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“Excited?” Suguru asks, masking his bitterness as best he can.
Satoru is busy fumbling with the corkscrew on a leftover bottle of champagne. “Excited about?”
“Well… You are getting married tomorrow, Satoru.”
‘𝑇𝑜 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑖𝑠𝑛’𝑡 𝑚𝑒.’
Satoru blinks in surprise, almost as if he forgot about that major detail. It’s the reason why they’re in this banquet hall to begin with, surrounded by the remnants of an over the top wedding rehearsal. The Gojo family went all out for the wedding of their precious son.
The bride-to-be is perfect, too. Perfect in a way that aligns with how the prestigious Gojos envision a wife for their son.
“I guess so,” Satoru says, shrugging. He pops the champagne bottle open with a celebratory smile. “Hand me a flute!”
“Since when do you drink?”
Suguru hands the flute over anyway, grabbing one for himself as an afterthought.
Under different circumstances he would be concerned about the sudden shift. Satoru isn’t a drinker. This is way out of left field yet Suguru isn’t in a place to stop him.
This is their last night together, after all. No, Suguru doesn’t mean that in a way that suggests Satoru will be banned from having a social life after he’s married.
What he means is…
“Can we do it just one last time?” Satoru asks, grimacing at the taste of the champagne.
“Lightweight,” Suguru laughs. His racing heart drops to his stomach, but he contains himself. “You barely had a sip and you’re already up to that.”
Satoru drains the flute and sets it aside. “Don’t act like you don’t want to…”
‘𝐼’𝑚 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢.’ Suguru wants to say.
For Satoru what they did in secret was nothing serious, just two guys blowing off steam. Alphas had needs, he’d say, regurgitating some bullshit he didn’t even believe himself.
Alphas need omegas, not each other and yet…
“We can’t do it in here,” Suguru says.
Satoru is already pushing Suguru down on the hardwood floor. Needy as always. “Why not?” he asks, palming Suguru through his slacks.
Because Suguru can smell Satoru’s future wife in this space, his omega, his soon-to-be mate.
As an alpha, did Suguru ever really have a chance?
Suguru lays there, stiff and unresponsive as Satoru hurriedly bites and kisses his neck like he’ll die if he doesn’t have this one last time.
It won’t really be the last time, right? It can’t be. They’ve been doing this — whatever this is — since high school.
“Satoru…”
The distance in Suguru’s voice makes Satoru halt abruptly. “Yeah?”
“Do you have to marry her?” Suguru asks, and he hates himself for it because why would he do that to himself.
Shoulders relaxing, Satoru looks relieved as if he thought Suguru was going to tell him to stop.
“Don’t really have a choice,” Satoru says, resuming the neck kisses.
Every so often he drags his fangs across Suguru’s skin as if he’s tempted to mark him. Would a bond actually form, Suguru wonders.
“Gojo Satoru doesn’t really have a choice,” Suguru says, mockingly.
Satoru leans back to look at Suguru, at the blotchy bruises on his neck. Then his blue gaze moves to Suguru’s eyes, and it’s as if he sees everything.
Smirking, he asks, “Aww, does Suguru want to be my bride?”
“Fuck you.”
Laughing, Satoru tugs on Suguru’s slacks. “Yeah, I’m trying to do that but you’re yapping.” He teases. “Take this belt off, Suguru.”
Suguru is used to this. He’s used to Satoru making light of serious topics or evading touchy subjects, and usually he just lets it happen.
Not out of fear, nor intimidation. Satoru may belong to a higher social class than him and he may have been born with a silver spoon, but they sit at the top of the biological food chain, in that they are equals. Yet for years Suguru has submitted to Satoru, willingly.
A mutual friend of theirs said he did it out of love, and at the time Suguru denied that. He loved Satoru as a friend only.
Or so he thought.
“I’m not with this tonight,” Suguru says, feeling disgusted all of a sudden. He wishes he could bury these emotions.
Suguru allows his silence to serve as his answer.
Mainly because he’s too embarrassed to vocalize the ugly truth. He’s jealous. He’s so disgustingly jealous, and it makes him want to claw his face off and rub the raw flesh in lemon juice. He hates this feeling, he hates this…
“Like I said, I don’t have a say in this, Suguru,” Satoru says, chuckling to ease the uncomfortable tension. “My clan wants an heir. Last I checked, your asshole doesn’t self lubricate. I’ve fucked it enough to kno — ”
The rage that consumes Suguru startles even him.
Suguru punches Satoru in the teeth, wishing they would shatter and that pretty smile would be no more. He shoves Satoru off because despite how hard the punch was, Satoru is the kind of alpha that doesn’t fold easily. He watches the way Satoru licks his bloody teeth and he smiles.
Go home to your fiancé, Gojo-sama.” Suguru is happy to see that addressing Satoru formally still ticks him off. “I won’t be your mistress.”
Satoru doesn’t comment on the name switch though he definitely wants to. “So, what? You want to be my wife then? Is that it?”
That isn’t the term Suguru is yearning for. He isn’t envious of omegas, he doesn’t wish he was born in a different body. He values his strength and his place above the rest; his place next to Satoru. What he wants is to be Satoru’s lifelong companion. His only companion.
But for the fuck of it he says, “Yeah, I want to be your wife.” He stands up, adjusting the bulge that never went away the moment Satoru started kissing him. He’s pathetic like that. “Until you can make that happen, don’t touch me ever again.”
Because it hurts too much.
If Satoru tries to follow him, Suguru doesn’t know.
He barely had the mental strength to make that insane ultimatum and leave on that note. Turning around to see Satoru standing still instead of chasing after him would’ve been the final nail in the coffin of his heart.
That small part of himself that still holds on to his adolescent naivety thinks he made a massive mistake. There’s no way he can be Satoru’s wife or his husband, anything other than his best friend/fuck buddy. He wonders if he should recant his statement, throw it all away.
At least that way he can still exist in Satoru’s world. At least that way they can still be friends.
Suguru knows it’s degrading to think that way. He shouldn’t settle for anything nor anyone but Satoru is different. Their relationship is different.
They’ve been friends since elementary school. Every milestone since then was experienced together. Once, in passing, Suguru’s mother wondered if they would end up mated had Suguru been born an omega instead. It was a passing thought yet it stuck with Suguru for years.
Because who knows Satoru as well as he does? Who understands him as well as Suguru? Years have been dedicated to knowing his moods from the slightest facial expressions to know what he’s thinking, to knowing how he likes his blowjobs; wet and messy, throat fucking.
It seems almost cruel for them to end up with anyone other than each other but it’s not in their hands, apparently.
Suguru should go home. Instead he picks up a bottle of alcohol he doesn’t even like and walks to the park where he and Satoru would meet up for quickies.
Full of sadness and self loathing, Suguru idly swings as he slowly drains the bottle. He was supposed to be the best man in Satoru’s wedding, and up until tonight he buried his bitterness and tried to be supportive, as usual.
But all of that pretending was eating him alive.
Two decades is a long time spent loving one person. Twenty years is a hell of a long time loving someone who only sees him as a friend, as an escape, both physically and mentally, from the weight of being a clan elder’s prized son.
“Do you remember what happened the last time you drank vodka straight from the bottle, Suguru?”
Head spinning, Suguru blinks his eyes open to a fuzzy image of two-headed Satoru standing in front of him. Since when did Satoru grow a second head?
Actually, why is Satoru here?!
With the finesse only a drunk man can possess, which is zero, Suguru nearly falls out of the swing, landing his ass on a bed of pebbles, but Satoru grabs the chains on the swing and gently tugs him forward to prevent that.
“Thought I told you not to come near me!” Suguru slurs. “And why do you have two heads, bastard?” He mutters.
Disregarding Suguru’s belligerent words, Satoru takes the bottle from him and drinks from it.
Suguru blinks to adjust his eyes. Okay, so the two headed thing is not real. He is definitely drunk as hell.
“If I remember correctly you told me to never touch you again,” Satoru says. He drinks more of the vodka, looking as if he’s disgusted by the mere smell of it.
Suguru stares down at the pebbles. “Why are you here, Satoru?” He doesn’t mean to sound so small. “We’re done…”
Tears threaten to fall, but Suguru wont allow them. Alphas don’t cry. Alphas don’t allow their emotions to control their lives. Alphas don’t get off to being knotted and bitched by another alpha during their ruts. Alphas don’t wonder what it would be like to wear another’s mark.
Suguru must be a fucking beta then… surely not some secret omega. Satoru said it himself. No self-lubricating asshole over here. No use for the future clan head, no importance, no value…
Satoru touches Suguru’s face, cups his cheek tenderly, rubs his jawline with his thumb…
“I told you not to — ” Suguru starts.
Keeping his hand there, Satoru leans down to rest his forehead against Suguru’s the way he would do when they were pups, alone in their makeshift tent in the living room of the Geto residence.
They used to think they had shared telepathy.
That telepathy seems to escape them when it matters most because absolutely nothing could’ve prepared Suguru for what Satoru says next.
“I’m touching you, Suguru~” Satoru says in that teasing way that used to boil Suguru’s blood, but there’s affection in the delivery.
“Guess that means you have to be my wife now…”
This can’t be real. This has to be a fantasy conjured by Suguru’s drunken mind because there’s absolutely no way Satoru just proposed to him; if one could call it a proposal at all.
But this is as good as it gets, right? Did he expect Satoru to get on one knee for him?
…yes.
Suguru did expect that. Truthfully, he expected Satoru to propose to him as soon as he learned about the Gojo clan’s business deal with the Kamo clan. It broke his heart to learn that Satoru had accepted his family’s plans for him without rebuttal.
Since high school, there has been no one else but Satoru. They were each other’s first, and Suguru had always been too afraid to ask if he was also the only person Satoru has been with. There were rumors, yeah. But there always are rumors where Satoru is concerned.
They’re both popular in their own way. For Suguru it’s his charm. For Satoru it’s his generational wealth. Add great looks to both equations and you have two alphas with favorable qualities.
That means Suguru never had trouble finding anyone else but he has only wanted him
Why isn’t it that way for Satoru?
Even if the rumors that circled their high school and university aren’t true, happily accepting this marriage arrangement is still a betrayal in Suguru’s eyes. Why didn’t Satoru fight for him?
“Suguru, I want you as my wife,” Satoru says in case Suguru is too inebriated to get the gist of his “grand” proclamation. “I can’t live without ever touching you again. So come on let’s make this happen.”
This is as good as it gets, right? Suguru keeps trying to believe that.
Decades worth of secret pining threaten to break out of the confines of his inner heart, threatening to consume it whole and eat him alive. Bad enough it feels as if thousands of ‘𝑦𝑒𝑠!’ are echoing inside his head, pushing him to accept what he has long hoped for.
As happy as the mere prospect of being married to Satoru makes Suguru, he can’t help but feel disappointed by this turn of events.
Why did it take all of this? Why did he have to threaten to force no physical contact for Satoru to want to marry him?
If Satoru loves him, truly loves him, then why didn’t he deny his parents? Why didn’t he choose Suguru first? It seems he only did this out of desperation. No one wants to be loved by force, at least that isn’t how Suguru wants to be loved.
Suguru’s eyes sting, a single tear rolls down his cheek as he closes them. Not like this, he thinks. He wants to be with Satoru, but not at the expense of his dignity. This makes him feel cheap, and he may be lovesick, but his mother didn't raise an airhead.
“Suguru?” Satoru asks, and he sounds genuinely concerned. “I’m sorry don’t cry…”
They’re so close right now that every time Satoru speaks, Suguru’s nose is assaulted by the scent of vodka. He remembers how Satoru had to force himself to drink before the start of all this…
Suguru has been drinking as well. He’s drunk, actually and that should make him all the more eager to jump into Satoru’s arms and accept this half-assed proposal but the liquor makes him overthink. It always has.
That’s why he’s slowly pulling away from Satoru.
That’s why he removes Satoru’s hands from his face and stands up. He sways to the side, and when Satoru grabs his waist to keep him steady, staring at him with such sincerity, he almost folds.
Almost.
“Why did it take this long, Satoru?” he quietly asks.
Satoru frowns. “I thought you went home so I stopped there first and then — ”
“That’s not what I mean.” Suguru looks Satoru in the eyes, and even though his vision is glassy and the world feels lopsided, he has to speak up. “Why did it take you this long to love me back?”
The bluntness of the question leaves Satoru floored. For a prodigy with the world at his fingertips he doesn’t know jack shit about human emotions. That was the excuse Suguru always made for him, anyway.
But it’s true to an extent. Their upbringings were completely different.
Satoru’s mother died in childbirth, leaving his nurturing to clan maids, and his father has the emotional capacity of a fucking carrot.
Meanwhile, Suguru was raised by his grandparents but he spent the important years of his pup development with his mother.
Suguru’s family has always supported him and been involved in his life, allowing him to make his own choices and be open with his emotions around them. Satoru has never had that. The Gojo clan head is stereotypically toxic. As meatheaded as alphas come.
The reason why Satoru is ashamed of what they do in secret is because his father has drilled it into his head since he was a pup. Alphas belong with omegas. Any alphas that seek the affection of other alphas are referred to as “bitches” in the most derogatory way.
Suguru has always known Satoru was ashamed of them, ashamed of what they had, but he never thought it would bother him this much.
“It’s not like that” Satoru says, glancing away in a bashful manner. “You’re the only person I trust, Suguru. It’s always been that way.”
“Then why did you accept the marriage in the first place?” The more Suguru speaks, sobriety seeps in. His vision is less cloudy and his words are no longer running together. “Motherfucker, you should have done this sooner!” He shoves at Satoru’s chest.
Satoru stumbles back, and does nothing to stop the second shove. He knows Suguru’s anger is justified. “I thought you understood,” he says, closing his eyes and sighing. “I know you understand. What I mean is, I thought we were on the same page, Suguru.”
“And what page is that?” Suguru asks, smirking derisively. “You fuck me whenever you want, spend your ruts with me, and call me your ‘omega’ when you knot me. Then we pretend it means nothing, that we're just a couple of homeboys?!” He shouts.
Glancing over his shoulder, Satoru nervously looks around the way he does when he thinks the paparazzi are lurking nearby.
Always worried about his fucking image.
Suguru laughs to himself. “You were never going to marry me.” His eyes water. “You just got scared, huh?”
Slowly, Satoru turns back around. “Scared?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “Is that why you think I proposed?”
“What else am I supposed to think? You tried to fuck me at your wedding venue the day before you marry someone else and you only proposed after I gave that ultimatum.”
“You’re so confusing, Suguru,” Satoru says, rubbing his temples in frustration. “I’m risking everything to marry you instead of her and yet you’re pissed off? I thought you of all people would understand how difficult it is for me as his son.”
“No, you’re not doing that…” Suguru shakes his head. “You are not spinning this on me!” He can’t believe he almost said yes to this asshole. “I’ve been understanding of your situation at the expense of my own feelings for years!”
And look at what it got him…
A last minute, desperate proposal. Satoru doesn’t love him. He simply doesn’t want to lose his plaything. He’ll string Suguru along, stall their wedding, and come up with excuse after excuse as to why they can’t go through with it or why they should wait.
Suguru is known to be pessimistic on occasion but this isn’t that. This is gut instinct. All alphas and omegas have it, and it’s stronger than that of a beta. He needs to accept defeat and leave.
It’s over.
“Where are you going?” Satoru asks, eyes growing wide and frenzied the moment Suguru starts to turn away from him. “Suguru, listen to me!”
“I’m leaving, Satoru,” Suguru says. “I’m doing what I should’ve done the moment you told me you were getting married.” He turns his back to Satoru and begins walking off.
Satoru quickly follows after him. “You can’t just leave me like this! Suguru, please!”
Even the rare usage of that word doesn’t stop Suguru from walking out of the park, out onto the sidewalk, in the direction of his apartment. He should call a cab but —
Suguru tries to wiggle himself free but that only makes Satoru hold onto him tighter. “Satoru, let me go,” he says, voice cracking. “It’s over.”
“No!” Satoru says, not letting go, not even a little. “I need you, Suguru… I love you, Suguru. Please!”
A car passes them by, and it’s then that Suguru realizes they’re on the sidewalk of a busy street. Regardless of it being late at night, this is too public for two alphas to be embracing like this.
“Stop, Satoru,” Suguru says, worriedly. “Someone will see.”
Satoru roughly turns Suguru around, still managing to keep him caged in his arms. There isn’t the slightest bit of humor in his watery eyes when he says, “I don’t give a fuck! You’re trying to leave me!” He searches Suguru’s eyes. “You can’t. I’m not letting you!”
“Satoru, you can’t always have your way — ”
A kiss shuts him up. “Why not?” Satoru asks, kissing him again, with more tongue, more urgency. “Why the hell not?” He cups the back of Suguru’s head with both hands, curling his fingers through his hair possessively.
“I’m not living without you, Suguru. So please, stay…”
Anyone can see them right now, and by morning it would be all over the news. Gojo isn’t just locally famous. No, his clan’s influence stretches far across the country. Their enemies would pay gold for this kind of dirt and yet…
“…or I’ll make it so you can’t leave,” Satoru says, deathly serious.
Blinking owlishly, Suguru sees the fear in Satoru’s eyes; the fear of losing him.
Snorting, he lightly hits Satoru’s chest. “Stop talking like some cheesy Yakuza, idiot,” he chuckles. “What are you going to do? Break my legs and attic wife me?”
Satoru actually considers it.
“Knock it off,” Suguru scolds, fighting a smile. This man is literally insane. He slides his hands under Satoru’s shirt, loving how his smooth skin contrasts with his hard abdomen.
He’s going to miss them, going to miss Satoru so fucking much.
But he doesn’t have to.
Suguru kisses Satoru again. It’s the first time they’ve done anything like this in an open space so he takes advantage of the moment.
“Do you mean it?” Suguru asks, ending the kiss. Smiling when Satoru greedily tries to follow after his lips for more. “Do you really love me, Satoru?”
“I always have,” Satoru says without hesitation, without following up with a joke to lessen the impact. “I’ve always loved you, Suguru. Of course I was scared when you left the banquet hall. I fucked up by waiting this long to say something. I know that.”
Suguru has always thought so even amidst his doubts but he was never certain. His own insecurities and the lack of verbal confirmation are to thank for that.
“Come on,” Satoru suddenly says, freeing Suguru from the bear hold and taking him by the hand. “Let’s go.”
“Go where?” Suguru asks, allowing himself to be dragged along because he’s curious to know what this madman is up to. “Where are you taking me?”
“To get fitted for a white tux.” He looks over his shoulder and smiles. “Unless you want a white gown…”
Pure happiness fills Suguru’s chest, but he tries not to get his hopes up too much. There’s still a mountain for them to overcome in terms of their relationship and the Gojo clan will never approve —
Satoru’s voice slices through his thoughts. “Choose quickly. Our wedding is bright and early in the morning!”
Halting, Suguru tugs on Satoru’s arm to get him to stop as well. “Wait… Are you really going to crash your own wedding by marrying your best friend who is also your lover, who is also an alpha? Are you insane?!”
“No, silly bride,” Satoru says, pulling Suguru closer so he can link their arms. “I’m crashing my clan’s wedding by marrying the man — no, the only person I love and will ever love. The only person I’ve ever even been with. There’s no one but you, Suguru.”
Satoru laughs at Suguru’s shocked expression. “Never thought you’d be left speechless after you tore into me tonight,” he smiles and gently tugs Suguru along. “Are we doing this or not, Suguru? Either way, you’re not getting rid of me.”
As if Suguru would ever want to.
Falling into step next to Satoru, Suguru internally sighs in relief. “I don’t even have a ring,” he says, not really caring about that. He only wanted his feelings to be heard and returned, and he’s accomplished that. “Your dad’s going to be pissed.” He laughs because he doesn’t care about that either.
“Well, actually,” Satoru starts, blushing faintly. He never gets flustered like this. “I had a ring made for you a couple of years ago…”
Suguru stops walking again. “Huh?” he asks, completely stunned. “Are you serious?”
“…I had it engraved too.”
Suguru has to remind himself that he’s a very intimidating alpha with a scent that makes omegas tremble in fear and arousal. He will not become giddy and squeal over the fact that Satoru had a wedding band made and engraved for him. He will carry himself like a dignified young man.
He’s come too far to fold like this.
“You should’ve given it to me back then,” Suguru says with feigned annoyance. He knows why Satoru didn’t. “Your father will disown you,” he says, getting serious. “Your clan won’t support us either. You’ll lose everything.”
Suguru can see Satoru contemplating his words.
The Gojo fortune is vast, and the prestige that comes with being a Gojo opens many doors for Satoru. Anything he wants, with a snap of his fingers, it’s his. He’ll lose all of that if he actually goes through with this.
“I won’t lose what matters the most,” Satoru says. “I’ll have you.”
They’re walking on the sidewalk, arms linked as cars pass them by. Being close like this in public feels surreal. Suguru thinks he’s dreaming.
“I’ll have you,” Satoru repeats. “That is, if you accept my proposal, Suguru.”
Satoru stops walking and gets on one knee.
In public.
“Geto Suguru, will you do me the honor of being my wife, my husband, whatever title you prefer?” Satoru smiles, and he’s so attractive when he’s being sincere and open.
Suguru pretends he isn’t going weak in the knees. “Where’s my ring, asshole?” he asks, smiling in return as he leans down and kisses Satoru. “Yes, I will be your wife.”
“…officials from the Gojo clan are calling the entire situation a hoax orchestrated by a rebellious heir…” a Tokyo news reporter says as she stands in front of the abandoned wedding pavilion.
That’s how the Gojo clan has decided to deal with the wedding fiasco; watering it down to one big hoax that Satoru pulled simply to piss his father and stepmother off, and bring shame to the clan as a whole.
It doesn’t matter that Satoru, dressed in his traditional robes, held Suguru by the hand as he walked him down the aisle in place of the Kamo woman, and told hundreds of their guests that his heart belongs to one man.
It doesn’t matter that following that grand declaration Satoru held Suguru by the small of his back and kissed him for all to see, making a huge show of it at that.
The Gojo clan head is never going to accept them. Most people aren’t going to accept them.
But that’s fine.
In fact, it’s more than fine.
Eyes losing focus, Suguru blankly stares at the mounted flatscreen, dopey smile on his face as he watches the reporter interview one of the guests who were in attendance during his and Satoru’s “unholy matrimony” while his husband eats him out.
A little more than four hours ago, Suguru was worried Satoru would get cold feet. Now he’s in a luxury suite, naked, laying on his stomach while Satoru slowly works him open.
They had a quickie at the Gojo compound in Satoru’s childhood room right before they crashed what was meant to be the wedding of the century.
So, Suguru doesn’t need much prepping, if any, but Satoru enjoys this part. He considers it a treat. He likes watching Suguru surrender under his ministrations, loves to watch his inner muscles coil around his fingers and suck them in. It’s a preview of what’s to come, serving as a form of denial which is a kink Suguru loves and hates.
Sometimes he wants to just jump right to it, to have Satoru’s knot expanding inside of him while other times he does enjoy the slow build, the push and pull of their mutual desires.
“Keep the veil on,” Satoru says, sitting up to stare at Suguru’s hole. He spreads him open further and his eyes seem to brighten. “I want to fuck you with it on...”
Obediently, Suguru removes his hands from the veil he threw on as a way to further troll Satoru’s father. Hilariously enough, it was the Kamo woman who happily gave it to him. She found the entire ordeal comical and was a good sport about it. Less work for her, he figures. Being a clan wife is a full time, all consuming job that depletes a person entirely.
Suguru is glad he doesn’t have to put up with that either. He isn’t sure what he and Satoru will do in terms of their careers, but Satoru has enough wealth saved over for them to take a while to figure it out.
On paper, he’s Satoru’s husband. But it’s fun to play the role of a bride, in certain circumstances, of course.
Suguru hasn’t given up his place as an alpha, though. He isn’t going to defang himself, wear a collar, and start dressing the way male omegas tend to.
Perhaps he’ll play around with the latter when they’re alone considering how much Satoru loves him in this veil.
Satoru alternates from eating Suguru out to staring up at him, eyes brimming with fondness. The television and the news broadcast are forgotten entirely. Suguru is looking over his shoulder at Satoru, hands curling in his hair as he presses his face closer, trying to get more of his talented tongue inside of him. He wants Satoru’s cock inside of him already.
“Satoru,” Suguru says in a demanding voice, “fuck me already.” He doesn’t need to yell or speak louder.
That voice would make an omega fold immediately yet Satoru only closes his eyes and keeps eating him hot and slow, tongue curling around his middle finger as he eases it in.
Groaning, Suguru bites his lips, and then he tries it one more time. “Satoru.” He tugs on Satoru’s hair. “I want you,” he says, voice taking in a softer lilt.
Satoru stops almost instantly. Slowly, he kisses up Suguru’s back, whispering praises into his skin as he climbs higher and higher.
Ah, there it is. That’s the key to getting a stubborn person like Gojo Satoru to listen, and Suguru has always known that.
Suguru has always known that Satoru loves it when he treats him differently from everyone else. He doesn’t want Suguru to be the stereotypical alpha with him. He doesn’t want him to even think about society's labels for them because despite what many may believe, Satoru has always treated Suguru as if he was the exception to every rule. No one is spoken to the same as Satoru speaks to Suguru, no one is even given the same facial expressions or intense gazes.
Suguru has always been treated differently, like a prized possession. That’s why he expected a marriage proposal or at least some kind of grand confession.
That’s why it hurt so much when —
He allows the train of thought to crash and die on impact, preventing it from taking root in his mind and souring his unbridled happiness.
None of that matters anymore. They’re here now, they’re married, and the ink has long dried on the marriage license.
No dwelling on the past. Not when he has a bright future to look forward to and a fat cock sinking inside of him. Satoru wastes no time. He’s never “gentle” when he enters Suguru, and that isn’t to say he’s brutal and disinterested in Suguru’s comfort because that isn’t the case at all. Satoru just knows Suguru’s body is as tough and as durable as his, and he doesn’t have to treat him as though he was a glass doll.
When Satoru bottoms out, and he’s as deep as humanly possible with his large body crushing Suguru and pinning him to the mattress, heavy, virile balls pressed against his reddened ass, Suguru nearly sheds a tear from how amazing it feels. For a moment they lie there like that, suspended in that moment, as Satoru kisses Suguru’s left shoulder.
He’s being awfully affectionate for someone who subtly threatened to “attic wife” Suguru if he dared to leave him. Satoru has always been that way, and Suguru would be lying if he said he didn’t like it. He’s seen every shade of Satoru, from every imperfection to the endearing side that no one is ever fortunate enough to see. In turn, Satoru has seen him inside out; literally and figuratively.
“I’m sorry, Suguru,” Satoru whispers into his ear before kissing it. He sits up, placing his hands on either side of Suguru’s head as he slides his cock out achingly slowly. “I’m sorry for being a coward and taking too long to officially make you mine…”
Suguru wants to tell Satoru that it's okay. If only to appease his habitual need to forgive and forget all of Satoru’s wrongs; a mutual illness of theirs. But his words live and die in his throat.
Satoru slams back inside of him, and repeats the action as he continues speaking, “I wanted to marry you,” he groans, “mate with you… from the day we met… I knew I would only have an omega if you magically became one overnight…”
How dare Satoru confess to him while he’s fucking him into the mattress like this.
Suguru’s useless cock is staining the sheets with cum as he preejaculates, and he’s clawing at the sheets, head thrown back, eyes welling with tears from the assault on his prostate. He’s being fucked out of his mind, and this bastard (with affection) is saying everything Suguru has been wanting to hear ever since he realized his romantic feelings for his best friend. It’s cliche, he knows it. But after they spent their first rut together, it was no going back.
They were young, dumb, and careless. Suguru wasn’t supposed to survive Satoru’s knot due to those circumstances alone yet he did. He took his knot so well, Satoru kept saying so during and after the rut. He said it so many times that Suguru started to wonder if he was made for Satoru and vice versa.
Moments like now only solidify that because even though it hurts at some points because Satoru is a healthy alpha — an elite — and everything about him is big and imposing. He overflows in any space he’s in, and Suguru’s guts aren’t an exception yet Suguru is always tight for him no matter how many times they do this or how many times Satoru’s knot seems to tear through him.
“…You were made for me,” Satoru says because he often reads Suguru’s mind as though they were a mated pair. “And I was made for you, Suguru…”
Suguru turns over as best he can with Satoru still inside of him, just enough to pull Satoru down to his level for a hurried kiss that’s all teeth and tongue. He bites Satoru’s lips, and Satoru groans and starts fucking him faster, and somehow deeper than ever before.
The veil is still perfectly in place, and Suguru’s eyelashes are wet and clumped together. Satoru calls him his pretty bride, and something about the way he says it with such passion and possessiveness makes Suguru have a blackout orgasm. He never saw himself as the praise kink type but ever since he was a pup any compliment from Satoru has had the power to brighten his world.
“You know, Suguru, you’re a prime alpha if I’ve ever seen one,” Satoru comments as he grips Suguru’s supple thighs and slams him on his cock sometime later. “Look at your knot. It’s so big and full to the brim, meaning you could give an omega valuable pups…”
Suguru woke up like this; back pressed to Satoru’s chest, legs bent at the knees, thighs held firmly, and toes pointed as Satoru fucks into him. His arm is draped over Satoru’s shoulder, keeping him upright, and he has no recollection of how they got into this position. But in no time he’s getting back into it, becoming an active participant once more. He tightens his arm around Satoru to keep himself in place for Satoru’s thrusts like a good wife.
Satoru’s appreciative groan and ear bite makes Suguru purr in response. Glancing down, he sees his knot has inflated and so much cum is spilling out of his cock. What Satoru says is true. The Geto family isn’t prestigious like the Gojo clan, but the alphas in his family line have always lived up to expectations.
At least until now.
Soulmatism being the sole reason dishonor is brought upon the ancient family line, apparently.
Knots aren’t supposed to form outside of ruts yet they’ve conditioned one another beyond the limits of biology. Satoru’s knot forms when he’s fucking Suguru, and Suguru’s knot always forms when Satoru is fucking him like some twisted Pavlov effect. Honestly, Suguru often craves Satoru’s knot in his sleep, and he genuinely didn’t know what the hell he was going to do had Satoru ended up with someone else because he feels insane without him, like he’ll die without him and his knot —
“I know, Suguru,” Satoru coos, kissing the nape of Suguru’s neck. “I’ll give you my knot, baby. Don’t worry…”
The storm in Suguru’s chest calms, a happy purr erupting from his chest at the reassurance. His alpha sensed his distress, that’s how he knows what Suguru is internally begging for. His alpha always takes care of him.
Suguru didn’t realize his own distress. He doesn’t even think he vocalized it nor did his body language change drastically, if at all. He’s still ever the fleshlight in his pretty white veil.
“Fuck, I want to give you a litter of pups,” Satoru groans, and he sounds devastated by the reality that that’s one battle they can’t overcome. Before Suguru can even begin to wonder if this will be a true problem for them going forward, Satoru follows up with, “I’ll keep trying… I’ll knot you over and over until it happens… I’ll never give up until you’re pregnant!”
Each word is punctuated with teeth shattering thrusts that have Suguru screaming Satoru’s name and spilling his useless seed all over himself until his knot is completely depleted. It takes seconds for him to feel it stirring again, awakened by the mind numbing pleasure of Satoru’s own knot growing and expanding inside of him. Suguru babbles incoherently, tears of ecstasy pouring down his rose colored cheeks. He gets too greedy, tries to force his way out of Satoru’s hold so that he can sink himself further on his knot but Satoru won’t allow it.
Whining, Suguru tries again, but Satoru maintains control. “So needy, Suguru,” he chuckles. “My needy omega.”
That pet name shouldn’t make Suguru orgasm as hard as it does. He doesn’t black out this time though. His brain is just numb as Satoru’s knot finally catches and soaks his insides, filling him to the brim, bloating his stomach to the point where he looks like he’s nearing his second term. Satoru rubs that belly bulge and kisses Suguru’s right shoulder tenderly before biting down hard enough to tear the skin and draw blood.
Satoru marks Suguru in the way alphas would mark their omegas during ancient times. Only the remaining clans uphold this tradition, and even though Satoru has been disowned he still wants the world to know that his marriage to Suguru is to be recognized by all as nothing short of legitimate.
The blood will dry up, the skin will mend, but a century and a half will pass and the mark, like their love, will remain.
Suguru couldn’t ask for a more perfect honeymoon.
They stay connected well after Satoru’s knot deflates, and Suguru uses his remaining energy to give Satoru his mark as well on the same shoulder, just as deep, just as binding.
fin.