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Chuuya has grown to look forward to the alluring meld of pheromones that greet him after a long day out on a mission. He doesn’t think he could scrub that sweet earthy scent out of their apartment if he tried. This place has been saturated with it ever since that first night. But with only the two of them living here, there’s been no need to suppress it. After all, this is the only place that Dazai can let down his guard. Truly be himself — or, at least, what he’s become. What Chuuya made him.
It’s a heady scent, one that usually has the tension melting out of his shoulders.
Usually.
Something is different today.
There are different notes within the scent — jasmine and honey. It’s familiar, but it’s not Dazai’s.
And his bedroom light is on.
His — Chuuya’s — bedroom light.
“Ugh, you’re terrible at this,” Dazai grumbles, loosening his tie.
“F-forgive me, Dazai-san. I'll —ah— do better!” Akutagawa huffs.
Dazai is regretting his choices more and more with each passing moment as he leans back on his hand to watch where he’s disappearing inside the omega on his lap, watch how the omega’s muscles tense and release under that sickly pale skin. Akutagawa doesn’t seem to be enjoying this any more than he is — Dazai can smell how his scent is beginning to turn, like milk on the verge of souring. But, as always, he’s desperate to please. That much is apparent with the way Dazai’s unrelenting disdain only makes him work harder.
They’re on the edge of the bed. Dazai with his feet on the floor, legs spread, black slacks unzipped just enough to give the omega access to what he needs; and Akutagawa, faced away from him, straddling his lap without so much as his socks on. Dazai didn’t want to have to look at him during this. He finds the reverence in Akutagawa’s gaze rather… revolting, if he’s being honest. It was easy enough to leverage, though — the omega had practically jumped into his bed, or rather, Chuuya's bed at the order. It was hardly difficult to have him strip bare, either. Akutagawa might not be much to look at under all those clothes, but Dazai knows how much he fears it. He’s already powerless under No Longer Human, but that’s not enough — Dazai wants him hopeless. Without a scrap of his precious fucking cloth. There’s always been something about this omega’s terror that’s settled nicely inside him, like the first drag of a cigarette.
Dazai has never claimed to be a kind alpha, or even an acceptable one. Luckily for him, Akutagawa is also a piece of shit.
He leans back further, looking at the ceiling of their shitty apartment building with a sigh. Even without distress lacing his scent, it’s not overly appealing — nothing that he will find himself craving later. Omega pheromones never are to him. Not anym—
No.
He pushes that thought from his mind just as fast as it enters.
It’s Akutagawa — he’s the problem.
He’s moving all wrong. He’s not wet enough. He doesn’t smell right.
Useless. Good for nothing.
Akutagawa moans loudly, arching his back a little more. He’s playing things up like this is some kind of cheap porno. Like Dazai’s just a faceless cock for his two-dollar-whore ass to bounce on.
Well, Dazai didn’t have to pay him two dollars for this.
His discomfort only grows as the reminder that this used to work on him becomes harder and harder to ignore. It makes his skin crawl, makes the bad thoughts ring in his ears just a little louder, a little harder to tune out.
Things have been different since that time. He doesn’t know what he wants anymore. Like any alpha, he used to crave omegas — used to dream of them. Sometimes their scents would get in his head until he couldn’t form a single coherent thought.
And now… nothing.
It had been a pipe dream — a shot in the dark — to hope that bedding an omega would change anything. To dare to hope that he could get back even the scraps of what he used to be. He’s read every book, scoured every online forum; everything points to the change being permanent. It’s left him to turn to more unconventional methods. Illicit alpha enhancement drugs, a witch doctor in Suribachi; hell, he even let Hirotsu talk to him about the power of prayer (he told him it was for Chuuya, of course). The fact that he’s resorted to Akutagawa truly is a testament to his desperation.
He’s starting to spiral now, starting to sink deeper and deeper into that dark pit. It’s always like this when he’s bored, his own traitorous mind prodding at his weak points.
“It’s no surprise that you’re bad at this,” Dazai spits as if they were discussing his abysmal job performance. Like they’re back in that warehouse, the omega down on his knees on the cold, hard cement, coughing up blood, and Dazai threatening to kill him if he gets any on his shoes. “Just like everything else, you lack natural talent."
“I’ll try harder! I-I’ll get better!” The omega whines. He tries to turn his head to look at him, but Dazai clamps a hand over the back of his neck to keep him faced forward. He looks disdainfully at where his hand rests around Akutagawa’s thin neck. It would be so easy to snap …
Alphas are supposed to be drawn to omega's scent glands, but right now it’s the opposite. His own feel itchy and overstimulated, like if he tore open his flesh, he’d find termites beneath. He watches him for several moments; how the hair on the back of his head looks like it hasn’t seen a comb in weeks, how the ridges of his spine jut out between his shoulder blades. He needs to tell him to stop — tell him to get the fuck out. He’ll find another omega, a better one. One that might actually—
“That’s no way to talk to him,” a voice comes from the doorway, Dazai choking on his words before they fully form.
He feels Akutagawa’s body stiffen, clenching around him impossibly tight as he watches his short redheaded partner stroll into the bedroom with his hands in his pockets.
"Chuuya-san, I'm–" Akutagawa whimpers, stilling immediately in Dazai’s lap with his head lowered. His scent sours even further, shame and terror converging into something truly sickening.
“C-chuuya?" Dazai sputters out at the same time. “You’re…uh… back early?” Smooth.
He was supposed to be out on a mission — an overnight trip to Osaka. He wasn’t supposed to see this. Dazai didn’t want him to see this. They’ve never agreed to be exclusive, but he can’t help feeling he’s just been caught in more than just the act. Their unstable relationship aside, the amount of ammunition he’s just handed Chuuya alone is nauseating. He’s caught in a snare. Caught in time.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Chuuya pauses for a moment in the doorway, that self-assured grin never leaving his lips as he pulls off his gloves with his teeth, canines still managing to catch the low light. He’s about to lose his shit — he’s going to scream and yell and kick several new holes in the drywall, probably. Maybe smash a few things. Then he’ll tell Akutagawa to get dressed so he has something to grab onto as he throws him face-first out of the apartment. Okay, maybe Dazai’s just hoping for that last part.
He hopes Chuuya kills them both. Hopes he pulls out his gun right here and now and unloads the magazine into both their fucking faces (Akutagawa first, of course — so he can watch).
Come on, do it.
Those fantasies all wither and die in Dazai’s mind.
Instead, Chuuya moves casually, too casually, taking off his hat and ruffling red waves through his fingers as he hangs it on a hook near the slatted closet doors.
Dazai can’t help but feel a deep sense of foreboding for whatever is about to occur. If nothing else, it’s an uncomfortable reminder that even his own mind has limits.
“I'll spare you the boring details," he says, shrugging off his bolero next. "More importantly, I can tell you don't know how to handle Akutagawa at all,” he says as he pops open the buttons of his vest with one hand.
"What?" Dazai scoffs.
This has to be a joke.
“Oh, come on, Dazai…” Chuuya says, fingers dipping into the collar of his shirt to pull the top button loose.
With every layer removed, the alpha’s scent becomes a little stronger — a little more coherent. Dazai has always had a hard time placing exactly what it is, but he’s always smelled expensive, like the subtle notes in a five-hundred-dollar bottle of whiskey, sharpness balanced perfectly by something pleasant yet intangible. By the time he’s undone the first three buttons of his collared shirt, it falls over Dazai in waves, sending heat through his core, despite the undertones of smoke and ash — the first detectable notes of a forest fire.
Oh, fuck — there it is.
He’s mad, Dazai can smell it now.
He’s really mad.
Akutagawa squirms uncomfortably on Dazai’s lap. Dazai can tell he wants to run, but he knows better than to act on his own accord, especially in the presence of two executives.
"Sometimes you really are an idiot,” Chuuya continues as he steps toward them. “Akutagawa likes praise, haven't you noticed by now?"
No, Dazai hasn’t noticed. Unlike most of his other coworkers, he's never had to manipulate Akutagawa to get his way. The omega practically grovels at his feet after every order. There was never any need to learn things about him.
"Right, Aku-chan?" Chuuya says sweetly, and Dazai can feel how the tension is already beginning to drain from the omega between them, acrid notes of his scent fading back into that aggravating honey of arousal — Dazai’s honestly not sure which one is worse.
Chuuya steps closer, coming to stand between both sets of legs. He abandons his shirt half unbuttoned as he reaches down and runs his hand over Akutagawa’s pale jaw, coming behind his head to settle on the nape of his neck, the omega twitching and shivering with his attention.
“That’s a good boy,” Chuuya breathes, moving closer to press his lips to the omega’s, auburn eyelashes fluttering shut to rest against his freckled cheeks. Jesus Christ. Why does everything this bastard does have to look so majestic? They move together sensually, lips finding a gentle rhythm as Chuuya tilts his head back so he can part his lips just enough to taste him, Akutagawa practically melting into a puddle in Dazai’s lap in the process.
Wait…
Wait, no.
This is worse. This is so much worse. It felt wrong before Chuuya even got here, and it feels even more wrong now. The scar on the back of his neck aches at the sight of his—
No-no-no shut up.
God, he can’t even think the word without wanting to blow his brains out.
Mate.
Dazai hears the low growl that’s erupted from his chest before he realizes it’s him who’s making the sound. Chuuya stills, blue eyes opening to lock with Dazai’s, and Dazai hates that a single look is doing more for him than anything from the previous hour. The way electricity immediately bolts down his spine, blooming wetness in his slacks, is embarrassing as fuck.
“Dazai, no.” The command hits him like a truck, and the air catches in the back of his throat, narrowly avoiding an audible whimper. “You chose to bring him here. You’re going to take care of him. Properly.” Chuuya’s words are powerful. Dominating. Dazai has to fight the instinct to cower. It silences him, of course, leaving Dazai to pray that Akutagawa isn’t cognisant enough to notice that it worked. Alpha commands don’t work on other alphas, though not for lack of trying.
“You need to go slow, break him down piece by piece,” Chuuya says gently, sliding his hand over to the side of Akutagawa’s neck. Akutagawa moves with him, baring his throat easily. Whore. “That begins with scenting, of course. To be properly satisfied, an omega needs to feel marked. Claimed.” The pad of his thumb stops over a gland.
Claimed? The word echoes in Dazai’s ears. No-no-no—
It should be him –- Dazai. Not this— this mongrel.
Shut up. Shut the fuck up. That’s not what you want. Alphas don’t want to be claimed by other alphas. It’s not natural.
He can’t seem to tear his eyes away as Chuuya runs the inside of his wrist over the sensitive gland. It’s like watching a car crash. Akutagawa stifles a whine, hunching forward into the sensation. Dazai can feel the omega’s slick beginning to run down his balls, dirtying his slacks. Disgusting.
Dazai has always hated himself, but he’s somehow managing to find a way to hate himself more with each passing moment.
“Well? Don’t just sit there, this is your omega. Scent him yourself.” Chuuya’s tone is calm but firm.
“He’s not my omega,” Dazai huffs, despite moving his hand to follow the alpha’s words obediently, arm hooking under Akutagawa’s own to press his wrist to the gland on the other side of his neck.
“Ah ah,” Chuuya says.“ No bandages.”
“B-but—”
“Here, let me.”
“Tch.” Dazai sulks as Chuuya grabs his hand, starting to pick at the section of bandages wrapped over his palm.
He’s only doing it so that Dazai can scent Akutagawa — an experience that Dazai already knows will haunt him right along with every other disgraceful act that’s happened this evening. But the warmth of Chuuya’s hands still quells something within him, momentarily satisfying that instinctual part of his psyche that craves attention from his alpha.
He’s never liked having his glands exposed, even before what happened, but these days, he’s even less fond of it. Sure, he always triple-checks his scent blockers before leaving home, but it’s the physical barrier of bandages that really calms his nerves. As Chuuya unwinds the bandages, Dazai can smell his own scent becoming more detectable. He doesn’t necessarily hate it, it’s just strange. Foreign. Yet another unpleasant reminder.
He can only hope it’s been long enough that Akutagawa can’t tell the difference.
When Dazai’s forearm is bare, Chuuya leans down and licks over the gland on his wrist before wrapping his lips around and sucking. This time, Dazai does not manage to catch the pathetic mewl that leaves his lips, nor does he manage to stop himself from clinging to the omega in front of him in a desperate attempt to gain purchase, face buried into the crook of his neck in white-hot shame as Akutagawa shakes like a leaf.
It’s not fair… Chuuya knows how sensitive his glands are from always being hidden away under bandages. When he pulls back, Dazai feels how his scent blooms around them, thick and unsettlingly sweet.
“There,” Chuuya says, tucking a few pieces of hair behind his ear. “Now you can scent him properly.”
Dazai doesn’t even bother trying to resist this time. He can feel his sanity beginning to slip as this progresses — feel that new part of himself he’s tried so hard to suppress starting to claw its way to the surface. He wants Akutagawa gone. They need to be completely and utterly alone — windows shut, doors locked, phones off — so Chuuya can—
No— stop—
—pin him face down by a fistful of hair and—
Shut-up-shut-up-shut-up—
—knot him until he’s so full and round he can’t do anything but drool into the mattress.
Fuck.
He needs him out of here now. Akutagawa can never know about this.
Bringing his wrist back to the omega’s neck, Dazai scents him in earnest. It’s an odd feeling, not entirely unpleasant but also not really what he wants — hot pins and needles radiating up his arm. It borders on painful, like water that’s just a degree too hot, teetering on the edge between pleasure and pain. Akutagawa seems to be enjoying it markedly more, shivering and leaning into the touch, greedy hole twitching around Dazai. The balance tips toward enjoyable when Chuuya starts working the bandages off Dazai’s other arm, rewarding him with a slide of their own wrists together that has Dazai moaning into the nape of Akutagawa’s neck.
The pheromones are thick in the air now, melding into something nearly hedonistic, if not for the tarnish of Akutagawa’s.
God, it would be so good if he wasn’t here.
“This has probably been a wet dream of yours for years,” Dazai mutters to the omega, unable to rid himself of his bitterness even with Chuuya’s scent taking the edge off. “You’ll never need jerk-off material again after this. Y-you can just close your eyes and think about your superiors. Who knows? Maybe ~ Mori-san ~ will fuck you next.”
“No! That’s - nngh - n-not—” Akutagawa tries to form a few coherent words.
“That’s rich coming from you,” Chuuya bites back, gripping Akutagawa’s chin and turning his head to run his wrist along the other side, leaving him panting. “You think I haven’t seen your search history? It hasn’t even been six months yet and—”
“Chuuya, don’t.”
He can’t know. Sure, he wouldn’t dare to tell a soul, but to Akutagawa, Dazai is smooth marble; a cold impenetrable wall, void of any nicks or cracks that could be exploited. To Akutagawa, Dazai is perfect.
“What’s wrong? Worried your little protege might find out—”
“Stop,” Dazai says with enough force to have Akutagawa jolting in his lap.
And besides, he can’t be held responsible for what he was looking up online in his heat-sick delirium. Chuuya is fighting dirty.
“If you insist,” Chuuya says with a shrug.
Dazai is willing to bet that Akutagawa’s never gotten this much attention in his life as Chuuya works his way down, pressing his lips to the column of his neck, then his chest and belly, before his head dips between their legs. Anxiety creeps its way back into the omega’s scent, and Dazai feels his trembling thighs try to snap shut, only to catch where his knees are hooked over Dazai’s.
“Aku-chan,” Chuuya says sweetly, running a hand up his thigh to rub circles over a hip. “I need you to tell me something, and I want you to be honest. Can you do that for me?”
Akutagawa hesitates for a moment before nodding his head slowly. Being honest isn’t in his nature, both Dazai and Chuuya know as much, but this is different. This is an alpha making a request of an omega. It’s halfway toward a command.
“Has Dazai been making you feel good?”
Oh, here we fucking go…
“I-I—” Akutagawa squirms uncomfortably in Dazai’s lap.
“It’s okay, he’s not going to punish you. We aren’t at work right now, you know that, right?”
Akutagawa stills — unsure what to make of that statement, Dazai can only assume. You don’t clock in and out with their line of work. It’s something you live and breathe, death as the only true form of resignation. It’s difficult, then, to know where you begin and duty ends, to know when you are truly on the other side of it, or if that side exists at all.
“Has he touched you down here?” Chuuya continues when he doesn’t get a response. The jolt and squeak that Akutagawa lets out tells Dazai that he’s finally got his hands on the omega’s disgusting little cock. “At all ?” Chuuya asks — as if he doesn’t already know the answer.
“N-Nnn…” Akutagawa shakes his head when he can’t get the word out.
Chuuya isn’t being entirely honest. Sure, Dazai isn’t going to punish him right now, but he can’t watch him forever. Sooner or later, Dazai and Akutagawa will be alone, and then…
“Dazai, you piece of shit…” Chuuya leans to the side, eyebrow raised, to lock eyes with Dazai. He’s disappointed, Dazai can smell it — can see it in those blue eyes. He doesn’t like this, doesn’t want to disappoint his alpha. Oh God. This is so much worse than if he had simply resorted to violence. “You know as well as I do that omega’s aren’t just some hole for you to fuck,” Chuuya says, disdain heavy on every word.
Oh, Dazai knows, he just doesn’t care. Well, he didn’t, not when he thought Chuuya was hundreds of kilometers away.
“What does it matter…” Dazai huffs under his breath. Akutagawa is such a pathetic excuse for an omega, having none of the usual charm they possess. He should be grateful Dazai was even interested in using him as a hole, as terrible of an idea as it was.
“What does it matter ? Have you no pride as an… alpha ?” Chuuya says. The final word is sarcastic, like the thought of Dazai being an alpha is the punch line to some shitty joke. Like his prior identity meant nothing.
Oh, that’s low. Dazai can see a glint in his eyes, knowing exactly what line he’s toeing.
“Tch.” Dazai looks away, eyes wandering over the piles of Akutagawa’s clothing strewn about the floor.
“Hey, don’t worry, I’ve got you,” he hears Chuuya hum to the omega. It makes something dark flare inside him — something truly ugly. He hates this. He hates this so much.
Focusing on the lifeless pile of clothes doesn’t quell much. It doesn’t take Dazai’s mind off of the omega he ordered to strip out of them earlier this evening. So he stares at the wall instead, getting lost in the vapid shade of beige — the same color as the envelopes he shoves wads of cash into to make them look dull and unappealing. Nondescript. The same as the colorless slop they feed to prisoners. The scumbag that rents out this place didn’t even have the decency to spread the paint evenly. There’s lines of brushstrokes in the chipping paint — even a few hairs mixed in and adhered to the wall. How… disgusting.
“Oi, Dazai, pay attention,” Chuuya says, snapping his fingers to pull him from his state of dissociation. He’s lower now, down on his knees between both their thighs. “The glands down here are just as important, they should be scented too. Once that’s done, then…”
He works over him slowly, taking care to thoroughly drench him in his scent, building Akutagawa into a slow writhe in the process.
“Perfect… God, look at you,” Chuuya hums, sounding truly reverential, much to Dazai’s dismay. Before Dazai can do more than knit his brows together, the alpha has moved in to take him into his mouth.
Akutagawa cries out — loud and inhibited — as Chuuya finally gives him the attention that Dazai’s denied him for so long, languid movements cut short with a sharp buck of his hips. Dazai almost slips out of him, but Chuuya takes care to push him back down, keeping him in place.
He moves with purpose, like he’s taking his time with a fine meal — savoring every twitch and whimper he pulls from the omega. The manic notes to Akutagawa’s scent vanish, overtaken with smooth sweetness that Dazai hates to admit is almost pleasant now. Chuuya’s scent is blooming too — notes of oak and leather that don’t leave space for anything else in Dazai’s mind. He curls his arms tighter around Akutagawa, the omega’s presence downgraded to a mild inconvenience in the wake of his alpha’s pheromones.
Chuuya’s hands bracket Akutagawa’s hips as he continues to work him towards his peak. He hasn’t touched himself once, nor has he been touched by either of them, and yet, he’s getting off on this. Enjoying the second-hand pleasure that radiates from the omega between them — arousal heavy in his scent. And his current sweeps Dazai right along with him, uncomfortably wet in his slacks.
It’s annoying, the way Chuuya is so naturally skilled at this. How he’s made such quick work of it all — breaking this omega down into something wild and mindless. Every moan and twitch from Akutagawa seems to tell him everything he needs, adjusting his movement and pace in a sensual dance towards his peak. Dazai knows how it feels to be under his attention all too well. It’s mesmerizing — the only time his mind goes truly quiet.
He can hear Akutagawa’s breath beginning to catch and stutter, back arching until his head rests fully on Dazai’s shoulder.
“Nngh… Ch-Chuuya-s-san,” Akutagawa whines — god forbid he leaves off the honorific.
His scent blooms further, becoming something else entirely. It mixes with Chuuya’s and gets in Dazai’s head, draping over his skin like luxurious silk. He’s close — squeezing Dazai’s cock so tight it might be painful if the alpha’s scent wasn’t keeping him rock hard. But before he can tip over the edge, Dazai hears the wet sound of Chuuya’s mouth leaving its mark, followed by him resurfacing from between Akutagawa’s legs. “Your turn,” he says, running his thumb over his bottom lip.
“W-What?” Dazai huffs.
“You heard me, you think I’m gonna let you sit there while I do all the work?” Chuuya says with a simmering grin — Dazai can already tell he’s not going to enjoy whatever comes next. “Come here, Aku-chan.”
Chuuya guides the scent-drunk omega’s hips upward until Dazai’s cock slips out of him. Akutagawa is flushed down to his shoulders, not entirely managing to suppress the little sounds of dissatisfaction as Chuuya pulls him onto trembling legs. Chuuya presses another sensual kiss to his lips before turning him around to face Dazai. He mutters something in his ear — Dazai doesn’t quite catch it — as he runs a hand over the omega’s chest.
“It’s okay, he’s not going to do anything. Get back on,” Chuuya says to him softly, guiding him to straddle Dazai, facing forward this time. “We need to keep you full.”
Akutagawa avoids eye contact with Dazai, red in the face as he climbs back onto his lap, knees bracketing Dazai’s hips. Dazai feels Chuuya’s warm palm on his cock, lining him back up so the omega can sink down onto him once more.
“That’s it, there you go. Good boy,” Chuuya hums when he’s fully seated again, and Akutawaga drops his forehead to Dazai’s shoulder as he twitches around him, unable to control his body’s reaction to the alpha’s praise.
Chuuya never talks to Dazai like that. It makes him feel territorial, like Akutagawa is encroaching on something that’s his and his alone — something he should have no part in. He can feel another snarl trying to claw its way out of his chest, but Chuuya moves forward to rest his head on the omega’s shoulder, bringing himself face to face with Dazai, and stopping his building aggression in its tracks. This perks him up. Is Chuuya finally going to pay attention to him? Dazai doesn’t even care that Akutagawa is between them at this point — he’s desperate for anything.
“Kiss him,” Chuuya says instead.
“No,” Dazai bites back. He may already have his cock inside him, may have already scented him, but tasting his filthy mouth? That’s too far.
“It’s a matter of principle, Dazai,” Chuuya drawls, hands running over the omega’s skin — stopping to give attention to any spots that cause him to whimper and shake. “You brought an omega into my bed, and I always make sure my omegas are properly satisfied. You should really know that by now…”
You. Fucking. Bitch.
Of course, Dazai knows that. Despite the horror of having his secondary gender torn away from him, Chuuya has never denied his newfound needs, but that’s not what this is about. The implication is there: that he could keep talking, let slip just a few words too many. He’s backing him into another corner. And did he just feel Akutagawa tense up at the mention of that?
Dazai grabs Akutagawa by the chin, tilting his head up and capturing his lips before Chuuya has time to expose him any further. They’re dry and clumsy. The two of them fumble around for several moments before they find some semblance of a rhythm. In truth, it’s not as bad as Dazai thought it would be. With Chuuya so close, the abrasive edges of Akutagawa’s scent seem to have been worn smooth. He tastes sweet, not addictive like Chuuya, but palatable enough to get on with it.
“Good, you’re doing so good for me Aku-chan,” Chuuya hums as he strokes Akutagawa’s hair.
What about me?
Am I good, too?
Up until now, Dazai’s tried his very best to not think about the other omegas Chuuya has been with. It’s not subtle, the way the Port Mafia omegas — including Akutagawa — fawn over him. Dazai used to assume his pheromones were just particularly good (well, that too), but it quickly became apparent that there’s more to it. Omegas talk — they know which alphas will treat them right. Clearly, Chuuya made the cut. But Dazai doesn’t want Chuuya to be with anyone else. Dazai doesn’t even want other omegas thinking about him. Chuuya is…
His.
Akutagawa whines against Dazai’s lips, hips bucking as Chuuya’s hand snakes between them. He’s barely coherent, sandwiched between the two, as Chuuya works him to his peak. He gets messier, lips missing their mark and connecting with the sides of Dazai’s mouth and chin, louder, increasingly frantic, until—
“Ah!! Nngh…” The omega’s broken mewl is half muffled by Dazai’s neck when he finally lets go.
“That’s it, there you go.” Chuuya holds Akutagawa’s hips down against Dazai to keep him still enough to work him through it.
After several drawn-out moments of frantic writhing, Akutagawa’s muscles give up the fight and he collapses into both their holds. Dazai feels warm wetness seep through his shirt. Great, now his clothing is going to be all crusty with Akutagawa’s jizz. Why the fuck didn’t he take off more of his clothes before this?
“Dazai, behave,” Chuuya says when he catches the look on his face. The words are hardly a command, but he’s issued enough subtle threats for Dazai to know better than to test his luck. It’s in his nature to resist, to put up walls and close himself off from everything around him, but resisting hasn’t gotten him very far this evening…
It might be time to stop fighting. It’s only prolonging an event he wants desperately to end. If being kind to Akutagawa gets him out of here faster, gets him approval from his alpha, then…
Slowly, Dazai moves his hand upwards to stroke soothingly at the omega’s tangled hair. It feels odd — unnatural — to touch Akutagawa, of all people, in this way. But the promise of getting anything from Chuuya — a few words of praise, a touch, a glance — spurs him on. He runs the back of his fingers over the omega's cheeks, collecting the moisture that’s collected there in his best imitation of care.
“Good,” Chuuya hums, giving Akutagawa one last slow pump.
Good. The word settles inside him like fine wine. He called him — Dazai — good. He can feel his own pheromones smoothing out, blending seamlessly with the others.
Chuuya’s hands leave Akutagawa and move downward, beginning to work Dazai’s slacks the rest of the way off.
Oh God. Oh fuck.
Dazai wants him, wants him so bad, but Akutagawa is still here, still pressed between them, still speared on his cock. The omega has finished now — surely Chuuya will get him to leave? Right?
Right???
Chuuya reaches under his thighs, yanking the waist of his pants down in one quick motion that sends Dazai onto his back, Akutagawa sprawling boneless on top of him. A moment later, one of his legs has been freed from his slacks, and he feels fingers rubbing at his slick entrance. Chuuya towers over the two of them, hair mussed up and lips red from use. His eyes are dark as they roam over the two omegas tangled together — as if he’s about to devour them both.
Oh fuck.
The horror begins to dawn on Dazai.
Chuuya intends to fuck him right here and now — in front of Akutagawa.
“C-Chuuya, wait— ugh!” Dazai throws his head back into the mattress as he feels two fingers breach him, sinking inside with ease. His cheeks are burning, humiliation offsetting the satisfaction of finally — finally — having something inside him. “Not in front of—”
“God, so wet,” Chuuya continues as if Dazai hadn’t spoken at all. “You must have been dying for this.”
“S-shut up!”
“Don’t worry, Dazai, I won’t fuck you,” Chuuya says, punctuating the final word with a thrust of his fingers that punches a moan out of Dazai before he can stop it. “Not unless you ask.”
“Nngh…” Dazai throbs inside the omega as fragments of what he wants desperately flash through his mind. Scents, touches, sensations.
He won’t ask for it, though.
He won’t.
“Aku-chan, can you sit up for me?” Chuuya runs his other hand along the omega’s spine, eliciting a shiver.
Akutagawa obeys wordlessly, heaving himself up to an unsteady balance, eyes hazy and unfocused. And Dazai completes his second silent prayer of the night, this time that Akutagawa isn’t lucid enough to notice what’s going on behind his back.
“We’re not done yet, of course,” Chuuya continues. “An omega won’t be properly satisfied without a knot. You need to give him yours.”
Wait.
“I–I—” Dazai stammers.
“Look at him,” Chuuya says, running a hand along the column of the omega’s neck. Akutagawa’s eyes are just as dark as Chuuya’s as the two of them look down at Dazai. There’s no recognition left in the omega’s gaze, none of the usual steely admiration that always curdles Dazai’s blood with something between shame and disgust. No, Akutagawa’s looking at him now like a dog left ravenous, Dazai nothing more than a piece of meat he’s about to tear apart. “Look at how bad he needs it.”
I can’t.
Not anymore.
“Aku-chan,” Chuuya hums, running his hand down around a hip to wrap his hand around the omega’s cock, already beginning to swell back to hardness. Akutagawa mewls, hips bucking and twitching into the alpha’s hand. “I want you to take what you need from him, don’t be scared — he’ll like it too.” The final statement borders on a command, sending electricity through the scar tissue on the back of Dazai’s neck.
Akutagawa is past the point of hesitation. His hips move immediately, small ministrations at first, but quickly building to stronger, larger motions as his desperation builds. He leans forward, planting both palms on Dazai’s chest as the slick sound of skin against skin overtakes their heavy breaths.
Jesus Christ.
Dazai grabs at the blankets as the sensation takes him more earnestly, Chuuya’s fingers working him up from the inside. It feels good, but it’s still not right. Akutagawa shouldn’t be here, even if that thought feels more distant now, and the fingers are quickly becoming not enough. Even worse, he knows he’s not going to be able to give Akutagawa what he needs. It’s all so much. Too much. Dazai tries to keep his mouth shut — tries not to give away the desperation that’s mounting within him — but he can’t entirely control how his breath stutters, nor how the occasional one reverberates high in his throat.
Ah, fuck.
Chuuya’s grinning again.
Another wave of pheromones falls over him. A warm comforting musk that Dazai can feel gnawing at his resolve. The scent curls in his mind, smoothing tension from his shoulders as if the alpha were stroking his hair. Give in, it whispers. I’ll make it good for you. And Dazai believes it. Knows it. Chuuya always makes it good for him. All he needs to do is throw away this damned pride.
“Ah! Chuuya…” Dazai whines as he feels the fingers push a little deeper, mind clouded with elation just out of reach. “It’s- It’s-” He spreads his legs a little wider in a silent plea.
He can’t say it.
Akutagawa is grinding on him hard and deep, angling his hips to get Dazai pressing against a spot that has his eyes crossing. Chuuya mouths at the side of the omega’s neck, teeth running delicately over the gland in a subtle reminder that he could sink lower. The sharp point of a canine catches on his skin, drawing red lines over pale flesh and causing Dazai’s gut to lurch.
“Use your words, Dazai.”
“It’s— n-not enough…”
“Greedy…” Chuuya huffs in amusement. “But, if you insist…”
Dazai moans as he feels himself stretch wider, Chuuya fitting in a third finger. The thrusts become shallower, angling upward so they glide over his prostate with every pass. He’s trying to make him come, and to Dazai’s horror, it’s working. But he doesn’t want to come like this — on only fingers — and certainly not inside Akutagawa.
“No— i-it’s not right. I want— I need—” He can feel moisture collecting in his eyes as he stumbles over his words, unable to get out a coherent thought as Chuuya drives him relentlessly toward the edge.
“Eh…?”
The room is beginning to blur, slick sounds of slapping skin blending with obscene pheromones and the muted colors of Chuuya’s bedroom walls. It’s too much. It’s not enough. It’s good. Bad. Something in between. Something beyond.
“Please,” Dazai whimpers, the flush of his cheeks only adding to his overwhelm. “P-Please…”
“I want to hear you say it,” Chuuya growls.
Bastard.
Dazai may as well be slipping into another heat, Chuuya having practically teased him into psychosis. He feels feral, like if he started hissing and biting he wouldn’t be able to stop. His skin is hot and sensitive to every brush of skin — every current of air. His core aches to be filled properly — the way only Chuuya can. To have his alpha look at him and no one else. The only thought left in his mind is how the weight of Chuuya’s cock will sit inside him, weigh down his hips, keep him warm and full. It’s disgusting, to be reduced to pure instinct — like he’s no better than a wild animal. He hates himself for it, and yet…
I can’t take it anymore.
Dazai feels his resolve shatter like glass as the words finally spill out of him.“ Fuck me. P-please-pleaseplease—” he practically sobs, raising a knee to rest next to Akutagawa’s hips.
“Oh, so that’s what you want?” Chuuya says casually, fingers not slowing down at all. His other hand comes to Dazai’s thigh, forcing his legs apart even further. “You want my knot ?”
Dazai feels himself throb inside the omega at the word alone.
“Yes! Nngh— Needit—” Dazai raises his other knee to bracket the omega’s hips, presenting as well as he can with the limitations. Distantly, he’s aware of how pathetic this all is, but he can deal with the fallout later. Well, he’ll have to.
“But you’re an alpha… and I’m an alpha… Wouldn’t that be—”
“I’m not!” Dazai cries. “I’m-not-I’m-not- I’M-NOT!”
“Oh?” Chuuya hums, raising an eyebrow. “You aren’t?” The alpha has the audacity to sound sincere in his performative confusion.
“I’m— I’m—” Dazai throws an arm over his face as he mutters into the crease of his elbow.
“Sorry, what was that? I couldn’t quiiiite hear you.”
“I’M AN OMEGA!” This time, Dazai shouts loud enough for the whole damn apartment building to hear. God. He wonders how many times he would have to slam his head into a wall to forget this ever happened.
It’s not 35 — he tried that as soon as his heat had dried up.
On the other side of his words, time stands still. As if Dazai finally speaking the truth brought the world to a halt, most of all himself. Then everything slams back down. The gravity of the situation is drowned out by raw sensory input — the heady musk that has his body heavy and pliant, the pounding of blood in his ears, the insatiable tension within him.
“And whose omega are you?”
“Y-yours! Chuuya’s!!” Dazai gasps as the admission, along with Chuuya’s unrelenting fingers, shoves him clean off the edge. Shame mixes with diluted euphoria as he feels himself empty into Akutagawa, unable to do anything but claw at the omega’s legs as he twitches and whines. It’s over before he knows it — like the ground had simply disappeared beneath him.
“Good, that’s right, now you’ve got it,” Chuuya hums, sliding his fingers out of Dazai’s twitching hole. “Woulda been a whole lot easier if you cut the bullshit an hour ago…”
Dazai only whimpers in response, body tingling yet nowhere near satiated.
Chuuya’s hands move to Akutagawa’s hips, stilling his frantic movements as he tries to reach his own peak, and Dazai breathes a sigh of relief. Chuuya moves the omega’s hips up, reaching a hand underneath him to guide Dazai’s sensitive cock out of him. Akutagawa whines, dissatisfied with the loss, twisting backward to look at Chuuya with a delirious pout.
“So you want me to fuck you…” Chuuya says, eyes downcast to work at his own slacks.
Dazai licks his lips.
Finally.
He doesn’t even care that Akutagawa is here at this point. He’s pent-up, territorial, bordering on insanity from how everything has played out. Even with the omega in his way, he can smell his alpha’s arousal — that thick heady scent that he craves above all else. More than nicotine. More than alcohol. More than death. It’s all encompassing, like he’s an entire bottle of whiskey deep, wrapped in the warm lullaby of dopamine and thoughts that fade into obscurity.
“You want me—” Chuuya hums, Akutagawa arching his back a little more between them, begging to be filled. “Inside of you?”
“Yes,” Dazai breathes.
Chuuya watches Dazai, the look in his eyes still sharp, despite how they’ve become hooded. Dazai watches back, his own wide and pleading. He knows he’s not just imagining it — Chuuya wants him. Wants him bad. He can see it in his gaze, smell it in his scent, practically feel it in the air. He’s so close to getting what he wants — the alpha is on the precipice of raw instinct.
Please.
Please.
“Well, unfortunately…” Chuuya’s stare seems to peer inside him as his belt clacks open. “We still have work to do.”
Before he even makes it to the final word, Akutagawa makes a noise of shock that dissolves into guttural satisfaction, eyes rolling as he lurches forward, hands clutching blindly at Dazai’s shirt. Chuuya moves closer with a hand on the omega’s hip, pushing into him from behind, Dazai realizes in a dead panic. Despite the omega being kept open all this time, Chuuya’s cock stretches him wider — fills him fuller than Dazai ever could. It’s subtle, but with Akutagawa on full — obscene — display, Dazai can see how his lean belly is pushed outward to accommodate every inch of him.
“No-no-no- Chuuya— Please. No,” Dazai begs in earnest, digging his elbows into the bed underneath him to find some level of purchase — propping himself up as if he’s preparing to guard himself against a foe. It’s futile, of course — this isn’t the type of game that can be won with fists or quick feet. He’s pinned under the two, his own forgotten cock laying over a hip bone and sticking uncomfortably to the hem of his shirt. “I’m s-sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“That’s it, there you go,” Chuuya mutters into Akutagawa’s ear, his voice low and rough, jaw set firm, “...taking me so well.” He runs a hand around the omega’s hip to let his palm rest against his lower belly, feeling how his body has formed around him, tracing the bulge of his own cock. He keeps his eyes on Dazai, though, that motherfucking grin never leaving his lips.
Dazai doesn’t know if he wants to throw up or tear out both their throats. He feels like all five stages of grief have struck him at once. His body is screaming for release, for his alpha’s touch, for anything, and instead he’s watching someone else get the very thing he threw away his dignity and begged for. There’s bile in his throat, hot and burning. It’s… cruel. Sadistic. And yet, he’s still a slave to his instincts, in the end, unable to displease his alpha. Chuuya doesn’t want him to fight with this omega, even though it’s taking everything in him not to claw out his eyes. All he can do is lie here. Try his best to keep himself from falling apart. But it’s no use — he’s weathered concrete under the heel of Chuuya’s boot.
“It’s not f-f-…” Dazai’s voice breaks on the word, eyes burning.
“Fair?” Chuuya practically snarls, pulling out and thrusting back inside Akutagawa, who cries out, head thrown back in blind rapture. “Tell me Dazai, what’s fair about any of this?”
“It’s— It’s—” What can he say? He knows it’s not fair, knows it’s entirely his own fault he’s lying here, but that doesn’t change the way his heart feels like it’s being torn in two. Hacked apart by a rusty blade.
Chuuya doesn’t stop. In fact, he speeds up, building a rhythm as he fucks Akutagawa hard and deep. When he hears the alpha mutter a breathy fuck, hunching over him as his hand slides upward to thumb over a nipple, Dazai breaks.
He’s enjoying it. Dazai is at his wits' end, and he’s enjoying it.
The sob that tears out of him as he flops back down on the bed is pure anguish — as if he’d been stabbed, as if he were dying in a puddle of his own blood. Tears stream down his blotchy face as he gasps and chokes underneath the blissed-out omega, pheromones turning sour and lacing the room with the rot of despair. He aches from within, his core barren and hollow. He doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want any of this. Least of all, for his alpha to—
…breed another.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t breathe.
Dazai’s eyes fly open, breath stuttering, when he feels a hand on him. Chuuya has reached between them, taking hold of both of their cocks in a hand, Akutagawa’s quivering against his own. He strokes them together, slowly at first — Akutagawa mewling out of his mind and Dazai continuing to sob loudly. The touch isn’t enough — not nearly enough — a single cup of water thrown onto the raging fire of emptiness and pleasure wound too tight.
“Ch-Chuuya… Nngh…” Dazai continues to bawl. “P-Please! Chuuya!”
“Mmm, fuck, Dazai…” Chuuya groans. “You— It— feels so good...”
With that, there’s a lull in Dazai’s frantic spiral, long enough for him to gaze tear-stricken at the alpha looming above him — to truly take in the scene. Chuuya is starting to lose his composure now, red strands of hair sticking to his forehead as he stares past the omega between them, eyes resting heavily on Dazai — on his omega.
Is he…?
It’s easy to get lost in his gaze, everything else becoming fuzzy and unfocused. There’s only a tiny ring of blue left in Chuuya’s eyes, like a thin layer of gasoline on the surface of deep water. He’s losing control and yet—
He’s thinking about me.
Hell, he’s not even looking at Akutagawa — hasn’t been for a while.
Dazai throbs in his alpha’s hand at the realization, feeling how pheromones bloom in response. It doesn’t stop the ache, but Chuuya is touching him. Thinking about him. Watching him.
Skirting down from his firm grip on Akutagawa’s hip, Chuuya finds Dazai’s fist, curled white-knuckled into the blankets. Dazai loosens his grip, blinking through tears as he allows the alpha to drag it up until it meets the damp skin of Akutagawa’s belly. All the while, he doesn’t take his eyes off Dazai, not even for a second. His warm hand presses into the back of Dazai’s knuckles, pushing his palm firmly against soft flesh over taut muscles. Dazai can feel it, the way the omega undulates from within, trembling around Chuuya’s girth as he’s stretched to his limit. It’s disgusting. Filthy. Vulgar.
It should be him.
The message is clear: Chuuya doesn’t want Dazai to simply watch him fuck someone else, he wants him to feel it. Wants it ingrained in his psyche. Wants Dazai to wake up in a cold sweat thinking about him balls-deep in another omega.
And, well, mission definitely fucking accomplished. Dazai can practically taste the flashbacks already — no amount of ketamine is going to undo how this experience has imprinted on every one of his senses. The way he can feel Chuuya’s cock rutting relentlessly against the omega’s quivering insides… God …
He should have never drank with Chuuya that night. Should have never fell for those tempting lies. Dazai’s been so focused on not being an omega, he hadn’t considered the much more serious problem of being bonded to someone who fucking hates him — who relishes in his suffering. It was stupid to think letting Chuuya have this much power over him would be even a little bit okay.
Mercifully, Chuuya begins to lose his rhythm, hand increasingly clumsy around the two of them, hips jumping and stuttering. His breathy, barely-there groans are getting lower, turning into more of a growl. Akutagawa is becoming louder too — even more frantic — face pressing into Dazai’s chest as his arms give out entirely. Another wave of pheromones crashes over Dazai, warming this agony with dubious euphoria. He feels like he’s getting pulled in several different directions at once, second-hand pleasure and first-hand grief compounding into true disconcertion.
Before he can do anything other than sob, several things happen at once. Akutagawa lets out a strange sound, almost as if he’s in pain. Dazai feels the hand leave him before there’s something hot and wet pressing at his entrance. He yelps in surprise that quickly transforms into a moan of deep satisfaction as Chuuya enters him roughly, stretching him wide and burying his cock down to the hilt in one smooth motion. In an instant, he’s stuffed impossibly full, the alpha burning hot within him, already heated from the depths of Akutagawa’s core.
“Fuck, FUCK!!” Chuuya snarls as he works four fingers into Akutagawa just as quickly. The omega mewls and groans as Chuuya sinks in relentlessly, not letting up until his entire fist has disappeared inside.
When the alpha thrusts into him, Dazai feels like he’s been struck by lightning. He jolts underneath the two, crying out loudly, completely overwhelmed with both sensation and emotion. Chuuya thrusts again and Dazai sees stars as the head of his cock presses against something impossibly sensitive. Akutagawa cries into the damp fabric of Dazai’s collared shirt, followed by another load of warmth over Dazai’s belly. Before he can even begin to formulate a thought, there’s even more heat spreading inside him — all the way up into his ribs. Chuuya groans another few slurred curses as he spills inside Dazai, dragging another tumultuous climax out of him, neglected cock throbbing out his own mess to add to the heinous state of his shirt. For a moment, there’s simply nothing. Dazai wishes he could stay here forever. Cling to this moment until his fingers are pried from it. They twitch and tremble through the come down, each erratic movement causing another to whine and jolt — not a single thought between the three of them.
Then reality comes crashing back down.
What the fuck just happened?
When Chuuya shifts back, slipping out of him easily, panic begins to creep back over Dazai.
No. No. No.
It’s not right.
There’s no knot.
He should be grateful. He should be happy that Chuuya at least had the decency not to finish inside Akutagawa, but Dazai’s instincts haven’t been satisfied. The omega within him is still loud. Unsated. This impatience cuts through the haze of the afterglow like a knife. Small sounds of frustration begin to escape his lips. He looks up at the alpha, working his hand gently out of the omega above him. Once free, the omega collapses on top of Dazai — nothing but dead weight.
“Alright, now we’re done with him,” Chuuya says, voice still strained and rough. “Let’s get him cleaned up.”
Despite his restless disappointment, muscles barely retaining any strength, Dazai does what he asks. They work together to move the unconscious omega off him, laying Akutagawa down near the top of the bed. He’s sweaty and half-covered in his own slick. Dazai would simply leave him like that to get cold and crusty, but of course, Chuuya is already grabbing a dirty shirt out of the hamper to clean him off. Rolling his eyes and trying to just focus on the relief of being done with him, Dazai looks down at the state of his own shirt, so soaked with come that he can see his own flesh beneath the parts that are glued to him.
Fucking. Gross.
He starts by undoing the remaining buttons, using his fingertips to avoid touching the mess more than he needs to.
“I never said I was done with you, though,” Chuuya deadpans as he finishes wrapping a blanket around Akutagawa.
The back of Dazai’s neck prickles, and when he glances up from his shirt, the look in Chuuya’s eyes is nothing short of homicidal. Dazai can’t be sure if he’s going to fuck him or kill him, though he doesn’t really have a preference between the two.
Before he can do anything other than let his shirt fall to the floor, the alpha is on him. Tearing at his clothes, thumb and forefinger digging meanly into the bite on the back of his neck as he forces his face into the mattress. What little strength Dazai has left leaves him immediately, going completely limp in the hold as his core flutters with exhilaration.
“Don’t ever do this again,” Chuuya spits, pheromones crushing Dazai into the bed like gravity — the closest he will ever get to experiencing For The Tainted Sorrow. It makes his mind cloud with want.“ You hear me ?”
“Y—” He feels fingers drag over his scalp as the alpha grabs a fistful of hair, yanking his head to the side so Dazai has no choice but to meet his vicious gaze.
“DO YOU HEAR ME? ”
“YES!”
“Alpha, omega, I don’t give a shit — you’re mine. Don’t you ever fucking forget that,” Chuuya snarls, cock pressed tight against the crook of Dazai’s ass, sending fire through his core.
“Y-yes! C-Chuuya’s…” Dazai slurs into the mattress. “Please…” He pushes his hips back, arching his back desperately, not even having the sense to feel embarrassed about how wet this is making him, slick running down until it dribbles off his cock, hanging hard and heavy between his legs. “Inside… please …”
“When are you gonna get it through your head that I’m the only one who can give you this ?”
Before Dazai can whine out another string of incoherent babble, Chuuya slams inside him, punching out a broken moan. He sinks in easily, the obscene combination of fluids leaking out of Dazai leaving little resistance. Dazai feels like his nerves have all been coated in honey as the alpha begins pounding into him at full force without so much as a moment's hesitation. He’s so deep in him, possessive pheromones weighing down his thoughts and limbs. It’s perfect. It’s everything he’s ever wanted.
“You don’t deserve my knot, you fucking bitch,” Chuuya snarls, forcing Dazai’s head harder into the bed.
It’s all for show at this point. Akutagawa is out cold several feet away from them, pliant body rocking right along with the bedframe. Chuuya would have knotted him already if he planned on giving it to someone else, but he didn’t. Not to mention he could have knotted Dazai in front of Akutagawa, but he waited until Akutagawa was taken care of. Until they were alone. Until he could dedicate his full attention to his omega.
That doesn’t stop Dazai’s very real desperation. This evening has felt like an eternity. He can’t wait any longer. He needs it more than the air in his lungs. More than the blood in his veins.
“Please… N-need it! Chuuya… alpha … need it… so bad…” Words flow mindlessly out of Dazai. “I’ll b-be… good… so… good …”
“You’ve never - fuck - been good a day in your entire - ugh - life…” Chuuya growls through gritted teeth.
With Akutagawa no longer conscious, Dazai can finally fully relax into his newfound role. It feels good to submit, has since that very first night — it’s his ego that keeps getting in his way. But right now, under the full undivided glory of his alpha’s pheromones, Dazai is simply an omega submitting completely to his mate. He melts into it, arching his back further and angling his hips so Chuuya hits that perfect spot within him dead-on with every thrust. It’s good — God, it’s so good.
“Please!! Alpha, please! I need…” Dazai whimpers into the mattress.
The base of Chuuya’s cock is already beginning to swell as he reaches around to shove his fingers — still sweet with slick — into Dazai’s mouth, reducing his begging to total incoherence.
“Shut up, shut the fuck up. If you ever do anything like this again, I’ll kill you. You hear me, Dazai? It’s on sight.”
Dazai nods as best he can with the fingers in his mouth, eyes straining to the side to look frantically up at the alpha that’s completely overpowering him.
“Fuck, you’re so…” A low sound builds in the back of Chuuya’s throat — a territorial noise that builds quickly into a snarl.
Leaning over, his thrusts turn into a powerful grind, a puff of hot breath running down Dazai’s spine. In the next breath, his tongue runs over the nape of his neck, tonguing into the divots of scar tissue, causing Dazai’s head to spin. He’s starting to feel faint, but he fights to keep lucid. He needs to feel it — every inch of his alpha’s thick knot.
And it’s happening, it's really happening. He can feel how he’s being stretched even wider, how the alpha can barely pull out before slamming back inside, elation mounting impossibly fast. This time, Dazai is ready and willing — more than. He keeps his hips tilted up, making sure Chuuya reaches deep as his knot finally catches. There’s a hand on his chest, pinching and pulling at his nipples, fingers forsaking his mouth to trail down and run over his belly as he swells full.
And then his alpha is coming, pumping him full with a gush of hot spend. Dazai’s eyes cross as he feels himself grow heavier with his alpha’s knot and seed — feels his belly push into the alpha’s encouraging palm. Holy shit. The warm tension of his core suddenly becomes a fire — dull red coals flashing bright. Everything snaps, endorphins rush, and Dazai feels his untouched cock throb, coming messily onto the blankets below.
Before he can do anything other than gasp and pant, there’s teeth in his neck, searing pain that tears down his spine and blends seamlessly with pleasure, as if they were never meant to be two distinct entities. It’s good, it’s so fucking good. It’s everything.
Hot blood runs over his neck, dripping onto the sheets and matting his hair. It smells like fine copper, like an ego beat bloody, like he was always meant to be Chuuya’s bitch.
He tries to hold on, tries to relish in every sensation. But it’s not long before consciousness evades him, vision fading to blackness.
It’s not that Akutagawa has never done a walk of shame before, but it’s never felt quite this… well, shameful. Falling into bed with one executive is bad enough, but two ? And getting between a bonded pair, no less? What a truly unfortunate set of circumstances.
The living room he has evidently been moved to is silent when he finally rouses sometime later in the night, pulled out of that dreamless sleep by woody notes of tobacco. Akutagawa finds himself wrapped in what he can only assume is one of Chuuya-san’s robes, knowing that it’s much too tasteful to belong to his mentor. He seems to have been wiped clean as well, though he’s still wet enough to have dirtied the robe, causing his cheeks to flush all over again at the realization.
His eyes only have to dart around in a panic for a few moments before he locates his clothing folded neatly on a nearby coffee table. He scrambles towards them, still half asleep, yet desperate to finally feel the safety of Rashomon surrounding him. Hoping he can make his exit before he has a chance to run into either of the executives, he dresses in a hurry, fumbling each piece on with little care. Nothing is straight or sitting properly — the buttons on his shirt are all mismatched, but it’s good enough. He heads for the door without so much as smoothing out the fabric.
When he enters the kitchen, the door on the other side, the scent of tobacco gets stronger. Akutagawa catches movement out of the corner of his eye, and he jolts, coming to a stop when he finds Chuuya-san sitting in the dark at the kitchen table, the window behind him open just enough for him to blow smoke out. He’s still wearing his work clothes, now wrinkled and askew, but his unruly hair has been pulled back into a ponytail.
“I think we both know you’ve seen some things you shouldn’t,” the alpha says before Akutagawa manages to formulate any words worth speaking. He raises the cigarette between his fingers to his lips, the dull orange glow of embers illuminating smears of red around his mouth.
Ah.
It all comes rushing back in fragments of images and sensations. The way the alpha’s commands had forced Dazai-san into compliance, how Akutagawa had felt his mentor’s body respond to the alpha’s pheromones, not to mention how his behavior had changed to one of submission when Chuuya-san arrived… His memory becomes more blurry as he thinks back on how the evening progressed, but it’s enough.
It all makes sense now.
Dazai-san isn’t actually an alpha.
It’s the oldest trick in the book, and Akutagawa fell for it. Hook, line, and sinker.
He bows his head immediately. “My apologies Chuuya-san, I-I should never have come… I take full respon—”
“If you breathe a word of this to anyone …” Chuuya interjects casually, leaning back to tap his cigarette ashes out the window. “I’ll kill you myself.”
It silences Akutagawa as if a command had been uttered, and he swallows thickly. He feels sick to his stomach, the complete and utter shame of this evening compounding with dread. Dazai-san threatens to kill him all the time, some idle and some not, so much so that it hardly even fazes him anymore. But Chuuya-san…
Chuuya-san doesn’t make promises he can’t keep.
“I’ll never speak of it.” Akutagawa says curtly, bowing deeper. His clothes pull at him awkwardly, but he doesn’t dare use Rashomon to even them out.
“Good. Now get the fuck out of here.”
Akutagawa nods before crossing the kitchen and exiting without another word. He makes a point to walk — certainly not slow but not too fast either — in an attempt to salvage at least a shred of dignity from this whole situation. To not let the alpha catch on to how much this evening has shaken him. As if the alpha who just threatened to murder him didn’t give him the best fuck of his life several hours ago.
Akutagawa tries to keep the large breath of relief that leaves him silent when the door clicks shut behind him.
And when his hand leaves the handle, he starts running and doesn’t look back.