"I got my—" he cuts himself off when he realizes there isn't any talking subtly over this deafening music, so he leans towards the man until he's next to his ear. "My fucking rut."

It takes him a bit to take it in. A couple of seconds before he's struck with Taehyung's scent, that deep musk only making it so much worse. Smells of fresh cut wood and morning dew. Sharp and wet, just like the line of his jaw, the sweat trickling down his neck. Jimin shouldn't technically be stirred by this, he shouldn't want to nuzzle Taehyung's skin, to inhale all that rough salt and lick it clean.

But he does. He really wants to, more than anything."