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Jungkook has adjusted the sleeves of his wedding robes six times in the last ten minutes. He’s paced the length of the hall a similar amount of times. His witnesses, pack council members Namjoon and Seokjin are quietly laughing at his nervousness.
“Leave him alone,” Yoongi grumbles when he returns with the ceremony candles, “It’s not every day you get mated.” He shoots them a hard look, “Let alone mated to a stranger—you two can’t relate.”
Seokjin curls his arm protectively around his omega’s side, who dimples up at Yoongi.
“It’s a little funny, though. He’s worried because the attendants won’t let him see his husband.” Namjoon sells him out just like that.
Yoongi turns to Jungkook who wants to shrink into the floor, “I’m sure no matter what he looks like he’ll be a good mate, Jungkook. He comes from a very reputable temple—the pack is sure to approve of him”
“What if he doesn’t like me?” Jungkook says in a small voice. He couldn’t care less if his omega is pretty—do they really think he’s so shallow?
Yoongi smiles sympathetically at his worries and tucks his bangs behind his ear, “Look at you, who wouldn’t like you?”
The officiant peeks his head into their vestibule and nods at the party. Namjoon and Seokjin get to their feet and look at him expectantly.
“It’s time, Jungkook.”
“Right.” He takes a deep breath and adjusts his sleeve one last time, “Let’s do it. The hard part.”
“Oh believe me,” Seokjin says, shaking his head, “This is not the hard part.”
The hard part he’s referring to, of course, comes after the wedding. The wedding night.
The wedding ceremony is simple enough; Jungkook stands before the pack elders and council and he and his mate recite the vows of their pack.
His mate comes to him veiled and in shapeless wedding robes—meant to emphasize the fact that as the chief’s son he mates for the soul, for the future of the pack. It can’t be about shallow preferences or selfish desires.
Jungkook has learned to put those aside ever since his father named him the heir.
The only thing he knows about his mate is his voice, which is definitely beautiful and surprising. It’s low, with a melodic edge that makes music of the vows. It makes Jungkook lean in to listen, drawn in to the gravity in spite of himself.
“I, Park Jimin of the Temple of the Winter Rose, Do pledge myself to Jeon Jungkook of the Western Jeon Pack in the morning as the evening, in the peace and the pain, for all of my days.”
The only part of his mate he gets to see is his throat—bared at the end of the ceremony as the two of them leave their mating bites on each other. He’s treated to a column of smooth, pale skin that it’s far too easy to spiral into less than innocent fantasies when he dutifully sinks his teeth into the juncture of his neck and shoulder. His omega’s scent is floral, and lovely, spiking when he draws back from leaving his mark.
He is required to close his eyes and turn away as Jimin fumbles with the veil and beyond that, has to hold back a sigh when he feels his omega’s teeth dig into his neck.
And it’s done.
Just like that.
Seokjin was right, definitely not the hard part.
Somewhat in a daze, Jungkook is led to the mating hall, to the ceremonial pallet of furs, the attendants bringing him wine for courage. He tries to steel himself for what comes now.
The other pack alphas have already started crowding into the round cabin; ritual as old as the bloodline ascendancy itself. In order to determine the clan leaders’ bloodline isn’t becoming “weak” the other pack alphas will witness the first mating. If they aren’t satisfied by how he takes his mate there might be uprisings or mutinies. It is their right to challenge his leadership if they find fault with him tonight.
He spares a thought to his omega—Jimin— he reminds himself, remembering the mellow voice that had spoken their vows. He wonders if he’ll understand the implications of this first night; if his companions will have explained their packs’ expectations.
Public mating isn’t a super widely-practiced ritual—most packs leaving it at the pack formally putting them into their marriage bed and departing.
He’s wondered it all along but now he becomes consumed with what his omega looks like. The veil and the robes still far outweighing the enticing curve of his neck where Jungkook had placed the mating bite. So much of Jimin is still a mystery.
And he’s about to disrobe in front of half of the pack.
It’ll be the first time they see each other—all of each other.
The eyes of the pack alphas feel even heavier.
He is conscious of this and doesn’t drink too fast and keeps his arms tucked close so no one can see the tremor that’s come over his hands. All at once it’s too much—too many expectations—why did his father think he could handle this? He’s too young, too inexperienced.
Jungkook thinks back to the many hookups his friends had had casually growing up and almost groans at the foolish romantic he stubbornly remained: claiming to always be “saving himself” for his true mate.
Maybe if he had been a little wilder like Hoseok or Taehyung he wouldn’t be so scared right now. The two alpha friends are towards the outside of the room; not high enough ranked or mated to warrant a front row seat but that’s probably for the best, he thinks. The whole thing is beyond surreal.
He’s antsy, and sweaty when Jimin finally appears.
His scent heralds his arrival; sweet honeysuckle and heady jasmine filling the tent and all but erasing the jumble of alpha scents.
Everyone quiets down at his entrance, too, and after the crowd parts Jungkook can see why.
Jimin is unveiled and out of the bulky wedding robes. He’s down to a simple shift and dressing gown, pulled tight with a gauzy sash.
And he is stunning.
More beautiful by far than Jungkook dared to hope for—the kind of omega they write stories in praise of. The kind of ethereal beauty packs go to war for.
His face is delicately symmetrical, with hooded eyes and sharp cheekbones. His stare would be highly uncharacteristic of omegas if not for the full, luscious lips softening his look. His hair is a little long, strands swept back off his forehead and so dark and shiny the black seems nearly blue in the lights. His body is still somewhat a mystery but there’s curves under there apparent even through the layers. Jungkook’s throat feels dry.
Jimin’s cloistering and protected upbringing starts making a lot more sense to Jungkook.
And he can tell the pack agrees. There’s some murmuring and an uptick in alpha pheromones as Jimin gracefully strolls to the center of the room. He seems much less affected by this whole process than Jungkook, who by contrast knows that he must be frozen in place, open bewilderment all across his face.
It’s only when Jimin gets within a few feet that Jungkook can see the unnatural paleness to his face and neck, how tight his jaw is, and the way his eyes dart around the room at all the intimidating alpha presence.
Of course he is nervous too, just like Jungkook he has never known another touch.
That realization makes Jungkook feel a little better, but he’s still not entirely sure he’ll live through this. His stare catches on the bite so stark on Jimin’s pale neck. It matches his own, two fresh marks of binding on otherwise unblemished skin.
He sets aside his wine and rises to greet his omega, holding out his hand to help him step onto the pallet. Jimin’s fingers are cool on his wrist and small, so much smaller than his own. He raises the wrist to his face to scent his omega for the first time.
He hopes Jimin can’t feel him tremble. He’s not entirely sure how much of it is sheer terror at what they’re about to do or whether it’s Jimin’s intoxicating scent making him weak at the knees.
Jimin’s robe is embroidered with delicate silver thread in the flowers of his homeland, denoting the temple he was sent from. Jungkook wants to ask about it, wants to sip wine and just be young and nervous around each other.
Not fuck in front of the pack and all his potential rival chiefs.
Because this has to make a statement. How assured he is, how well he does with this thing will be— to many of the pack—a determinant of how well he will rule.
Jungkook is still not sure how this proves how well he manages supplies for winter or strategizes for battle or leads hunting parties but he has no say in the matter.
As it has been; so shall it be done.
Evidently Jimin knows what is expected of him because he drops to the floor in a supplicant bow as soon as Jungkook releases him.
“My lord,” Jimin hums, and tilts his face up to him from where he’s settled on his knees.
It’s an intoxicating angle, and the pack agrees with a few scattered hisses of appreciation.
A rush of possessiveness floods Jungkook’s belly—like he knows it’s intended to—to keep Jimin from all these prying eyes.
And he can…after tonight.
“My mate,” he acknowledges after he becomes aware that everyone is waiting on him. He holds out his hand again and Jimin uses it to rise fluidly to his feet and up into Jungkook’s space, no more than a few inches of air between them.
Jungkook nearly chokes on his breath and has to take a step or two back. It would look bad, unmanly, except that it’s necessary for the next part of the ceremony.
Jimin pushes his sleeves up out of the way and takes a deep breath. Jungkook has only caught a second or two of eye contact out of the omega this whole time but he doesn’t point it out or force it; as difficult as this is for him it must be a hundred times harder for Jimin.
This is not his pack; these are not his customs.
The room is unnaturally quiet as Jimin tugs at his sash, the fabric rustle almost deafening in the heavy silence. The omega must undress; this is how it’s done.
But as Jungkook watches shaky hands fumble with the difficult knots— probably tied too tight by nervous attendants— he’s coming up with several compelling arguments for why this whole practice needs to die.
He can practically feel his omega’s discomfort and it’s already compelling him to do something to put a stop to it. Their bond will only grow the longer they are mated, but mere minutes into this and he already wants to take care of Jimin, shield him from unpleasantness—even at the hands of his own customs.
Jimin gets the dressing gown open and shrugs out of it slowly, eyes on the floor. As the fabric pools at his feet the lights shine down on the shift he’s wearing underneath—exposing the nearly transparent fabric.
Jungkook might swallow his tongue.
Jimin gathers up the shift, bunching it up and lifting until the garment is over his head and discarded on the floor. There’s an indrawn gasp from the room and Jungkook must agree. Jimin finally looks up when he hears the room’s reaction and Jungkook finds himself making brief eye contact.
There’s a humiliated blush spreading down Jimin’s neck and Jungkook can feel his own face burning, so he knows he must match. Two desperately embarrassed pups trying to pretend themselves wolves.
Jimin is too beautiful; there’s no way Jungkook can do this.
His body is sculptural, no other way to describe it. Jungkook wonders how many of The Winter Rose’s temples statues have been modeled after this body. Long legs, slender waist and generous hips—Jimin is such a disturbing mix of sensually lithe and thick and muscular. The definition in his body belying his omega nature while his curves undulate and pull him in—pinging that part of his brain that reminds him his alpha purpose is to breed.
The alpha arousal in the room is no longer a mere suggestion, scents spiking and so strong Jimin looks like he might suffocate on them. And Jungkook knows his is exactly the same, the sheer visual power this omega possesses hitting his libido like a lead pipe.
There’s no way he’s going to be allowed to touch this—no way Jimin would give himself to one such as Jungkook.
Evidently Jungkook is wrong, because, after shifting embarrassed from foot to foot, Jimin decides to continue the ceremony. He reaches forward for Jungkook and he can’t help himself, he catches Jimin’s hand with his own and draws the omega to him—wide-eyed and devastatingly naked, smelling like the concept of fertility itself.
“You’re beautiful.” He whispers. Not that it matters to lower his voice in a room so singularly focused.
Everyone will hear him anyway. He wonders briefly if it’ll be seen as soft or weak but decides he’s merely stating facts and they can’t fault him too much for that.
Jimin’s mouth twitches in the barest approximation of a smile, but he still mostly looks nervous.
Jungkook wishes he could have apologized, maybe explained. Wishes he could’ve told Jimin this isn’t how he wants to do their first time—the way he’s going to have to be tonight to make his people think he’s strong. Undoubtedly someone has already told Jimin but Jungkook wishes on a personal level that he could’ve been the one to look in his mate’s eyes and say he was sorry for subjecting him to this. That he was sorry Jimin was mated to the chief’s son and therefore sometimes they couldn’t do things the way he wanted.
But instead of all that, he swallows and guides Jimin’s hand down to his own sash. He moves the ceremony forward.
“Will you undress your alpha?”
He knows the specific wording isn’t phrased as a question but this is as close as he’ll be able to get to giving Jimin a clue about how he really feels about this whole thing.
Jimin notes the change to the script with a little tilt of his head, and a nod, like maybe he understands all of this.
“Yes.”
His hands are more sure with Jungkook’s belt than his own, working the knots loose and tugging it free. Jungkook has to focus very hard on not growling when Jimin’s knuckles accidentally brush his growing erection while he’s pulling the sash off.
The omega blinks fast when he realizes what he just ran into and there’s an endearing flush of color to his cheeks that denotes a fresh wave of embarrassment. Jimin doesn’t appear to be the type to shrink away from it, however, and merely chews on his lip as he’s tugging open Jungkook’s robe.
Jimin crouches down and gathers up the material of Jungkook’s shift just like he did for his own, and by now Jungkook’s arousal is obvious to the entire room—he finds that if he just focuses on Jimin he doesn’t have to think too hard about the implications of this.
It takes Jimin a tug or two over his chest and some help from Jungkook but then he’s bare, just like his omega. And it’s Jimin’s turn to take a step back and get the measure of him.
Jungkook knows what he looks like but it’s still a relief to his ego when Jimin tracks up his body with wide eyes. The omega shivers, clutching Jungkook’s shift tight to his chest for just a second before discarding it on the pallet.
There’s a few titters from the room but mostly their focus is on Jimin. And Jungkook knows he has to lay his claim and do it now, and well, or by tomorrow he’ll likely be dead and Jimin taken for some other’s bed.
“You will give yourself to your alpha now.”
No making changes in the script anymore; he can’t afford to mess this up.
Jimin’s gaze is surprisingly steady when he looks up into Jungkook’s eyes.
“I will.”
He lays a heavy hand on Jimin’s shoulder to coax him back to his knees. Jimin sinks slowly, elegantly, his only betrayal of discomfort in the hard swallow and bob of his throat as he casts his eyes and his knees to the floor.
With all eyes on them he circles to stand behind his omega. Jimin bows his head and spreads his thighs on the furs, waiting like he knows he must. There’s audible groans from the audience of hormonal alphas, so keyed up just from watching.
The picture is too much for Jungkook who drops to his knees behind him carelessly and gives in to his desires to touch. He drapes his bigger frame over the omega and skims feverish hands up his sides.
Jimin gasps at his touch and Jungkook knows his eagerness must be rough—must be scary to the omega but he can’t temper it in front of an audience as volatile as this.
His body fits around Jimin’s so well—hard muscled where the omega is silky soft—the planes and valleys of their frames matching like there might be something to that notion of destiny or providence.
Whatever, Jungkook thinks, unable to keep himself from nipping at Jimin’s ear—sucking it into his mouth and nearly blanking out with lust at the whine he gets in response. These questions of better intentions and romantic love will have to wait. He laves his tongue over Jimin’s mating bite and the omega gives him such a gift.
“A-alpha, please—“
The room murmurs in approval and were Jungkook still cataloguing their judgements of his prowess he would be elated. As it is, his wolf nearly goes feral at the title falling unbidden from his mate’s lips.
He flattens his palm between Jimin’s shoulder blades and leans into him, pressing the omega’s upper body down into the furs. Jimin takes the suggestion, albeit with very unsteady breathing and a full-body tremor at the assertion of Jungkook’s dominance.
It’s too good of a view.
Jungkook’s wolf takes the reins entirely and he growls, loud, sending the first row of watching alphas unconsciously backwards and Jimins thighs to spread further apart, opening himself up to him.
Jungkook presses flush against him immediately, grinding his hard cock into the back of the omega’s thigh, nipping at the nape of his neck to get some of that sweetness between his teeth. He’s full and thick where his arousal is pressed to Jimin’s body—practically throbbing and he wonders how much of that the omega can feel.
Evidently enough of it, as Jimin responds to his touch with a moan. And evidently Jungkook has no shy scared omega for his mate because it’s followed by Jimin rolling his hips back against Jungkook like he’s asking to be wrecked.
And right now, like this, Jungkook is more than ready to do what he asks.
He leans back and gets a hand on either of Jimin’s plump ass cheeks so he can spread them and growl again at the slick already dripping from his omega’s hole. It’s shiny, under the lights and smells so good, so intoxicating, Jungkook can’t help himself and dives down for a taste.
Jimin keens, high and breathy at the first swipe of his tongue and oh, yeah, Jungkook wants to replicate that noise over and over again.
Jungkook prods at his omega’s entrance with his tongue and gets a sexy little wiggle back against his face, encouraging him to go deeper. The other alpha scents in the room are driving him half-mad, like it was lunacy to think he wouldn’t be able to perform with all these alphas watching. All he wants to do is make Jimin scream, make him shake and cry and beg for him so everyone in the room knows he belongs to Jungkook and Jungkook alone.
Let them watch, he thinks, wolf vicious in how it’s urging him forward, let them all see how he’s mine, mine, mine.
Jimin is gripping the furs too tightly, twisting them between desperate fingers. His lack of patience is reflected in Jungkook and he knows it’s in both of their interests to get this over with.
He pulls back and catches his breath, tongue lethargic and chin shiny with the heady evidence of his omega’s arousal. Forgetting himself entirely, he grips himself at the base of his cock and directs it to rub just over Jimin’s entrance, getting slick kind of all over the place.
Jimin hiccups and squirms at the blunt, aggressive touch.
Jungkook can’t help a hiss, “Ah, fuck—“
Jimin arches his back, either deliberately or unconsciously provocative and Jungkook has to agree with the sentiment—he needs to be inside his mate NOW.
His head swims with the possibilities, of fucking and breeding this beautiful omega—knotting him and knocking him up with their pups. A lot of mates can’t achieve a knot the first time they mate, but the way he’s feeling…if he can do that there won’t be any doubt that he’s fulfilled his end of this ritual.
Jimin’s warning he’s about to push in comes in the form on a hand on his hip, squeezing firmly but not painfully as Jungkook lines himself up. He’s big, he knows, alpha biology blessing him with anatomy characteristic of his frame and hormones—so it’s no ego to realize he’s going to be a lot for his omega to take.
With that in mind he tries to take it slow, ease Jimin into taking his cock. But when he get past that first ring of muscle and hears Jimin’s punched out sob and feels that deliriously tight-hot-WET enveloping him; his self control gives out entirely and he pitches forward over Jimin’s back. His teeth sink into his skin right over the mating bite and stretches Jimin open over his cock until his hips are pressed hard against Jimin’s ass—sheathing him in his mate entirely.
Jimin writhes and twists in the pallet, undoubtedly struggling with the extreme stretch and fullness of Jungkook’s cock.
“Ah—alpha! P-please—“ Jimin’s words dissolve into labored breathing and tense muscles.
Jungkook’s wolf—now completely running the show—doesn’t like that. His omega needs to submit to him completely—needs to let him take and ruin and claim. His bite digs in a little deeper and Jimin yelps.
Jungkook growls again. Low this time, and personal, it has the desired effect and Jimin’s muscles relax one by one, letting him melt back down into the furs. His fists loosen their death grip until he’s lying with his palms flat on the furs—as good of a symbol as any that he’s trusting Jungkook with this.
So Jungkook pulls out a little only to grind back in deep.
And, oh.
Oh wow.
A few more tentative thrusts confirms it.
He’s never going to want to do anything else.
He knows immediately there’s never going to be anything that can compare to this right here, being totally and completely intimate with Jimin. His clan will be lucky if they can get him out of this bed long enough to eat, let alone rule. He’s going to spend every waking hour with this beautiful man.
He breaks off from his bite with a groan, licking up Jimin’s neck to try and comfort him.
“So good, such a good omega.” He whispers right in Jimin’s ear, voice unsteady. “Want to make you feel this good too, baby, you take it so well.”
And that’s definitely too soft for this public ritual but he needed to say it.
Jimin moans, and there might be some garbled version of his name in there but it’s broken up into gibberish as Jungkook starts rocking into him purposefully, rutting as wave after wave of sensation chases him deeper into the omega.
His knees chafe against the rug but it’s not nearly enough to give up this position, draped over Jimin’s back, hands sliding down the back of Jimin’s arms, holding him down and wrapping his whole frame around his mate. He does eventually shift back but it’s only to pick up the tempo and get a heart-stopping eyeful of the way Jimin draws him in. The stretch of Jimin around his cock, the tremble in his omega’s thighs every time he hits that spot deep inside him.
It’s mesmerizing.
Jungkook feels like he’s in a trance, reaching out to grip Jimin’s hips and start properly slamming into him. The more aggressive and faster paced he takes it—the more he can feel dizzying heat growing in his belly.
Jimin’s initial difficulty and discomfort seems to have fallen away. The omega is vocalizing so beautifully in time with Jungkook’s thrusts, pushing himself back to meet them and letting himself be manhandled by the bigger alpha. Jimin is made for this; made to be sweaty and needy and filled—completely filled—by Jungkook’s cock.
Made to be bred—Jungkook can’t help the spiraling thoughts as he slams his cock into his beautiful mate over and over again. Made to be pumped full of cum, hanging off his knot. Knocked up with litter after litter of Jungkook’s pups, belly swollen and body bringing life into the world.
This direction of fantasy has his knot forming, swelling almost alarmingly quickly and catching every couple of thrusts on Jimin’s rim.
Jungkook himself can’t keep quiet anymore, openly moaning as he begins to chase that high, knot thumping against Jimin’s hole, begging to let him plug the omega up and fill him.
Jimin takes it all so well, apparently sensing the impending end—maybe another thing his attendants had mentioned or warned him about. He pushes himself up on shaky arms enough to look back over his shoulder at Jungkook.
His mate’s face is flushed and sweaty, several of the hair strands now plastered to his cheeks. His full lips are a revelation—deep red and bitten even more plump, they dominate his face. But it’s his eyes…one look deep into them and Jungkook is a goner.
He groans low and squeezes his eyes shut—shoves his knot inside Jimin just as it pops and the omega screams and convulses below him.
It has to hurt, has to be too much.
Jungkook tries to say that he’s sorry but the first wave of his orgasm hits him and he collapses over his mate, spilling deep inside him. Breathing and drooling seem to be his only available functions while he’s riding this tsunami of pure sensation.
Emptying takes a long time so he coaxes Jimin onto his side, earning a stilted whine when the movement jostles Jungkook’s knot inside him. The omega has gone very quiet, occasional sniffling the only signs of life.
The room has emptied out slowly—obviously the ceremony is complete and the other alphas have accepted the mating. Jungkook tries to breathe deep and even and not worry about what they think.
That’s tomorrow’s problem.
Right now Jimin is his one and only concern.
“Jimin?” He asks when the worst waves have passed and he can focus enough to talk. “Baby?”
“Alpha?” Jimin’s voice sounds a little thin and worn out.
Jungkook smiles and kisses his shoulder, “Jungkook. All that other stuff—that’s just the ceremony you know—“ he’s suddenly nervous.
“Jimin I’m so sorry I know I was rough, and it was a lot, and in front of everyone too I’m—I’m really—“ He babbles, feeling ridiculous trying to apologize while they’re still locked together.
Jimin giggles, interrupting him.
“It was fine—apparently I like it rough.” He twists a little so he can look back at Jungkook, smile turning his face from radiant to incandescent.
Like a star, lit from the inside.
“I was so scared but—not so breakable as people told me I was.” He reaches back for Jungkook’s hand and draws it across his own flat stomach to hold firmly, “I’m glad the ceremony is over, though.”
Jungkook hums in agreement and buries his nose into Jimin’s hair, breathing in that perfect scent. “Next time, next time I’ll be so much better. I’ll make it good for you when it’s just us—when I’m not so nervous.”
“You were nervous, but I think you did okay.” Jimin says, full of humor. He drags Jungkook’s hand down to swipe through wetness on his own lower belly.
“Oh…oh fuck, Jimin…” Jungkook grips his hips tight as this spike of heat in his lower belly prompts another wave of cum to flow into his omega.
Jimin mewls, “There’s so much of it—my alpha is so dirty.”
“You like being full?” Jungkook asks, without meaning to. His sick fantasies slipping out into reality.
“I could be fuller.” Jimin says, coyly, and Jungkook nearly has an aneurysm.
“Jimin…” he growls, “You don’t know what you’re saying.” His knot has finally gone down enough that he can slip out so he does, unable to suppress a helpless groan at the sight of his own release trickling out of his omega’s hole—so used to being filled already it blinks around nothing.
Jimin rolls towards him and he’s caught in that magnetic gaze. “You said we’d do it better.” His tone is almost a pout, with a petulant edge, “You said—“
“I did,” Jungkook affirms, eyes dropping to his mate’s lips before rebounding up to his eyes.
Jimin leans in close, drags a palm down Jungkook’s chest and whispers, “Prove it.”
Perhaps, Jungkook thinks, as he rolls his beautiful mate back into the furs, they might’ve been onto something—those elders and all their talk of destiny.