Chapter 5: Hoodie Hazard
The world tilted.
Donghae’s hands were under his thighs, solid and sure, lifting him as if he weighed nothing. Hyukjae instinctively wrapped his legs around Donghae’s waist, anchoring himself to the solid warmth of him. Their kiss broke for a gasping second, then crashed back together. It was all heat and clumsy, desperate need—teeth clashing, shared breath, the overwhelming scent of each other filling lungs, erasing thought.
Donghae took two strides toward the bed, his focus entirely on the omega in his arms, on the taste of his mouth.
He didn’t see the gray hoodie.
His foot caught in the bunched fabric. A stumble. A sharp, startled grunt from Donghae. The room lurched sideways.
They fell.
Not with grace, but with a soft, heavy thump onto the mattress, bouncing once. Hyukjae landed on his back, Donghae landing half on top of him, one arm braced at the last second to keep from crushing him completely. The breath left Hyukjae’s lungs in a soft oof.
For a heartbeat, there was stunned silence. Then Hyukjae’s brain processed the absurdity. The perfect, intense, Alpha-moment, ruined by his own messy floor.
A snort escaped him. Then a giggle, high and slightly unhinged.
Donghae blinked down at him, his dark eyes wide with surprise. The fierce possessiveness from moments before morphed into confusion, then into a dawning, soft amusement. A huff of laughter, warm against Hyukjae’s cheek, rumbled from his chest.
“Your floor,” Donghae stated, as if diagnosing a tactical hazard.
“It’s a system,” Hyukjae wheezed, laughter shaking his frame. “The hoodies… they’re like landmines for unwelcome visitors. Or… or overly enthusiastic ones.”
Donghae lowered himself fully, resting his weight on his forearms, his body caging Hyukjae’s. The laughter between them faded, but the ease remained, a new, fragile bridge over the chasm of frantic desire. Donghae’s gaze traced Hyukjae’s face—the flushed cheeks, the damp eyes from laughter, the smile that was now freely given, not hidden.
“You’re beautiful,” Donghae said, the words simple and devastatingly sincere.
Hyukjae’s breath hitched. The heat was still there, a persistent thrum beneath his skin, but it was layered now with something else. A dizzying warmth that started in his chest. He reached up, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from Donghae’s forehead. The gesture was intimate, domestic. It felt more daring than the kiss.
“You’re here,” Hyukjae whispered back, as if just realizing it.
“I am.” Donghae dipped his head, nuzzling the side of Hyukjae’s neck, inhaling deeply. The growl was back, but quieter now, a contented purr. “And you’re in heat. A bad one, from the feel of it.”
A shiver of purely physical want arced through Hyukjae at the mention of it. He arched his neck, baring more skin. “The suppressants…”
“I know.” Donghae placed a soft, closed-mouth kiss against his scent gland. “I’m not upset anymore. I’m… I’m here.” He repeated the words like a vow, or maybe an anchor to his own self-control. “What do you need, Hyukjae?”
The question shocked him. In the swirling mess of his fantasies, it had never been a question. It was always a inevitability, a savage, romanticized claiming. This quiet, present asking was infinitely more real. More terrifying.
“I don’t… I don’t know,” Hyukjae admitted, his voice small. “It… it just hurts. And feels empty. And you smell so good it makes my head spin.”
Donghae exhaled shakily. “I can help. Without… without crossing that line. If you want me to.” His jaw was tight, the offer clearly costing him. “Or I can call someone. A doctor. A friend.”
No. The word was instant, visceral. The thought of Donghae leaving, of someone else’s sterile scent in this room, was worse than the ache. Hyukjae shook his head, his fingers curling into the fabric of Donghae’s shirt. “Stay. Please. Just… stay.”
“Okay.” Donghae shifted, rolling them carefully until Hyukjae was curled on his side, his back to Donghae’s chest. He pulled the rumpled duvet over them. Then he wrapped his arms around Hyukjae, holding him firmly, snugly. It was a shelter. His nose rested against the back of Hyukjae’s neck, not to tease, but to let his scent envelop the omega. “Breathe with me.”
It was grounding. The solid wall of Donghae behind him, the slow, deliberate rise and fall of his chest against Hyukjae’s back. The heat was still a wild thing inside him, but the sharp, panicked edges began to blur. The empty ache was soothed by the press of another body, by the unyielding circle of those arms.
“The heart emojis,” Hyukjae mumbled after a long while, the words slurred with exhaustion and the beginnings of relief.
“Hmm?”
“I meant them. Every single one.”
He felt Donghae’s smile against his skin. “I know.”
“Even the one after you emailed the building notice about not flushing sanitary wipes.”
A soft chuckle. “Especially that one.”
Hyukjae smiled into the pillow. His body still hummed, a low current of need. It wasn't over. But for now, the Alpha was here. He’d tripped over a hoodie for him. He was holding him through the storm. It was more than Hyukjae had ever let himself hope for. He drifted, not into sleep, but into a hazy, scent-soaked peace, listening to the dual rhythm of their breathing and the defeated whir of the fan that had, for once, been outmatched.