Work Text:
Kiyoomi has barely taken a step inside Atsumu’s apartment when the door is slammed shut behind him and he’s hurriedly pushed against it. He’s immediately hit with the overpowering scent of an Alpha in rut, and the needy whine that soon slips from Atsumu’s lips tells him everything he needs to know about the state the other is in.
"Aw," Kiyoomi coos at Atsumu as the Alpha presses himself flush against him.
Atsumu’s grip on Kiyoomi’s hips is firm– so much so that it will probably leave bruises on his skin– but Kiyoomi doesn’t complain as the Alpha holds him still and desperately begins to grind his clothed erection against his thigh.
“Alpha needs some help taking care of his rut?” Kiyoomi purrs in the Alpha's ear. All he gets in response is a needy whine.
It’s a rhetorical question, of course; one that may sound demeaning to most Alphas, but at this point of their… beneficial relationship, Kiyoomi knows which buttons to push when Atsumu goes into rut.
Atsumu whines lewdly once more, but when Kiyoomi doesn't give him the badly needed attention, then the Alpha starts to nose his way to the scent gland at the base of his neck– Kiyoomi is wearing a loose-fitting shirt solely for this reason; to give the Alpha easy access to the source of his scent.
For being an Omega, Kiyoomi doesn’t smell sweet. His coconut scent comes off as bland, and sometimes he still wonders what Atsumu finds so entrancing about it– the Alpha has once told him that he loves how sweet his scent becomes when Kiyoomi is particularly pleased, happy or aroused, as the coconut starts to mix with the usually dormant scent of salted caramel.
As the Alpha latches his lips on his gland and starts to suckle on it, all of Kiyoomi’s thoughts leave his head. He bares his neck to Atsumu and finally lets the duffle bag he brought along with him fall on the ground. With his hands now free, Kiyoomi can loosely drape his arms around the other’s neck and start gently playing with his hair.
“Alpha is so needy…” Kiyoomi murmurs, blissfully enjoying the way Atsumu is toying with his gland, wet tongue lapping at it. Kiyoomi shivers when the cold metal of Atsumu’s tongue piercing meets his sensitive gland.
Atsumu's scent flares up, and sweet notes of hazelnut in Atsumu’s scent are overpowered by the smell of toasted coffee. It’s so strong that it stings his nose and clogs his throat. Strangely enough, their scents mix perfectly together– not that Kiyoomi would ever admit it out loud.
“So needy that you’d come in your sweats just by humping my leg, wouldn’t you, Alpha?”
Kiyoomi’s voice is steady when he nags at the Alpha; ignoring the way his own body starts to respond to Atsumu’s rut. His skin is getting hot, his heart beating louder in his ribcage while his own cock stirs to life and his hole clenches around nothing.
Being this flushed against one another, even through the layers of clothing, Kiyoomi can feel Atsumu’s erection jump in its confinement.
To drive his point home, Kiyoomi pulls on the Alpha’s hair– to which Atsumu beautifully responds with a loud whimper and grinding his hips harder against Kiyoomi’s thigh.
“You’re no better than a bitch in heat, aren’t you, Alpha?” He whispers in his ear, kissing the juncture between Atsumu’s jaw and neck, all the way down to Atsumu’s own scent gland– it’s red; bulging from underneath the skin and it throbs between his teeth when he nips at it.
Atsumu’s hips stutter.
Kiyoomi is starting to leak in his underwear, but he ignores the feeling and instead gives all of his attention to Atsumu– who is now unable to keep sucking on his neck and is brokenly moaning out loud instead, wet breath brushing on Kiyoomi’s skin.
“Does it feel good, Alpha?”
Atsumu whimpers, nodding eagerly as his hips start to lose rhythm.
“So good that you’ll pop your knot without even getting your cock wet?” Kiyoomi purrs in the Alpha’s ear.
A hard pull at the Alpha’s hair, a few deliberately slow licks at his enlarged gland, and Atsumu is moaning, loud and lewd, before his breath hitches and his hips still- coming untouched.
Kiyoomi pets Atsumu’s hair while he rides his orgasm out. “Good Alpha,” he whispers, and feels Atsumu’s cock throb, yet again, still in the confinements of his sweats, against his thigh, “such a good Alpha for me.”
He’s still murmuring praises when Atsumu comes down from the high of his pleasure, his body relaxing as if boneless against Kiyoomi’s. It takes Atsumu a few more minutes of Kiyoomi alternating between gently praising him and kissing his gland before his breath evens out and he’s able to look him in the eyes.
Atsumu’s face is a deep shade of red– it’s probably due to his orgasm, but Kiyoomi would also bet he’s embarrassed by the neediness he has shown, which is a shame because Kiyoomi likes how Atsumu turns into an overgrown Alpha pup when in rut.
Atsumu’s hair is plastered to his forehead because of sweat and the rest of it is in no better state than a birds nest; his tank top adheres to his torso like a second skin and, with it being white and made with a thin material, Kiyoomi can’t think of one good reason for which Atsumu had decided to keep it on. It’s useless.
Still, he can quietly appreciate the veiled view of Atsumu’s toned torso and the dark swirls of ink on his hips and sides. Kiyoomi eyes the design– the tattoos follow both of Atsumu’s hip bones down to his pelvis; until they disappear out of sight, hidden by the sweat’s waistband.
Nice view indeed.
Atsumu’s scent sweetens; warm hazelnut blending with toasted coffee again.
Kiyoomi doesn’t acknowledge the change.
“You’re disgusting, Miya,” he says instead.
At least Atsumu has regained a bit of control over himself– his pupils are still dilated and his glands are still bulging and red, but his eyes are more focused. His strong pheromones are still permeating the room, as is to be expected, but the scent itself is a bit softer; less pungent.
“Oi,” the blush on the Alpha’s face deepens, but he gives him a weak, half-hearted, nudge on the stomach to retaliate, “my rut just started, ya know the first few days are the worst!”
Kiyoomi rolls his eyes whilst taking off his shoes, then proceeds to pick back up his duffle bag from the floor and make his way inside Atsumu’s apartment. He hears Atsumu mumble something along the lines of “yer so mean, Omi-Omi.”
The first thing he does is go into the kitchen to check the fridge– he needs to know if he has to quickly run to the grocery store before the worst of Atsumu’s rut hits.
Luckily though, Atsumu’s fridge is stocked full of pre-prepped meals.
Bless Osamu’s soul.
If bad came to worse, Kiyoomi would still be able to leave Atsumu’s apartment, but that doesn’t mean he’d want to, considering he’d have to go around smelling like a horny Alpha in rut. Regardless, it seems that won’t be a problem.
After closing the fridge, just as he’s about to turn around, a pair of arms circle his waist from behind. Atsumu drops his forehead on his shoulder, pressing his still-hard erection against his ass.
“Already?”
Usually, it takes a bit more time for Atsumu to fall back into the rut-induced lust.
Atsumu nods on his shoulder and Kiyoomi huffs. He hoped he’d have time to take out the things he brought with him for his three-to-five-day stay in Atsumu’s apartment before the Alpha needed his full attention again. That doesn’t seem to be the case, considering how hard Atsumu is– he most likely hasn’t gone totally soft in the first place.
He turns around and gives Atsumu a more thorough once-over.
This time he ignores the see-through shirt that leaves little to the imagination and focuses on Atsumu’s gray sweats, which hang low on his hips, completely ruined by the wet stain on them.
Kiyoomi can see the print of his erection on the stained fabric– and the moment his eyes land on Atsumu’s (admittedly nice) dick, Kiyoomi’s scent thickens and he can see it jump in its confinement.
“Let’s take care of that, “ he starts, and Atsumu looks at him like a hopeful pup, “...in the shower.”
Kiyoomi falls on the rather stiff mattress with a huff. He stares at the ceiling as he gasps for air, chest heaving with each breath he takes; panting hard as if he has just run a marathon – he might as well have, because the intense sex they just had left him breathless and with a pleasant ache settling between his legs.
Atsumu can be insatiable during his rut.
A heavy sigh later and the tension in his body ultimately melts, replaced by a deep sense of satisfaction that makes his blood thrum nicely.
Kiyoomi glances at Atsumu, and he finds that the Alpha is already looking at him– Atsumu is laying on his stomach, arms crossed below the pillow his head is resting on. His dyed blond hair has taken a liking to stick to his forehead this past handful of days, and that’s to be expected, but all Kiyoomi can really focus on before quickly diverting his gaze back to the ceiling is that look in Atsumu’s hazel eyes– the same pensive yet soft look the Alpha has been wearing more often around him, and Kiyoomi doesn’t like it.
To divert Atsumu’s attention– and because he can feel slick and cum starting to dry on his skin, which is absolutely disgusting – Kiyoomi grunts displeasedly, “go get a towel.”
They’re both in dire need of a thorough shower, but there is no way he’ll be able to stand so soon– Kiyoomi hates to admit it, even if only to himself, but Atsumu has few talents, and being a good lay is one of them. Hence, a towel will have to do.
Atsumu grunts back at him, and although he complains with a petulant “so bossy…” , he stands up anyway and walks to the bathroom to fetch the demanded towel.
Atsumu, generally speaking, is easy to read– it partially has to do with the fact that the Alpha doesn’t try nor care to hide his thoughts and feelings from anyone. He purposely doesn’t have a brain-to-mouth filter, even at the expense of coming off as a total jerk; but besides that, Atsumu never quite learned how to control his scent. If it weren’t for scent blockers, Atsumu would be stinking every room he has to spend more than five minutes in; considering how quick he is to react to any type of prodding.
As of lately though, Atsumu sports this contemplative look on his face more often than not, and Kiyoomi can’t quite decipher it– which makes him feel incredibly frustrated and, frankly, it also pisses him off.
He sighs and wonders, not for the first time, how the hell he ended up getting involved with Miya Atsumu of all people. Actually, a better question would be: why does he keep coming back to Miya Atsumu? He can only boil it down to the good sex, and the security of having a heat partner he can rely on, but – it's Miya.
He's one of the handfuls of reasons the collegiate volleyball club is as famous as it is today, and sure, turns out he's not the jock Kiyoomi thought he'd be, but still– he's not the kind of Alpha Kiyoomi would go for, not even for an exclusively sexual relationship. Or so he thought.
Somehow, he ended up agreeing to share his heat with Atsumu almost eight months ago– and here he is today. Maybe it's the fact that, even though Atsumu is a jerk, surprisingly enough, he's a respectful and attentive partner. And the sex is good.
Something moist lands on his chest with a splosh – it takes him slightly by surprise, but the wet cloth was drenched in hot water so the sensation on his skin, although unexpected, is not unpleasant. Atsumu has a towel of his own, which he is using to clean himself up like Kiyoomi.
They don’t speak– neither of them is quite vocal at the end of many rounds of rut-induced sex; their throats hoarse for…obvious reasons. Although Kiyoomi suspects Atsumu keeps quiet for Kiyoomi’s sake.
The Alpha has half the mind to open up the windows to air the room before letting himself fall next to Kiyoomi on the bed, face first, and after a few more moments of peaceful silence, Atsumu speaks up.
“When is yer heat comin’ up?”
The glare Kiyoomi sends Atsumu’s way prods the Alpha to quickly add. “Don’t look at me like that, Omi-Kun! I’m just askin’ ‘cause Imma be away next week. Last away game for the season and all that.”
Now that Atsumu mentions it, Kiyoomi does remember his roommate, Akaashi, saying something about an away game. He wasn’t really paying attention, considering that the Beta brought the topic up whilst extensively talking about his boyfriend, Bokuto– who, of course, happens to be one of Atsumu’s teammates.
Don’t get him wrong, he is genuinely happy for his friend, and Kiyoomi does try to listen to Akaashi’s sweet, but endless, rambling about his boyfriend, but there’s only so much fluff Kiyoomi can take in one sitting, so he always ends up tuning out Akaashi’s Bokuto-centered conversations.
Makes sense that he missed the bit where he mentioned the away game.
He hums and nods. “It shouldn’t be due before next month.”
“Next month is in three weeks,” Atsumu points out, stretching his limbs like a cat would, joints cracking.
“Three weeks, next month– it’s the same thing. Our schedules should align regardless of how you want to keep track of time.”
Atsumu rolls his eyes, “here I was, naively thinking I fucked the stress outta ya; hoping ya’d be less grumpy.”
Kiyoomi elbows Atsumu on his side. Atsumu grunts into the sheets and then gets into a more comfortable position.
“When is the game exactly?”
"Friday. We’re leaving late on Wednesday though," Atsumu snuggles into the sheets, "why? Gonna finally show up to one of my games, Omi-Omi?"
"You wish, Miya." he deadpans.
He did attend some of the volleyball team games, because of Akaashi, but he’s not fond of crowds– people scream and cheer too loud (especially those in Miya’s personal fan club; who follow him around at every game, attracted like moths to a light, and they always scream the loudest). In the haste of excitement they push against each other with no regards of who’s sitting next to them, and Kiyoomi gladly does well without attending games.
Nonetheless, even if he did want to go watch a game, why would he choose to go to an away game, of all games?
"Thought ya might be interested," Atsumu mumbles, voice obstructed by the sheets, "we'll play yer friend– that Ushiwaka guy."
"It's Ushijima. Stop pretending you don't know his name." Kiyoomi says not for the first time, "he tells me you're still hostile with him– what did he ever do to you?"
Kiyoomi can smell Atsumu's scent souring– it's a spike that is quickly lost in the clogging smell of their combined sweat from past arousal scents.
"Nothin'." Atsumu changes topics just as quickly as he dissipates his scent. "So. Why are you askin' then?"
“So that I know when I can freely walk the halls without fearing you coming out of nowhere to shout ‘Omi-Omi!’ in my ear,” he uses a higher pitch when he says ‘Omi-Omi’, a poor imitation of Atsumu's tone.
Atsumu didn’t take offense, instead, he chuckles and crawls closer to him, nosing his shoulder. Kiyoomi freezes because they never allowed each other to get close to one another’s neck outside of the pheromone's induced haze. It’s a boundary they both set at the beginning of their beneficial relationship– just in case.
But here Atsumu is, nosing his way from Kiyoomi’s shoulder up to where it meets the neck– right where his gland is. He is stunned because the ghost of Atsumu’s lips on his skin sends shivers down his spine; gives him goosebumps, and what’s worse is– Kiyoomi likes it.
He doesn’t bare his neck to Atsumu, but he does let him nip at his neck; he lets Atsumu’s lips trail soft kisses up his neck, and only when he feels the Alpha’s gentle breathing next to his ear Kiyoomi snaps out of his stillness.
He can see his surprise reflected in Atsumu’s own eyes.
“I’m going to shower,” he states before things get any more awkward. Atsumu clears his throat, wanting to say something, but whatever it is he wants to say, he keeps it to himself– he seems to find the right words just as Kiyoomi is about to close the bathroom door behind him.
“Are ya going to stay tonight?”
Atsumu isn’t in rut anymore. It’s been five days, and he can tell it has definitely subsided. The times Kiyoomi didn’t sleep in his nest are rare, and even rarer are the times when he stayed over after one of Atsumu’s ruts–it’s when both parties involved are more vulnerable to grow attached, and Kiyoomi doesn’t want this arrangement to become messy. The only times he stayed were because the weather didn’t allow him to do otherwise.
“I’m not.”
Kiyoomi can feel his inner Omega scratch at the edge of his consciousness, begging him to stay, but it’s easily ignored, as he doesn’t want to make things complicated between him and Atsumu.
Kiyoomi tries to assess Atsumu’s reaction but considering that the room is still drenched in what’s left of their aroused pheromones, and the fact that he is now further away from the Alpha, Kiyoomi can’t tell if Atsumu’s scent changes at the information– but he can see that his face doesn’t betray anything. Good. It’s better this way.
“I’m gonna pack yer stuff while ya shower, then.”
Kiyoomi nods, and closes the door behind himself.
“We’re going to Onigiri Miya in…” Akaashi trails off to check the time on his wristwatch, “ten minutes.”
“I’m sorry,” Kiyoomi looks up from his textbook to stare, confused, at his roommate, “ we ?”
“Yes, we are going out for dinner because we need– and I quote– ‘some actual, nutritious food and not that instant shit’,” Akaashi flops onto his bed with a sigh. “You and I both know that’s just Osamu’s way of asking to hang out. I have to say, it still baffles me that Osamu is more emotionally constipated than Atsumu.”
Kiyoomi hums, bringing his attention back to the pages in front of him as he twirls the pen between his fingers. “Or,” he mumbles, “that’s his way of saying he needs someone to experiment his new recipes on while his brother is unavailable.”
Although Kiyoomi can’t see his friend’s expression, he can safely bet that the Beta is rolling his eyes at his comment. “You haven’t been around for almost two weeks. Your grumpy presence has been highly missed.”
“I’ve been busy catching up with my assignments, you know that.”
Akaashi sits up, clearly about to say something Kiyoomi won’t like. “Whatever you’re about to say, don’t say it.” All Kiyoomi gets in response is a heavy huff.
“Anyways,” Akaashi begins, “say that you’re right and we are the guinea pigs in this situation…are you perhaps complaining about free food?”
Kiyoomi shuts his book close and carefully places the pen over it. “I’m going to change.”
“That’s what I thought,” Akaashi states, and Kiyoomi sends a glare his way before standing up and walking over to the closet to pick up something quick to throw over himself– he doesn’t dwell on what to wear for long, picking the first sweats he sees and a matching sweatshirt.
Half an hour later, they’re sitting by the counter at Onigiri Miya. It’s a slow night, which is to be expected, considering it's Thursday, and it works to their advantage– it’s probably why Osamu has asked them to come today of all days in the first place: Kiyoomi doesn’t like crowded spaces to begin with and Osamu’s employee can take care of the few customers whilst Osamu himself stays behind the counter.
It turns out, Kiyoomi was right: Osamu did need them as guinea pigs.
“Try these,” Osamu says, sliding a plate with two deliciously looking onigiri, “tell me how you like ‘em.”
Kiyoomi smirks at Akaashi. His friends ignore his ‘I told you so’ look in favor of asking. “What’s in it?”
“Don’t worry, I know you’re not allergic to any of the ingredients, so it’s safe for consumption.” Osamu taps his fingers nervously on the wooden counter, “I thought Onigiri Miya should have at least a vegan option on the menu so I experimented a bit.”
Kiyoomi glances at the Alpha when a whiff of bitter chocolate reaches his nostrils, and true enough, on the other side of the counter, Osamu looks genuinely anxious.
“That’s all I’m going to say about it for now.”
To end Osamu’s suffering, they both pick one onigiri each and bite into it.
It’s unsurprising, really, when his taste buds are hit with an amazing savory flavor. Osamu is expectantly staring at them as they chew on their food, clearly refraining from telling them to hurry up.
“It’s good,” Kiyoomi is the first to speak up, but the comically raised eyebrow tells him Osamu won’t be satisfied with just that, so he is quick to expand on it, “whatever you used to make the filling, it’s very well seasoned and I like its consistency.”
“It’s surprisingly meaty,” Akaashi adds.
Osamu’s shoulders relax, his scent taking on a sweeter almond note, but still, he asks. “Any advice…?”
“None,” Akaashi says, taking another bite of his onigiri, “really though, how did you make this?”
Kiyoomi pays attention to Osamu’s recipe explanation while he takes a more careful bite, trying to study the food to give more accurate feedback which, he knows, Osamu appreciates. “It’s an oyster mushroom with lots of seasoning,” the Alpha summarizes, yet oddly enough, it does remind Kiyoomi of meat– not any particular type of meat, but meat regardless.
“Maybe the mushroom could lose a bit of its moisture,” Kiyoomi points out, “Maybe it won’t help with the tenderness, but I think it’ll help to make it taste less mushroomy.”
“Does it taste mushroomy?” Osamu asks in horror.
Kiyoomi rolls his eyes. “Not much,” Kiyoomi says, “but if you chew on it long enough, it does. You can try squeezing the moisture out of the mushroom before you season it, see what happens.”
Osamu nods, face deep in thought. “Okay, I’ll try. Thanks.”
The Alpha is called by his employee, and he excuses himself. Akaashi and he finish their onigiri in silence– Kiyoomi likes his friendship with Akaashi because of how comfortable it is to just enjoy each other’s presence without necessarily having to speak. Kiyoomi looks around, and he sees that there are only a couple of people left in the shop– they did arrive late, to begin with.
It’s Osamu who snaps him out of his thoughts when he says, “Would you now try the fried not-chicken onigiri? I’ll make your usual order while you taste-test it.”
Of course, they agreed.
The evening flies by, and soon enough Osamu is cleaning up the shop for the night; Kiyoomi is right beside him to help him. They’re idly chatting as they both have something to do behind the counter, while Akaashi is texting— something about Bokuto being out with the rest of the team before the big match tomorrow and needing emotional assistance.
Only when the Beta chuckles, do the two of them direct their attention to him. Just like Kiyoomi, Akaashi usually sports a pretty straight face but this time, as it usually happens with Bokuto-related matters, his lips are stretched in a small smile.
“Ah,” Osamu sighs, almost dramatically, “the purest of lovebirds even from afar.”
Kiyoomi thinks it’s ironic, coming from Osamu– the Alpha doesn’t realize that’s exactly how he also acts whenever Suna is around; which, as far as Kiyoomi is aware, is pretty much always. There are some exceptions; for instance, today is one of those days, because Suna is attending the same away game that Atsumu and Bokuto are. Everyone can see the two Alphas like each other, which always leads Kiyoomi to wonder what’s keeping them from officially being together.
As if reading Kiyoomi’s thoughts, Akaashi replies, “as if you don’t act like that with Suna.”
How Osamu can look so baffled by Akaashi’s statement, Kiyoomi doesn’t know. They’re obvious even to him– and that’s saying something, considering he doesn’t care to try to pick up on other people’s possible crushes.
“What do ya mean?” Osamu’s accent usually slips around Atsumu, or when he wants to start a fight (usually with Atsumu), or, like in this case, when he’s embarrassed.
“Nothing.” Akaashi dismisses. Osamu is perplexed, but he doesn’t push it, and instead reverts the conversation back to Akaashi.
“What got you smilin’ like that, anyways?”
Akaashi hums, and pushes his phone towards them, “look what Hinata posted.”
Akaashi hits play, and the video focuses on Bokuto, who is…a mess. It only takes one drop of alcohol for the spiky-haired Alpha to become an emotional drunk– the kind that goes from sad to exceptionally happy in the span of a blink of an eye; which can certainly make for fun company.
That’s what is happening in Hinata’s video– they’re sitting in a booth, and Bokuto goes from shouting exuberantly “Akaashi is the love of my life, I love him so much!” to crying out desperately, “he’s so perfect, I don’t deserve him.”
When a sour scent hits his nose, Kiyoomi looks up from the screen to look at Osamu. The Alpha is staring at the phone, but Kiyoomi can see he’s staring at a corner of the screen instead of the very center, so he follows Osamu’s gaze.
There, in the background, are Suna and Atsumu dancing on the dancefloor.
Well, dancing might be a bit too generous of a word.
Grinding would be a more fitting term.
Kiyoomi can feel his scent swell, and he’s thankful for the scent patches he decided to wear before going out. He manages to get a hold of his pheromones before they’re able to sneak past the blockers, but he can’t manage to get his eyes off of the two Alphas ‘ dancing’ in the background. The lighting makes it so he can’t tell exactly what’s going on between the two, but they’re close and those are Atsumu’s hands on Suna’s hips.
He finally averts his gaze from Akaashi’s phone, and when he looks at the Beta, there’s an underlying smugness in his apparently straight expression.
“He reminds me of Rapunzel when she steps outside of the tower for the first time,” Kiyoomi says. It comes out exceptionally steady, considering how hot the anger burns through him; heating his blood.
Osamu hums in agreement, although it comes off more as a growl than anything else.
Akaashi pockets his phone, stands up, and goes to tidy the chairs around the dining tables.
Later that night, when Kiyoomi is laying in his bed when his blood is hot no more and the anger subsides, he lets the feeling of hurt and betrayal settle heavily in his stomach.
Kiyoomi spends the following weekend on textbooks. He does not dwell on what he saw in that video– and if late at night he went to Hinata’s Instagram to replay it… well, that’s nobody’s business.
He doesn’t want to be dramatic about it.
So far, he’s been able to be pretty rational about it; knowing full well that he and Atsumu are heat and rut partners; friends with benefits at best. He doesn’t have the right to be upset, especially when he was the one to say: “as long as you’re having safe sexual relationships and you periodically get tested, I don’t care who else you sleep with, Miya.”
If it isn’t the consequences of his own actions… nonetheless, Kiyoomi refuses to be swayed by his irrational feelings. It isn’t easy, but he stubbornly ignores how his stomach writhes in petty jealousy and the insistent angry howls and growls of his (lately restless) inner Omega.
He also silences the memory of Akaashi’s voice reprimanding him. “Not everything has to be logical, you know? You’re allowed to feel.”
Yeah, Kiyoomi is having none of that– not during the day, at least. At night, when he has nothing else to do but stare at the ceiling and overthink, it’s harder to shove his feelings deep down.
Whatever. It’s not like he’s going to do anything about them.
That is, until Monday arrives.
He’s setting up his lab station when he makes eye contact with Miya, who’s walking into the lab. The Alpha smiles at him and then, as the obnoxious flirt he is, he winks at him; sticking his tongue out– it’s a habit of his, and whether it’s a consequence of his oral fixation or because he wants to show off the metal on his tongue, Kiyoomi has no clue.
Annoyance swells within him, and all the emotions he tried so hard to bury over the weekend start to bubble to the surface, but he’s in public, and the lab is about to start, so he averts his gaze without acknowledging him.
It’s not unusual for him to ignore Atsumu’s antics, so his quiet dismissal doesn’t stir any suspicion. In his peripheral vision, he observes Miya settling next to a petite young woman, a smug smirk still intact on Atsumu’s face.
Kiyoomi swallows the annoyed huff that so desperately wants to come out of his lips.
Luckily, the professor soon starts to explain today’s lab experiment – it’s about the permanganate index, something used to assess fresh and drinking water quality, involving the oxidability of potassium permanganate. Kiyoomi pays attention to the lecture, focusing on taking notes on the theory of how this method works and how the experiment is going to proceed, and soon the professor is instructing them to conduct their own experiment.
If Kiyoomi doesn't count the numerous times his eyes glanced at Atsumu against Kiyoomi’s better judgment, the Omega would say everything went rather smoothly; and that the hour passed by quickly, faster than Kiyoomi had expected.
He’s in the midst of writing down his results when someone leans over his station, obscuring the paper he is writing on.
“Uh…” Miya looks perplexed, “I got completely different numbers…”
“You must have done something wrong, then.” Writing the last of his numbers and observations down, Kiyoomi then snaps his notebook close; ready to pack his things and leave for his next lecture.
“Oi, who says I am the one who got the wrong numbers?” A deadpan stare from Kiyoomi and Atsumu easily concedes, “yeah, okay, I probably messed up somewhere…”
The Alpha looks at his papers, lips pushed in a pout, “or we just got different samples.”
With the equipment needed for the experiment already cleaned and neatly placed back in its rightful place, Kiyoomi picks up his bag, puts on his black face mask and then makes his way toward the exit of the room.
Miya follows suit, shouting his goodbyes as he goes– the saccharine, “bye, Yukiyo-chan!” particularly grates on his nerves. He walks faster.
Atsumu is quick to catch up, “what’s yer next lecture, Omi-Omi’?”
“None of your business, Miya,” he states, not sparing Atsumu a glance.
“I’m done with my lectures for the day,” perhaps the Alpha is unphased by his dismissal, or maybe he actively chooses to ignore Kiyoomi’s annoyed tone, deciding it’s best to just give Kiyoomi an insight on his schedule instead, unprompted.
Atsumu is insistent on walking him to his next class, as he has some spare time before he needs to head over to volleyball practice. Kiyoomi needs to change buildings for his next lecture, and as soon as they step outside, Miya takes off his scent patches with a grunt– and that’s when it hits him.
It’s faint but, mingling with Atsumu’s scent, lingers an unmistakable note of spiced rum.
Suna’s scent.
“Ah, finally,” Kiyoomi barely hears Atsumu complain, “I hate these things.”
Kiyoomi tries to reason with himself– Suna and Atsumu are friends, close friends at that, and they must have spent the weekend together, most likely with Osamu and Aran as well, as friends do, but there is that irrational part of him that is clouding his judgment.
Even his unreasonable emotions are in conflict– jealousy is what both of the conflicting feelings battling within him have in common but, in the end, the anger of his inner Omega wins over the hurt of his heart.
Kiyoomi sees red.
His thoughts jump back to that video and, suddenly, the only possible scenario that makes sense in his head is the one where the two Alphas fall into bed together.
He does not burst into a fit of violence; no, he’s not the type, but his expression hardens visibly, mouth twisting in a snarl that can’t be seen due to his mask.
“You stink, Miya.”
It comes out more clipped and seething than he intended and he knew that, if he wasn’t wearing his scent patches, he could have smelled his coconut scent rotting.
Atsumu’s face falls for a second, subtly trying to scent the air.
“Do I?”
Kiyoomi’s only answer is a grunt and Atsumu abruptly stops walking– no longer ignoring Kiyoomi's rudeness.
“Okay, what’s got yer panties in a twist, Omi?" The Alpha is frowning, voice sharp.
Every time he breathes in Atsumu’s scent it feels like a slap to the face; it makes him seethe and flinch at the same time, but he regrets giving in to his anger. He doesn’t want to fight in public. Kiyoomi had ingeniously hoped his slip-up would go unnoticed– he is known to be too blunt for his own good, anyways, but the bite to his words is stronger than usual, and Miya has picked up on that.
Kiyoomi dodges the question and voices the first thing that comes to his mouth.
"I don’t wear panties, Miya, and even if I did, it’s bold of you to assume you had any effect on them." He doesn’t know where these words come from, but he delivers them firmly, tone back to being flat, and hopes it’s enough to distract Atsumu from his slip-up.
“A real shame, if ya ask me.” Atsumu says with a frown, “ya’d look good in panties.” Although he’s still very clearly unconvinced by his behavior, it seems that Atsumu can never pass up on an opportunity to tease him.
To test the waters, Atsumu barrels on.
"Did I have an effect on somethin’ else, then?"
"All you’re doing is grating on my nerves."
The snarky remark would have been perfectly in character of him if he only had delivered it with his usual flat tone, which is what he was aiming for, but instead, Kiyoomi hisses the words through the fabric covering his mouth.
“I like it when ya run that mouth, Omi-Kun’.”
It’s Kiyoomi’s turn to frown because, for one, he didn’t expect Atsumu to murmur those words and, for another, he could see something akin to understanding starting to dawn on Atsumu’s features. Alarm bells starts to ring in his mind, but his Omega is so furious that its anger drowns most of his thoughts.
“Aren’t I always?” Kiyoomi questions, unsure where the conversation is going.
“Indeed,” Atsumu concedes, and he must actually be enjoying Kiyoomi talking back at him because Atsumu’s scent sharpens– although Suna’s spiced rum scent was being overpowered, Kiyoomi could still smell it, and it spurs him on.
He’s talking before he can think twice about his next words. “Do other Omegas, and Alphas apparently, really fall for your obnoxious flirting, or do they just fail to look past that pretty smile of yours?”
It’s a comment a bit out of the blue, but Kiyoomi holds his breath as Atsumu lifts an eyebrow– all uncertainty leaving his features, and an easy smirk replaces the half smile he had just a moment before.
It’s easy to read between those lines– Kiyoomi’s jealousy is poorly veiled.
“So,” Atsumu purrs after a moment of silence, “ ya find my smile pretty?”
Kiyoomi scoffs. He should have seen this coming.
Rolling his eyes, Kiyoomi notices that fewer students are mingling around outside, and he is reminded that he doesn’t have time for this now. He says so to Atsumu, turning his back to him as he resumes walking. Not even two steps later, Atsumu’s words make him stop in his tracks.
“Jealousy doesn’t suit ya, Omi-Kun.”
He turns, and he’s met with Atsumu’s pointed stare. Atsumu’s smirk widens; his pupils dilate– he looks like a predator that has just smelled blood, its eyes now set on its prey, and it takes all of Kiyoomi’s willpower not to lower his gaze; to not give in to his instincts.
“Don’t look at me like that, Omi.” Although he knows the Alpha is spot on, he’d never admit it. “Ya thought I wouldn’t notice?”
“I think your opinion of yourself is entirely too high.” Kiyoomi bites defensively.
Atsumu’s smirk becomes a victorious smile, “who is it?” Atsumu chuckles, amused.
“Who is what?” Kiyoomi asks, confused.
“Who are ya jealous of? Is it Yukiyo-chan?” Just for a moment, Atsumu's expression turns pensive, then his nose twitches, and a mirthful spark lits his eyes. “Or is it Suna?”
Embarrassment swells within him, and he hopes it doesn’t show on his face, even though he can feel heat starting to rise at the back of his neck.
“Neither,” he states, “why would I even be jealous of you?”
Maybe he was a bit too harsh, because Atsumu looks hurt for a second too long, and his genuine smile is replaced by a smaller, weaker one.
“I dunno,” Atsumu whispers, “ya tell me, Kiyoomi.”
Kiyoomi’s heart jumps in his chest. It’s so loud that it’s the only thing he can hear.
He gulps, because even if he were to harbor feelings for Atsumu– which, truthfully, it’s about time he starts to at least admit it to himself– there’s no way he’d just say anything about it now; in the middle of campus, when he has a lecture to attend.
“There is nothing to say.” Kiyoomi whispers back, throat suddenly dry.
Atsumu’s small smile falls.
A minute passes without them saying anything, and at that time, Atsumu’s face slowly starts to contort in anger, and his scent becomes bitter.
"Yet y’er always looking at me when ya believe I am not paying attention." The Alpha seethes through his gritted teeth. He doesn’t give Kiyoomi a chance to negate his statement, barrelling on. “It was ya who asked me to be yer heat partner.”
The meaner part of himself wants to scream that he asked for convenience, but he stops his tongue before it’s too late, because he knows that would really hurt Atsumu.
Still, he can’t help but be defensive, so he scoffs. “Fine. See if I need a heat partner.”
Atsumu is taken aback. “W-what?”
“I won’t need your help for my next heat. I can take care of myself.” Kiyoomi deadpans, and Atsumu fumbles to speak, anger mixing with worry, “Omi, don’t be stupid. Ya suppressed yer last heat because of finals–”
“And?” Kiyoomi interrupts.
“It means yer upcoming one is gonna be worse than it usually is!”
To be fair, Atsumu does look concerned, but it doesn’t stop him from hissing, “if you’re so concerned about getting your knot wet, I’m sure you won’t have any problems finding a willing hole to sink it in.” Kiyoomi surprises even himself with the nastiness of his words. “You can start by asking Suna.”
Atsumu is stunned into silence.
Kiyoomi turns; regret immediately sinking low in his stomach, but when Atsumu calls after him, this time he doesn’t stop.
The Alpha is right– he’s right on many things, but Kiyoomi focuses on the only matter that won’t make him burst into tears at this very moment, and that is the matter of his next heat.
It isn’t ideal, to go through it by himself, but it wouldn't be the first time he spends a bad heat by himself— he can handle it, and he’ll have time to prepare anyway.
He doesn’t have time to prepare.
His heat comes more than a week early, and it hurts.
His body aches; slick drips down onto the sheets – but for all that he’s hurting, all he can think is how stupid he had been. Not for liking Atsumu, per se, but for not wanting to admit it—to himself first and foremost, but also to Atsumu when he had the chance, because what if it’s too late now?
Despite himself, whenever he closes his eyes all he can see is the shadow of Atsumu grinding his hips against Suna’s, wondering if they really slept together that night. His traitorous mind conjures image after image involving the two Alphas after they went back to their hotel room, and none of those scenarios are pure nor platonic in nature. He wants to be able to push away those thoughts, but with his inhibition lowered due to his heat, there is no stopping them now.
Yet another wave of pain rushes through his body and he groans. It feels a lot like his very first heat—no matter how many times he comes, the pain never seems to cease. He has fucked himself on his favorite dildo all day long, and yet that gave him no real satisfaction.
He curls deeper into his nest and tries to breathe through the cramps.
Of course, it does nothing.
Maybe he should call a heat relief phone operator. Perhaps it’d be able to help him out, and maybe, if he’s lucky, it’ll get rid of the images swimming inside his head. Perhaps it’ll help him get rid of the teasing, deep voice rumbling in his mind that undeniably sounds like Atsumu’s voice.
And if he thought he was an asshole to the Alpha the other day…well, Kiyoomi squashes that thought as soon as it forms, as there is no space for anything other than the feeling of betrayal. Which is foolish on so many levels, seeing that he pushed Atsumu away, but it hurts regardless.
When the cramps let out a bit, with the barest hint of resolution in his clouded mind, he picks up his phone. He dutifully ignores the missed calls from Akaashi.
The lack of notifications from Atsumu sting.
He dials the number—it is saved in his contacts, because even though he used to take care of his heat by himself before Atsumu, sometimes he needed some assistance.
It rings just once before a deep, smooth voice picks up. “Hello sweets, how can I help you?”
The low rumble of the unknown Alpha on the other side of the phone sends chills down his body, but not in the way it’s supposed to —no. It feels wrong, the timbre in his voice is wrong, the accents is wrong. Kiyoomi hangs up, hand shaking.
“Damn it.” Kiyoomi hisses, burying his head in his pillow. He was careless, and now he’s paying the price for his behavior.
He rolls on his back and grips the sheets as more slick runs down his thighs, as his vision becomes more blurred and his senses dull, the haze of his heat starting to take over.
It almost feels like his body decided he should have the worst heat since he was a teenager precisely when he had no one to help him through it—some kind of sick twist of fate.
To make things worse, his scent is sickeningly sweet; the usually barely-there notes of caramel drown his bland coconut scent. Sweeter scents are usually more appealing to Alphas– something tells Kiyoomi that this is his inner Omega doing its best to be more alluring to an Alpha that is nowhere near enough to smell him. Kiyoomi finds his own scent rather nauseating.
Kiyoomi spreads his legs and brings two of his fingers to play with himself—it gives him little relief, not nearly as much as it should have. He tries to focus on the digits inside of him, the way they push against his walls; frantically and messily looking for that spot that makes his vision go white. Hopefully that will be enough to make his mind stop thinking about Atsumu.
He’s not that lucky.
The more he works himself open, the more he thinks how Atsumu is much better with his fingers than he is– even when Kiyoomi does find his sweet spot, it’s still not enough to take his mind off of Atsumu. He feels like a stranger in his own body; the pressure of pleasure pooling on his lower stomach as he gasps for air, but in the back of his mind, he feels frustrated.
Frustrated because he’s close. Frustrated because he’s been so blind, and now he has to spend his heat alone.
His body is tense like a crossbow string, thighs shaking as his fingers insistently hit that spot in him– yet he can’t bring himself to orgasm. It’s as unusual as it is maddening. Although unsatisfying, he’s come before earlier this same day– why isn’t his body cooperating now? He’s so close, pleasure swirling low in his guts, that he can feel the sweet taste of release on the tip of his tongue; can smell his arousal in his room, so thick that it’s hard to breathe, but climax won’t come; not even when he brings his free hand to loosely wrap around his cock.
Kiyoomi feels heady, and while chasing his pleasure he misses the muffled sound of gentle knocking on his door. All he can hear are his heavy breathing and his furious heartbeat; but when the gentle knocking becomes insistent banging, Kiyoomi momentarily snaps out of his blind hunt for climax and regains a glimmer of consciousness.
“Omi?” He moans out loud at the sound of Atsumu’s voice. “Omi. Are ya okay?”
His hole clenches around his fingers, and when a whiff of Atsumu’s scent reaches his nostrils, Kiyoomi’s cock throbs, dripping precum on the bed sheets.
“Atsu—” his voice is rough and it’s broken by yet another moan dragged out by his fingers, “Atsumu, please, please…”
Kiyoomi wants so much at this moment, that he doesn’t know what he’s begging Atsumu for– not exactly. He wants Atsumu’s fingers to replace his; he wants Atsumu’s body engulfing him, making him feel small; he wants Atsumu to whisper filthy words in his ears– anything Atsumu is willing to give, Kiyoomi will take.
He just needs to come.
“Damn it Omi, ya should’ve listened to me,” Atsumu growls from the other side of the door, and Kiyoomi shivers. He wants to hear that sound while Atsumu mercilessly fucks into him.
“I can’t come in right now,” Atsumu says, and Kiyoomi, acting needier than he’s ever had, sobs his displeasure; scent souring. “Omi, ya have to understand. Y’er not conscious enough to make decisions at this moment,” Atsumu explains, voice soft, but to Kiyoomi’s hazed mind that sounds like an excuse.
Kiyoomi doesn’t say that out loud– not that he’d have half the mind to at the moment– but he doesn’t need to. Atsumu takes the rotting smell of coconut as a sign to try a different approach.
“Bet y’er picturing my fingers inside of ya instead of yers, aren’t ya?”
Kiyoomi moans, hand picking up on his shaft and fingers pushing deeper inside of him.
“Yeah, ya are.” Atsumu says in a deep rumble, and Kiyoomi can hear the smugness rolling from Atsumu’s tongue, dripping into his tone– it makes his voice sound more appealing.
“Y’er goin’ too fast darlin’,” Atsumu’s voice is smooth and smoky. “Slow down.”
It’s a command, Kiyoomi knows, and he follows it with a cry, setting an easier pace; dragging his fingers with more intent and less franticness.
“That’s better,” Atsumu praises. Kiyoomi’s heart swells with happiness.
“Play with yer nipples now.”
This time, Kiyoomi follows the order with more reluctance.
“We both know ya don’t need to touch yer cock to come.” Atsumu purrs, words holding nothing but a truth.
Kiyoomi touches one of his hardened nubs the way Atsumu would, pinching it and softly thumbing at it– a zap of euphoria rushes through his body, making his body sing and his hole clench hard on his fingers.
“Do ya feel good, darlin’?”
If he closes his eyes, Kiyoomi can pretend the Alpha is murmuring those words in his ears. He nods, even though Atsumu can’t see him. He mumbles a weak yes, but he feels greedy.
”Want you,” he begs, cock dripping on his stomach.
Atsumu croons. “If ya’ll still want me later, ya can have me.”
“I’m so close, so close…” it comes out of Kiyoomi’s lips like a prayer.
“Can ya find that sweet spot of yers for me, Omi?” Atsumu asks, and only when Kiyoomi gasps he continues, “tap on it, darlin’, then press yer thumb on yer perineum.”
It’s easy, the way all the tension is released from his body the moment he stimulates his prostate from both sides— it’s so intense that his moan gets stuck in his throat, and he comes in a silent scream on his stomach.
Kiyoomi lumps onto the bed, chest heaving. He's so spent he can’t move any of his limbs.
He doesn’t know how long he stays limp in his nest; and the jolt of the doorknob is the only warning he gets before Atsumu quietly cracks the door open, peeking inside the room from the narrow opening, as if unsure he’s allowed inside. Kiyoomi’s sight is clearer now; the heat haze subsided after his climax, and he meets Atsumu’s hesitant gaze with his own, nodding to grant the Alpha access to his room.
Atsumu lets out a heavy sigh, probably relieved that Kiyoomi is not pushing him away, and walks over to his bed, where Kiyoomi lays boneless– his nest is a mess, and a flush rises to his cheeks. Kiyoomi is not fond of stereotypical sub-gender behaviors, and he hates that, at this moment, his inner Omega is making him feel embarrassed over such a trivial thing as showing Atsumu the state of disarray his nest is in– he should be more concerned about the fact that Atsumu has just stumbled upon Kiyoomi being needier than ever before, and not whether or not Atsumu finds his nest ugly.
His inner voice, which suspiciously sounds a lot like Akaashi, begs the question: ‘why should you even be concerned about being vulnerable in front of Atsumu?’
In light of recent events, Kiyoomi is rationally inclined to agree.
He wants Atsumu. He cares about Atsumu– and if he wants to make things right, he’ll have to let Atsumu in.
The Alpha is sitting on the edge of his nest, looking at him like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t know where to start– so Kiyoomi rips the bandaid off for him.
“I’m sorry.” It’s barely a whisper, but by the surprised raise of his eyebrows, Kiyoomi can tell that Atsumu has heard him.
After the surprise comes a soft smile, and as if a boulder has just been lifted, Atsumu’s shoulders sag, accompanied by a chuckle.
“After yer heat is over, we’ll talk about it.”
Atsumu starts rummaging through the contents of his volleyball practice bag, which Kiyoomi didn’t even realize Atsumu had with him. “I left practice early. Akaashi showed up and told me yer heat started earlier, so… here,” Atsumu handed him his practice jersey. “It’ll help a bit for the next heat wave. I’ll go check if ya got yer fridge stacked and–”
“You’re not staying?” Kiyoomi interrupts him.
“I am,” Atsumu replies, “someone needs to check on ya, yeah?”
A lump forms in Kiyoomi’s throat. “You’re not going to help me through my heat?”
Atsumu’s lips curve in an unsure grimace, “ya told me ya didn’t want my help for yer next heat. I’ll help in other ways.”
The Alpha stands up, but Kiyoomi stops him, gripping his wrist as if his life depended on it– Atsumu lets out a string of ‘ouch, ouch, ouch’ and sits back down. Only then Kiyoomi loosens his grip. Under his thumb, Kiyoomi can feel the plasticky back of a scent blocker on Atsumu’s inner wrist, and all he wants is to rip it off and snuggle into the source of Atsumu’s coffee and hazelnut scent, but he refrains himself.
“I haven’t had a heat so strong since I first presented.” They have so much to talk about, and he doesn’t like that he has to beg for this kind of help before they sort through all their problems, because then what if Atsumu thinks he only wants to reconcile because he needs a heat partner? But Kiyoomi needs Atsumu. “Help me through it, please.”
“Omi, I can’t— what if— ” Artsumu stammers; body going back to being tense, “what if it’s yer heat talkin’?”
Suddenly, Kiyoomi understands his reluctance. “It’s not my heat talking, it’s me talking.”
“What if when yer heat is over ya realize ya didn’t actually want it? I don’t— that would mean that I— I could never forgive myself if—”
Kiyoomi shouldn’t be surprised, really, that Atsumu is so considerate. The most logical part of him thinks that this level of concern is the bare minimum, and truthfully, it is, but Kiyoomi’s heart warms anyway.
“Atsumu.” The Alpha halts his agitated rumbling, “I’m in heat, not drunk.”
He draws circles on Atsumu’s wrist patch with his thumb, and Atsumu relaxes a bit.
“Look at me.” Kiyoomi firmly commands. “Look at me in the eyes.” Atsumu does, and Kiyoomi lets him search for uncertainty in his lucid gaze. “I am aware of what I’m asking.” He says after a handful of seconds.
“Are you sure…?” Atsumu asks– one last attempt to see if the Omega changes his mind. He doesn’t.
“I am,” Kiyoomi states.“....Are you?” If Atsumu doesn’t want to do it, then, of course, he won’t insist. They stare, unblinking, into one another’s eyes, looking for uncertainty and finding none.
“Yeah,” Atsumu breathes, “I am.”
The silence that follows is a comfortable one, and Kiyoomi relaxes on the mattress wholly while Atsumu makes to hold Kiyoomi’s wrist, starting to thumb at his scent gland the same way Kiyoomi is.
The Omega preens at the attention, beginning to purr into the cushion. Atsumu smiles down at him because the times Kiyoomi let himself purr in front of him were scarce, but now Kiyoomi doesn’t care to restrict his instincts.
“Ya should rest while I sort things out,” he says as he rips all his scent patches off. This time, when Atsumu stands up, Kiyoomi doesn’t stop him.
The Omega nods, the hot flames of his heat thrumming low in his blood for now, and he mindlessly observes as Atsumu exits the room. With the muffled sounds of the Alpha moving around his apartment, and the strong but comforting coffee and hazelnut scent starting to permeate his apartment, Kiyoomi relaxes onto the mattress as he waits for Atsumu to join him in his bed.
His bed, which desperately needs a change of sheets.
He grunts because for once cleaning up is the last thing he wants to do, but the prospect of rearranging his nest is very appealing – to his Omega especially – so he begrudgingly stands up on his weak legs and gets to work.
Later that night, soft lips grace Kiyoomi's heated skin from behind; his room is lit only by the warm, muted light of his bedside lamp. Kiyoomi shifts, but a hand on his hip stills him and gently rolls him down completely onto his stomach.
He feels feverish with heat once more, and Atsumu’s mouth working its way down his spine only increases the fire in his blood, but the skin of Atsumu’s bare, cooler torso against him makes him sigh in relief.
Atsumu is meticulous in his task; he suckles and nips as if tasting his skin and the cloying sweetness of his scent.
In the back of his mind, Kiyoomi registers that Atsumu is still wearing his sweats, but his Omega soars inside of him when Atsumu straddles his thighs with his; his heart thrumming loudly in his chest when the Alpha braces his arms on either side of Kiyoomi’s head– and just like that, Kiyoomi becomes a puddle of purrs and slick under Atsumu.
For one who enjoys control as Kiyoomi does, he is pleasantly surprised by how much he likes being surrounded by Atsumu’s body and scent– how much his body is set aflame by feeling so small under Atsumu.
Atsumu responds by purring in return, a sound much lower than his, which turns to deep growls when Kiyoomi tries to arch his lower back higher.
One of Atsumu’s hands returns to his hip, grip tight, and the Alpha pushes him back down against the mattress. Kiyoomi whines, trying to rut against Atsumu’s hips as he starts to slick up again. Atsumu goes to bite the skin of his back harder, but then stops– Kiyoomi doesn’t like to be marked. Usually. This time it’s different.
“I want people to see,” he breathes, “when my heat is over, I want them to see how well you’ve taken care of me.” His head falls deeper into the soft cushion, exposing his neck.
Atsumu's scent thickens, but he doesn’t immediately jump at the opportunity of marking him, and his Omega cries in need, baring his neck even more by pressing his face into the cushion.
“Mmh…” Atsumu mumbles, “is that what ya really want?” Atsumu pauses, gathering his reaction, but his question is too vague to elicit one, so he adds, “do ya really want everyone to know that even uptight, ‘always in control’ Sakusa Kiyoomi can be a good boy when he wants to?”
Kiyoomi freezes and shivers, goosebumps erupting on his body regardless of how hot he feels, and when slick runs down his inner thighs, Atsumu croons– it’s just a sound, yet he can feel the smugness in it.
“Is that it, Omi? Ya like the idea of being branded, after all?”
Kiyoomi wants to move, to do something, but he can’t– he can only stay still as Atsumu fully crowds him with his body until they’re back to chest.
The Alpha’s lips get close to his ear. “Want everyone to know who ya belong to, Omega?” Atsumu whispers against the sensitive skin of his ear. His voice is sinful to listen to, and because of Atsumu’s voice alone, Kiyoomi feels his hole clench around nothing, slick running down his inner thighs.
Kiyoomi whines, the flush on his cheeks spreads down to the base of his neck, and Atsumu latches onto his burning skin with his lips, marking his flesh in reds, blues, and purples. This time, when Kiyoomi bucks his ass up, Atsumu responds by meeting him halfway; grinding his regrettably still clothed erection against him.
“Off, get them off ,” Kiyoomi doesn’t even realize he is the one to growl those words, but he needs that fabric between them gone.
“That’s not how ya ask,” Atsumu murmurs, “try again, darlin’.”
Kiyoomi grips the sheets of his nest, hissing his displeasure at Atsumu’s lack of action to his very explicit command; yet, at the same time, his Omega preens at Atsumu putting his foot down.
“Get them off.” Then, because this is not worth fighting over and because Kiyoomi needs those sweats off , he adds, “please.”
“Much better,” comes Atsumu’s response.
Kiyoomi stays put, shivering when Atsumu’s pleasant weight and warmth disappears from above him, but he takes consolation in the shuffling sound of Atsumu removing his pants.
He can feel his desire drip along his inner thighs whilst he waits for Atsumu’s next move, but he didn’t expect the drag of a wet tongue to stop his slick from falling onto the sheets.
Atsumu holds his legs by the back of his knees, spreading his legs wide open so that his tongue free to run up his inner thigh till it reaches the scent gland there. The cold drag of Atsumu’s piercing enhances the sensation.
Kiyoomi feels ecstatic, pleasure building up fast as Atsumu almost lazily laps at the sensitive gland and growls against his skin. Atsumu sucks, hard, on the source of his scent, and more slick makes its way towards Atsumu’s face. He licks it up greedily as a man starved. He reserves the same treatment for his other thigh.
“Ya taste so good, Omi.” Atsumu grunts, blowing on his damp skin to give him goosebumps. He has enough strength to look at Atsumu from above his shoulder, and his cock– which is trapped between his stomach and the sheets– twitches at the sight of Atsumu’s plump lips red and glistering with slick.
Kiyoomi shakes and gasps when the flat of Atsumu’s tongue licks over his entrance, just once– beyond embarrassed, Kiyoomi hides his face between his arms.
He always felt awkward about someone eating him out. However. Atsumu loves to use his mouth; his tongue– to prove he’s good with it in more ways than just talking.
At least, that’s what he recalls the Alpha saying the first time he dropped to his knees for Kiyoomi.
Not that he can remember properly at the moment, not when Atsumu is gripping his asscheeks so hard to leave bruises, so he can spread him open and have better access to his entrance.
Atsumu laps once, twice, three times, over his twitching, wet hole; metal dragging on his sensitive muscle. His cock throbs, leaking as it’s left unattended.
Kiyoomi can’t deny how good it feels, and he moans into the pillow, slick gushing out of him. Atsumu growls, eating up the sugary slick eagerly, until he changes tactics– it’s then that he feels Atsumu’s tongue prodding at his entrance.
Kiyoomi cries out with each drag of Atsumu’s pierced tongue inside of him.
Kiyoomi breathes loudly– soft, dragged-out moans and sloppy sounds echo in the otherwise silent room as Atsumu fucks him open with his tongue.
If he grinds his cock on the mattress, he could come just from this, but he craves more.
He whines, hoping that Atsumu will understand what he wants– to a certain extent, he does. Atsumu bites one of his cheeks, and a finger slips inside of him; soon after that follows another, and Kiyoomi chants a string of broken ‘ yes, yes, yes ’ onto the cushion.
Atsumu emits a chuckle that is something between a laugh and a growl.
“I could slip right in.”
That’s precisely what Kiyoomi wants, yet Atsumu doesn’t replace his fingers with his cock, preferring to curl his digits inside of him, meticulously looking for the bundle of nerves that will make him scream.
Atsumu kisses his way up from his lower back to his shoulders, crowding him until they’re back to chest once again, except that this time Atsumu has his fingers inside of him. For good measure, Atsumu adds a third finger alongside the others. He’s so wet that there is no resistance whatsoever.
“Such a good boy y’er being, darlin’,” Atsumu nuzzles the back of his neck, scenting him just when his fingers find his sweet spot, and Kiyoomi moans out loud. “So good for me.”
Having found out the right spot inside of him, Atsumu picks up the pace– Kiyoomi pushes back, fucking himself on the Alpha’s fingers until he feels his pleasure start build up low in his belly.
But Kiyoomi doesn’t want to come on Atsumu’s fingers.
“Atsumu.” He needs to feel Atsumu’s cock inside of him, not against his thigh.
Atsumu knows, of course he knows— he knows what he wants and he knows that he’s close, but still he just lightly presses Kiyoomi onto the mattress with his body.
“Yeah?”
Kiyoomi grunts, a mix between exasperation, a cry, and pleasure. Kiyoomi squirms against the sheets, his cock deliciously still trapped between his abdomen and the mattress as Atsumu’s fingers hit the perfect spot over and over again.
He moans and whimpers; eyes moist, throat dry even though drool is about to spill from his mouth.
“Ah-ah,” Atsumu reprimands lightly, clearly enjoying having control for once, “C’mon darlin’, ask me properly.”
Kiyoomi grits his teeth.
Atsumu is having too much fun with this whole ‘ask nicely’ game of his.
“Wanna feel you inside of me.” Kiyoomi ends up saying.
“Y’er feeling me inside of ya,” Atsumu says, smugly grinning like the Cheshire cat. “Come on my fingers,” Atsumu purrs, “then I’ll let ya take my knot.”
That’s all Kiyoomi needs to let go— just the promise of his knot and he’s spasming around Atsumu’s fingers, cock painting his stomach and bed.
Although the Alpha keeps his kisses soft, Kiyoomi can feel that his inhibitions are getting thin as Atsumu praises him through gritted teeth.
Finally .
Kiyoomi can hardly breathe as he comes down from his orgasm; his release wetting the sheets and sticking to his stomach in an uncomfortable way. His discomfort fades away when Atsumu sits back on his heels and removes his fingers from inside of him and grabs his glutes, one in each of the Alpha’s hands again, and spreads them wide open; thumbs at the edge of his rim.
“God, darlin’, y’er soaking wet for me,” Atsumu grunts, want thickening his accent. “This what ya want?”
Atsumu frames his still-hard cock between his spread cheeks and Kiyoomi moans, unabashed, ready to go for another round already.
He has never ached to be pounded, to be knotted, quite like he is aching now.
“Yeah?” Atsumu teases, dragging his hard cock between the slit of Kiyoomi’s ass in the most excruciatingly slow way possible; driving Kiyoomi mad with want.
When the tip gets stuck precisely where Kiyoomi wants it the most, and Atsumu, instead of giving it to him, prefers to resume his teasing; Kiyoomi, out of need and frustration, growls.
“Yeah, Alpha, I told you already that’s exactly what I want.”
He wasn’t prepared for the harsh slap that followed, nor for the lewd, broken sound that slipped from his lips.
“I told ya, Omega , that’s not how ya ask.”
He felt his asscheek burn, and it wasn’t an unpleasant sensation. Slick pools on the bed; his hole clenches around nothing; and his own cock throbs— he’s never told Atsumu that he, sometimes, indulges in some pain to enhance his pleasure.
“Ya should give me more credit, darlin’. I have noticed, ya know, how ya come the hardest when I scratch yer thighs or leave bruises? When I make it hurt?”
The chuckle that follows sounds mean to Kiyoomi’s ears, but he shudders nonetheless.
Another slap, right on the same spot, and Kiyoomi cries out. Atsumu lets his hands slide lower on aching body until he reaches the red, swelled glands of Kiyoomi’s inner thighs and starts drawing circles them to soothe the pain of his slaps.
Instead of using his voice, Kiyoomi takes action.
With trembling legs, he pushes his ass up; chest pressed flat against the bed. One of his hands sneaks beneath him, ignoring his half-hard dick in favor of reaching his twitching entrance, while his other hand spreads one of his cheeks aside.
He doesn’t dare to breathe and stays still, presenting to Atsumu like a begging whore.
He can hear how Atsumu’s breath gets stuck in his throat and smells how Atsumu’s scent sharpens, thick and almost bitter– as if his coffee scent is burning by want. His Omega is content, thriving on having that effect on Atsumu’s Alpha even though, for once in his life, Kiyoomi truly feels like—
His mind goes blank when he feels the tip of Atsumu’s cock finally get caught on his rim and stays there. Moved by instincts alone, he pushes his knees wider; arches his back further, his hand gripping his ass cheek more firmly, hoping that Atsumu’s member will finally slide into him instead of slipping out again.
“For someone who enjoys control, ya really love being used like this, dontcha, darlin’?” the deep timbre of Atsumu’s voice makes his skin prickle as the Alpha states his thoughts, almost in wonder, out loud.
It makes him want to surrender.
“Feeling like y’er nothing but a hole for me to fill up?”
He meets Atsumu’s eyes, the hazel in them drowned by the black of his dilated pupils, then he gives in to his instincts. Kiyoomi drops his gaze. He submits.
He focuses instead on what he wants, and what he wants is hidden from his eyes by his legs. All he can see are the tattoos on Atsumu’s V line; the happy trail of fine brown hair going from his pierced navel to his pelvis. He whines, needy, but he doesn’t move.
He hides his face and bites his lower lip to muffle a cry.
If Atsumu doesn’t take him even after he presents himself to him, then— he doesn’t like the way the mere implication of this thought shatters his Omega.
“Fuck,” Atsumu hisses, voice strained, “fuck, Omi–”
Kiyoomi chokes on a cry when Atsumu pushes inside of him. He feels as if he’s being split open, rim stretching to accommodate Atsumu’s thick cock, and they both moan when Atsumu bottoms out. He’s barely-eyed, breathing through his mouth– he feels so full, and yet he wants more.
“Move,” Kiyoomi breathes, “move, move, please…”
Atsumu pulls back and Kiyoomi feels the thrill of excitement run through his body– except that his excitement is cut short, freezing in his veins, when Atsumu pulls out.
“No!” Kiyoomi cries, “no, no, no–” he’s like a broken record, and when Atsumu doesn’t oblige, and instead grins and snickers at Kiyoomi’s desperation, he snaps and hisses, “give it back.”
A hand roughly grips his hair and pulls at them till he has to crane his neck back to make the sting to his scalp more bearable.
“Who’s no better than a bitch in heat now, Omega?” Atsumu purrs, and Kiyoomi gasps.
He’s said those same words to Atsumu so many times during his ruts, and to get them thrown back at his face in this moment stirs a fire in him. It fuels the disappointment of being denied what he wants and makes him bite back in retaliation.
“And who’s doing nothing about it? Don’t you know how to fuck an Omega without someone telling you how to do it? Perhaps I need to explain to you how to get it wet?”
Three consecutive slaps red his skin, but he stubbornly swallows his moans.
“How do ya want it?” Atsumu growls, “I’ll show ya what ‘doin’ nothing about it’ feels like.”
Not wanting to yield, Kiyoomi spits. “All fours. Like a dog.”
With his head still pulled back by Atsumu’s hand in his hair, he gets on all fours without breaking eye contact with the Alpha over his shoulder.
“Like a bitch in heat.” He growls just before Atsumu splits him open on his cock again with no warning. He’s soaking in slick and it glides with no resistance.
Kiyoomi can’t help but twist his mouth in a silent ‘O’, letting out a weak ‘ah’ when Atsumu bottoms out; ass meeting pelvis.
Atsumu’s first thrust is so hard that Kiyoom loses balance; one of his hands stops him from falling face first by finding support on the headboard.
“Happy?” Atsumu growls back.
From there, his movements become deadly precise, hitting his prostate from the get-go; dragging broken moan after broken moan from Kiyoomi’s exposed throat, making his cock drip precum on the completely ruined sheets of his bed.
Atsumu feels amazing inside of him; the scorching, burning desire brought forward by his heat is finally, truly on its way to being quelled, and Kiyoomi… Kiyoomi lets it consume him. Another smack, always on the same cheek, is what it takes for him to let go of control definitely.
He’ll feel embarrassed about it later, now he enjoys the sting as he whines and whimpers freely, unable to drop his head low between his shaking arms as long as Atsumu doesn’t let go of his curls.
Atsumu rumbles, pleased, before he brings his hand from his hair to the back of Kiyoomi’s neck and pushes his upper body down against the mattress— back into a presenting position.
“Down, boy.” Atsumu commands.
It feels so dirty. Talked to like a dog. Mounted like a dog.
It doesn’t stop his cock from throbbing, his hole from clenching, and him from moaning.
“Already ‘bout to come?” Atsumu says, tone dripping with mean sarcasm.
Kiyoomi wants to disagree, but Atsumu applies pressure on the sides of his neck, and Kiyoomi is left to gasp for air.
He can breathe, but the expertly placed hand on his throat makes it harder. It goes straight to his lower stomach, cock twitching as it bounces according to Atsumu’s thrusts.
“Ya look so good like this,” Atsumu murmurs, “crying and drooling because of my cock.”
Kiyoomi can only whimper.
The moment Atsumu releases pressure on his neck, with that same hand he slaps his ass, Kiyoomi comes.
It’s shameful how fast that happened, but it hits him so hard and so suddenly that he sees white before his limbs give out. Atsumu lets him ride his orgasm out, slowing his thrusts, hand caressing the bruising skin of his cheek before he surrounds him with his body again.
Kiyoomi is spent, but that doesn’t stop Atsumu from picking up his pace to find his release.
“Shh,” he whispers when Kiyoomi whines from overstimulation, “be a good boy and take it.”
Atsumu places his hands above his. Instinctually, he intertwines their fingers together. Atsumu drops his forehead beside Kiyoomi’s face, right on the pillow.
Kiyoomi can feel the base of Atsumu’s cock expanding and he heaves.
“That’s what y’er made for, aren’t ya?” Atsumu’s breath is coming short, right; thrusts losing rhythm.
Atsumu’s knot is stretching him wider, and still, it’s becoming increasingly harder for Atsumu to pull out, so he buries himself deep into him and starts to grind his cock in the wet heat of Kiyoomi’s body.
Kiyoomi feels Atsumu deep into his stomach, and his cock, although almost spent, twitches weakly. Kiyoomi never felt fuller.
“Made to be bred full of cum.”
Kiyoomi’s breath itches as he unexpectedly comes again, body shaking and hole clenching around Atsumu’s knot, and Atsumu hisses against the gland on his neck, knot catching on Kiyoomi’s rim.
The Alpha comes with a low growl, biting the skin of Kiyoomi’s shoulder.
Even though little seed drips from his softening dick, Kiyoomi can feel his body thrum with deep satisfaction as Atsumu slowly grinds into him, cock weakly throbbing as his hole clenches around Atsumu’s knot, milking him dry.
By the end of it, they’re both winded and are hardly able to move.
His mind is in such a static state, that he can’t even be bothered by the revolting state he’s in. All he cares about is how Atsumu rolls them both on their side, away from the pool of bodily fluids, and nuzzles at Kiyoomi’s neck, purring. As if Kiyoomi could become even more boneless.
His purrs join Atsumu’s, and with a slight adjustment, Kiyoomi can look into his Alpha’s eyes.
His Alpha . He likes how that sounds.
He wants to say it. Wants Atsumu to know he’s his, but Atsumu shakes his head and quietly murmurs, “after yer heat is over, remember?”
Right.
“I’m not goin’ anywhere, darlin’.” Atsumu whispers reassuringly.
Kiyoomi huffs, and with a gruff voice he answers, “stop calling me darling.”
“Ya love it.” Atsumu chuckles.
Kiyoomi doesn’t say anything in return, and instead closes the distance between them, kissing Atsumu gently.
They always kissed amid a pheromone-induced frenzy.
If anyone told Kiyoomi he’d be the one to kiss Atsumu first, he wouldn’t have believed them— but then again, he wouldn’t have believed anyone who would have told him he’d get involved, in any way imaginable, with collegiate volleyball star Miya Atsumu to begin with. Yet, here he is.
Atsumu is gasping like a fish out of water, trying to say something, but Kiyoomi stops him.
“After my heat is over, remember?” He parrots playfully.
Atsumu grumbles, looking like a kicked overgrown puppy, and Kiyoomi laughs carefreely, before kissing Atsumu again.
This time, instead of surprised stillness, Atsumu kisses back.
It’s slow and sweet, and Kiyoomi melts into his Alpha’s embrace, and when Atsumu pulls back from the kiss and rests his forehead against his, Kiyoomi finds comfort in Atsumu’s closeness, in the way he’s looking at him.
It used to piss him off, afraid of what it could mean, and now…Kiyoomi feels so stupid, but dwelling on past mistakes won’t do him any good now, and he’d much rather enjoy Atsumu’s presence before another wave of cramps comes.
Atsumu kisses him above his eyebrow– two small kisses, one on each of his moles, and Kiyoomi closes his eyes, heart missing a beat at the action, and when Atsumu’s hand makes its way to the back of his head and pulls Kiyoomi’s face softly towards the crook of his neck, Kiyoomi goes willingly.
Atsumu is releasing a calming scent, which helps to keep Kiyoomi’s heat at bay, but it does a terrible job at keeping Kiyoomi awake.
“Time for another nap, Omi,” Atsumu whispers above him, but the Omega doesn’t want to fall asleep, not now, and so he shakes his head.
Atsumu chuckles. “I told ya, I’m not goin’ anywhere.” He repeats, and kisses the top of his head for good measure.
Kiyoomi starts to rub his nose and then his neck against Atsumu’s, scenting him.
Atsumu instantly begins to purr. He purrs so hard and loud that Kiyoomi can feel Atsumu’s chest vibrate with the force of it.
When he deems Atsumu drenched enough in his scent, Kiyoomi rests his head back in the crook of the Alpha’s neck, and he’s pleased when Atsumu doesn’t stop purring.
With that sound lulling him to sleep and their combined scents filling his lungs, Kiyoomi’s will can do little to not succumb to sleep, feeling safe surrounded by his Alpha.