Chapter Text
Kiyoomi takes off running the second he pulls himself off of Tooru, ignoring the other Omega’s yelp and protests.
“Not even a thank you? Rude!” His yell disturbs the gentle din of the night as Kiyoomi fights through the bushes and the trees, immediately catching the curiously faint trail of Atsumu’s scent.
Tooru’ll understand, he’s sure of it. Once their season is over, once Kiyoomi’s happily mated.
He’s powered by his heat as he runs; a single, narrow focus on the Alpha he’s tracking, the one he’s wanted for months now, whose scent triggered all of this. Atsumu needs to make up for it, and Kiyoomi has a good feeling about him and that sweet, untouched scent of his.
That make it all the easier to shape Atsumu to his desires, carve into the soft wood of his scent and teach him how to fuck Kiyoomi right.
Feet pounding against the grass and twigs, he’s grateful for the earlier bacchanal. The feast the Betas prepare is always perfectly calibrated for the run. Any alcohol left in his blood was burnt out while he and Tooru fucked, leaving behind nothing but sweet euphoria. They fed him fruit for power and strength, energy to burn off in the short term, and dusted everything with a special mix of spices and herbs that strengthened his nose.
All the better to chase Atsumu.
In the mountain forest, the Alpha’s grass and cedar scent is difficult to grasp, flickering like a flame in his nose as the verdant smell of nature blankets him. To a lesser Omega this would be infuriating, but Kiyoomi is made of stronger stuff. Not only does he love the thrill of the chase, he knows what perfect sweetness awaits him when he catches his quarry, and his cunt throbs at the thought of it.
Although he’s calibrated his nose to Atsumu’s base notes, he now knows to seek the out-of-season chestnut, the faint remnants of Atsumu’s arousal which stand out in the summer air. Just think; if Atsumu hadn’t spied on them, he might never have found him in the forest. No wonder Atsumu’s stayed so untouched; there are much easier Alphas to seek out, and even now Kiyoomi can catch their scent in the breeze.
But he has one quarry.
In his heat Kiyoomi is like a shark chasing blood; a marooned sailor seeking clean water. He’s naked and proud as he pounds through the forest, feet catching on stray rocks and twigs though he never quite feels the pain. He’s too alive for it, too delirious with need and want and his soon to be sated desire.
Occasionally he catches a glimpse of Atsumu; his tan skin in his short, summer robe, his dark hair, and each sight of him spurs Kiyoomi forward. It’s a tantalizing treat when the treeline breaks just enough for him to make him out, but he doesn’t let himself get lost in it, knowing there’s a feast for him to come. Once Atsumu disappears from view, he’s back to tracking him with his nose again.
And Atsumu is clever, so clever. He takes a twisting and winding path, like he wants to give Kiyoomi a merry chase; what a good Alpha for him, making his heart pump, his blood burn. He doubles over his own path, running in circles, dipping through a shallow stream to wash off some of his sweat, knowing it just carries his scent further.
The more Kiyoomi runs, the more he wants. Closing his eyes and trusting his senses, he lets his nose carry him forward, running on instinct. The desire that’s been festering in his belly for months and simmering during his heat is about to boil over.
He’ll catch Atsumu before the dawn breaks.
So intent in his journey, Kiyoomi only loses Atsumu once — when his soon-to-be Alpha edges close to the Alpha’s hut, hoping it hides his scent. And he’s successful for a few moments, giving Kiyoomi a break to breathe though his senses are all on high alert. There are so many smells here, ones that sting his nose from pungent arguments and Alpha posturing, and he hears the simmering confusion from the Alphas within. Should they run? Why is Kiyoomi here?
So many questions, but Kiyoomi doesn’t care. These Alphas are useless, don’t matter to him; Kiyoomi won’t give chase, no matter how much they look at him, peeking out and murmuring through the cracks in the walls, the Beta watchers keeping them at bay.
There’s only one worth catching.
Bracing himself, his slick so tacky between his thighs, Kiyoomi scents the air — drool dripping down his chin, his chest — until he catches the shallow edge of chestnut in the air, and runs.
***
Atsumu knows the gap is closing between them.
He can smell it — Kiyoomi, of course, like fire on the mountainside. No matter how fast he runs, or how cleverly he hides his path, scrambling down the mountain and scraping his knees, he feels the flame flickering at his heels.
When they were younger, he and Osamu bore witness to a wildfire. It was a dry summer, and there had been thunder but no rain; though they were young, they stood with the rest of the village-folk, watching the lightning strike a tall, dead tree.
He tasted metal in his mouth as he watched the flame crackle slowly down the trunk, burning like incense, before reaching the treeline and igniting the hillside, nearly all at once. The smoke and clouds darkened the dawn until it felt like night. They slept that night cloaked with ash, coughing even in their dreams, and when they awoke the fire was gone but the peculiarly sweet smoke lingered everywhere — in his clothes, in his mouth, in the rings of nearby trees.
Back then, he’d been in awe of nature’s power; the sheer devastation that a single act of the gods could manage. And now, years later, maybe he seeks it out: the firework spark of Kiyoomi’s arousal, the strength in his bones and muscle.
“Fuck,” he curses, tripping over a root and distracted by the sudden memory. Why had it come on so suddenly? Why is he thinking of it now?
Later, Atsumu would realize that it was the only warning he was given, some primordial instinct flickering to life inside of him.
But now, he feels a flash of fire in his nose, hears a snarl that raises the hair on the back of his neck, before something strong and powerful and sweet tackles him to the ground. The world turns over and over as they roll downhill, before finally settling in a narrow clearing.
The grass is soft here. That’s the first clear thought Atsumu has once his dizziness passes, before he opens his eyes to see —
“Kiyoomi,” he gasps, as if this weren’t inevitable; from the very moment he and Osamu stumbled into this village, his brother slung over his shoulder and dragged along by Atsumu, the Alpha was always going to fall into Kiyoomi’s gravity.
The Omega’s desire is just too strong to escape, and Atsumu’s always been drawn to flame.
As if in answer, Kiyoomi grinds his weary cunt against Atsumu’s bare thigh, his robe riding up, practically falling open in the struggle, leaving a heady and sticky wetness across his skin. Kiyoomi shakes as he wraps his thighs around Atsumu’s own, pinning him, his hands gripping his cheeks and turning his face to bare his neck, his weight keeping him down.
“You’ve been running from me, Atsumu,” Kiyoomi growls, his rasp of a voice sticky with summer sweetness. “You’ve put up a good chase, but I’ve practiced, you know — I could catch a trace of your scent for miles.”
Breathless, Atsumu scrambles for words. “Kiyoomi, I’m… I-”
I’m not used to this, maybe.
I don’t know what I’m doing, perhaps.
I don’t know what it’s like to be wanted this strongly, even.
But whatever the wants to say never gets a chance to see the light because Kiyoomi nuzzles against Atsumu’s neck, making him gasp as his mind goes blank from the warmth, wondering why until he feels a wet tongue lick a stripe up his —
Oh.
His scent glands, that’s what Kiyoomi’s trying to reach. Pressing his tongue against it, he expresses the gland, releasing the slick oil of his scent, the grassy cedar and the remnants of arousal, and Atsumu can only moan in relief, in pleasure, in ecstacy.
“You’re perfect for me,” Kiyoomi whispers, though there’s no one to hear them. The sound resonates through Atsumu’s body, making him shake; thunder in a summer storm. Something brushes against Atsumu’s cock, eager and hard from the thrill of the chase and Kiyoomi’s proximity. “You’re going to fill me up so well,” as his fingers card through Atsumu’s hair.
Is this what an Omega’s heat is like? Is this what he’s been running from? Why would he ever flee something so sweet?
Atsumu reaches up a hand to tentatively cup Kiyoomi’s head, burying his hand in the sweat matted curls; his fingers graze the tender base of his neck, and Kiyoomi answers him by pressing his teeth against his scent gland.
He bucks into Kiyoomi, gasping; his body tight like the air before a thunderstorm.
He can feel Kiyoomi smiling against him, and somehow this, more than anything else, settles him, as the smell of sweet, syrupy plums fills his nose, his heart, his lungs and every part of him. For a moment it nearly floods out the smoke — both Kiyoomi’s arousal nand the memory of it — and for once, Atsumu lets himself —
“Omi,” he croons, as the Omega’s hips grind against him yet again. A hand slips between them to undo the rest of the robe, before he slips it off of Atsumu’s shoulders with a tenderness that belies the thrill of the earlier chase. —
Lets himself want. Because he wants this, doesn’t he? Needs this Omega, needs to satisfy his heat.
There’s something inside of him — a pull from the deep Alpha instincts buried at his core — yearning for it, that screams to him.
You were caught, it says. You are desired. You are needed. You are wanted and loved, and you will give all that you can -
He wants this. Wants to be caged in by Kiyoomi, who won’t stop grinding, won’t stop sucking, won’t stop smiling as Atsumu’s virgin, unused, overactive cock twitches in interest between them.
The plum scent turns cloyingly sweet, before it’s overtaken with a touch of fire; that fire overwhelms the cedar, the grass, the chestnut of his scent — a wildfire, a nightmare — before their joint arousals merge like roasted chestnuts at the Autumn harvest.
Kiyoomi wants him. His scent is calling for him.
Atsumu wants and is wanted, and in this moment — in the hazy depth of summer, in the Omega’s season — that’s all that matters.
Things are simple: there’s an Omega, strong and wet and sticky, pinning him down. The ground under his back is hard below the soft coating of grass, and Kiyoomi’s cunt is soft and perfect and dripping for him.
“Tsumu, Atsumu,” Kiyoomi whines, nipping at his neck.
Atsumu turns to him, sees his eyes blown wide and black, desperate with hunger, with this next and final stage of his heat: the need to be bred, knotted, filled by an Alpha.
What a gift that it’s him.
“It hurts,” Kiyoomi begs, his hips pushing against Atsumu. His cock brushes against Kiyoomi’s cunt and he gasps, shocked by how nice the heat of it feels on him, how swollen and wet it is. “Atsumu, it hurts. Need you, please!”
He’s never seen Kiyoomi like this — reduced to begging. It feels wrong, it feels awful, and suddenly all Atsumu wants to do is help — to make him better, to make him feel better.
Get Kiyoomi back to the Omega he -
The Omega he wants to build a future with.
“H-how can I help ya, Omi? Tell me, please.” He lets out soothing pheromones but it can’t override the strong chestnut of his arousal, embarrassingly eager, as he pets Kiyoomi’s neck, just under his scent gland. “I wanna help you,” he gulps, feeling braver.
Atsumu’s mind is already so clouded by Kiyoomi’s heat that he doesn’t realize — not until Kiyoomi’s eyes narrow and clear and a grin breaks over his face — that he’s been played.
“Then breed me, Alpha,” Kiyoomi says, calling on something deep and ancient that connects the two of them.
Atssumu tries to get on top of him; all of his nerves are alight with the desire to serve, to give; the Alphan instinct to help an Omega in heat, the flattery at being desired like this, at being caught after an arduous chase..
If he knew how good this felt, would he have let himself get caught up in a run before?
“No,” Kiyoomi hisses, because he must have said it out loud. “You’re mine. You were made for me.”
Of course — he was meant to wait for Kiyoomi, for the only Omega whose scent could match him.
They’re wrestling, but it’s nothing like when he was a pup, wrestling with his packmates before they presented. This fight, this tussle, it’s all power and muscle and nerve, slick and pre-cum dripping between them.
What is he fighting for? Dominance? Control?
Or just the sheer animalistic pleasure of a brawl.
As their bodies twist and turn, twigs scratching their backs, pebbles embedded in their skin, their scents start to blend together. Twined like tumbleweeds, it’s impossible to ignore how perfect Kiyoomi’s plum matches his cedar and grass; how sweet the fire of his cunt is against the steady chestnut of Atsumu’s arousal.
It feels good, fueling the Alpha within him — this strong Omega, holding his own against Atsumu.
“Knew you’d be worthy,” Kiyoomi grunts, wrapping his hand under Atsumu’s knee to pull him off balance, while Atsumu snarls and uses the momentum from his fall to push Kiyoomi to the ground. The Omega grins up at him, the kiss of dawn in his eyes. “Knew you’d give me a merry chase, knew you’d put up a fight, Alpha. You’ve got me pinned, Atsumu. What are you going to do to me?”
All Atsumu can do is breathe. Heavy, desperate gulps of air, panting into the night as he stares down at Kiyoomi; this close, all he smells is fire.
This close, it’s no longer a warning.
Sneaking a hand around his back, Kiyoomi cants up his hips to rub his cunt against Atsumu’s thick, desperate cock. It wrings pleasure from his body, the lips briefly engulfing his head, something sticky lingering between them, and Kiyoomi uses his moment of distraction to flip them over.
Atsumu’s on the ground again, feeling the tangle of twigs beneath him, Kiyoomi beautiful and ferocious above him. The Omega’s got his hands pinned over his head, one wrist over the other, and his long fingers grip tight enough around them to bruise.
His knees are locked around Atsumu’s thighs, and Kiyoomi’s other hand is on his chest, right above his heart.
“So fast…” Kiyoomi murmurs, scraping at the skin just light enough to draw a gasp from Atsumu, but heavy enough to leave pink marks behind. “Are you nervous?”
Atsumu opens his mouth, but Kiyoomi doesn’t give him time to answer.
“There’s nothing to worry about, Atsumu. This is perfect, this is natural.”
His hand climbs up his chest, lithe fingers crossing over his neck to cup his throat and tilt his chin up.
When they reach his hair, he grips and tugs Atsumu’s head to the side, revealing the bare patch of his neck, already swollen from Kiyoomi’s earlier ministrations, to the encroaching dawn.
The air smells sweet — the humidity of morning, Kiyoomi’s plum, even Atsumu’s grass. As the rushing in his ears dissipates in favor of a calm acceptance of his fate and future, as Kiyoomi’s head lowers down to his neck, he starts to hear in the distance the pound of rushing feet, the howl of Alphas.
The run must have begun in earnest. Leave it to Kiyoomi to get a head start.
“I had a nice nest for us, Atsumu,” he sounds almost disappointed. “If we had more time, I could have taken you there, mated you there. I set it up all perfect for us. I had so many of your things -”
“I knew ya stole my towel - ah!” A scrape of teeth against his glands, his chestnut arousal leaking out, precum at the tip of cock.
“But you’re such a clever brat that this will have to do for now; I can’t bring myself to wait any long. Will you submit for me, Alpha?” Kiyoomi breathes out, scarcely a whisper, a secret stuck between them. “I caught you, I pinned you, I chased you. Submit for me, Alpha. Submit.”
The demand in Kiyoomi’s voice is the flint that sparks a fire inside of Atsumu, calling to the ancient, ingrained senses within him to listen to this Omega, to his Omega. Give him what he wants. Needs.
What they both desire.
Kiyoomi removes his hand from Atsumu’s hair so he can tilt his head back to a natural position, but it goes back down to his chest — his heartbeat has slowed to a careful rhythm, as if to offset the drumbeat of the run. Can Kiyoomi feel that? How he’s calmed down? How sure he is of his decision?
He doesn’t need words to submit.
It’s as easy as baring his throat.
And then -
“Fuck!” Teeth, buried in his neck, releasing the sweet nectar of his scent and practically screaming through the forest that an Alpha has been claimed for this round of the heat.
It’s not a full mating, not yet; Atsumu would have to bite back for that to happen, and Kiyoomi doesn’t give him a chance to reciprocate.
When Kiyoomi pulls his teeth out, his eyes are dark again, and blood and spit drips from his fangs as he licks them clean.
He’s wild now.
Atsumu doesn’t know what to expect from a heat, having avoided all the talk the Alphas shared around this time, but he certainly doesn’t expect Kiyoomi to rise to his knees, reaching between them to grip Atsumu’s cock — it twitches in his grip, so desperate for touch when he’s hidden from Omegas and sex for so long — before he grinds his cunt along the head, teasing and taunting, as if to punish Atsumu for evading him for so long.
“O-oh,” Atsumu can’t help but moan, Kiyoomi’s hand on his chest the only thing keeping his hips from bucking up into Kiyoomi and fucking him already. A warmth that couldn’t come from any sun blooms inside of him, prickles of heat low in his stomach, and he shudders as he feels the button of Kiyoomi’s pleasure, the slick and swollen folds of his cunt, glistening like dew-draped stonefruit kissing his head.
He does this for what feels like an eternity, squeezing when Atsumu feels his balls tighten and pleasure on the verge of eruption, cruelly cut down by Kiyoomi; it’s like he’s playing with him, grinding against his cockhead.
The only evidence of Kiyoomi’s pleasure — besides his drippy, drooly cunt, the slick thickening around his his head, so rich and sticky between them — is the way he throws his head back, laying bare his pretty spangled chest and neck, a perfect sight for Atsumu.
Atsumu’s the vocal one, begging and pleading for mercy, for pleasure, to cum, but Kiyoomi denies him all but the middle — he has an excess of pleasure, in fact.
It’s only when — “Omega, please, ya asked me to breed ya but I can’t do it like this. I need ya, Omi, I need- “
“What do you need?” Kiyoomi’s eyes snap open, wide, drool dripping from his lips. He looks hungry, he looks wild. “Tell me, Atsumu. What do you need? Beg for it,” he demands, and Atsumu —
Atsumu would give KIyoomi the world.
“I need to breed ya,” Atsumu gulps, Kiyoomi’s cunt just out of reach, the thick slick — is that really what it’s meant to look like? — hanging between them. “I need, I want to mate you, wanna knot ya, wanna stuff ya full of pups and bite ya and mark ya with my cum, please Omi, please Omega, let me breed you, please, I need -”
“Good boy,” Kiyoomi praises mockingly, before aiming Atsumu’s cock just right and dropping.
Atsumu howls — he feels like an animal, feeling Kiyoomi’s sweet, dark heat engulf his cock. This is what it means to give into his base instincts, desires, the little carnivorous entity buried deep inside him. For years he’s held it back, kept it at bay. Fleeing villages before the heat season comes, hiding away from Omegas.
But he was made for this, to bury his cock in an Omega’s — this Omega’s — wet, burning cunt, as Kiyoomi’s strong and lithe body writhes over him, hips bearing down on Atsumu to suck him deeper and deeper.
“Good boy,” Kiyoomi keens this time, earnestly, and the praise goes right to his head as Atsumu’s hips jerk up, into Kiyoomi, making his eyelids flutter with pleasure as he bites his lip. “Fuck, no one would think you’re so sweet and untouched from the filthy way you’re filling me up. My Alpha, you’re mine. You belong to me, don’t you know?”
Each possessive phrase, each wind of Kiyoomi’s hips steals away the remnant pieces of Atsumu’s sanity; he’s lost in their joining, their swirling, mixing scents, in Kiyoomi’s power and strength and the way his cunt seems destined to suck him dry.
He’s lost in the feeling of being owned. Claimed. Desired.
Wanted.
“Look, look,” Kiyoomi says, slapping his face gently to make him open the eyes he hadn’t realized he closed. “Do you see where we’re joined?” He points between them, where their dark hairs rub against each other and Kiyoomi’s hips keep a steady rocking rhythm, even as he’s lecturing Atsumu like he’s a pup. “You’re splitting me apart, Alpha, see?”
And Atsumu sees. The lewd way his dark, thick cock is buried between Kiyoomi’s lips, the way they’re spread so wide, the way Kiyoomi’s cunt is shaping itself around Atsumu’s dick.
His cock twitches in delight at the thought; Kiyoomi, molded to fit him.
But he notices something else — Kiyoomi isn’t really bouncing up and down, just grinding in small, frantic motions. There has to be a better way to cum than this, but he’s not even trying. Thick globs of slick are trapped in Atsumu’s pubes like frozen dewdrops, and Atsumu, suddenly, realizes —
“You’re stuck,” he says, but his knot hasn’t popped yet, so Kiyoomi should be able to pull himself away if he wanted. It’s so confusing — why is the Omega not chasing any pleasure he can? Is Atsumu insufficient?
A burst of sour scent fills the air; it’s from Atsumu, his pheromones spoiling with his own crushing disappointment in himself.
But then Kiyoomi’s hand comes up to cup his jaw, right where he slapped him earlier, soothing the slight sting and making Atsumu curl into the touch, desperate for warmth and comfort and the Omega’s fire.
“You’re doing perfect, Alpha,” Kiyoomi says, his voice giddy as he freezes. Atsumu whines; he liked the grinding. “Don’t be impatient, you must learn. I’ll teach you.” Grabbing one of Atsumu’s hands, he pulls against him, placing his palm flat on his stomach as if he can feel the place where they’re joined. If Atsumu imagines it, he can just barely feel his cock through Kiyoomi’s abs, a little mound of pleasure buried inside of him.
“Remember how you promised to breed me?” Kiyoomi asks, all innocent as he starts to grind again. “This is how we make sure it takes.”
Atsumu isn’t dumb, usually, but the Omega’s made him delirious with desire so he’s a little slow on the uptake. But he finally understands it — the thick, tacky slick, the ritual he accidentally spied on.
Kiyoomi’s slick is what’s keeping them together; Atsumu’s knot is just an added bonus. Maybe even a useless, vestigial organ, or just a helpful addendum during his own rut, though Alpha’s ruts tended to be weaker. It’s meant to maybe add to your luck in getting bred, in making sure the mating takes, but the Omega — Kiyoomi — is the one whose body works the hardest to make it happen, in control of snaring and keeping a suitable Alpha to fuck him full of pups.
That Kiyoomi picked him makes him feel heady with joy; that they’re stuck together until Kiyoomi is well and truly pupped, well…
Forgive Atsumu for lacking the capacity to process that thought, when Kiyoomi’s stomach is so warm against his hand, slick from the oils that the Betas anointed the Omegas in, meant to stimulate fertility and energy and leaving Atsumu’s fingers tingling with a peculiar pleasure.
“You should keep touching me,” Kiyoomi demands, pushing his stomach against Atsumu’s hand, his body a sinuous curve in the dawnlight. “Come, Alpha. Touch me — haven’t you wanted to? Haven’t you dreamed of it?”
Given permission to explore, Atsumu does just that. Traces lines across Kiyoomi’s body, cupping his chest, squeezing his nipples until Kiyoomi moans, pressing on the bites and bruises left behind by Oikawa.
That his Omega, though they aren’t mated yet, should be marked by another is audacious. Inconceivable. And yet Atsumu can see the evidence right in front of him.
His discontent must show on his face, because Kiyoomi just laughs. “Oh, Atsumu. You’re so easy to read, you sweet thing. Don’t worry about Tooru. I’m sure he’ll find an Alpha that suits him during the run; he’s probably already knotted by now, knowing him. He’s faster than you think.”
“But, then… why -” Atsumu doesn’t understand, but Kiyoomi’s able to comprehend his babble, cooing over him.
“We Omegas just have to help each other out, you know? It’s the only way to make sure we stick together.”
By the smirk on Kiyoomi’s face he’s sure there’s a joke, but Atsumu is too far gone on pleasure and lust and their heady, matched scents filling the air to parse it. All he can do is touch as though Kiyoomi is the bark on a birch tree, exploring his body like a wild mountainside.
He doesn’t learn how Omegas help each other, but he does learn that he likes the way Kiyoomi tightens around him when he presses against his clit, even from just a featherlight touch.
“Can I?” Atsumu’s hand travels low, thumb resting right above it. He doesn’t know what he’s asking for , and Kiyooomi must sense that, too.
“You want to make me feel good, Alpha?” Atsumu blushes, his face all red.
“Of course. Just wanna make you feel good, wanna breed ya —”
“Those two things don’t have to be related, you know. There are certainly Alphas out there who’ll do the bare minimum to fuck me through a heat, you know — ah!”
For the first time, Atsumu is able to catch Kiyoomi unawares, his hands squeezing around his waist as he thrusts up into him, annoyed at the mention and thought of other Alphas.
Especially the idea of them fucking Kiyoomi, trying to breed him.
“Oh, you are possessive,” Kiyoomi purrs. “Good. I am too, and if you want to remain in my good graces, Atsumu, you’ll lick your finger and play with it, yes, just like that, good boy—
Atsumu’s good at following instructions when he knows he’ll reap a righteous reward, and he plays with Kiyoomi’s clit just as he commands him, swirling his finger around and around it like a firm, midwinter berry.
“I like it a little rough, too, Atsumu, remember? Give it a little slap, a squeeze —”
Yes, he does remember watching Kiyoomi cum on Oikawa’s face, spanking his cunt, abd Atsumu obeys, landing a light, hesitant smack against it.
Kiyoomi bites his lip, clenches his fist.
“Harder,” he demands.
A taught, insistent slap makes Kiyoomi moan his way thorough a shaky, tight orgasm, throwing his head back while his cunt squeezes around Atsumu like a vice, and he’s so close, fuck, he’s so close, he can feel his knot pulsing, his hips tightening, desperate to cum.
He’s trying so hard, tears springing to his eyes with his desperation to help Kiyoomi, to breed him, to treat him the way a good Alpha should.
“This isn’t enough?” Kiyoomi frowns, before bending low, hovering over him. Atsumu misses the view, but being able to smell Kiyoomi, his proximity like lightning on his skin, is just as good. This close, he can be overpowered by his pheromones, can scent him, can smell the secret little notes buried deep within Kiyoomi’s scent, making it more complex than it might seem. Spice that dances on the edge of his arousal, peppery and bright; the soothing milk of fertility.“Then let me give you a little more…”
What could he mean?
He gets his answer when Kiyoomi drops lower, before his teeth scrape against Atsumu’s scent gland again and he has just enough time to grab Kiyoomi’s hips and hold on for dear life when Kiyoomi bites him once more, a facsimile of a claim.
That’s what makes him cum, in the end; bursts of it spurting inside of Kiyoomi, painting his walls, tangy brine in their scents now. It’s a shuddering, shaky orgasm, adn Kiyoomi doesn’t let go of him, just bites him through it, riding the crests and waves. He’s so full of Kiyoomi, engulfed by him, body and soul, and he wants to give him everything he’s got, straining his body to squeeze out every last drop.
When Kiyoomi finally rises, blood on his teeth and looking so satisfied, Atsumu can smell how much stronger their scents have gotten. How good they smell merged like this.
This is what he’s been avoiding? This perfect sweetness? Something that feels like heaven, so right?
Atsumu lets out a growl as he catches his breath, moving his hips out of instinct, which makes him realize something. “You’re still stuck,” he frowns.
He can feel the cum inside of Kiyoomi, swirling around his cock, so wet — can see the way his knot has swollen, bulging out around Kiyoomi’s entrance, keeping all that sweet mess inside.
But he can move a little easier now, and it dawns on him as he looks up at Kiyoomi, wide eyed.
“Has your little Alpha brain figured it out?”
It has — Kiyoomi’s slick is stronger than he thought. It’ll take far more than one orgasm’s worth of his cum to dissolve the bond. No wonder he was so insistent on getting bred, and no wonder he was so upset that they didn’t make it to Kiyoomi’s cabin. A nest would be a much more comfortable site for this.
Atsumu’ll just have to fuck him until they can pull apart, but that’s not a hardship. He wants to see Kiyoomi’s stomach swell with his cum, wants to see his knot buried in that sweet cunt for as long as he can manage.
Kiyoomi’s scent — like the ripest, oversweet plum, like a wildfire — blankets him, and it stirs something within Atsumu.
With a sudden burst of strength and will, he flips them over; Kiyoomim looks delighted, happy pheromones erupting from his body, and Atsumu, despite his swollen knot, starts to fuck him as best he can.
They’ve got a long morning ahead of them. No telling what it will take for them to separate, but even once they’re parted Atsumu won’t let them be separate for too long.
There’s a clear spot on Kiyoomi’s neck for him to mark, after all; a matching bite to the one still bleeding on Atsumu’s shoulder.
When his fangs break through Kiyoomi’s skin, circling his scent gland, he tastes the sweetest, summer fruit.