strong alpha scent reaches his side of the table. It’s citrusy, sour almost, but in a pleasant way that has JK’s heat-dazed inner omega rearing its head in curiosity.
Just as JK is thinking about hiding his food in a napkin, he notices SJ staring at him with one eyebrow raised.
‘Don’t rat me out’, JK pleads silently.
SJ smiles, his eyes still on JK as he places a piece of meat on top of TH’s rice bowl. The other omega hasn’t been eating much, either; in fact he looks almost sicklier than JK.
But then the king asks SJ a question, and the prince looks away, the moment shattered.
JK manages to keep a low profile for the rest of the lengthy meal, keeping to himself and nibbling on a few spoonfuls of bland rice. It’s only after breakfast that his luck runs out.
“I was under the impression that you were going to show us the palace grounds,” SJ’s smooth voice comes from behind him. It hasn’t changed much from what JK remembered.
He nods slowly, peering at the palace gardens. They’re standing on the raised porch that lines the courtyard – a nod to traditional architecture.
JK’s heat is subdued for now, but his skin feels hypersensitive underneath his robes, freshly applied scent blockers sticky on his neck, and the faint clinking of breakfast plates and silver-wear making his head hurt.
“My brother wasn’t feeling well after breakfast, so I hope you don’t mind it’s just the two of us. It would be a shame to waste such a beautiful morning.”
“I don’t mind,” JK says, feeling much like the same wide-eyed pup who’d once been incapable of expressing himself properly in front of an older, cooler boy – a prince from a country where the climate was harsh and people more resilient.
Ironically, JK remembers reading in an article that the crown prince actually dislikes winter, especially after having served in the Corean army during the coldest months of the year.
It’s strange that such a frivolous detail popped into his mind the when alpha’s tall, lean figure is framed by summer flowers and emerald green grass.
“Shall we?” JK says, clearing his throat.
SJ follows easily as JK leads him down the short steps and then toward the back of the garden where camellia and cherry trees should provide them shade from the relentless sun.
“I wasn’t aware that your country doesn’t know heat leave,” SJ comments once they’ve made their way half-way across the garden. His voice is perfectly relaxed, but blood rushes into JK’s cheeks, feverishly hot. He stops walking.
“You’re mistaken. Every company and public entity must provide their employees with up to twelve days of paid heat leave each year,” JK recites from memory.
The same government that took JK’s future also pushed through many policy changes that benefit omegas all across the country. Mandatory heat leave was one of PM Min’s great political victories.
“Ah, of course,” SJ agrees easily. “Forgive me for my ignorance.”
JK offers him a graceful nod, taking another step, but SJ grabs him loosely by the arm.
“I was going to congratulate you on your new position, but I have a feeling that you’d be offended by it,” the prince muses, clasping his hands behind his back. For an alpha faced with an omega in heat right in front of him, SJ is remarkably disciplined.
“What makes you think that?” JK asks.
SJ tilts his head, nostrils slightly flared. “Because you smell lonelier than I expected.”
JK’s composure falters. He’s an omega in heat, and the two of them are alone in the vast garden, cut off from the rest of the world by the tall walls and trimmed hedges. The artificial stream which leads to the pond glimmers in the morning sun.
“Please don’t take this the wrong way,” the prince says, smiling with the tips of his canines on display. SJ’s features are like an optical illusion, a perfect reflection of his royal pedigree; he’s a person solely cultivated for portraits and paper money.
JK turns his head to survey the premises, but NJ is still nowhere to be seen. He probably had to sneak back to JK’s room to retrieve his soiled jacket – which is something JK shouldn’t be thinking about in the presence of an alpha who evidently can smell him despite the blockers.
JK curls his sweaty hands in the hem of his jacket. The garment is too long and cut in a shape that hides his figure, which he’s worked so hard to maintain. He feels like a pup playing pretend and stealing clothes from his father’s closet.
“I’m upsetting you,” SJ says, even though he doesn’t look particularly ashamed. “That was never my intention. I only wished for you to know that my empathies lie with you, and that I’d like to get to know you better.
It’s hardly appropriate that I only remember my closest peer as a snot-faced little pup.”
Again, JK is rendered speechless.
SJ takes the opportunity to add, “It would be a terrible slight against your beauty, omega.”
JK’s eyes grow wide; the way SJ is addressing him is wildly inappropriate.
“Prince SJ, I don’t understand…”
“Call me hyung,” the alpha says, voice stern and gentle at the same time. His hand hovers above JK’s shoulder for a moment but he drops it. Takes a deep breath.
“For the sake of transparency – I intend to court you while I’m here.”
JK still doesn’t understand. The sun is harsh on his back, seeping through the dark material of his jacket. SJ smells like a glass of lemonade on a hot summer’s day, and JK feels parched.
“We’re both in line for the throne,” he says, stating the obvious. “Neither of us can mate, ever.”
“Just so. Isn’t this the ultimate omega liberation – courting without the intention to put a physical claim on the other person? It’s the trend these days, anyway.”
JK shakes his head in disbelief. SJ’s scent is growing stronger, or maybe JK is just losing control, spiralling back into the miserable pits of his heat.
Cool fingers graze the sensitive skin under his chin, and JK realises that his eyes are closed.
“I know this isn’t the life you wished for,” SJ croons. “You didn’t want to be liberated or to be put on a pedestal. You and TH-ie are the same, just two beautiful omegas who yearn for guidance.”
JK’s eyes snap open, but SJ hushes him, trailing a finger over his lips that are slightly agape.
“Except you’re much stronger than my brother – you’ll be able to carry this burden of the crown.”
JK huffs, not knowing whether to fell flattered or affronted by SJ’s words. The alpha is still touching him with the tips of his slender fingers, making his skin burn and tingle.
“You’re just perfect, aren’t you?” SJ states.
JK finally recoils backwards, turning his head from side to side to see if they’ve been caught. SJ doesn’t seem concerned in the slightest.
Instead, he crosses his arms and says: “Did you know that we are third cousins?“
JK’s fingers fly to his mouth, touching where SJ touched him. “Huh – what?”
“I find it mildly amusing that our hypothetical courtship would be incestuous in nature. At least on paper.“
Before JK has a chance to reply (or slap SJ on the cheek for his impertinence), hasty footsteps on the gravel path make JK’s heart sink to his stomach.
NJ appears in view a few seconds later, just as JK feared. The alpha is walking toward them in long strides, dressed in a lighter grey suit that closely resembles the one from the morning.
“Just something for you to think about,” SJ mutters, winking at JK before he greets NJ like an old friend:
“Oi NJ-ah, long time no see!”
Based on first impressions, are you team joon or team jin?
“So, you know Prince SJ?”
JK faces the window as he speaks, NJ standing behind him, unmoving. It’s been only a few minutes since JK parted ways with the crown prince and sought out his advisor,
who’d rudely ignored SJ’s greeting in favour of offering JK a parasol and a bottle of water and fussing over the hot weather.
‘Old buddies’, SJ had called them, offering his arm to JK as they continued their stroll down the path which led to the western style gazebo erected near the pond.
There, he leaned to whisper in JK’s ear that no view of the garden could ever compare to his beauty.
JK shivers at the memory, realising that NJ still hasn’t replied.
“He wouldn’t tell me much,” JK says. “I’m just curious.”
“Sometimes too curious for your own good,” NJ says humourlessly. “There’s not much to tell, though. I was an exchange student at the same university the crown prince attended. Both of us were political science majors.”
“How come you’ve never mentioned that you just happen to know more than one crown prince?”
JK doesn’t mean to sound accusatory, but his patience is peeling out in chunks; he’s in heat and overheated in the sun. All he wants to do is lie down in a dark, scentless room with a wet towel over his forehead.
“We were never friends,” NJ says. “A busy man like him – well, you can imagine. People flocked around him, wanted to make a good impression, whereas I didn’t have the personality for cajolery.”
Silence between them is like molten caramel, sticky and slightly burnt. There’s something NJ isn’t telling JK; he’s never been a good liar.
But while JK could easily force the alpha to talk, could pull rank for once in his life, he’s not that kind of omega and NJ isn’t that kind of alpha – which is why they work so seamlessly as a team.
JK turns to look at NJ, hands clasped behind his back, and drops the subject.
“You took care of the jacket, then?” he asks instead, pinching the tip of his tongue between his teeth. From one sore spot to the next, like ripping off a bandaid.
NJ’s eyes are dark and shiny as they roam down JK’s face and chest, coming to a halt right where a low-burning fire licks between the juts of his hipbones. The fantasy is brief but vivid:
NJ losing control and bending him over, curling a few fingers between JK’s wet folds and telling him to ‘hurry the fuck up’ because they could get caught by a palace maid.
Not that the real NJ would ever say or do anything so crass.
“I disposed of it, yes,” NJ says, the tips of his canines pressing against his plush lower lip. NJ isn’t one to skirt around truths, which is one of his best qualities,
but JK’s stomach still twinges at the thought of the alpha standing at the foot of JK’s bed, peeling down heat-damp sheets and touching something so deeply saturated with the evidence of JK’s need.
Did he wear gloves and a mask, or did he use his bare hands?
Did he work quickly out fear, or did he linger?
“I’m relieved,” JK says out loud, dazed at the memory of their intermingled scents.
NJ nods, as if the matter is perfectly settled. Then his expression shifts to something far murkier.
“Tell me, how did /you/ like Prince SJ?”
“Hnnn what?” JK mumbles, still hung up on the image of NJ kneeling in his heat nest, shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbows to protect them from scent transfer…
“I’m more curious to know what you think about him,” NJ reiterates.
“He’s… kind of forward,” JK says, playing with fire. “Knows what he wants. I suppose that’s a virtue to some.”
NJ clicks his tongue. “I always found him more obnoxious than witty. He slept around a lot, too. Never boasted about his romantic conquests, but word spread.”
It’s so unlike NJ to voice his personal opinion on someone that JK can only huff in bemusement. He’s never even heard the alpha partake in court gossip, which is a common pastime among the high-ranking officials.
“JK-ah, you must take this seriously,” NJ says, gritting his teeth. He just used JK’s given name out in the open, where anyone could walk in on them.
“Are you trying to warn me about something?” JK sneers, cornered by the sudden shift in the alpha’s tone.
“I can look after myself, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he adds, chin tilted to meet NJ’s eyes. The angle exposes his throat, and NJ doesn’t hesitate to stare.
Once again, JK doesn’t know how to react; these are muddy waters, uncharted.
“I don’t think you can,” NJ says, against all expectations. He’s breathing heavily through his nose.
“Because I’m an omega?”
NJ shakes his head. Liar.
“Listen,” the alpha says, scowling. “I know him better than you do. Kim SJ is a weak alpha, hasn’t done a day of honest work in his life.”
“Which means he’s harmless,” JK reasons, hoping his voice doesn’t waver. “If he tried anything, I would knee him in the knot and run.”
NJ’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head – he’s not used to JK resorting to vulgarities. But then again, JK isn’t used to NJ treating him like his omega, either.
“He couldn’t protect you,” NJ says, albeit listlessly.
“Protect me from what exactly? From the palace roof caving in on our heads? From death by boredom?”
This time it takes much longer for NJ to compose himself. JK crosses his arms, waits.
“A day may come when you find yourself with a glowing red target on your head,” NJ says. “Be it traditionalists accusing you of making a secret deal with the government to secure your place on the throne,
or anti-monarchists using your supposed incompetence to plant seeds of doubt in the minds of the common people. There are many people who’d rather see tax payer money spent elsewhere.”
“So what if the monarchy fell?” JK laughs. It’s an ugly laugh that makes his headache flare up.
“Have you ever heard of a coup where the monarch doesn’t have their head lopped off at the end?” NJ’s voice is dark; JK can barely recognise it.
“You think you can protect me better from a rebel’s blade than a prince?”
NJ rolls his eyes. “Of course I can. Kim SJ is an opportunist who only has his own interest in mind. Whatever lies he’s told you, I can –”
“What hyung, what lies has he told me exactly?” JK’s breath wheezes in his throat. “You haven’t even asked me what happened – instead you’re just making assumptions, which fyi, makes you sound really fucking arrogant.”
And this sounds like a lovers’ spat.
“Hyung, I don’t –” JK hesitates for a fraction of a second, but it’s long enough. NJ steps forward, cupping JK’s jaw with rough fingers. Slotting their lips together.
The kiss is nothing pretty, sloppy and hurried with too much teeth. JK is backed against the nearest wall, his lips pried apart as NJ’s tongue slides over them, nudging, demanding.
JK gasps into NJ mouth, hands curling around the alpha’s biceps. “Wait, stop –”
NJ stops. JK is soaking wet between the legs, hot and slippery, and his lips feel swollen. If he whimpered and showed his neck, NJ would growl. Would do something really stupid.
“You’re such an idiot,” JK says, one hand clasped over his heart and the other pressing down on his scent gland in a desperate attempt to keep his scent from spiking and alerting every alpha in a five mile radius.
“I know,” NJ admits, turning his head. JK follows his gaze, watching the alpha’s face drain of colour.
Prince TH is standing in the doorway, perfectly still. The omega would be out of sight if not for a sparse spot in a potted plant.
A soft little gasp is all the warning they get before the prince turns to flee.
“I’ll go after him,” JK mutters, shoving NJ in the chest when the alpha doesn’t move or react to his words.
JK’s legs are weak, but TH isn’t particularly fast. He catches the omega at the end of the corridor and pulls him into one of the ornately decorated guest bathrooms. TH doesn’t object to being manhandled, nor does he question JK locking the door.
JK catches his own reflection in the gold-framed mirror, flinching at the sight of his rumpled clothes and the splotches of red on his cheeks.
“You didn’t have to chase me,” TH says softly, meeting JK’s eyes in the mirror. It’s the first time JK’s heard the prince say anything longer than a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’.
“I didn’t?” JK laughs incredulously. His heart is still racing, and he’s bracing himself heavily against the sink.
Meanwhile, TH seems comfortably resigned to his fate. He plops down to sit on a velvet footstool, one hand resting on his lower abdomen. The prince is wearing grey slacks and a silky blouse that’s looser at the waist;
perfect for the warm weather. If his brother is an exceptionally handsome alpha, TH is a perfect omega specimen. It’s easy to see why the Kim family has wanted to keep him out of the public eye.
“My intention wasn’t to spy on your private moment, Your Highness,” TH says. His head thumps against the wall as he assumes a more relaxed position. “I simply didn’t want to cause you embarrassment by making my presence known.”
JK coughs, discreetly widening his stance. The cooling slick in his underwear has soaked through his heat pad and is now trickling down the inseam of his trousers.
“You weren’t going to tell you brother about what you saw?”
“My brother?” A muted smiles appears on TH’s face, making him look nigh angelic. “He already made his first move? I advised him to not act rashly, but alas…”
“So –” JK blinks, searching for words, “so you didn’t come here to aid the crown prince with his courting efforts?”
“As if he’s ever needed help with those,” TH grins, only to grow serious again. “I broke the rules and had to be punished.”
“Punished?” The word is thick and viscous in JK’s mouth, but TH manages to look mildly uninterested.
“I fell for someone my family didn’t deem a good candidate for a royal title. They wanted to send me to a mental institution for a few months, but hyung found out about the plan in time and offered to take me with him to Chosun. So now I’m here, exiled.”
For a moment, JK can only stare at TH who keeps stroking his belly, eyes half-closed.
“Do you… do you want to talk about them?” JK offers, even though TH has no reason to accept. He slides down into a crouch in front of the other omega, back against the bathroom counter.
“His name is Seojoon. He’s an alpha and a bit older than me,” TH says wistfully. “Hyung is an actor on daytime television, and he’s popular enough but not particularly rich or influential. We were together for five months before the queen found out and put and end to it.”
“That sucks,” JK says eloquently – he hasn’t received years of public speaking training for nothing.
“Yeah, but what can you do?” TH shrugs, standing up to rummage through a basket of bathroom supplies. He’s really tall for an omega, JK notices.
“I’d rather be here than locked up in a sanitarium, because at least I can send him letters and scent gifts through SJ hyung,” TH adds before holding out something: a packet of wet wipes.
“I can turn around if you’d like, but you should take care of your situation before we step out. No offence, since my brother thinks you’re the prettiest omega to walk this earth, but starting a new dating rumour isn’t high on my bucket list for this trip.”
NJ can’t quite pinpoint the exact moment when the world tilted on its axis and he started thinking of JK as his omega.
When JK picked up his brother’s duties after Jungsik went to serve in the Royal Navy at the age of 19, NJ had felt something akin to admiration for the pup – awe at how gracefully the young prince sat through tedious events, how quick he was to adapt to his father’s whims.
And when NJ found JK hiding in the darkest corner of the royal library, nursing a bruised cheek after he'd asked too many questions about his dam, NJ was upset to see him like that; it made his alpha feel powerless.
But that JK was barely past puphood, all too innocent for a 21-year-old, so NJ kept him at an arm’s length because it was safer that way. He thought JK would grow into his skin and take advantage of the vast resources at his disposal,
see all the world had to offer for the rich and famous. And then – at the age of 24 or 25 – JK would be allowed to name his favourite suitor out of a narrow pool of suitable candidates and settle down to lead a comfortable (if a little contrived) sort of life.
NJ never planned for the alternative because he didn’t think it necessary. He severely underestimated both PM Min’s political sway and his perseverance, and then the ball was already rolling and all NJ could do was make quick adjustments.
He still kicks himself over it, at night when he can’t fall asleep and the neon orange glow of the street lights is filtered through the blinds. Was it misogyny or laziness that made him miss all the signs?
But despite everything, NJ heaved a deep sigh of relief when he saw the result of the vote: 157 ‘yea’ and 143 ‘nay’. He felt immense joy knowing that JK wouldn’t be courted, mated off, fucked full of pups.
No one, NJ included, would get to have JK in his entirety, and to his inner alpha, that was better than nothing.
Right until the moment when Kim SJ slithered his way back into his life, NJ sought and found solace in that awfully unfair sentiment.
NJ briefly hoped that SJ would act as he’d acted before – that he would saunter in like the king he was yet to be crowned as, just to grow bored of his newest publicity stunt and return to Corea.
SJ’s great-grandfather, who rose to power soon after the war ended,
hadn’t always shown clemency toward the people of Chosun, so the Kim family has been met with healthy reservation ever since. But SJ himself is a quasi-vilified figure in the Chosun press, a 21st century Lord Byron. It’s a narrative that sells.
It’s also the exact type of attention NJ has sworn to protect JK from.
“Wah, you look tense.” HS steps into the staff break room and closes the door behind him. The beta is wearing his usual servant’s attire, and his nails are clean and filed short.
HS’s appearance suggests nothing about his true personality, much like the staff room, which is all glossy wood tones and stainless steel, a shadow of luxury.
“I’m hiding,” NJ sighs. JK always calls him a horrible liar, and HS is regrettably quick-witted as well.
NJ nods, walking past the fancy coffee machine he doesn’t know how to operate. Instead, he grabs a packet of instant coffee, haphazardly pouring the contents into a mug with hot water.
"You have to be the adult here, NJ-ah," HS scolds him, even though his tone is softer than cotton.
As if JK isn’t an adult, NJ thinks sullenly. As if JK isn’t an adult man with an adult’s body and –
“Gosh, do I need to smack some sense into that thick head of yours? Because I will.”
NJ growls low in his throat, only for the sound to trail off into a small yip at HS’s unimpressed reaction. A flea-bitten back alley stray would sound more menacing than him.
The two of them are only a handful of months apart in age, but sometimes it feels like HS has aged at twice the normal speed: smile lines and infinite wisdom included, as well as an extremely low tolerance for bullshit.
“Drink you coffee and cool off, okay? JK’s heat won’t break for another day or so,” HS says, touching the shell of his ear with one finger, a tell-tale sign that the beta is more nervous than he lets on.
HS had been quite young when he assumed the unofficial role as JK’s guardian, and his ways of caring about the prince have always been purer than NJ’s, his love unintrusive and selfless in nature.
“I shouldn’t be going easy on you, but honestly –” HS lets his hand drop, “– you’re a good alpha, NJ-ah. The prince would be lost without you.”
NJ almost says: ‘You’re only saying that because you don’t know about the kiss’, even though his inner alpha preens at the praise.
“You know how much he admires you, right?” HS continues. “You’re the one he looks to for guidance, and the one he seeks out when he’s frightened.
And while I don’t mean to put words in your mouth, I think that you’ve cultivated and encouraged that kind of relationship because you like being the most important person in the world to him.”
NJ opens his mouth to argue, but HS raises a finger.
“I’m not claiming it’s a bad thing – even the future king needs someone to look up to. I’m just telling you to hold up your end of the bargain.”
NJ lowers his gaze to the layer of foam forming on top of his coffee. He wasn’t in the mood for a cappuccino, but it would be too embarrassing to pour the drink down the drain and start over in front of HS.
“He called me an idiot today. JK did.”
“You probably deserved it.” HS says without missing a beat. “But my point still stands. JK deserves you at your best, so get your act together.”
“I will. I’m sorry.”
HS nods, crossing their distance to pry the mug out of NJ’s hands. They watch in silence as bits of freeze-dried coffee clump at the bottom of the sink.
“Go sit down, I’m going to make you a proper coffee,” HS says, setting the mug down on the marble countertop.
NJ obeys without a word.
At half past 11, JK sneaks back to his personal quarters, tiptoeing across the study area and past the entrance to the bathroom.
Even though JK doesn’t have anything noteworthy on his schedule for the next several hours, he can barely believe his luck when no one interrupts him on his way.
Prince SJ was seen exiting the palace with only his personal bodyguard, and NJ is hiding from JK in the staff wing.
Even Prince TH excused himself right after the bathroom episode, claiming he felt ill even though he’d seemed just fine until that point.
JK wonders if TH is feigning illness to elude some of his princely duties, or if he’s truly suffering from some invisible condition that no one dares address. He knows the king would do everything in his power to hide the truth if JK himself contracted some embarrassing disease.
JK’s bedroom is dimly lit and quiet as he steps in, only a few strips of light bleeding around the edges of the closed curtains, which instantly soothes the throbbing headache on JK’s temples. It’s like sinking one’s feet into a basin of cool water.
After kicking off his shoes and trousers, JK flops down into his bed, arranging the blankets into a haphazard nest and stacking a few extra pillows under his head.
The bed doesn’t smell like NJ anymore; the sheets have been changed and the room thoroughly aired out. But the absence of scents helps JK drift off to a light sleep that isn’t quite separate from the real world.
JK knows it’s a dream because NJ is in the room with him, sitting in the armchair in the corner, watching him toss and turn before he rolls over to lie on his belly.
JK always sleeps on his stomach – often wakes up with a sore neck because of the unconscious habit – but NJ would never sit back and watch JK squirm helplessly. So dream it must be.
Alpha, come here, JK thinks, kicking his legs against the mattress. NJ looks away, scowling.
The figure in the corner shifts and becomes Jungsik. The shape of his brother is blurry, his silhouette like a few strokes of paint drawn with a shaky hand.
It can’t be more than a month since JK last saw Jungsik, but he can’t quite recall his brother’s features in detail: the shape of his nose, the width of his shoulders.
“Hyung,” dream-Jungsik says, “I think I’m going to move to Europe. Father has that lovely estate in Switzerland that goes unused most of the year.”
Don’t leave me, you little brat, JK wants to say, but his mouth is paralyzed; he’s asleep and needs to wake up.
At the mention of their father, the old alpha appears in the warped version of JK’s bedroom, a hand resting on Jungsik’s shoulder, caressing it.
The king’s face is shrouded in shadows, but JK recognises him by the heavy rings on his fingers,
rings which he has felt on his cheekbone on more than one occasion. He even carries a small scar on his cheek as a memory of one of such incidents;
though since the day his father saw royal blood trickling down JK’s cheek, a few drops of red stuck in the crevices of the Jeon family insignia, he’s been careful not to hurt JK in a way that would leave a permanent mark.
“Boy, why are you still sleeping?”
JK huffs in irritation. He doesn’t have to obey his father when he’s asleep. He’s not afraid.
“What kind of king sleeps when his kingdom is on fire?”
What do you want from me? JK wants to scream, burrowing his face in the pillows, wishing NJ would appear again. The alpha is a fool, but a tolerable one at that.
“JK-ah, wake up!”
“Hnnn?” JK raises his head, finding the room full of early afternoon light. He’s lying on his stomach, blankets kicked to the side and his bare feet stacked on top of each other.
Someone is shaking him by the shoulder, and JK vaguely realises that whoever it is, is getting a generous glimpse of his ass and bare thighs.
“Are you awake now?”
JK twists his upper body to brace himself against his elbows. His hair is sweaty from sleep and falling over his eyes, and nothing makes sense –
Large, warm hands cup JK’s face, stroking his jaw, tucking strands of hair behind his ears.
NJ is hunched over the bed, eyes wide in alarm, and all JK can think is: can he see that my dick is a little hard right now?
JK draws his legs up to cover his groin, but NJ is not looking at his body, nor is he focusing on the fact that JK is half-naked and still very much in heat.
His eyes are fixed on the scar on his cheek.
“Your father –” NJ mutters, digging his thumb into JK’s jaw. “He collapsed during a meeting with the High Commander of the army. The doctor is with him, but he’s refusing to go to the hospital.”
“So he’s awake?”
NJ looks pained. “Yes, he regained consciousness quickly. I don’t know all the details, but it seems that… the king has been quite sick for a while now. Had he told you about his condition?”
JK shakes his head, can’t get another word out. He pushes himself out of the bed in sluggish movements, grimacing at the loss of NJ’s touch. His old clothes are still in a pile on the floor, but they must reek of slick.
“I’ll go find you something to wear,” NJ barks, stepping over the rumpled clothes without looking down.
JK rubs his face with the heel of his hand, dizzy and terrified. He starts unbuttoning his shirt with trembling hands while NJ rummages through his enormous walk-in closet.
“You have to call your brother and ask him to come home. Prince Jungsik’s personal credit card was charged for a first class plane ticket earlier today, but you should at least try to reach him.”
“Where’s my brother going?” JK asks, abandoning his fruitless unbuttoning efforts to pick up his phone and dial Jungsik’s personal number.
“I’m not sure,” NJ says, returning with a clean pair of slacks and a light blue dress shirt. The line is still waiting to connect.
“Is my father dying right now?”
NJ looks at him, jaw clenched. “I’m not sure.”
“Okay,” JK says, breathing in.
He walks over and starts working the buttons of JK’s shirt open without asking for permission. JK’s too stunned to protest but lucid enough to feel embarrassed that NJ is seeing his pebbled nipples and sweaty collarbones.
Jungsik answers the call right when NJ starts sliding the fabric off JK’s shoulders, careful not to touch bare skin. Neither of them are breathing.
“What’s up, hyung? I’m in Jeju right now.”
“At the airport?” JK croaks, glancing down at his pale skin and ugly underwear. This is the first time he’s let an alpha see his naked body, and he hasn’t even shaved his legs.
The phone is limp in JK’s hand, Jungsik’s voice coming through the speakerphone:
“Wah, how did you know? I’m going to see a friend in New Zealand, but I have a layover in Incheon.”
New Zealand, of course. Jungsik secretly dated a foreign omega girl for a few years, but they broke up because Jungsik was going to become king.
The thought chills JK to his bones, makes his teeth clatter together. Perhaps he’s finally developing that fever his suppressants have kept at bay, or maybe he’s going into shock. On TV, disaster victims are always handed cheap fleece blankets to keep them warm.
“I’m sorry but your kiwi girlfriend has to wait,” JK manages to say. “Father is… he’s really unwell. Has been for a while now, he just didn’t tell us.”
NJ takes a blanket from JK’s nest, scents it by rubbing it against his neck. Wraps it around JK’s shoulders, gently.
It’s like a cape, JK thinks with a hazy mind. He closes his eyes and sees himself, dressed in royal red, a glittering crown over his head. Daechwita, sound the drums, here comes the king of Chosun.
Cw // discussion of illness and death
The air smells of medicine and flowers, and JK can’t sleep. He’s curled up in the armchair by the window, staring at the water vapours that rise from the air humidifier on his father’s bedside table.
It’s quarter to midnight, and JK’s lips are chapped from dehydration. He’s still wearing the same wrinkled clothes NJ dressed him in like a lifeless doll – just trousers and shirt and socks.
The king has been awake in short bursts throughout the day, never strong enough to hold a conversation – which meant that JK had to hear the news from the court physician instead. Grade four brain cancer, metastases in the spinal cord. Treatment plan: pain management.
The doctor explained that his father was never operated on – he’d even turned down chemotherapy because the tumour was found too late. As the doctor spoke, JK nodded along without saying a word, sitting where he still sits in wait.
When Jungsik arrived, he took one look at their father’s ashen face and disappeared into his old room. He didn’t ask why JK wouldn’t do the same, why he wouldn’t get rest. Perhaps he knew why.
Minutes before midnight, NJ walks through the door without knocking. He’s carrying a tray of sandwiches and a tall glass of a turbid, pale yellow liquid.
“This is for athletes,” NJ says, expression hopeful. “Electrolytes and stuff.”
JK glances at the glass and then at the fluid bag hooked to his father’s IV drip. He shakes his head, lips pressed into a thin line as he watches NJ place the tray down.
“You have to take your suppressants, but you can’t do so on an empty stomach,” NJ reasons gently.
“I don’t need to take them,” JK says. “Our schedule has been cleared, and my heat should break tomorrow anyway.”
NJ doesn’t argue, but JK can see that he isn’t happy.
“I think I understand now why father wanted to punish me so much,” JK adds, finding the pained expression on NJ’s face almost exhilarating. JK can say things like that with a straight face, no one can tell him that he’s not allowed.
JK adjusts his legs, the expensive leather of the chair creaking underneath. “My father knew he had months to live, a year at most. Should the timing have been slightly different –
if he’d passed away just a bit earlier, or if the amendment hadn’t passed before the summer recess – it would be my brother ascending the throne when he’s gone.”
NJ’s voice is silky-soft. “JK-ah…”
JK shakes his head. His mind is cluttered, jumping between thoughts like a bee going from flower to flower.
“Do you think he’s lonely right now?”
Without answering, NJ takes a brown pill bottle out of his pocket and places it on the tray next to the sandwiches. JK can see his own name printed on the label with the words:
‘for suppressing heat symptoms and preventing pregnancy’. JK’s stomach turns at the sheer thought of swallowing the medication.
“I really hope he’s lonely.”
In lieu of a reply, NJ lets out a harsh exhale, reaching down to press a soft kiss to JK’s forehead.
“Are you going home now?” JK asks, fighting the urge to touch the spot where NJ’s lips met his skin.
“No, the palace is in lockdown, and most of the critical personnel is staying until…” The rest goes unsaid.
“Get some rest, hyung,” JK sighs, pulling a throw blanket over his legs.
NJ lies that he will. He’s still horrible at it.
As soon as the alpha is out of sight, JK grabs his suppressants and tosses them in the waste basket with all of the sandwiches. His father doesn’t open his eyes, but it still feels almost satisfying.
When JK jolts awake from a dreamless sleep, the world outside is grey and melancholy. There’s a line of drool on his chin, and one of his legs is completely numb while the other one is cramping painfully.
His father is awake, watching JK from the bed, eyes tired but demanding as ever.
“Why didn’t you sleep in your own bed?” he asks in a strange, hollow voice.
“I wanted to be here in case you died,” JK deadpans. “But I see that you haven’t yet.”
“Not yet, no,” his father says, gazing at the heavy rain clouds.
“Were you ever going to tell me about your illness?”
“Probably not,” his father says – his weak, frail father who smells like medicine and white lilies instead of the looming stench of death that plagues hospital wards. There are no beeping monitors, no nurses fussing over him.
Even in the face of death, his father prefers to remain sovereign.
“Instead you decided I should take to the throne unprepared,” JK says. “Did you hope I would embarrass myself?”
“I prepared you as well as I could!” Even though the king’s voice lacks its usual vigour, JK has to focus on not flinching. Not giving his father anything to latch onto.
The king lowers his eyes to where JK is gripping his own forearms. “I helped you rise above your subgender, and you did. Maybe you were always better-suited for the throne than your brother. You aren’t afraid of discomfort like he is.”
JK doesn’t like the flattery. It feels disingenuous, backhanded.
“I’m still an omega,” he points out. “No matter what you’ve made me wear, how you’ve made me act.”
“Yes. That you are.” His father sounds exhausted, all strength bled out from his once-imposing body.
“Is that all you have to say to me?” JK asks, standing up on wobbly legs. He doesn’t expect an apology – why would he?
“You will make a fine king, JK-ah,” his father says with conviction. They’re not the words of a dying man who finally sees the errors of his ways. It’s his justification for everything he’s put JK through.
So be it, JK thinks, walking away without looking back. His heart feels lighter than before.
“Excuse me, have you seen Royal Advisor Kim or Prince Jungsik?” JK asks a frazzled servant at the door to the kitchen. Both of the people JK wants to talk to have seemingly disappeared without a trace.
“No, Sir, but I – His Royal Highness –” the servant girl stutters, gesturing vaguely.
JK peeks into the kitchen, just to see Crown Prince SJ standing in front of an industrial grade stove, a simple white apron protecting his designer suit.
“I’m making soup,” SJ says in a soft, cheerful voice without turning his head. JK hasn’t reapplied his scent blockers since yesterday afternoon, but the polite thing would be to pretend a little.
Reluctantly, JK shuffles across the room, arms wrapped around his torso even though it’s always warm in the kitchen.
“Why?” JK asks bluntly.
Prince SJ turns around, and JK almost staggers from the whiplash. The alpha’s features are contorted in what looks like genuine worry.
“You’ve had a rough night,” SJ says, blinking his eyes as if he doesn’t fully comprehend the question. “The head chef was kind enough to let me use the kitchen so that I could cheer you up with a hearty bowl of soup.”
Something lurches in JK’s chest, and it’s not entirely unpleasant. Alpha provide, omega receive, damn his instincts.
“Come here, have a taste,” SJ says, a wooden spoon held between his elegantly slender fingers. “I never know how much salt to add.”
Before JK can list all the reasons why accepting food from an alpha openly courting him is a terrible idea, he steps forward. SJ brings the spoon to JK’s lips, tutting when he doesn’t react in time.
“Open up,” the alpha croons, fingers brushing the underside of JK’s chin, activating some dormant reflex that forces JK’s lips to part.
“There we go, what a good boy,” the alpha praises, tilting the spoon. JK’s cheeks burn; the head chef is chopping vegetables with his back turned to them, and there’s no way he hasn’t heard SJ’s words. Of course, the soup is perfectly salted and full of flavour.
“I’m also making berry crumble for dessert,” SJ says without waiting for JK to voice his useless opinion on the soup. “Raspberries and blackberries, isn’t that a lovely combination?”
JK nearly chokes. It’s his own scent – tart and sweet, berries and cream. The audacity of this alpha, the absolute nerve –
Without warning, SJ plops a fresh raspberry into JK’s open mouth. His lips purse on instinct, and for a moment it must look as though he’s sucking on the tip of the alpha’s finger.
“You need some sugar in your system, you look awfully pale,” SJ says, smiling wolfishly. “Maybe you should go back to your room to rest for a bit? I’ll send someone to bring you soup and dessert once everything’s done cooking.”
JK frowns at the suggestion because it sounds a lot like an order. His mind is a little fuzzy at the edges, hours of stress and anxiety morphing into the headspace of a distressed omega.
It’s just pheromones, JK tells himself. SJ is an alpha and he’s technically still in heat.
“Look at you, just a small, sweet thing ready to go under,” SJ says under his breath, licking the tip of his finger – the same one that was in JK’s mouth just a moment ago.
“We both know that you need an alpha, and I’m not talking about an overworked and underpaid advisor but someone who understands the burden of royal blood. A true political ally.”
“Prince SJ…” JK whispers, raspberry juice on his tongue, dyeing it sugary-pink. SJ stares.
“It’s hyung for you, little one,” SJ reminds him, reaching to ruffle JK’s hair. “Now, I really think you should go to bed.”
The prince doesn’t use his alpha voice – couldn’t in the presence of multiple witnesses, but he might as well.
What makes SJ so desperate? JK ponders, lazily licking his lips. It can’t be love, they barely know each other.
Perhaps his family has shunned him for protecting TH? JK decides to talk to the omega again, after he’s out of heat and can think clearly again. After his father has –
JK takes a step back, skin tingling. He’s getting wet again, but he’s almost grown used to the discomfort, the constant, low-burning humiliation of seeing his body disobey every command he gives it.
“JK-ah,” SJ whispers, voice strained. The whole kitchen smells like berry crumble, but the oven isn’t even on yet, the ingredients waiting on the countertop. “Did you remember to take your suppressants?”
JK turns around, clutching his swollen scent gland, feeling himself slick up more. He tries to apologise to SJ, but his voice comes out as an omegan whimper. His last day of heat shouldn’t be this intense.
Proving his self-restraint once again, SJ doesn’t try to follow JK as he runs out of the kitchen and almost crashes into a serving cart just outside, shooting more apologies in the direction of a startled beta servant.
Just a few hours and his heat will break. JK can fuck himself into a couple of quick, unsatisfying orgasms and sleep off the rest of his heat exhaustion in his own bed. It’s quicker this way, letting nature run its course.
Fuck the suppressants. Never again.
JK speeds up, legging down the carpeted hallway that leads to his personal quarters. The palace is empty in mournful anticipation, rain droplets rapping against the windows. He almost makes it.
One moment he’s running, and the next his foot catches the corner of a rug, making him lose balance, hands bracing to catch his fall.
A hand appears from nowhere to steady him, gripping him by the back of his shirt as if he weighs nothing.
“Your Highness, what’s the matter?”
It’s such a useless question; JK smells like a freshly opened jar of jam, dangling limply in NJ’s grip.
“Get away from me,” JK grits, breathing through his mouth because he knows how weak he is.
“You didn’t take your suppressants?” NJ demands, gripping JK’s shoulder hard enough to hurt. “But I –”
JK sees red. His father is dying, his good-for-nothing brother is hiding from him, and now a foreign prince wants to get into his pants to advance his own personal –
“Oh fuck off, all of you!” he screams at the top of his lungs, squirming free of NJ’s iron grip and grabbing his wrist to tug him toward his room. NJ doesn’t resist one bit,
not outside in the hallway and not in the darkness of JK’s private study, where JK gets up on his tippy toes to kiss him, hands clutching the lapels of the alpha’s jacket.
// sexual content, mildly dubious consent (JK’s still in heat)
He doesn’t protest when JK orders him to undress, or when JK’s pulls his own trousers down to show him just how wet he is.
“Is that all for me?” NJ asks hoarsely, and JK says that it is, refusing to think about Kim SJ and his sinful lips and fingers.
The lie stings in his throat, chokes him out, but NJ is already sinking to his knees on the floor, fervently petting the soft, untrimmed hairs that curl over JK’s mound and frame the base of his cock.
The alpha growls, low in his throat, as JK’s legs part to expose where he’s pink and dripping as a freshly watered flower.
“For me?” NJ repeats, breath hot against his skin.
“For you,” JK agrees.
It’s deceptively peaceful – a choir of cicadas outside the window, an arm slung over JK’s middle.
“Don’t go,” JK says, eyes moist with an emotion that has been creeping up his chest for the past hour.
Underneath the blankets, NJ’s thumb drags down his navel, possessive. JK isn’t sure how they made their way here from the study, when exactly he stopped paying attention.
“You know I have to,” the alpha says. “I’ve already stayed for too long.”
“Is that why you refused to knot me?” JK tries not to sound too hurt, but a few orgasms have robbed him of basic subtlety.
“Mmh, too risky,” NJ hums, refusing to meet JK’s eyes.
JK turns his head to press the tip of his nose against NJ’s bare shoulder. He can hardly believe that he’s allowed to see NJ like this, strong and guileless.
When there’s no visible reaction from the alpha, JK withdraws and sits up against his elbows.
He’s still naked from the waist down, and the ghost of NJ’s tongue and fingers spreading him open makes his soft cock thrum with latent arousal. It’s like his body now knows what it can’t have, what he was almost granted, and no amount of orgasms will sate him now.
“We’re safe, people are only concerned about my father’s state,” JK argues. This time his voice comes out petulant.
He crosses his legs demurely, hiding how sticky and spent he is, the crease between his legs rubbed raw. NJ took his time unravelling JK like an
expensively wrapped gift, taking care of his needs in every way apart from the most important: putting his knot inside JK. He ate him out, teased and sucked his cock, even called it a ‘clit’ when it twitched and squirted a little bit of clear fluid, nestled between NJ’s fingers.
NJ didn’t cave, not even when JK spread his legs and produced omegan distress signals. He just cupped one of his large palms over JK’s mouth, telling him to behave and keep quiet.
“You’ll take what alpha gives you,” he said when JK kicked his legs in frustration.
“You’re in heat and I already feel like immoral enough for doing this, so please /baby/, don’t argue with me about this. It will make no difference.”
JK asked for NJ’s fingers instead, which the alpha slid into his heat without friction, two curling in his cunt and one in his ass after JK begged that he needed more, that he wasn’t full enough.
He almost passed out from NJ stimulating his g-spot from both sides – kneading, rubbing, making his thighs shake.
Losing consciousness would’ve been a small mercy.
“I just thought…” present NJ mutters, eyes gleaming. “Maybe you’d want to be with your father when he passes away.”
JK blinks, mouth hanging open, but NJ lifts a finger to his lips before he can protest. “I’m not saying he deserves that, or that you owe him anything. It was just a thought. I don’t want you to have regrets afterwards.”
“Doesn’t it send strong enough a message that I chose to fuck my advisor instead of sitting at my dying father’s bedside,” JK mutters, lips moving against NJ’s finger. The alpha’s eyes are wide, pupils dilated.
“Well, tried to fuck him,” JK tacks on, lips curling into an unamused smile. “While my brother is probably face-timing his girlfriend as we speak. You know how dysfunctional this family is.”
“Oh, I know,” NJ says, voice like dark chocolate. His gaze lingers on JK’s exposed neck, his heat-swollen scent gland that will take a few days to go back to the unassuming little thing it usually is.
“Does it disgust you? How messed up my family is?” JK asks. He of course means to ask: Do I disgust you?
It’s a sad thought, but JK is pretty sure he’d be a much better person with a less complicated personality if he’d grown up in any other family. He wouldn’t be so prone to think in extremes, or to lose trust in people at the first sign of flakiness.
“You’re not your family,” NJ deflects, reaching for his shirt he took off as a small concession. He didn’t let JK touch him much during sex, didn’t let him touch his cock or give in when JK offered his thighs to fuck.
NJ shook his head and said, “Ah, I’ll just get my mess everywhere, we shouldn’t.”
JK didn’t point out that the room already reeked of them, but it made him wonder. Wonder if NJ finds him too spoiled by his princehood. Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. And so forth.
At the end of the day, it makes little difference that the Jeon dynasty has no power in the modern society; they live surrounded by people who treat them as special, so special they must be.
In the outside world, anyone could point out that the emperor has no clothes, but it’s possible that JK isn’t ready for that sort of enlightenment because exceptionality is a core part of his identity.
“In your eyes, hyung, am I still a virgin?” JK asks pensively.
NJ is quiet for a moment. “It’s not – do you want to be?”
“I’m not sure if a virgin would make a very good king,” JK says, letting out a dry chuckle. “I also think that your answer might be different from Prince SJ’s.”
It’s instant, how NJ grips his arm and leans in: “Do not talk about that alpha. Not here, not when you’re like this.”
JK’s arousal builds anew, all-consuming. “Is that an order?”
NJ’s breathing grows ragged. He pulls back, shakes his head.
“Ah, you don’t want to give me orders, don’t want to spoil my virtue because I’m a royal who knows nothing of the real world, and you’d be taking advantage.”
JK reaches a hand to stop NJ from buttoning his shirt, feeling bold and dumb. The alpha’s chest is warm and firm.
“But you also can’t stand the idea of the crown prince courting me, do you? Him being my first?”
A long growl. JK is being mean, unreasonable, but it feels so good.
“I’m not in heat anymore, hyung,” he whispers. “And I’m not a pup anymore, or some artless omega like the crown prince seems to think. I’m going to be king, so I can fuck whoever I want, and yet I’m offering myself to you.”
NJ wraps his arms around him, burying his face in JK’s neck, inhaling his post-heat sweetness at the source.
“Will you give me my first knot, alpha?”
A full-body shiver wracks through NJ’s tall frame, slouched against JK.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” he says brokenly. “Whatever you want.”
JK’s heart aches. His cock does, too.
“It’s not an order,” JK says more softly. “I’m asking because I want it to be you, because it has always belonged to you.”
With the last of his courage, JK grabs NJ’s hand and guides it down to cup his bare mound.
“I know some parts of me will always belong to the crown, but this… it’s all I can offer.”
NJ curses under his breath. The outline of his cock is clearly visible through his slacks;
it looks much bigger than all of JK’s heat toys. Eyes fixed on his prize, JK gets rid of his own shirt and spreads his legs more, every movement controlled and calculated. He knows NJ needs one more push.
“You could even fuck me on my throne,” JK says, voice low. “I’d let you – after the coronation. When I was in ritual garb.”
Strings of beads on his ceremonial headdress, clicking together as NJ thrust into him. Heavy robes parted, hands gripping the sides of the throne.
“Fuck the dynasty?” NJ says, belt buckle clinking.
JK could cry, out of relief or maybe out of fear of it never being enough. He swallows the tears sliding down the back of his throat, not wanting to scare the alpha away when he’s so close to getting what he wants,
and the image of Prince SJ is fading rapidly.
“Please,” JK whines, burying his head in the sheets like a helpless rabbit cowering from a predator.
“Good omega,” NJ approves and grabs JK by the hips.
When JK and NJ emerge from the bedroom, there’s a tray of food presented on the table. Soup and berry crumble with a short note from Prince SJ: ‘My thoughts are with you.’
The paper has been scented; it smells like citrus fruits and sunshine, and JK’s mouth waters unwittingly.
Everything’s falling apart, JK thinks grimly as NJ grabs the tray and rips the note into shreds.
“I’ll talk to the servants and make sure word doesn’t spread,” the alpha says. “The palace is still in lockdown.”
“Okay,” JK says. They’d been so afraid of this very thing, but now that they’ve been caught by two separate people, he feels nothing.
“HS might end me, though,” NJ says with a hollow laugh. “I’m sure he’ll make it painful.”
JK toys with the hem of his silk dressing gown, which is skimpy and only reaches mid-thigh. It’s one of his only omegan garments that survived the purge, and one of the only things he feels pretty in.
“Go wash up,” the alpha continues, glancing at the tray in distaste. “I’ll get rid of all this and get you some proper food.”
“Okay,” JK repeats, reluctant in his movements. NJ nudges him between the shoulder blades.
“Is that an order?” JK asks, flashing a tired smile. He doesn’t feel different now that he’s no longer a virgin, but he wants to sleep for a month, wrapped in the alpha’s scent.
“Yes,” NJ says, kissing the top of JK’s head. “I still have a lingering sense of self-preservation left, which overrides any professional obligation I have to please you.”
JK’s stomach lurches, and he takes one last look at the meal prepared by the crown prince of Corea. The sight makes him want to whine.
The king passes away the next day.
HS brings JK the news, head bowed and expression void of emotion. He asks if JK has any questions about his duties during the mourning period, and JK says that he doesn’t.
First comes the three-day fast.
The court physician, who was good friends with JK’s father and just as traditional in his values, deems JK fit to forgo meals alongside his brother, despite NJ arguing rather convincingly that he’s fresh out of heat and malnourished already.
The mourning is televised and broadcasted all across the country, and JK is made the epicentre of that spectacle: the nation’s future in the hands of a young, grieving omega. NJ tells him the sympathy is good, that the attention on the Chosun crown is as positive as it’s intense.
JK is given white linen clothes to wear, and cameras zoom in on his face as he kneels on the palace courtyard, chanting lamentations, sun blistering his exposed neck.
For all the kingdom has done to modernise itself and to appeal to western sensibilities, the death of a monarch still lies firmly in the domain of tradition.
Which is why JK’s still in his mourning robes in the evening, watching the sunset which paints the sky the colour of pink grapefruit. A bottle of aloe vera gel sits next to his leg, placed there tactically by HS, but JK hasn’t bothered to tend his sunburnt neck yet.
“I think people would buy your sorrow more easily if you cried on camera, Your Majesty.”
JK turns toward the sound, grimacing at the sight of PM Min standing by the door, hair combed off his forehead in the slicked-back style NJ prefers.
JK swings his legs without care, his traditional slippers discarded somewhere.
“How did you get in, Prime Minister? I can’t remember granting you an audience.”
PM Min laughs, surprising JK by sitting down next to him and pushing his legs under the railing to dangle them over the ledge. He looks incredibly young from close up, skin soft and supple and features unmistakably omegan.
“Perhaps you should invest in tighter security,” PM Min quips. “I walked up to the guard at the front gate and said I had important matters to discuss regarding the king’s passing.”
“Was that a lie?” JK asks, eyes narrowed. The omega laughs again, voice raspy as though he’s been drinking whiskey and smoking cigarettes all day.
“It was not. I’m looking forward to work working with you – I’m sure we’ll make a much better team than your father and I ever did.”
“Because I’m and omega and easier to influence?” JK snaps. Picking a fight with Min YG is far from what he needs right now, but he hasn’t eaten in two days, and Jungsik still refuses to talk to him about anything but the weather.
NJ has been avoiding him like the plague, and HS is acting weird because he probably knows about them fucking.
TH has been feeling ill every day and barely leaves his room, and SJ is supposedly taking care of his brother, so JK hasn’t gotten an opportunity to confront the alpha about his courting efforts.
“Do you actually think I only want to use you?” PM Min asks, halting JK’s spiralling train of thoughts.
JK looks at the other omega but doesn’t answer. Fasting has made his body and mind slow, like a reptile exposed to the cold.
“You really don’t like me, huh?” PM Min says, a row of pearly teeth on display. If it weren’t for his lack of prominent canines, he’d almost pass for an alpha.
“JM told me so many times, but I refused to believe him,” PM Min continues, shaking his head. “At least he’ll get a good laugh out of my lack of judgement. He already says I’ve gotten too arrogant with age.”
“I’m tired, Prime Minister,” JK says, tilting his head back and enjoying the cool evening breeze on his skin. “I can’t cry on command, even if the entire nation expects me to, so forgive me for not pretending for your sake, either.”
“Oh no, there’s no need to spare my feelings, Your Majesty,” PM Min says, picking up the aloe gel and snapping the cap open. Despite the formal address, his tone is quite familiar. “You just have to tell me what I can do for you.”
JK watches with mild curiosity as the prime minister pours a generous amount of gel into his palm. His hands are unnaturally big for an omega.
“Let me help you, after all you’ve done for my career simply by existing,” PM Min smiles.
“You don’t have to like me as a person or regard me as anything but a scheming politician – I’m aware that my public image leaves a lot to be desired. But you can’t deny the fact that I’m one of the only people who get shit done in this country.”
In a brief moment of insanity, JK turns his head to expose his nape for PM Min rub aloe gel into his skin.
Being touched feels so good that JK nearly moans. It’s been days since NJ laid a hand on him, sexual or not, and literal years since Jungsik gave him a hug.
“I don’t… I don’t need anything from you,” JK huffs, brows pinched together from the effort to keep still.
“You have to think bigger, JK-ssi. Juridically speaking, you’re already the king.”
JK flinches, cheeks burning as he meets PM Min’s gaze. His given name is soft and intimate in the omega’s mouth, as if he has pronounced it a thousand times before.
Desecration of the crown, his father would call it.
“Crown Prince SJ came to meet me a few days ago,” PM Min says, leaning back to gauge JK’s reaction. Hopefully JK isn’t giving him the satisfaction of one.
“I take it you weren’t aware of this?”
JK shakes his head, touching his neck where his skin is sticky and throbbing. He’s too exhausted to lie.
“I’m sure he thought I had enough on my plate,” he says, lips pursed.
PM Min nods, clicking the bottle cap shut and turning to look at the garden. It’s interesting – the omega had no issues holding eye contact with JK’s father.
“The crown prince came to my office uninvited, only accompanied by his personal bodyguard,” PM Min explains flatly. “He wanted to know if the law could be changed again to allow heirs and ruling monarchs to mate.”
JK’s empty stomach threatens to turn inside out. Luckily PM Min doesn’t stop to wait for his input.
“I told him it was possible, now more so than ever. People don’t mind the idea of omega concubines because it fits their romanticised idea of a strong monarch with a harem of wives at their disposal,
but having an alpha stud impregnate the king, just to produce the next heir is crass and unseemly. A royal consort would appeal to the masses, given that you picked someone suitable.”
Horror washes over JK.
“I don’t – I haven’t agreed to mate Prince SJ, haven’t even accepted his courting gifts. He was well out of line coming to you with this.”
“Perhaps he was. But how do you feel about the prospect in general?” PM Min asks with a faint smile.
JK schools his expression carefully, but his voice still comes out small: “You really think you could pull off something like that?”
PM Min waves his hand to gesture dismissal. “Anything is possible when the society is the right amount of corrupt. You just have to keep the public on your side for now. Meaning, no scandals or accidental pregnancies or mating bites… from princes or commoners.”
Min YG’s eyes narrow into slits, and JK feels like a deer in the headlights, trying not to think about NJ coming inside him, breathing wetly against his neck.
It’s fine, JK thinks, squeezing his thighs together. He was already out of heat when it happened, and his cycle was suppressed.
“You have me now,” PM Min says with conviction, placing his hand on JK’s shoulder to catch his attention.
“JK-ah, look at hyung.”
JK sneers. Who does Min YG think he is?
“If the banmal is supposed to instil trust in me, you’re sorely mistaken.”
“Trust is such a big word,” PM Min says softly. “You just need to know that I’m not like the alphas in your life, I don’t have a stake in the race for your affections. As long as you behave, hyung will take care of the rest. You have my word.”
JK wants to slap Min YG. Wants to hug him.
“What should I do with Prince SJ?” he asks instead.
The omega smiles. “Find out what he really wants. Don’t let him use you without using him back. That’s politics for you, honey.”
In the days leading up to the funeral, JK feels restless. On edge.
NJ lingers in the background like a shadow, unhelpfully unchanged, trying to give JK space he’s not sure he really needs. When asked about it,
NJ (much like PM Min) tells him that they should lie low, at least until the formalities are done with and JK is seated firmly on the Chosun throne, which means that all JK can do is wait for an ambiguous /afterwards/, a time when everything should magically be fixed.
The worst thing is that JK has few arguments up his sleeve because both NJ and PM Min have a point. The exchange of power, however symbolic it may be, is a tumultuous time for any nation, and public opinions tend to grow polarised.
Some support the monarchy because it’s a source of national pride and a testament to the past glory and cultural heyday of the kingdom. Some think that having a monarch projects power to neighbouring territories, uniting everyone under one sigil and one voice.
Some think that the whole dynasty is a fraud and a hindrance to the growth of the country’s GDP, as well as an institution upholding the class divide.
“Your Majesty,” the minister of defence says to catch JK’s attention from across the table.
Minister Lee is a popular critic of the monarchy and a member of a smaller left wing party which is in coalition with PM Min’s party.
Lee’s party is more concerned about economic inequality than subgender rights, but their agendas usually go hand in hand, because more omegas in the workforce is good for business.
“Yes, Minister Lee?” JK asks, forcing a polite smile to his lips.
He doesn’t have anything against the minister personally – he’s just been trying to approach Prince SJ and TH for three consecutive days without luck, and he’s becoming increasingly frustrated and quick to zone out of conversations.
Before, his father would keep him in line during meetings, and NJ would fill him in if he managed to space out at a critical moment. But right now, NJ barely stands to look at him, which makes JK’s inner omega howl in displeasure.
Minister Lee is seated next to PM Min, tapping a pen against her leather-bound notebook. She takes a stern glance at JK and says,
“PM Min has brought into our attention his goal to eradicate some old-fashioned mating rules placed on the reigning monarch and their firstborn pup, and I agree that it would be an opportune moment to reconsider the special status of the royal family.”
JK nods tersely. It’s not a surprise that an anti-monarchist would support the idea of removing anything that makes a king extraordinary in the eyes of the people. If he were to be just like any other omega, his claim to the throne could be questioned more easily.
PM Min warned him about this very thing in the long messages they’ve been sending each other every day. Not because JK likes talking to Min YG or anything like that – it’s just practical to keep each other up to date.
“If the rules were lifted, I assume you’d have a mate candidate already in mind?” Minister Lee continues, smiling encouragingly. She’s never been hesitant to voice things that could get her imprisoned for offending the crown.
Which is probably why she became a part of PM Min’s cabinet.
NJ’s scent spikes behind JK – the first sign of life from the alpha in almost an hour. It’s almost impossible not to turn to look at him.
Luckily the prime minister, who nowadays insists on JK calling him ‘hyung’ for no practical reason, interrupts Minister Lee by whispering something into her ear.
PM Min, or YG, has been the one to pressure JK to talk to Prince SJ about his motives, his messages often accompanied by strings of old people emoticons, but he knows that JK hasn’t had much luck thus far.
Minister Lee drops the subject after YG’s intervention, but JK remains distracted until the end of the meeting, hoping that his eyes aren’t pointing in two separate directions as one of the frail old court officials takes the stage at the pace of a dehydrated snail.
After accepting everyone’s bows, JK exits the room without looking in NJ’s direction (because clearly the alpha doesn’t want to have anything to do with him) and heads for the guest wing of the palace. It’s a hot, humid day, and he’s sweating underneath his alpha clothes.
In one of his messages, JK asked YG if it would be safe for him to revert back to his old wardrobe without public outcry, since ceremonial wear would be the same regardless of his subgender.
YG advised him to wait for a while longer because it would be better to uphold a consistent public image until the funeral and the coronation were dealt with, and the petition to change mating restrictions had picked up steam. Begrudgingly, JK agreed to the plan.
‘There are many powers at play here,’ YG would often write, his tone way too formal for a text message. ‘Chosun has taken the lead in the progressive movement, and Corea is watching our every move. We mustn’t rush this.’
JK pinches the bridge of his nose, YG’s irritating words of advice echoing in his ears. He’s got nearly half of Corea’s royal family under his roof, eating at his table, and yet he’s made no progress in finding out what they’re after.
JK comes across one of the servants who’s in charge of Prince SJ’s comfort. The servant bows, hands neatly clasped at the front of a crisp white apron. HS doesn’t wear an apron, JK muses absent-mindedly.
“Is the crown prince available?” he asks.
The servant looks terrified to be giving bad news once again.
“I’m afraid not, Your Majesty. Only His Royal Highness Prince TH is present.”
JK glances at his wrist watch, a sleek silvery thing he’s started using again instead of the heavy Rolex he got as a birthday present from his father. With that and a pair of cute underwear, he feels almost like himself.
Not that he’s had anyone to show his cute new panties to.
“Can I talk to Prince TH?” JK inquires. He has almost an hour of free time until his next appointment, it’s worth a shot.
// mentions of mpreg
Half a minute later, JK enters the room which has been in Prince TH’s use for the past several days. It’s much smaller than JK’s but has a lovely view of the koi pond which isn’t visible from his own quarters.
TH is sitting cross-legged on the bed, barefoot and dressed in loungewear made of the softest-looking velvet. He doesn’t seem to be wearing a shirt underneath, which leaves a generous glimpse of chest and multiple gold necklaces on display.
TH’s skin looks healthy against the beige fabric and gleaming jewellery, almost as if the omega is glowing from within.
JK stops at the end of the bed, hands awkwardly tucked into his pockets. He inhales to greet the prince, but that very breath catches in his throat.
It’s clear as day; TH has been scent-blocking every time the two of them have met. Oral blockers, multiple layers of Scentaway – JK knows the drill.
It’s so unexpected that JK fails to mask his surprise, and one of TH’s eyebrows cocks in what has to be amusement.
The prince doesn’t avert JK’s gaze or rush to explain the soft, milky undertone in his otherwise clean scent. But even JK, who has led an incredibly sheltered and secluded life, has the same innate sensitivity to TH’s condition as any other omega would.
The prince lifts a hand to his lower belly, flashing a smile that’s equal parts challenging and relaxed.
“I assure you that the pup is Seojoon’s,” TH says with a sharp glint in his eyes. “I’m not romantically interested in my relatives like my brute of a brother is.”
JK fails to laugh at TH’s joke about them being technically cousins. Instead, he slumps to sit at the foot of the bed, on top of an expensive-looking throw blanket that smells soft and powdery.
Next to it, there’s a grey sweater that emits a weak alpha scent. Possibly a scent gift from TH’s lover, smuggled in across the border to soothe the morning sickness of an exiled prince…
TH does’t seem offended by JK entering his nest without consent, but then again, JK is the king now and this is his palace. He’s allowed to go into mild shock wherever he pleases.
JK’s eyes trail over TH’s belly, the slight curve of it beneath the omega’s long fingers. How did he never notice when it was so obvious?
“Now that you know, do you think less of me?” TH asks, wetting his lips.
JK blinks, his instincts yelling at him to do something, to help TH feel more comfortable because that’s what omegas do for each other when someone in the pack is with pup…
He shakes his head, only to realise how it must look to TH who just asked him a question. “Of course not, I’m just – may I ask how it happened?”
“You may, Your Majesty,” TH chuckles dryly. JK almost asks the prince to call him by his name, but he bites his tongue a the last second. TH is not asking to be his friend just because he’s trusting him with this delicate piece of information.
“It was an accident, obviously. I had spent a heat alone at the palace, and I had cabin fever, felt a bit reckless. Seojoon hyung organised a room for us to meet in secret. We fucked a lot, without birth control because my heat was already over, right?”
JK’s stomach sinks at TH’s grin.
“Everything else I told you was the truth. The queen doesn’t know that I’m pregnant – SJ hyung swooped in, bought me a pregnancy test and arranged me a way out of the country. Because I want to keep it, our pup.”
TH’s expression turns somber. “Had I stayed in Corea, my parents would’ve forced me to get an abortion. And then they would’ve thrown Seojoon hyung in jail, or worse.”
“So, are you seeking political asylum in Chosun?” JK guesses. His palms are slippery with sweat,
and his mind is still hung up on the memory of NJ coming inside him, nipping at his neck, asking: how does it feel to be full of alpha’s cum? He remembers how it trickled out, aided by gravity. There was so much of it, right after his heat.
YG told him not to get pregnant, told him to be smart.
TH doesn’t notice his internal meltdown. He scoots closer, and the soothing scent of a pregnant omega blooms stronger in JK’s nose, completely novel and familiar at the same time.
“Yes, I initially intended to seek asylum, but SJ hyung pointed out that it would ruin the diplomatic ties between our countries if you agreed to harbour the rogue prince of an old rival nation.”
TH smacks his lips before adding, “The queen is in good health as well, so waiting for SJ hyung to take over isn’t really an option, either.”
“What then?” JK gasps, trying not to focus on how the mere thought of TH losing his pup is raising his heckles.
His inner omega is urging him to scent TH and build him a safe nest, to shield him from malicious forces with his own body if necessary. Biology is a scary thing.
“Are you considering running away?” JK asks, loudly clearing his throat.
TH tilts his head. “That was one option, but SJ hyung is adamant that he can strengthen our ties to the Chosun crown and give me a reason to spend my time here,
raising my pup where the legislation is more progressive and the Corean authorities can’t reach me without ruffling too many feathers.”
JK feels a little dumb.
“Prince SJ wants to mate me for your sake,” he blurts out. “Not because he’s developed some strange obsession.”
“He does talk about you quite a bit, so I doubt he’s making a huge sacrifice by courting you, Your Highness,” TH says, flashing a brief smile. “But yes, that is his primary motive. He was sure he’d manage to woo you on his own, but then…”
“My father died,” JK completes.
TH lets out a sigh. “The timing of that was unfortunate indeed. And since I know the true nature of your relationship with Advisor Kim, I think you are even less receptive to his advances than he expected.”
JK nods stiffly. There’s no reason in denying anything; he’d only be insulting TH’s intelligence.
“What should I do about your brother?” JK says, not really expecting a proper answer. “Do you think I’ll mate him out of the goodness of my heart?”
TH laughs. “I do think you should at least consider mating him. Do you know why?”
JK shakes his head, defeated. TH places a hand on JK’s thigh and squeezes it through the coarse material of his trousers. Unused to casual affection, JK flinches a little.
“Please consider this,” TH says, refusing to let go of JK’s leg. “You can’t mate Advisor Kim because someone like him wouldn’t be accepted as the royal consort. But you don’t have to lose him, because with SJ hyung, you have bargaining power.
He’ll owe you for saving me, so he can’t prohibit you from dating the advisor if that’s what makes you happy. And while SJ hyung is extremely attracted to you and will invite you to his bed, quite persistently if I know my brother at all,
you don’t have to say yes to any of his requests if you don’t feel like indulging him. You’ll only have to agree to a mating bite and a public ceremony to officiate the union.”
TH looks out the window for a moment, and when he turns back, his expression is even more determined.
“Even if you want to have pups with Advisor Kim in the future, I can persuade hyung to recognise them as his own.”
Without noticing, JK has started shivering uncontrollably. TH is still touching him, petting his leg and shoulder, leaning forward as if to scent him.
“But… but they’re alphas, they would rip each other apart,” JK argues weakly. He can’t stop shaking and shivering.
“I don’t think they would,” TH says. His expression has shifted again; there’s nothing left of the meek omega JK was introduced to when the princes first arrived at the palace.
“SJ hyung got wasted one night, and he told me this: back in university, he used to hook up with Advisor Kim almost every week. Wouldn’t it be funny if in the end, they had to share their omega as well?”
/Kingdom of Corea, 12 years ago/
The university library is quiet apart from the low, steady whir of mechanical ventilation and the occasional flicker of a fluorescent light nearing the end of its life.
On the lower floors that reach three stories deep into the bedrock, every inch of space is utilised by tall bookshelves that move on rails. It’s a depository of knowledge, though not a particularly inviting one at that.
NJ is standing in the dark, dusty space between two shelves, reaching for a book, when someone on the other side starts cranking the shelves together at an alarming speed.
“Excuse me, there’s someone over here,” NJ mutters in irritation, bracing a hand on the shelf that threatens to crush him. He left his backpack in the corridor, so his presence should be obvious.
“Oh, I know,” comes the smooth reply, and Kim SJ peeks his head from behind the shelf. The alpha is wearing rectangular glasses which don’t quite flatter his facial features, but despite that, he manages to look like a supermodel.
“You’ve been ignoring me lately,” SJ pouts.
NJ narrows his eyes, which does nothing to discourage the other alpha. “Not everyone around here is a nepotism baby who doesn’t have to write their own paper if they’re too hungover from partying.”
“It wounds me to be accused of something so immoral,” SJ says, licking his lips. “But really, you’ve been studying hard enough, NJ-ah…”
In a smooth, predatory motion, SJ crowds him deeper into the space that smells like musty, yellowed paper with a hint of mildew. “You oughta relax sometimes, hmm?”
“If you call this relaxing –” NJ huffs, forcing himself to stay still when SJ’s cool finger brushes the highest point of his cheekbone. It’s always been harder for his inner wolf to accept touch from his alpha peers. Even when he wants it.
// oral sex, alpha/alpha
“I can suck you off, if that’s more to your liking,” SJ says, taking his glasses off and shoving them into his pocket without care. He looks breathtakingly handsome like this, sultry as an omega even though his scent clearly suggests otherwise.
NJ hesitates, holding his breath and listening for any footsteps. But the corridor is desolate; it’s rare that anyone treads this deep into the archives. Unless they want to fuck.
“Do you –“ NJ gulps, “do you want to?”
SJ drops to his knees with perfect grace. He’s not submitting, he never submits to NJ even if NJ is technically stronger than him. It’s a part of the non-spoken agreement between them.
SJ likes to claim that he doesn’t mind if others see him as a slut or a weak-willed alpha. He likes to sleep around; mostly because it’s now or never for him, the last years of his youth before royal duties inevitably catch up to him.
Were NJ a better alpha, a better man, he’d respect SJ for being unapologetically himself. But when he has the crown prince of a foreign nation choking on his cock, /gagging for it/, what else is he supposed to think than sick, depraved thoughts?
NJ unzips his fly to take his rapidly hardening cock in his palm, smearing precum all over SJ‘s plush lips. As usual, the prince lets him do it, smirking up at NJ like it’s a fun game they‘re playing.
“Take it,” NJ grunts, though the command in his tone is just as false as SJ’s cooperation. In the end, SJ is in charge of everything that happens – if he wanted, he could bite NJ’s dick clean off and face no repercussions.
SJ sucks him down with challenge in his eyes, cheeks hollowed and nose pressed into the curl of pubic hair at the base of NJ‘s cock. NJ has to bite his own fist to stop himself from yelling out loud. It’s always like this with SJ – abrupt, overwhelming from the first touch.
If NJ was brave enough to place a hand on SJ’s lean throat, he could probably feel the bump of his own cock beneath the alpha’s skin.
NJ throws his head back at the filthy thought, thumping his skull against the edge of the shelf. The pain of it is muted, because NJ is already shaking with forbidden pleasure.
“One of these days… will you let me fuck you?” he asks through clenched teeth.
After bobbing his head up and down a few tantalising times, SJ lets NJ’s cock slip out of his mouth. He curls a tight fist around the base of NJ’s cock, right where his untimely knot is threatening to swell.
“Dunno, you seem like the possessive type,” SJ shrugs, critically eyeing NJ’s spit-shiny cock. “If I let you into my bed, would you try to make me your bitch?”
“Am I really that bad?” NJ asks with a breathy laugh, flexing his hands to shake the urge to grab SJ by the hair and fuck back into the wet heat of his mouth.
“Let’s just say I don’t envy your future mate.” Before NJ can reply, SJ adds, “though I’m also curious what that big cock of yours could do with the right incentive. Maybe I should tie you into the bedposts and ride you like a toy, how about that?”
SJ flicks his tongue against the tip of NJ’s cock, chasing a drop of precum that’s about to roll down his shaft. It’s torture.
“Or maybe I could fuck you instead, show you what you’ve been missing out on all this time.”
It’s embarrassing how close NJ is to popping a knot from a half-hearted blowjob and a few teasing words. He opens his mouth to beg for something, /anything/, but then SJ is taking him to the hilt again, ghosting his fingers on his taint and balls for added stimulation.
The harsh sucks, combined with SJ’s tongue rubbing against the underside of his shaft, is too much too fast – NJ comes without warning, abs tightening and thighs shaking, and SJ keeps his mouth on him even though NJ knows how much he dislikes swallowing.
Once the aftershocks pass and NJ has a hand wrapped around his untended, throbbing knot, SJ stands up to his full height and pins him against the shelves, kissing him hard, forcing NJ to share the taste of himself on another alpha’s tongue.
It’s disgusting and perfect, and NJ can’t help but think that he’s becoming a little addicted.
“Come to my place tonight, Joon-ah, and we can fuck,” SJ breathes into his mouth. “Deal?”
NJ shivers from head to toes and says, “deal, hyung.”
/Kingdom of Chosun, present day/
NJ is lost in thought, facing the window when the door to his office opens and closes with a soft thud.
“You got a minute?”
NJ’s nostrils flare in surprise as he turns around in his office chair. JK’s eyes are dark and pensive, but a soft, almost powder-like scent clings to his skin in direct conflict to his mood, masking his usual berry scent.
“Prince TH is…” JK gestures at himself as he strides over to slip a hand into NJ’s breast pocket and retrieve the Scentaway stick he always carries with him. NJ’s head swims at the proximity, the sheer potency of the scent, but JK doesn’t seem to notice.
“I entered his nest and let him touch me, so I need to get rid of this as quickly as possible,” JK says and props himself to sit on the edge of NJ’s desk. “A few servants know already, but they’ve been paid well to keep quiet until he starts to show.”
JK carefully rubs the product into his wrists and neck, explaining that there’s no time for a shower before his next appointment. NJ can’t breathe properly, so he must be turning all sorts of fun colours.
“Did you know about his condition?” JK asks, looking even more concerned.
“I – didn’t,” NJ admits, clenching his jaw. His mind is racing, giving him all-too-vivid ideas about what it would be like to have that soft, sweet scent coming from JK directly.
“Hmm, it would technically be your job to know these things,” JK quips. “Although I’m glad you haven’t been keeping things from me.”
There’s clearly a hidden meaning to JK’s words, something that’s bothering the omega much more than Prince TH’s surprise pregnancy.
NJ inhales sharply, not knowing what to do with his limbs. He’s barely touched JK since they had sex for the first time, and they haven’t even spent any time alone because NJ no longer trusts his inner wolf not to make poor choices on the behalf of his rational mind.
NJ waits for JK to continue, but when that doesn’t happen, he stands up from his seat to put some space between their bodies. His office is cramped as it is, and JK won’t stop staring.
“I think it’s safe to assume that the sire of Prince TH’s pup is a commoner?” NJ asks to buy himself a moment to think. He feels hot all over.
JK nods sombrely. “He can’t go home without risking the pup being taken away, so he needs a reason to stay in Chosun with his brother.”
“That’s… not going to be easy, given our shaky diplomatic relations with Corea. Things are fine now, but any changes might….”
JK gives NJ an unimpressed look and says, “What if our families were bonded together? Both in the legal and the traditional sense?”
It takes NJ a few seconds too long to arrive at the horrifying conclusion that JK is being dead-serious. Suddenly, SJ’s whirlwind entrance back into his life, his over-the-top courting efforts, it all makes perfect sense.
“Would you really mate Prince SJ over something like this? For diplomacy?” NJ asks in a hollow voice. He hates that he can’t smell JK due to the blockers, can’t gauge the intent behind his words.
JK cocks his head, beautiful and stubborn as ever. Even though he’s still wearing the rigid clothes of an alpha monarch, NJ can detect a hint of rebellious eyeshadow and blusher on his face. It makes him wonder what else JK has sneakily changed about his appearance.
“You tell me, hyung,” JK says coolly. “Since you’re the one who’s been in bed with two crown princes in total and are the world-leading expert on the subject… should I mate him?”
NJ curses his decision to stand up right before the main blow. He staggers backwards and has to grab the edge of the windowsill for support.
“It happened a long time ago,” NJ says, throat constricting. “It was… I wasn’t thinking clearly back then.”
JK nods in acknowledgment. It’s hard to tell if he’s mad or not. “And when did you start thinking clearly, then? Why did you end it?”
“It wasn’t going to lead to anything more than that,” NJ rushes to explain.
“The prince was unable to commit to anything, loyal only to himself. So he pushed me away and I let it happen.” NJ snaps his mouth shut, hoping JK won’t press him for details which would be too embarrassing to share.
“Loyal to himself and to his brother, I suppose,” JK points out. He looks angry now. “After all, he’s willing to enter a possibly loveless union for the rest of his life, just to secure TH a place in this court and keep him in his life.”
NJ stays silent. He can feel the ghost of SJ’s hands and lips on his skin: wet, sloppy kisses, snapping teeth. His carefully repressed memories come back like a tidal wave, but in his imagination,
it’s now JK pinned underneath SJ’s frame, shivering in unexpected pleasure. The two of them would make a beautiful couple.
JK’s expression hardens, and his eye gleam like obsidian. “But he was also willing to manipulate me, play with my feelings as well as yours. But the funny thing is – apparently he fell for me for real.”
“And do you want me to just… accept this and move on as I did with Prince SJ all those years ago? You really want that alpha over me?” NJ knows he sounds like a petulant pup, but it’s hard to control his voice anymore.
JK shakes his head, scowling, hands shoved deep into his pockets. “It might be the simpler option for you, given what I’m about to say, but I’m too selfish to encourage it.”
“Can’t I be that sometimes?” JK says, almost smiling at NJ’s utter lack of poise. “Prince SJ is a jerk, but his brother gave me the green light to use that against him. To play the game like a true politician.”
NJ can barely recognise the JK he knows behind the harsh words. He sounds a lot like PM Min.
“Even if I don’t like it, TH is right about a lot of things,” JK muses. “What if we made a mistake and I got pregnant with your pup? It could’ve happened already for all we know…”
NJ swallows thickly.
“Or what if the law got changed after I rejected Prince SJ, and I had to pick a mate consort out of a line of strangers? Don’t you think they’d eventually walk in on us fucking in my nest, because it’s bound to happen again if you stay at the palace?”
JK shakes his head and adds, “Would you like to deal with SJ or sneak around forever, or would you rather just let me go for good? Because as far as I can see, those are our only real options.”
An explosive headache builds at the base of NJ’s skull.
“You’re being cruel, JK-ah, talking about pups and mates like all those things are minor inconveniences. And now you’re asking me to share you with my ex from university?”
“You have a terrible taste in alphas, but yeah, he’d be my mate in the official sense at least.” JK smiles, but it’s an unhappy smile. “In reality, he would be more like a cuckold husband.”
NJ clenches his fists, staring at JK’s unmarked neck.
“I’m expected to produce a legitimate heir eventually,” JK adds softly. He looks like he’s near tears, but his voice barely wavers.
“And if the public wants me to mate, I’ll have to mate. If they want me single, I’ll stay single. I have no agency over my life, so forgive me for sounding inconsiderate.”
NJ blinks. He wants to hold JK so badly. Wants to scent him, bite him so that SJ will never get the chance.
“Will you talk to him, hyung?” JK asks more quietly. “You can’t keep holding decade-old grudges anymore. We’re way past that point.”
NJ nods, even though he’s pretty sure he’ll just punch SJ in his perfect face the moment the door closes behind them.
“And will you also think about what you want to do?”
NJ exhales, looks away.
“I’ll think about it,” he says.
Young King in Love?
Anonymous sources from the royal palace report that in the midst of the tumultuous transition of power, His Majesty the King has found comfort in the arms of a foreign royal.
The Chosun public, endeared by the king’s romantic escapades, are starting to question the legitimacy of an archaic law which prevents monarchs from taking a mate. PM Min YG comments that he’s ready and willing to take the matter to parliament at an expedited schedule.
“I believe that it’s in everyone’s best interest to deconstruct the myth of a perfectly autonomous monarch. We live in a world where cooperation and empathy are needed more than ever, and I wish to promote those values in my politics,” PM Min states.
In the meantime, the general public of Chosun and Corea is going royal-crazy; internet searches have soared by 630% in the last week, and the upcoming coronation of King JK is only expected to raise public interest further.
Chosun Daily wasn’t able to get a comment from the royal court, but see this [article] listing five tips how to dress like Crown Prince SJ on a budget.
“Who the hell leaked this? Was it you or your brother?”
NJ crowds SJ against the nearest bookshelf and shoves his phone in the prince’s face. SJ has been an elusive little shit, but NJ finally managed to corner him in the royal library.
Which is somewhat ironic, all things considered.
SJ huffs a sharp breath as his back hits something solid. He glances at the headline and then at NJ’s face, his expression unreadable.
“I’m already in the news four days out of seven, I don’t need more attention from the tabloids. And my brother wouldn’t do that to JK, he’s grown rather fond of him.”
NJ sneers, unconvinced. “Do tell me, who else would even have a motive? PM Min? He’s a self-serving prick, but still… I was under the assumption that he was trying to get on JK’s good side.”
SJ tilts his head in what looks to be genuine curiousity. All these years later, the prince remains nearly unchanged. His hair is a little longer and styled on beautiful waves, and his designer clothes fit him like a glove.
“I really don’t know,” SJ says, making no move to push NJ off him. He’d always been good at restraining his alpha instincts. “Though I suppose it could be anyone… a servant, a nosy official, a reporter in disguise even. JK-ie has a lot of adversaries these days.”
JK. JK-ie. It’s disgusting how easily JK’s name rolls off the prince’s tongue. NJ is tempted to revert to his original plan of punching SJ in the mouth and calling it a day.
“NJ-ah,” SJ says in a softer tone, trailing his eyes over NJ’s throat and chest in a way that makes him feel small despite his physical height. “We haven’t seen each other in over a decade, and you want to talk about the yellow press? I’ve missed you.”
“Why?” NJ mutters, baring his teeth just a little. “I thought you made it perfectly clear that you didn’t want anything else from me.”
SJ clicks his tongue. “It had almost slipped my mind just how romantic you were. But no, there’s a difference between wanting things you can’t have and settling for what’s feasible. I didn’t want to break your pure little heart any more than I’d already had.”
“Ah of course, it was an act of mercy on your part –”
“I get why you’re angry with me,” SJ hisses. “But it is my duty to put my family first in everything. TH doesn’t stand a chance of raising his pup on his own, he knows nothing of the real world.
It was nothing personal back then, and it’s not personal now. Just an unfortunate coincidence.”
“You can’t possibly feign selflessness,” NJ says. “There’s something in this for you, too.”
“Obviously,” SJ huffs, finally trying to push past NJ. Their chests brush together, and NJ’s hand flies to the alpha’s arm on instinct. It’s lean but toned.
“JK is pretty and smart, and TH likes him. He’s the perfect mate for me.”
“Even though he’s in love with another alpha?”
JK hasn’t technically said those words to him yet, but in his heart NJ knows it to be true.
“I can live with that,” SJ smiles, raking his eyes down NJ’s torso as if he’s checking him out again.
The prince has always been one to flirt his way out of trouble; once he hooked up with an omega TA to save his grade, just because he didn’t want to deal with the shame of having to call home to ask his family to sort it out for him.
“I have a whole lifetime to turn his head. Or to come to terms with the fact,” he adds.
NJ doesn’t know what to say to that. It’s always been like this with SJ –
when NJ’s angry or sad or in need of reassurance, all of that bounces off the prince as if he’s made of bulletproof glass. It’s both a blessing and a curse because it keeps NJ detached, but it also makes him hungry for validation he’s never going to receive.
“You’ve aged well,” SJ says out of the blue. “You look… sturdy.”
“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” NJ grunts. It’s impossible not to fall into the traps SJ carefully lays on his path, even if he knows they’re right there.
“Oh it’s definitely a compliment. Humour me, have you hooked up with any alphas after me?” SJ’s voice echoes off the walls, way too loud, and NJ looks around in panic.
“I don’t really have time for hookups,” he says to avoid SJ repeating the question. His answer is truthful enough – even if he’d never reveal to SJ the sad number of partners he’s had since leaving university.
Regardless, SJ looks absolutely delighted by the information. “So, JK-ie was more of an occupational hazard, then? How long did you spend pining for him? Was it months? Years? I can see now how you’ve grown so… attached.”
“Hyung, I swear to God –“ NJ slams his palm against SJ’s chest, as if pinning him against the shelving would keep his mouth shut.
“You going to kiss me quiet?” SJ asks, eyebrows raised in overt challenge. “Because I wouldn’t mind.”
“Don’t talk nonsense.”
SJ smiles almost dreamily. “I really missed you, NJ-ah. Missed your moral righteousness and your big cock. Maybe not that in order, though.”
“Shut the hell up,” NJ snaps. Anyone could step in and discover them like this, seconds away from a fight or a fuck. They have a clear precedent for both, so NJ really isn’t sure which one they’re hurtling toward.
“I maybe was foolish enough to think there was something between us, but I’ll do everything in my power to protect JK from replicating my mistake.”
“So noble and so dramatic,” SJ says, placing a hand on NJ’s hip. It’s an intimate kind of touch, something reserved for a lover. But this is nothing, they’re nothing. Whatever feelings NJ might have harboured for SJ in the past were fleeting and irrational.
SJ cups NJ’s jaw and kisses him, hard but close-mouthed, like two alphas kiss when neither is willing to submit. SJ’s lips are soft and pillowy and taste just as good as NJ remembered, but there’s nothing gentle about the way he works his jaw.
And shamefully, NJ lets himself be kissed and held. The way he’s incapable of pushing SJ away would be bad on its own, but then the scent of fresh berries fills his nose.
“I asked you to talk to him, not to make out like insatiable teenagers,” comes a terrifyingly familiar voice.
NJ stumbles backwards, sweaty and disoriented. His glasses have slid down all the way to the tip of his nose.
JK, who against all odds looks just mildly irritated, is wearing a pristine white dress shirt and a pair of slacks that hug the curves of his hips and thighs.
The cut of the clothes is much closer to what he’d wear before he became the crown prince, which inadvertently makes him look younger. More omegan.
SJ seems unfazed by being caught red-handed. He steps to the side, sliding his hands into his pockets.
“He came onto me,” NJ blurts out. It sounds childish to his own ears, and judging by his deepening frown, JK seems to think the same.
“Sure, that’s what he does best,” the omega says before turning to face SJ. “Did you try to steal my alpha or what?”
NJ’s wolf preens, totally uncaring of the fact that he’s in deep, deep trouble.
SJ laughs almost sheepishly, but NJ can’t tell if it’s an act or not. “NJ and I were reminiscing our youth, that’s all.”
For a moment, JK’s eyes flicker from NJ to SJ, as though he’s picturing things.
“I think I like this version of you more, SJ-ssi,” he says eventually. “At least the cat’s out of the bag now.”
“And what a feisty cat it is,” SJ says, glancing at NJ with a strange expression on his repulsively handsome face.
“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about how you acted while I was in heat, though,” JK says. “I don’t trust you unless you give me a reason to. And if I catch you lying to me about anything, including secret rendezvouses with my alpha…”
The threat is left hanging in the air, but right then, it’s clear who’s the king and who a mere prince. The coronation ceremony will be held in a few days, and once more JK’s name will be on the lips of every citizen.
“I won’t, you have my word,” SJ says. “I don’t want any additional press on us before the ceremony, the rumours are running rampant enough.”
“Who do you think tipped off the press?” JK asks, lifting an eyebrow. NJ has never seen him look so jaded and cynical.
“You? Why would you do such a thing?” NJ gasps. SJ is just as tense beside him.
“I wanted some agency,” JK explains, his peaceful expression in stark contrast to the tone of his voice. “I hate the limbo me and NJ hyung exist in right now.”
SJ looks impressed. Maybe a little lovestruck. NJ wants to smack that look right off his face.
“All eyes are on the crown now,” JK continues. “We shan’t miss this chance. YG hyung said that Corea will follow our lead on this matter – we have the upper hand since we’ve established that it’s you who’s courting me.”
“And what if…” NJ says, grimacing as he feels the others’ gazes on him, dark, and anticipatory. “What if I say no, what if I decide to just leave?”
“Then I’ll accept that I lost the bet,” JK says simply. There’s a slight tremor in his voice, but that’s the only indication of emotion NJ can detect. Years of etiquette training have paid off.
“Being stuck with Prince SJ would be less than ideal, but I’d still have TH. And I’d have leverage over my mate.”
NJ blinks, feeling almost embarrassed by his sudden revelation. He never considered the importance of Prince TH – another omega, an ally, a friend JK never had. Of course JK wouldn’t want to lose him.
Still, he has to say something. “You deserve better than the lesser evil, JK-ah.”
“Do I?” JK laughs. “Our life is kind of fucked, don’t you think? You just let my future mate kiss you. Are you going to let him fuck me, too, to make things even?”
The tiniest spark of arousal in JK’s scent sends NJ’s mind reeling. SJ shifts next to him, looking way too excited by the off-hand comment.
“Alphas are the worst,” JK says, waving his hand dismissively. “Maybe I’ll just run off with YG hyung instead.”
The day of the coronation dawns grey and gloomy, austere pillars of clouds forming at the horizon, like a formation of soldiers come to honour the new king.
JK’s robes are heavy and adorned with red and gold accents, and his headdress has strings of beads falling down, dangling at the edge of his vision.
“All done,” HS says, patting JK’s shoulder. “I’ll take you to the courtyard.”
The first part of the ceremony will entail all the officials bowing to him in the palace courtyard. Then, JK will move to the throne room to accept the bows of his inner circle and the prime minister.
“Is my brother going to be there?” JK asks absentmindedly. He’s still gazing at the sky from the open window, tasting rain on his tongue.
“I believe so,” HS says as he helps JK to stand up, guiding him to the door by the arm. The beads sway from side to side, and his robes sweep the floors at every step. “I heard he tried to get NJ to buy him tickets to New Zealand, but NJ talked him down.”
“I think this is hurting his pride,” JK muses, trying to sound unbothered. “He never wanted to be king, but our father still ingrained the idea of alpha superiority into him. It feels all the more real when he has to bow to his omega brother in front of the entire nation.”
“You may be right,” HS agrees, letting go of JK’s arm to open the heavy double doors that lead into the courtyard. From this moment on, every step and gesture will be a part of a carefully planned choreography.
“Good luck, Your Majesty,” HS says.
As the doors swing open, JK has to blink his eyes to adjust to the stark, grey light outside. Everyone is already in positions: rows upon rows of officials wearing traditional robes, drums and horns, huge TV cameras filming everything from the back.
Moving unassisted is difficult, but JK makes it to his seat which is raised slightly above everyone else. When he sits down on the throne, the first droplet of water hits his scarred cheek.
JK catches himself wondering what his father would think, seeing him like this, commanding a huge sea of people.
‘As an omega, you’ll have to work ten times harder to gain respect’, he’d often say. Had JK worked hard enough?
The crowd shifts, kneeling alphas and betas pressing their foreheads to the ground. It won’t matter if it starts raining – these people will allow themselves to get drenched while a servant raises an umbrella to protect JK’s royal head.
“Jeonha,” the crowd murmurs. Your Majesty.
For the first time, JK feels the full weight of the title on his shoulders.
Heavy rain beats on the palace walls and the tiled roofs. YG approaches the throne in slow, catlike steps; his hair is damp and he’s wearing a pale blue hanbok which makes his skin look white as snow. JK watches silently as the omega lowers himself to the floor, face down.
“Rise,” JK says, much too quickly. It’s too vulnerable for an omega to be presenting himself like that in front of others. It makes him nervous.
YG doesn’t comment on the slight etiquette breach, he just goes through the formalities of pledging loyalty to the crown while looking at his own feet. While JK’s seated on the throne, no one is to look him in the eye without permission. Not even the prime minister.
“Congratulations on being courted,” YG adds, lowering his voice into a soft croon. JK feels himself blush because there are still cameras pointed at them.
Though things only get more awkward from there. JK’s brother barely glances in his direction as he goes through the motions of the bow, proving JK’s theory right. Maybe a few years in New Zealand will give him perspective, maybe not. Jungsik isn’t a bad person in JK’s eyes;
he’s suffered plenty as well, growing up in such a dysfunctional family, getting treated like something special just because he was the heir. Selfishly, JK is relieved that his brother is moving away for the foreseeable future.
NJ comes next, accompanied by a handful of other advisors. JK squirms seeing his big, strong alpha on the floor at his feet, the nape of his neck exposed and vulnerable. He likes it even less than seeing YG bow to him.
NJ still hasn’t given his final answer, but when he says that he’s looking forward to serve JK and help him reign wisely and fairly, the words sounds genuine. As if the alpha means every word of the script he’s been handed from above.
He’s always been a terrible liar, JK forces himself to think. He wishes that NJ’s downcast eyes would convey any sort of emotion.
Thankfully, JK doesn’t get to dwell in insecurity for long. Right after the advisors and the commander of the king’s guard have taken their positions at the sides of the throne room, it’s SJ and TH’s turn to greet him on behalf of the Queen of Corea.
TH readies himself to bow first, an encouraging smile on his face which defies all court etiquette. The omega’s movements are graceful despite his state, even if he’s opted for an even looser cut for his clothes this time.
Just as he did with YG, JK orders TH up to his feet almost immediately, listening to the prince’s rehearsed lines about mutual prosperity and cooperation between the two nations. But when SJ steps forward to bow, JK raises his hand in confusion.
“You’re the crown prince, you shouldn’t,” JK says. His neck is starting to ache under the weight of his headdress, and he can feel the contraption tilting to one side, pressing a line into his forehead.
“Oh, but I wish to honour you, Your Majesty,” SJ says smoothly, flashing a tentative smile at the cameras. He’s so good. Too good. The bow leaves JK’s palms tingling, even though he knows the performance isn’t meant for him –
it’s to drive home the fantasy that SJ is a lovesick prince worthy of the nation’s sympathy, and that JK will be forever cherished by him if they’re allowed to mate. People love a narrative of love that defies all odds.
When SJ stands up to his feet and barely averts JK’s gaze, JK has to suppress a laugh. He’s laughing mostly at himself, because perhaps he’s starting to believe in the lie of their own making.
“Your beauty is unmatched, Your Majesty,” SJ says, raising his voice just enough for it to be picked up by the microphones. “Like an untouched meadow under the moonlight.”
“And you are the moon shining favourably upon me,” JK says, arching his neck so that the beads on his headdress clack together. The public will eat it up, the greatest love story of the century.
JK spots NJ who’s standing near the door, fists clenched. Guilt gnaws at his insides like a small animal, but it’s a small prince to pay when he’s doing all of this for the alpha, for TH, for himself.
And now nothing can go wrong, right?
Warnings for the final update:
• nsfw content the scene is intended as consensual (and consent is voiced out loud), but it can be read as mild dub-con due to the instincts at play)
• non-graphic violence
• biting, blood
Breaking News – King JK Engaged to Royal Sweetheart
After weeks of heavy speculation, The Royal Court of Chosun has announced the engagement of His Majesty the King to the Crown Prince of Corea, Prince SJ.
Experts call this a historical shift in the diplomatic relations between the nations, and the union of the two royal families is expected to affect commerce, imports and exports, as well as military budgeting.
PM Min’s cabinet is set to lead Chosun toward a new era of economical stability and national security, though the opposition is raising questions about the implications of becoming more dependent on a country which has trade relations with hostile governments.
In 2022, Corea was the world’s fifth largest exporter of graphite and zinc, but the country is rated below average on food self-sufficiency and corruption.
According to Chosun Daily’s sources, the wedding date has already been set, and the royal lovebirds are eager to become mated in an intimate ceremony.
Read more: MBTI analysis of King JK and Prince SJ’s compatibility – You won’t believe the results!
“I want to be there with young. When you… do it.”
The last words are said in a tone that poorly masks NJ’s distress.
“When we mate?” JK helps, picking on the sleeve of his shirt, which is off-white and billowy, almost like the blouses he used to wear.
Clothes like these used to give him confidence, but under NJ’s desperate gaze, he feels small and stripped bare.
“Wouldn’t it be more painful for you?” JK asks, shaking his head.
“I want to – I need to be there, to make sure he doesn’t hurt you,” NJ insists.
The alpha is wearing a smart three piece suit, and his hair is slicked back in the usual style, but somehow he still manages to look frazzled.
“I see,” JK says, pinching the tip of his tongue between his teeth. A tiny part of him wants to deny NJ this request,
if only to protect his alpha from witnessing the traumatising sight of another wolf’s teeth buried in his omega’s neck. Just having to see JK’s scar afterwards – having to live with it for the rest of his life – would be difficult enough a task.
“You don’t want me there?” Clearly disappointed, NJ slumps against the wall. They’re in the alpha’s office, behind closed doors and closed windows despite the warm, beautiful day outside.
NJ’s office, with its large windows and a warm colour scheme, is a place JK usually finds cosy, but it would be the perfect day for a picnic or a hike in a forest. JK knows that on his rare days off, NJ often hikes in the mountains surrounding the city.
“It’s not that,” JK says, forlorn. “It’s just that I don’t really want to do it, okay? It might be uncomfortable to witness – I might cry and get all upset. Can you really handle that?”
NJ, bless his alpha heart, puffs his chest and says, “I can handle anything.”
JK gives a light, playful swat to the alpha’s chest, even though he’s tempted to pull out his own hair, roots and all.
“I know you can, big guy. But that’s not what I mean, either.”
“And I’m just as serious,” NJ says. “I know my limits, JK-ah, and I know that my alpha won’t ever forgive me if I let you put yourself in such a vulnerable situation without me being there to support you.”
It sounds like a recipe for disaster, but JK can’t exactly tell NJ that. It would hurt his ego, and the alpha’s pride has already endured one too many blows already. JK leans closer to NJ, throat bared in easy submission.
As expected, the alpha takes the bait and dives in, nose tucked into JK’s still-virginal scent gland, inhaling hungrily.
The two of them had sex just a few days ago, in this very office, after YG called JK to tell him that the law was going to pass. NJ took to the news with surprising grace, but that only lasted until they were alone.
NJ locked the door, laid JK across his desk and ate him out until he was a sobbing mess, slick running down his thighs faster than NJ could lick it off. Then, the alpha fucked his half-swollen knot into JK’s twitching heat and broke down crying, too.
HS almost caught them (again) by knocking on the door when NJ was buttoning his shirt in the wrong holes, distracted by the sight of JK lounging on his sturdy mahogany desk like an overgrown house cat,
bare legs dangling off the side, his lilac-coloured silk panties tucked around his knees. As usual, HS didn’t scold them, he just advised NJ to buy more scent cleanser and ran in the opposite direction. Poor beta.
NJ mouths at JK’s scent gland for a few, longing moments before leaning back. His nostrils are flared and eyes a bit glossy, and JK could bet money on that the alpha was also thinking about their recent rendezvous.
”Pretty,” NJ hums, pinching JK’s chin between two fingers. “Why did you have to grow up so well, hmm?”
JK’s heart lurches at the sombre words. The alpha’s scent lingers on his tongue like thick smoke, sinking into every pore and crevice of his skin.
“Sorry about that,” he says, swallowing, making NJ frown and lick his lips.
“Just how sorry?” he asks.
JK lets out a seductive giggle, looping his arms around NJ’s neck in hopes of getting the alpha to pick him up.
Sex, as JK has quickly come to understand, is an omega’s greatest asset.
Exactly one week before the spectacle that will be the public royal wedding, JK wakes up painfully aware of the fact that he’ll be a mated omega before dinnertime.
JK’s nerves are hardly soothed by knowing it was his own idea to separate the two events, even if it’s much better than the alternative of having to submit to SJ in public, with cameras shoved in their faces, SJ’s alpha mother there to witness their union.
Luckily it’s been so many generations since a ruling monarch mated someone that they have the chance to establish their own customs.
YG agreed to JK’s plan but warned him that the public would want to see clear evidence of a mutual bite – a symbol of their mutual devotion.
But now that the day has come, and JK is standing on the door to SJ’s room with NJ looming behind him like a dark cloud, chickening out to have a few more days as an unmated omega has never been more tempting.
“JK-ah, please come in,” SJ says as the door flings open. The alpha is dressed in a forest green shirt and dark slacks, and his hair looks towel-dried. JK doesn’t know why, but he’d expected the prince to wear something more formal to mark the ceremonial nature of the day.
Which is a ridiculous sentiment, considering that JK himself is wearing an oversized sweater with a deep neckline.
“You look well,” SJ continues as JK and NJ just stand there. He’s not actively staring at JK’s exposed neck, but his voice is ever-so-slightly strained.
“You too,” JK says, stepping in with the grace of a lamb led to the slaughter, taking in the room that SJ has called home for far longer than JK expected.
However, there’s nothing about the room that gives away the prolonged nature of his stay.
The bed is wide and comfortable just like the one in TH’s room across the hallway, and the walls are decorated with early 19th century calligraphy pieces that have been framed and carefully preserved.
“NJ-ah,” SJ says, hands on his hips. “Do you intend to stay the whole time?”
NJ’s scent spikes as he cocks his head. It’s not full-blown alpha posturing, but JK still has to put a stop to it.
“He’s going to sit there and watch. And after –” JK swallows the lump in his throat because it’s still embarrassing for him to talk openly about these things.
“He might need to mount me. Or hold me. We can’t know for certain what will happen, so you have to follow our lead.”
“After the mating, do you need me to step out of the room?” SJ asks, his fingers curled into tight fists. “I’m not sure if my alpha can physically handle being apart from you so soon after establishing the bond.”
Somehow, JK had completely overlooked the possibility of SJ being severely affected by their mating. But now that he looks at the alpha, really /looks/, it’s clear that SJ is beyond nervous.
If TH never got himself pregnant, would SJ have ever pursued an omega to mate – or an alpha for that matter?
“You don’t have to leave,” JK says, glancing at NJ for support. “Just – give us some space if possible.”
“Fine, I can do that. Probably.”
JK nods resolutely. ‘Probably’ is the best they can do for now; they’re treading into the unknown by even attempting something like this.
SJ sits down on the edge of the bed, feet firmly planted on the floor. He’s wearing green slippers that match his shirt, and JK is almost endeared by the detail.
The alpha pats one of his slim thighs and says,
“I think it would be the easiest if you sat in my lap. That way I can support you in case you get floaty from the bite. I read online that rapid shifts in headspace are possible in the first minutes after the mating. It’s got something to do with hormones, I think.”
“That sounds a bit unnecessary,” NJ hisses. “Besides, JK is bigger than you – maybe you should sit in his lap instead, little alpha.”
“You said you could handle this,” JK says, fixing NJ with a quick glance that renders him silent.
He walks over to SJ with his head held high, lowering himself across the alpha’s thighs and grabbing his forearm for support. Minimal contact.
Thankfully SJ hasn’t gotten hard, but there’s a gleaming hunger in his eyes, something like triumph. A small tremor of fear runs through JK’s body, and SJ must take notice.
“You’re alright. Show me your throat, pretty,” SJ says – orders, eyes narrowed until JK obeys.
“There we go, what a good boy you are.”
JK’s scent must bloom stronger at the praise because SJ starts cooing low in his throat, placing a hand on the side of JK’s neck to find his fluttering pulse. As SJ’s fingers trace a path down to his gland, small and unassuming still,
NJ grumbles in the background, but JK finds himself entranced by the glint of SJ’s canines, the anticipation of pain. He doesn’t react even as NJ’s growls grow louder, closer –
A pitiful shriek escapes JK’s mouth as his body is abruptly yanked backwards, off SJ’s lap.
JK’s limbs hit the floor with a dull thud, and that is the last thing he hears before his world is shrunk down into muted pain that comes in waves, rippling down his neck, forcing a cry out of his chest – all air, no sound.
Or is it just because JK’s ears are filled with static?
“What the fuck did you just do?” SJ growls over the angry swarm of bees in JK’s ears. “Kim NJ, /what the fuck/ did you do?”
Like a marionette with its strings cut, JK slumps into a heap on the floor, clutching the side of his neck, his fingers touching something hot and wet.
The only thing JK knows for certain is that his scent gland has somehow caught on fire; he forces himself to blindly crawl forward in an attempt to escape the sensation, to evade the white-hot flames.
JK hears the sound of skin hitting skin, followed by an alpha snarl that makes his heart skip a beat. It’s not directed at him, he hasn’t been bad, has he?
“Submit!” That’s SJ’s voice, distorted by something primal and desperate. JK needs to stop this before the situation spirals further out of control –
NJ’s pained groan catches JK’s attention, and his eyes finally focus on the sight of the two alphas wrestling on the floor, throwing weak punches, legs kicking at the air.
SJ rears his head with another growl and goes in for the jugular – no, worse.
Everything grinds to a halt as NJ lets out a cry which tapers off into a pained moan. SJ rips his teeth from the alpha’s neck, panting harshly, spitting out stringy globs of blood and saliva.
“I didn’t – he /made/ me do it,” SJ utters in what can only be disbelief, staring down at the red mark on NJ’s neck. NJ is whimpering quietly, stunned into submission as his body fails to process what has happened.
“Did you seriously just mate my alpha?” JK screams. The buzzing has stopped, replaced by a horrifying sense of clarity: the balance is uneven. JK’s teeth and gums ache with the need to set things right.
“Stay still,” he orders, crawling over to SJ and straddling his thighs. The alpha’s eyes are wild, his mouth red with blood. NJ’s blood.
JK sneers, and SJ cowers.
If he wanted, he could fight JK off, could force him into submission just because he’s an alpha.
But he doesn’t even try.
“Good boy,” JK spits out. His tongue is too-thick in his mouth, and his teeth throb in sync with his heart.
The picture before him is almost beautiful – SJ arching his long, elegant neck, eyes wide like the eye of a storm.
JK bites him without hesitation, fast and snake-like, and the alpha’s arms wrap around his shoulders as he howls in pain.
And just so, all their careful planning is undone.
JK can feel that SJ is hard now, shuddering in pain and arousal as he comes down from the high of the bite, his cock pressing against JK’s backside.
“Don’t you dare,” JK hisses, even though his omega wants nothing more than to ride SJ’s knot like a toy while pressing a hand on his bloodied throat, making SJ his bitch.
But it’s not that simple.
JK belongs to NJ, who belongs to SJ. Three-way bonds aren’t unheard of, but they’re volatile in nature. Unpredictable.
JK lets out a needy noise as he feels himself slick up, the pain in his scent gland trickling down his neck, twisting on tight coils of arousal once it reaches his groin.
JK starts pushing himself off SJ’s lap even though it physically hurts him to do so, half hoping that the alpha would stop him. SJ just stares at him, slowly licking the traces of blood off his lips.
NJ, who has recovered enough to sit up, shuffles closer to latch his mouth onto JK’s bite, soothing the ache with long licks, taunting the other alpha. He’s all hard muscle, hard cock, plastered against JK’s back.
My alpha, JK’s hindbrain supplies helpfully. NJ got to him first, did what had to be done to prove his worth. JK hums in keen approval as NJ starts pulling his trousers off right in front of SJ.
“Need to be inside my mate,” NJ says, pressing a hard kiss to JK’s temple, probably leaving a smear of blood on his skin.
“Yeah, come on,” JK slurs. He’s never craved NJ quite like this; his cock, his mouth, /his mind/.
“You’re my mate, too,” SJ shoots back. He lunges forward to grasp at NJ’s hair, desperate for any form of physical contact. Still, his grip is loose enough that NJ can continue undressing JK:
his trousers and socks, his bloodied sweater. Even the pastel yellow panties that made NJ nearly pass out the first time he saw them.
“On your stomach, baby. Good omega,” NJ praises as JK flops down onto his elbows, utterly shameless about the fact that SJ can see his wet, swollen sex that clenches around nothing, a trickle of slick tickling the head of his cock as it drips to the floor between his legs.
NJ fumbles with his belt and fly, head thrown back as SJ kisses the underside of his jaw, murmuring something JK can’t hear.
JK can already feel the bond setting in like a stroke drawn with permanent ink, tying him to the two alphas that converse in hushed tones, regarding him with open lust.
A wolf can only mate once, everyone knows this. No matter what, JK will always be bonded to SJ, mated to him through their bond with NJ, but JK will always be NJ’s omega.
And maybe that’s what matters.
“Please, alpha,” JK breathes out, spreading his thighs, failing to feel shame as more slick drips to the floor.
“Please what?” NJ huffs, rubbing the head of his cock between JK’s folds.
“Please, I’m yours.”
“Yes, you are,” NJ agrees harshly, snapping his hips.
JK has to muffle his whines into his palm as NJ fucks him with the vigour of an alpha mounting his newly claimed omega, all the while SJ urges him on, gripping the back of NJ’s neck to guide his thrusts.
JK knows he won’t last long, clamping down on NJ’s cock to milk a premature knot out of the alpha.
“Going to come,” JK warns the alphas – his alphas, wantonly arching his back.
“Go ahead, pretty,” SJ answers in NJ’s stead. A quick glance over his shoulder confirms that NJ has gone mute, a thick vein bulging at his temple.
“Can I help you come, please?” SJ pleads.
JK considers it – as much as he can with NJ’s cock pistoning in and out of him, fingers leaving bruises over the arch of his hips. He knows SJ won’t push him if he says no.
“Fine, okay,” he says after a pause, pushing his face into his folded arms and lifting his hips higher to give SJ access to his neglected cock. He expects a fumbling touch, unrefined but good enough because he’s already so turned on,
but the moment SJ’s fingers curl around the wet head of his cock, giving it a few teasing flicks, JK’s thighs spasm with the force of his orgasm, his release gushing all over SJ’s fingers.
If JK were more coherent, he’d find it insulting how quickly SJ found the right buttons to push, but for now he can’t do more than watch in part shock, part intrigue as SJ licks his release off his fingers, humming contently.
The alpha is still rock hard in his trousers, but the only stimulation he’s granted himself this whole time are a couple haphazard squeezes over his bulge – as if he’s saving himself for JK, should he ever accept the alpha in his bed.
Scary as it is, the idea of holding SJ’s knot hostage until he behaves and proves his value pleases JK’s omega greatly.
But then NJ pops his knot and JK is distracted once more, squirming in acute overstimulation, which SJ soothes by combing a hand through JK’s hair.
“You must feel so full, sweetheart. Our NJ-ie has such a big knot,” SJ coos, and JK can only agree with a shaky nod. Whatever jealousy he would’ve felt before, is dampened by the bond.
Once the alpha’s hips still and his breathing evens out, it’s almost serene for a moment.
For a very short moment, that is.
A hesitant knock on the door had NJ growling quietly and SJ puffing out his chest.
“Hyung, are you done with the thing?” TH’s voice comes from the other side, slightly muffled.
“I just got a call from Seojoon hyung, he’s boarding a train right now! Can I please go to the train station if I promise to wear sunglasses and a hat? Please?”
The exasperated groan SJ lets out almost makes JK laugh.
YG is feeling sore and sullen when his stupid phone rings for the thousandth time today. He’s too old for this shit; being an omega, running a country, whatever.
It was the worst idea ever to let JM knot him for “stress relief purposes”, because now there’s a gross damp spot in his underwear, and his inner omega is pissy about letting another perfectly good knotting pass by without exchanging mating bites.
Every day YG must suffer his wolf rudely disregarding the fact that he doesn’t believe in such archaic nonsense. Even JM is better at keeping his wolf in check, and that’s saying something.
“Min YG speaking, please make it quick,” YG says without glancing at the caller ID. He pins the phone between his ear and shoulder while fumbling with the strap of his wristwatch.
“Hyung,” comes JK’s breathy voice. Has the little king been crying?
“What is it?” YG asks, trying to think nice, empathetic thoughts, even though any complications this close to the wedding could mean not only YG’s plans falling through, but also a serious, irreparable rift forming between Chosun and Corea.
It’s cool, everything is cool.
“You can tell hyung, I’m alone in my office,” YG says, sitting down on the corner of his desk. Just in case.
“Please for the love of lamb skewers, tell me that NJ didn’t manage to knock you up already.”
JK lets out a laugh that sounds almost convincing. “Stop speaking so crudely, I could throw you in a dungeon.”
“Hmm, please spare me Your Majesty,” YG chuckles. “At least tell me if it’s better or worse.”
“Both. Neither.” JK draws a breath. “I’m mated to Prince SJ now.”
YG nods, even though JK can’t see his face. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m… it’s going to be an adjustment. But I think I’ll be okay.”
“I’m sorry, I know this isn’t ideal by any means,” YG says, pinching the bridge of his nose. What if he and JM really got mated? Would anyone take him seriously anymore? Could he be happy, existing that way?
“You’re so brave, JK-ah,” YG continues, feeling oddly emotional. “Hyung is so proud of you…”
“Uh, I wasn’t finished yet,” JK says. “We had to make a tiny – alteration to the original plan.”
“What do you mean by /alteration/?” YG’s voice rises in pitch, and JK gulps.
Oh, it’s bad. YG can visualise himself lying in a coffin, his opponents laughing at the ruins of his political career.
“Jeon JK, do I need to come over there to rip someone’s canines out?”
“Don’t Jeon JK me, I’m your king.”
“A brat is what you are,” YG says, beyond thankful about his decision to sit down. He wonders if JM is still in his office at the end of the hall – if YG could sneak in and ask the alpha to fuck him stupid again. Being in his right mind doesn’t sound appealing to him at all.
“So, you’re okay?” YG forces himself to ask, already dialling JM’s number on the office landline. If he won’t get to punch entitled alphas in the mouth, making JM hobble around with a sore, broken knot will be the next best thing.
JK hums softly. “TH’s actor boyfriend is crossing the border tonight, and NJ hyung just called the border guard so they’ll know to give him VIP treatment. I was thinking that Seojoon could attend the wedding because TH won’t be able to hide his pregnancy for much longer anyway.”
“That’s fine. Better to deal with the backlash while people are still distracted by you and the prince,” YG says, mourning the ten years that just got knocked off his lifespan. “Have a good evening, Your Majesty.”
“You too, Prime Minister.”
// the end.
Thank you so much for reading! I’m curious to hear if you have any thoughts on the ending or headcanons about what might happen next Also, if you’re interested in reading more from me, please feel free to check out my pinned for other threads and AO3 fics.
// Omega prince JK becomes first in line to the throne after a constitutional amendment devised by the country’s progressive omega-lead government. Under the new law, the firstborn pup of any sex and subgender will be considered the legitimate heir.