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Gojo Satoru has always been the strongest.
This is something Suguru cannot deny, no matter how much he wants to. No matter how much every single alpha complains about this “natural order upset.” Ever since the summer everything went wrong, the omega’s raced further and further ahead while Suguru stays behind, swallowing curses and filling out paperwork for each curse he’s absorbed, no matter how pitifully weak it is. He’s not even allowed to exorcise the damn things anymore, always chided by the higher ups for not using his Cursed Technique at every available opportunity.
Now, when Suguru reaches out, there’s an infinite space separating him from the entity that used to be his best friend. Bitterness grows thick in his throat as he watches the gap between them grow. He knows that all he has to do is call out and Satoru will be by his side in an instant, but he wouldn’t understand. Satoru wasn’t affected by Riko’s death, nor Suguru’s brush—he was only affected by his own. It’s almost funny, Suguru thinks, how he thought Satoru could have ever cared for him. The omega has always been self-centered, self-absorbed. He wouldn’t know how to love anyone more than himself.
Suguru forces out a harsh breath, shaking his head from sour thoughts. Objectively, he knows not all of that is true. It’s just… hard. Suguru’s been avoiding Satoru for the past couple weeks now, too. He doesn’t want to snap, doesn’t want to deal with Satoru’s whining and needling and incessant questions about weight and sleep and eating enough or going out. It’s really been getting under Suguru’s skin lately. He’s even gone so far to keep his phone shut down and hidden under his pillow at all times so he doesn’t have to deal with calls or texts.
Unfortunately, he’s been so stuck in his head he doesn’t realize that the very person he’s been avoiding is right in front of him, ozone and marshmallow root and a new, citrusy undertone lingering in the hall.
“Suguru!” Satoru calls, instantly brightening when Suguru finally looks him in the eye, sunshine smile wide on his face like it’s been painted on. Suguru’s sure if Satoru smiles anymore, his face will break. “Yo, man, where’ve you been? I missed you.”
The alpha scoffs, making sure to keep his scent in check. He doesn’t want to deal with questions about how bitter it’s become since they last met. If Satoru even remembers what Suguru used to smell like. Probably not. Suguru plays Satoru’s concerns down further, anyways. “It’s only been a couple days.”
It’s been half a month.
“It’s been foreeeeever,” Satoru rejects, looping an arm around Suguru’s, a layer of Infinity still between them. “Listen, I have a favor to ask of you, but it’s probably more for private spaces, y’know? Don’t wanna scar the first years for life or something.”
Suguru frowns, mouth opening to tell Satoru off, come up with some excuse about how busy he is—how busy they both are, but he stops. There’s a desperation lurking under the glacial, luminous blue of Satoru’s eyes, and it’s then Suguru realizes he isn’t wearing his glasses. Something has Satoru frazzled enough to risk a migraine, so Suguru knows he’s being serious. With another sigh, he gives in, letting Satoru tug him into an empty classroom. He sits on a desk while Satoru makes sure the door is locked and it throws Suguru back in time, back when they’d hide out in classrooms to make out and grind on each other because it was more exhilarating to do that there than in their bedrooms.
They never talked about it.
They don’t really talk about anything now.
Of course they wouldn’t—Satoru avoids any and all serious conversations and Suguru’s become too tired to try to keep up with the jokes and again, the stupid fucking questions. His gaze doesn’t leave the tense line in Satoru’s shoulder, watching the omega take deep breaths like he needs to soothe himself, like there’s anything in the world at all that could hurt him or that he could be scared of. Scorn settles behind Suguru’s teeth, but he keeps it there, letting it turn his teeth brittle and sharp.
“What do you need, Satoru?” He hates that even after this past year, he still can’t say the omega’s name in a harsh way. Hates that he can only say his name in a way that draws all the tension from Satoru’s body, like they’re mates coming home to each other after a long day apart. Like they could ever be mates. Like they could be normal.
Still facing the door, Satoru says the stupidest thing Suguru’s ever wanted to hear. “I want to share my heat with you.”
Suguru raises an eyebrow as the information processes. Satoru will be the first person in their class to fully present. Three months shy of eighteen and already about to go into heat. Suguru tries not to break down laughing because seriously? The strongest sorcerer in the world is about to become so horny he goes stupid, and he’s scared of that? So scared he needs to ask Suguru for help? It’s ridiculous, and makes Suguru feel better, knowing that there are still some ways Satoru can’t get rid of his humanity. He watches blood rush to Satoru’s ears and cheeks, and hums to himself. Satoru certainly won’t be able to keep Infinity up while he’s being fucked all the way, and honestly? Suguru’s desperate to touch him, to know that Satoru is still real and solid and not this floating, ethereal being.
He just wants his best friend back in a way he’s certain Satoru will never give him, so Suguru nods. “Okay. My room or yours?”
When the day finally comes, Suguru is exhausted. They just made it through another heatwave, and he didn’t have a single day off, barely had enough time to himself for four hours of sleep the past week. The conversation with Yuki weighs heavy on his mind, as well. He kind of wants to bail, ditch Satoru and deal with the consequences later, but the whining he’ll have to deal with, and the inevitable kicked puppy look Satoru would give him are enough to motivate him to take a shower and get this over with. Who knows, maybe some time being able to actually touch the omega will be helpful, might help him clear his head. He knows he didn’t used to get so annoyed by Satoru’s antics. Hell, he was an instigator half the time.
He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him.
Well, okay, there’s a lot of things wrong with Suguru, but he doesn’t know how to fix any of those things. Fucking Satoru so hard he shuts up is at least a feasible option that could fix half of them.
He doesn’t bother drying his hair, barely bothers drying off his body as he steps out of the shower and throws on a loose sweater and a pair of sweats. It’s not like his clothes will stay on long, and he’ll probably be sweating a lot. The aircon in Satoru’s room is broken, but he was insistent he spend his first heat in his own bed. It’s not an unreasonable request, but it’s inconvenient, especially considering Suguru’s room isn’t far down the hall and has a functioning aircon unit. Whatever. It’s fine. It’s not a big deal, and ultimately, it doesn’t matter.
He’ll get to touch Satoru.
He can deal with a lot, just for that.
He takes the time to brush his teeth and he can’t remember the last time he’s done that, standing in front of a mirror while letting the brush saw across his teeth, gums, and roof of his mouth. He avoids the reflection of an alpha with thinning, brittle hair, cheeks that have slowly begun to sink in. The dark circles that have turned his eyes from brown to purple. Color theory, or some other such bullshit. It hurts more than he remembered, blood easily flowing where the enamel grows out. He spits. He rinses the tooth brush. He brushes his teeth again and again until his breath smells like the advertised spearmint. In total, he brushes his teeth four or five times.
He lost count.
He leaves the bathroom, walks down the hall, passes his room and goes just a few more doors down until he’s standing in front of Satoru’s room. He knocks on the door. Suguru hears frantic shuffling and a muttered curse come from behind it before the door swings open a few seconds later. Suguru is immediately overwhelmed with the smell of burning ozone and citrus. He forces himself to keep his face neutral while Satoru pants, leaning on the door, face flushed all over.
“Heya, stranger,” Satoru coos, probably in some attempt to be endearing. His chest and shoulders are heaving, blue eyes bloodshot like he’s been crying or high.
“Ah, sorry,” Suguru teases, trying to at least show some amount of energy. “Got the wrong room.”
Satoru cackles, swinging the door wider for Suguru to actually be able to enter. “The higher ups seriously haven’t given you a break, huh? You look exhausted.”
Annoyance bubbles in Suguru’s gut, rising up to his throat in quick succession, but he just rolls his eyes. He knew how bad the dark circles were. “Sorry.”
“It’s— it’s fine!” Satoru reassures. “I’m not like, super in my heat yet. The first one is supposed to be the easiest anyways. We could just… I dunno, cuddle? until things get bad, if you want. You can sleep.”
Suguru looks to the twin sized mattress that’s been overtaken by a haphazard nest of clothes and books and Shoko’s fucking travel first aid kit. What the fuck. The sheets are rumpled and the blankets have chip crumbs on them, and Suguru wants to know who else was here because Satoru doesn’t snack on salty things. He’s got the biggest goddamn sweet tooth in the world. It doesn’t even matter that none of Suguru’s things are in the pile, since he gets to be in it anyways. He just… never thought a nest would look so ugly. Once again, it’s nice to know there are things even the great Gojo Satoru can’t do right, but Suguru knows that with enough practice, or indulgence of instinct, Satoru will have a perfect nest in no time.
It’s annoying.
“Thanks,” he says, moving to drop into the nest before Satoru grabs his bicep. Suguru’s almost shocked into a daze, feeling that warm hand, sure and soft and real and there holding him. Not the Infinity between them. “What is it?”
“I just…” Satoru sighs, moving away to flop at his desk chair. “I miss you.”
It’s clearly not what Satoru wants to say, not really, but Suguru is too tired to push. “I’m here now.”
“I know!” Satoru drops his face in his hands, scrubbing rapidly. “I know. Just— we don’t have to do anything sexual if you don’t want to. I just wanted you to know that.”
“I know that,” Suguru confirms, finally laying on the bed. Satoru’s is more comfortable than his. “What, you don’t wanna anymore?”
“No, I do! I do.”
“You keep repeating yourself.”
“Sorry,” Satoru chuckles, then clears his throat. Then clears his throat a little harder like he’s trying to hide how bad he has to cough and Suguru just closes his eyes. Let Satoru be weird on his own time. The exhaustion is sinking down so deep in his bones he thinks it may add new weight to him.
Satoru’s coughing fit doesn’t last long, and Suguru is finally able to fall into a hazy, half-sleep. It’s made better when Satoru comes over and gets in the nest with him. Their bodies press neatly together, perfect fitting puzzle pieces, and Satoru is so warm. There’s no Infinity between them. No space at all, just clothes. Suguru manages to drop a kiss to Satoru’s forehead before falling into real sleep.
When Suguru wakes up, the bone deep exhaustion hasn’t melted away, but he feels better, less stressed. More alive. Satoru is still pressed right up against him, nose jammed into the scent gland on Suguru’s neck. Suguru grins down at the sight, the shock of messy white hair all he can really see. He wraps his arm around Satoru’s waist and gently squeezes before tracing patterns along his side.
In a perfect world, it would always be like this. Satoru would never turn Infinity on, and Suguru could always hold him. In a perfect world, Satoru wouldn’t have to be the strongest. He could be as weak as he damn well pleased. In a perfect world, no one would have to lose their lives fighting curses because they wouldn’t exist. The blade that could cut through Infinity has already been destroyed, so Satoru doesn’t have to worry about that currently, but in a perfect world, he never would have worried about it at all. Suguru sighs, scenting the air. The burning ozone has wafted away, replaced with the much more pleasant scent of marshmallow root. The citrus lingers, but it doesn’t really seem like it’s coming from Satoru. Probably one of those room scents Haibara is always going on about.
Satoru groans, nuzzling deeper into Suguru’s scent gland for a minute before he pulls away, moving like his blood has turned to syrup. “G’mornin’,” Satoru rumbles, purr stirring up in his chest just loud enough for Suguru to hear.
“There’s no way it’s still morning,” Suguru rebuttals, eyeing the dried drool track from the corner of Satoru’s mouth along his cheek. “How’re you feeling?”
“Mm, horny, but like,” Satoru pauses to think. “Like, if you get edged once or twice yesterday but got interrupted and haven't been able to cum since then.”
“Speaking from experience?”
“Does reading erotica count as experience?”
“Probably not,” Suguru chuckles, pulling Satoru back to him. “Wanna get started before it gets any worse?”
“Ah, good idea,” Satoru agrees, swinging a leg over to straddle Suguru’s waist, still laying down on top of him. “Just let me have some more of this, first.”
Suguru raises a brow, looking down at the omega nuzzling into his chest. Was the omega depriving himself from Suguru’s touch just as much as he had deprived the alpha? Suguru wants to scoff at the ridiculousness of it all. If he just kept Infinity dropped while they were together, this wouldn’t be an issue, wouldn’t be something they were both left craving. Suguru is, once again, reminded of how incredibly selfish and stupid Satoru can be. Still, Suguru’s feeling a bit more indulgent than normal, the anger turning fuzzy at the edges, so he keeps his mouth shut.
He grabs Satoru’s hips, holding him firmly. It’s not even a full minute before Satoru is shuffling down just a bit, slotting his ass right over Suguru’s dick and giving a little grind. Suguru squeezes, and the omega gasps an inhale. “Shit, I— mh— it’s been awhile.”
Suguru chuckles, intent on watching Satoru grind his hips, just a slight back and forth. The warm body on top of him is enough to get his own dick to twitch, and the thick arousal bleeding into Satoru’s scent isn’t helping. He can see the hardness growing in Satoru’s shorts, fabric bunching awkwardly and Suguru starts sliding them down.
“Off,” Suguru demands, unable to really get the shorts anywhere at all while Satoru’s in this position. “Underwear too.”
“Yes sir,” Satoru teases. Suguru rolls his eyes as Satoru rolls off of Suguru for a second to chuck the offending articles off. He’s back in Suguru’s lap quickly, dick hard and leaking and so, so small. “Your turn?”
“Not just yet,” Suguru denies, hands moving to Satoru’s hips again. “Move.”
The light flush on Satoru’s face darkens instantly, a real, pretty blush. Suguru wants to lick it, but that would interrupt the grinding the omega’s resumed, dick bobbing uselessly between his legs while sweet slick smears over Suguru’s sweats.
“Fuck,” Satoru whines, hands clenching and unclenching the fabric of Suguru’s shirt, bunching the soft cotton material against his chest. “Fuck, you’re big. I-I can feel you. Shit, c’mon Suguru, fuck me, yeah?”
Suguru can’t help the chuckle he lets out, rubbing his thumb along the silk smooth skin of Satoru’s hip. “Patience, Satoru. Work yourself up some more. It’ll feel better if you’re desperate for it.”
“You’ve totally done this before,” Satoru accuses, though the claim is softened by the panting the omega is already succumbing to. “Wanna kiss you.”
“I’m right here.” Suguru does nothing to deny the claim. A jealous Satoru is easy enough to mollify.
“Tease,” Satoru grumbles, leaning down to mash his lips against Suguru’s in what is quite possibly the messiest kiss in existence.
The omega doesn’t stop his grinding, hands coming up to hold the alpha’s face while he drools into Suguru’s mouth, lips sucking and teeth nipping, tongues tangling together. Satoru lets out the cutest moans and whimpers, dick rubbing against Suguru’s abdomen, and it’s a shame they aren’t recording this. When Infinity inevitably goes back up, it would be nice to at least listen to the sounds Satoru is capable of making whenever the alpha feels like it.
He rolls his hips up to meet Satoru’s, and the omega gasps.
“Not a tease,” Suguru murmurs into the omega’s mouth. “You’re just easy.”
He thrusts his hips again and hears Satoru choke on the most pathetic whimper the universe has likely ever heard, and the feeling that brings is pure euphoria. He needs to hear more of those sounds, needs to know that even though Satoru is the strongest, he’s still weak, still human. Still nothing more than a horny omega drooling for his dick, mindlessly humping and grinding over a pair of sweats like that’ll get cock in him sooner. It’s not fair that Suguru can’t have this all the time, that Satoru can’t be like this all the time. There’s probably some curse somewhere that could make a longer lasting heat. Purity culture, rape, the stigma surrounding sex in general is more than enough to likely generate at least a few dozen extremely powerful sex-oriented curses. Nothing strong enough to take on Gojo Satoru, of course.
Infinity would never come down.
Satoru is still making those punched out little sounds, and Suguru finds his patience wearing thin, exhaustion rising up from his bones to settle in his muscles. Satoru can keep his place on top for now and ride him or something, then Suguru can really take him apart.
“Suguru,” Satoru whines, hips picking up speed.
“I’ve got you,” he says, hands leaving Satoru’s hips to get his sweats off. He wants to feel the omega’s slick ass rubbing all over his dick, wants to know if Satoru’s been practicing on himself enough for Suguru to be able to just slide right in where he belongs or if there’ll be a stretch, if he’ll have to take it slow.
Fuck, Satoru hasn’t been hurt since that summer, has he? Suguru kind of hopes it will sting. He wants Satoru to hurt, just a little bit. Just to remind him how good it can feel to hurt. He’ll do anything to convince Satoru to keep Infinity off without asking. He knows if he asks, Satoru will just get irrationally upset. An upset Satoru is harder to mollify than a jealous one.
Satoru helps push the waistband down to Suguru’s knees, but they have more important things to worry about than getting the fabric off all the way. Satoru hovers, panting, gaze locked onto Suguru’s exposed cock. The alpha knows he has nothing to worry about in the size department, and the smell of Satoru’s arousal getting stronger is enough to reassure him of that. “Like what you see?”
“Shut it,” Satoru snaps, glancing up. The alpha is quick to bring a hand up, wiping the drool gathering on the omega’s chin. The red on Satoru’s cheeks moves up to the tips of his ears, standing out bright against stark white hair. “It’s my first time,” he whines.
“It’s mine, too,” Suguru combats, glancing down when he feels something wet hit his abdomen. Satoru’s dick is leaking obscene amounts of pre, wet and sloppy, and Suguru’s sure his ass is too. “That’s alright, get your fill.”
“God, you’re such a dick!” Satoru’s laugh as his hand wraps around the alpha’s dick does not convince him that those are the omega’s true feelings. “Besides, you’re always staring at my ass!”
“That’s because—” Suguru cuts off when Satoru starts actually moving his hand. He holds his fist tight for Suguru to fuck into, the alpha’s pre wetting Satoru’s hand enough to keep the slide smooth.
“Yeah?” Satoru looks too smug on top of Suguru, but he’s acting like Satoru again, and it makes something light up in Suguru’s chest, a smirk of his own twitching across his face.
“Your head is always up there.”
Satoru pouts, still stroking his fist in a slow glide. “That was rude. I’m gonna squeeze your dick off.”
“We can’t have sex if you do that,” Suguru reminds. Satoru sighs dramatically, and Suguru bucks up into his hand. “Speaking of.”
“You were the one who said to be patient,” Satoru teases, grip loosening. “I’m practicing.”
“You’re insufferable.”
Satoru’s pout is back, but it doesn’t last long, turning his head to the side to clear his throat, tongue swiping out to make his lips all glossy in the low light. “Well, how do you want to do it, anyways?”
“I mean, you’re already basically sitting on it. You could just do that.”
Satoru hums, but shifts his posture, bringing his hips closer to Suguru’s dick, hand used to guide it until it catches on the omega’s hot, wet hole. Suguru can’t help the way his hips jerk, thrusting halfway in, breathing fractured while the most guttural moan rips out of Satoru’s chest.
“Fuck,” they moan in unison. Satoru continues, thighs trembling, “Gimme just a se-second, holy shit, fuck, Suguru you’re so big.”
“It’s— it’s not even all the way in,” Suguru says as Satoru curses, eyes glued to where he’s enveloped in slick, molten heat. He’s never done this before, as much of a virgin as Satoru is—was. Fuck. Okay, yeah, Suguru can do this. He can hold still for a few more seconds while Satoru clenches around him wildly, trying to suck him in further and—okay, there’s no way Suguru can do this. He squeezes Satoru’s hips, getting a good grip on him to pull him down while he grinds in, feeling the way Satoru stretches around him.
The omega can only take it, jaw dropped wide as tries to breathe, chest rabbiting the deeper Suguru goes, wailing a moan as soon as he has enough breath to do so. Tears of pleasure line the omega’s eyes, hips jerking against the firm hold Suguru keeps him in.
“Good?” Suguru asks, voice shaking. Fuck, Satoru is tight.
“Uh-huh,” Satoru moans, eyes wide and stupid. He’s cute like this. “Fuck, please kiss me, please, need it so bad, please please please.”
“I have you,” Suguru promises, leaning up as best he can, hands cupping Satoru’s face, inadvertently fucking deeper into Satoru’s dripping ass while the omega jerks his hips in short, jittery rolls. The squelching sends embarrassed arousal coursing through Suguru’s blood, settling in his ears and along his shoulders. Regardless, he gently squeezes Satoru’s cheeks once before leaning in to kiss him.
The kiss quickly becomes salty as Satoru ruts against Suguru desperately, tears overflowing and falling down. Suguru loses himself in the sensation, being completely surrounded by Satoru’s scent, his heat, his wetness. Satoru’s dick keeps rutting along the fabric of the alpha’s sweater, and he briefly considers taking it off, but he knows he’d have to stop touching Satoru to do that. He can’t stop touching Satoru. He hasn’t gotten to touch him in so long. Suguru isn’t about to get in his own fucking way, not balls deep in such a tight, wet hole. Satoru keeps contracting around him, so Suguru can’t really move, just sits there and takes it, and it feels right, making Satoru work for his pleasure.
Satoru pulls away from the kiss harshly, hooking his chin over Suguru’s shoulder as he coughs into his hand. Suguru isn’t sure where to put his own hands, awkwardly hovering while the omega’s ass squeezes with each cough. Suguru can’t help laughing, glancing at the omega. “Don’t tell me you can feel my dick in your throat or something. This isn’t some lame porno.”
Satoru shakes his head, still coughing and rhythmically clenching. “S-Sorry,” he chokes out. “‘M fine.”
Suguru brings his hands down to settle on Satoru’s hips once more. “Are you sick?”
“No!” Satoru denies, but he’s pulling away, curling in on himself, shoulders shuddering. He tries to hide his face, but the alpha pulls his arms away in time to see a small flower bud fall from Satoru’s lips.
They both stare where the white flower lays, covered in Satoru’s spit, having landed on the tip of Satoru’s dick. If the situation weren’t so serious, Suguru would snicker about the placement, but this is…
“Hanahaki?”
Citrus blooms in the air, centered on the flower, and Suguru recognizes it now for what it is. It wasn’t a change to the omega’s scent as he came into adulthood. No, he’s fucking diseased.
“Sorry,” Satoru murmurs, dropping his face on Suguru's shoulder, hiding away. “It’ll go away, y’know? Don’t worry about it. And I’m still in heat. It doesn’t— it doesn’t change anything about us, I promise. You don’t— Suguru, it’s not your responsibility, okay?”
Finding out that the person you want most in the world is in love with someone and didn’t tell you would upset anyone. Finding out that same information while balls deep inside of that person while they’re in their fucking heat is rage inducing. Suguru takes a deep breath and nods. “Fine.”
“Suguru—”
He jerks his hips up into Satoru, savoring the punched out moan it gets him, relishing in the way it gets Satoru to just shut the fuck up. He uses the hold on Satoru’s hips to yank him up, off the alpha’s cock, and tosses him onto the bed.
“Suguru!” Satoru tries again, but he’s not having it.
This is fucking ridiculous. This is a waste of his time. His best friend is in-fucking-love with someone else and the omega didn’t even have the decency to tell him. They never talk anymore, anyways. Why start now? Suguru grabs Satoru’s hips, hard, and flips the omega over. The omega holds still, pressed against the bed as Suguru looms over him, sliding one hand up to grab a fistful of hair. He yanks and pulls until the omega’s back is pressed to his chest, head tilted towards him. Satoru’s eyes have been absolutely swallowed by his pupil, just a thin ring of blue left as he shakes his hips and ass like he’s trying to get Suguru’s dick back inside.
In due time.
“I don’t want you coughing spit-covered flowers all over me, got it? So keep on your hands and knees and I’ll fuck you silly through your stupid little heat, okay?” Suguru seethes.
“Fuck,” Satoru whispers. “That’s hot— but! Suguru please liste—”
Suguru shoves Satoru back down into the sheets, cutting off whatever bullshit he was going to try and spout. Suguru is tired and fed up. “Shut up, already. We’re still having sex like you want. Make out with your pillow if you need to kiss something so bad.”
Satoru whimpers under him, pushes his ass up and spreads his legs. His hole is bright red, gaping, and trying to squeeze around nothing as a flat glob of slick slips out and Suguru can’t even fucking enjoy it because there’s someone else. Someone more important than him. At the very least, Suguru will forever get to hold the title as the alpha that took Gojo Satoru’s virginity, that fucked him before anyone else could. Even if no one else knows it, Suguru will always take pride in this. He shoves his dick back inside, listens to Satoru’s gasp, watches his arms drop out beneath him, and pounds into his ass.
It’s sloppy. It’s fucking wet. It’s probably not very good. Satoru can always find better—has already found it, apparently—but Suguru can’t bring himself to care as that tight heat sucks him in. Suguru doesn’t know how to angle his hips, doesn’t care to try, really. He just fucks in and out, follows his instincts as best he can, pulling out to the tip, thrusting back in, rolling his hips to get seated all the way, and repeat. The smell of citrus grows with each and every heavy coughing fit Satoru falls into, white flowers falling onto the pale blue bed spread and pushed to the corners of the nest. Each new bloom that appears causes Suguru to thrust harder until Satoru is crying, squealing on his dick and squirting. Sterile white paints the omega’s sheets and inner thighs while clear slick sprays back to decorate Suguru’s sweater, the contractions almost enough to push the alpha’s dick out.
“Fuck!” Satoru cries, falling completely limp, ass held in the air by the alpha’s firm hands on his hips. His hole relaxes, still twitching, but not near as tight as before.
“Tighest fucking hole in the world,” Suguru growls out, pissed off, kind of wanting to hurt Satoru in the way he’s hurt the alpha. “You’re the best at everything, right? So keep it tight.”
Satoru whines, but the effect is immediate, hole tightening around Suguru’s cock in pulses, so the alpha resumes fucking. It’s a pity he won’t be able to knot Satoru—he hasn’t had his first rut yet, but right now, he’s not sure he wants to be physically locked to the omega for any amount of time. No, no, this suits him just fine. Pistoning back and forth, not giving the omega a second to come down from his first orgasm, feeling the aftershocks swell into a second one. Suguru keeps going while Satoru’s hands form claws in the sheets, tearing through the fabric as he wails and moans for more, and harder, and please please please until he’s thrusting one last time, cumming deep inside Satoru. The sound the omega makes as he’s filled is fucking pornographic, and Suguru is embarrassed just hearing it. Suguru’s cum and Satoru’s slick mix together, sliding out on the omega’s thighs, over his little dick to drip down on the mattress, and Satoru breathes a sigh of relief while Suguru catches his breath.
“Suguru—”
“I’m not finished with you yet,” he interrupts, twitching his cock inside Satoru, taking further pride in the yelp Satoru makes. “You’re in heat, aren’t you? Two orgasms can’t be enough to satisfy you, can it?”
Satoru shakes his head rapidly. Suguru coos at him like the omega’s pathetic, which after this display? Letting himself get railed while he’s coughing up fucking flowers? Yeah, it’s pretty pathetic. The saccharine coo turns to a scowl as Satoru begins coughing again.
So Suguru takes the best available step he can to keep his cool: he fucks out his frustrations.
Again, and again, and again until Suguru is certain he’s got no more cum left in his body, all leaking out of Suguru’s ass and splattered across his back and thighs. Suguru doesn’t think he can go another round, sure his dick is about to chafe. Satoru is a drooling mess, reduced to wordless sounds from his fifth orgasm—Suguru is certain heat hormones had more to do with that than anything the alpha had actually done. He hadn’t touched the omega’s dick for a while. Honestly, it was too small to really do anything with, absolutely dwarfed in Suguru’s hand.
Satoru can’t sit up on his own, and once Suguru lets go of his hips, the rest of the omega falls to the bed immediately.
Gojo Satoru has always been the strongest, but here, in this room under Suguru, he lets his weaknesses shine, Infinity dropped, fucked stupid and leaking cum, clusters of small, white flowers with yellow-tipped pistils blooming in the center surrounding his head and falling passed his lips.