the first time it happened no one expected it. least of all jeongin, who was yet to even have his first heat after presenting. minho's pre-rut had barely even started and yet jeongin lost himself immediately, a wet mess, babbling and senseless as he begged for minho's knot until he couldn't talk anymore. the muzzle was a necessary investment. it's been years now, and he's never been able to overcome his instincts. only for minho, though. no other alpha affects him the same way.
a warning text goes out in the group chat as they're preparing to head to the company building and jeongin insists to chan that he'll be fine, it doesn't even matter, he's got a better handle of it now, he's got his nasal spray, and chan nods and hums and packs Jeongin's muzzle in his bag anyway. they get in and minho has two scent patches on but jeongin is unfocused in half an hour and hazy after that and they call for a break and jeongin goes to nuzzle right into minho's side on the couch even though he's sweaty - maybe because he's sweaty - and the thing is minho never pushes him away. just coos at their maknae and pats a hand over his head and lets him stay buried against him, chest heaving like he can't catch his breath. they resume dancing. jeongin keeps shaking his head, slapping his cheeks, red to his ears and stumbling. they all know better now than to draw attention to him like this, but it's a matter of time. minho's scent slips out a little more the way it always does. changbin, scent even, asks if he wants his collar to help regulate, and jeongin is delayed in shaking his head. bewildered like the words don't register. jeongin slips when the music resumes, legs folding under him, and minho is the first one at his side like he's teleported across the room. jeongin is flushed head to toe, lips parted, a quiet whine bubbling in his throat, absolutely scent drunk. he goes for minho's neck but he's too uncoordinated like this, too easy for minho to subdue, even as jeongin whimpers and his scent leaks steadily. jeongin snaps his jaws at his wrist, and minho gives him two fingers to bite down on. it's not enough, it's never enough, but it's enough for chan to cross the room and come back with his muzzle and collar. changbin and jisung help hold jeongin down as minho scents the collar, securing it around his neck and over his scent glands, and jeongin weakly thrashes his head as minho fits the muzzle over his mouth. it's for his own good, minho reminds him, soft. changbin and jisung release him and jeongin lurches up, warbling, promising to be good, he'll be good, it's fine, words slurred. the metal of the muzzle is cold against minho's neck as jeongin tries uselessly to press in close, tears welling in his eyes, pawing at minho's chest and arms. minho can smell himself. can smell jeongin's arousal. he thinks that's worse, because it means everyone else can too, and minho's self restraint only stretches so far. he's in pre-rut, after all.
they get an early mark. only when they're alone does minho remove the collar, letting jeongin's scent flow uninhibited, and when he peels off his scent patches jeongin is worked up almost feral, drooling and begging and pleading. the muzzle has to stay on while they fuck, or else jeongin will try to bite him, and they learned the hard way keeping him face down doesn't work. still, minho fits his jaw over jeongin's scent glands. he doesn't bite down, though he wants to. even when jeongin begs him too.