Part 2

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Warnings:

previous warnings will continue to apply
mentions of slick, detailed displays of rut + heat effects

*̩̩̥˚̩͙⚛ ͙*̩̩̥˚̩͙

Minho blinked slowly, swallowing as he opened the door just slightly more. His bare, toned chest and abdomen were on full display as he stepped into the opening, still staring at the younger while holding the door. His herbal scent was... extremely pronounced. Much more so than Jisung had experienced the few days prior. Nothing he could have imagined in his bed would even come close to the overpowering sensation of having it fill his nostrils, coating his senses entirely.

Minho is in a rut.

"Why- you're... you smell like..." Minho's eyes seemed to be fighting an all-out war as he processed everything. They would switch from slow, heavy blinking, to quickly fluttering as Minho inhaled almost painfully.

"The smell. The fucking vanilla in this building. That's you. The other day it was you. Now it's you, again." He closed his mouth and swallowed. He genuinely considered slamming the door out of pure frustration, but he couldn't just leave Jisung in the hallway in his obvious condition. Everything about the custard-like scent had been taunting him for two full days, permeating the walls of the building and throwing him into an unexpected rut, which had not happened before. They were always on schedule.

Jisung looked back at him, slowly regaining the ability to respond as he tried to fight unfamiliar urges from the pheromones the alpha was probably unknowingly emitting. This was a dangerous place to be. Alphas in rut were the absolute biggest danger to any omega- considering that society couldn't care less what happened to the minority, and alphas were known to take advantage of that.

The younger shook his head, exhaling deeply against the enveloping scent as he said, "Not me." Stronger. Say it with more confidence. Act like an alpha. Be a fucking alpha. "Why are you in my apartment?" He kept trying to say more, ask more, but repeating his earlier question was the best that he could manage. He almost felt like he was high, breathing in exactly what his body was currently begging for more of.

Minho seemed to be in a similar state. He was struggling to speak properly, and his body was moving weirdly. Jisung wanted to run, but at the same time, he wanted Minho to fucking pounce on him- take him and give Jisung the relief he so badly craved. His scent was fucking addicting, and Jisung was wrestling with himself over his compulsive desires and conflicting thoughts.

Minho slowly raised one hand, pointing to the number above his door. 393. "My apartment."

Jisung had pressed floor 39 instead of 40.

Minho lived directly underneath him, and he had never noticed.

He wasn't allowed much time to process that as the elevator dinged loudly, signaling that residents were about to exit. Minho's eyes widened further and after swiftly glancing towards the elevator doors, he instinctively stepped forward to grab Jisung's wrists, yanking him inside and shutting the door quickly. Jisung dropped the envelope on the floor of Minho's apartment and he raised his eyebrows in surprise as his back hit the sturdy wood behind him. The pacing of his breathing picked up as he looked up at Minho, standing just slightly above him.

The older had already let go of Jisung's wrist, planting both of his own parallel against the door on either side of the boy's head, forcing his internal struggle to grow further. Minho was directly fighting against every natural instinct in his body, trembling just slightly as he tried to regain composure until Jisung's voice spoke up, shaky and small.

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