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Tatsumi has begun trying to be friendly with HiMERU. It started in small ways, Tatsumi starting conversations with HiMERU when their paths would cross at ES, asking if he could sit beside HiMERU in the cafeteria. HiMERU is unfailingly polite, always. He talks with Tatsumi because there’s no polite way to say, ‘I hate your guts. Please remove yourself and get as far away from me as humanly possible. Thank you.’
But Tatsumi has taken it as encouragement because he’s as stupid as he is terrible, and it has escalated to this: to Tatsumi showing up at his dorm room unannounced, standing in the doorway while HiMERU stares at him and wills his eye not to twitch.
“Tatsumi-san. Can I help you?”
“Good afternoon, HiMERU-san. I heard they were serving miso butterfish in the cafeteria today, and I wanted to ask if you’d eaten yet.”
“I haven’t,” HiMERU says, keeping his answers as short as possible in the hopes that Tatsumi will go away if he doesn’t give the other boy any hooks to hang his self-righteous friendliness from.
In fact, he hates fish, but ‘HiMERU’ doesn’t, and so he can’t say that.
Tatsumi beams. “In that case, I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner with me.”
The last word trails off, hanging incomplete in the air. HiMERU is squirming because he desperately wants to get away from his horrible man, but Tatsumi apparently takes it to mean something else.
“Oh!” he says, his violet eyes going wide as a blush steals across his cheeks. “I see.”
What.
Tatsumi now won’t meet his eyes. He’s wringing his hands and rocking back on his injured leg like he wants to leave but isn’t sure how.
Oh.
What the fuck.
“HiMERU’s heat has just started.” HiMERU says bluntly, leaning into Tatsumi’s misunderstanding with all his strength. It’s a lie, but it’s not one that prudish Tatsumi is likely to question, and anything that gets Tatsumi out of his hair faster is a good thing in his book. Necessary measures for desperate times. “It’s bound to be very painful, so if you wouldn’t mind getting out and leaving HiMERU to it—”
“Painful?” Tatsumi’s eyes widen still more, brows knitting together on his forehead.
“You see, when an omega goes into heat— Really, has your education been so lacking?”
It’s more ill-tempered than he usually allows himself to be, but now he has an excuse. His eyes practically glitter at the prospect.
“No, it’s not that… Just. I’ll help you,” Tatsumi says too quickly. He looks shocked at himself for saying it, almost as shocked as HiMERU feels, that blush on his cheeks deepening to the approximate shade of a tomato. His whole face is red now, and HiMERU thinks with glee that it must spread all the way down to his chest beneath that terrible sweater. How ugly. “I— That is— not to impose. If you have someone you usually spend it with— of course you must. I’m sorry, that’s terribly rude of me to assume. Please forgive me.”
He bows. He actually bows his head, and HiMERU’s teeth make a terrible noise for how hard he’s grinding them together.
“HiMERU has no one to spend it with,” he says through those gritted teeth, and hopefully it comes off as an acceptable emotion such as embarrassment at such a lurid proposition instead of black, seeping dislike.
The words are hard to say, but HiMERU gets them out anyway. “Tatsumi-san, would you please help HiMERU?”
Because getting Tatsumi away from him is good, but maybe—maybe debasing Tatsumi and seeing him lose some of that saintly shine is better.
He looks shocked, like he might faint or run, and HiMERU can’t resist pressing on the bruise for all its worth.
“Unless you’d like to change your mind?” he asks, too innocently.
Tatsumi shakes his head, and HiMERU’s grin spreads wider. He steps out of the doorway and swings the door wide to let Tatsumi inside before locking the door behind him, fastening the deadbolt for good measure.
He notices Tatsumi’s look, his worried glances at the two unoccupied beds that don’t belong to HiMERU.
“HiMERU’s roommates won’t be back tonight,” HiMERU tosses casually over his shoulder, and Tatsumi visibly relaxes.
It’s the truth, actually. As entertaining as it might be to watch Tatsumi getting caught in the act, he has no desire to be caught in any such way himself.
It’s. Quiet in his room now when his roommates are gone. It feels quieter still now that he’s here alone with Tatsumi.
For all his posturing, he actually doesn’t know what to do with this. The idea of touching Tatsumi makes his skin crawl, and he starts stripping for lack of any better ideas. This is how an omega in heat would act, pulling his t-shirt over his head and tossing it to the ground, putting his hands on his belt and unbuckling it—but Tatsumi stops him, stilling the quick, efficient movements of HiMERU’s fingers with his own hands.
He can feel Tatsumi looking at him and fervently hopes he’ll stop—that he’ll let HiMERU get back to undressing himself—but he doesn’t. He keeps holding his hands. HiMERU finally looks up at Tatsumi’s face, wishing that he wouldn’t.
“Thank you for trusting me to take care of you, HiMERU-san,” Tatsumi says, holding both of HiMERU’s hands gently in his. “I want you to feel safe, so tell me if you don’t like something. I’ll follow your lead in this.”
HiMERU tugs his hands out of Tatsumi’s grip—odd, that might be odd behavior coming from a person in heat; HiMERU remembers wanting the comfort of touch back before he got on blockers. He relents by putting his hands on Tatsumi’s hips, smoothing them over the soft fabric of his sweater. He’s so small here.
“Then take off your clothes,” HiMERU says bluntly, unable to keep the small quaver from his voice.
No matter what he says, his hands bend to the task themselves. He slides his fingers toward Tatsumi’s front, hooking them in the waistband of Tatsumi’s pants, thumb rubbing the embossed metal of a button. He watches his own hands. He looks up and catches Tatsumi’s eye, raising his eyebrow in challenge.
Tatsumi nods, breathing out on an exhale that sounds as shaky as HiMERU feels.
He unbuttons Tatsumi’s pants without much fanfare, dragging the zipper down and pushing his pants and underwear down over his hips while Tatsumi pulls his sweater over his head.
It’s different than how I thought it would be, is the traitorous thought that bubbles up from the depths. He has a flash of Tatsumi this bare under other circumstances, Reimei uniform crumpled on the ground, striped tie hanging provocatively from his neck like a leash that HiMERU could grab—it’s not that he’s wanted it, just that he can’t help thinking about it.
Tatsumi’s pale skin is flushed, delicate even in the dorm’s unflattering lighting. Goosebumps trail across his skin everywhere that HiMERU touches, and he shivers even though the room is warm.
He reaches out to help HiMERU undress, too, but HiMERU steps back, out of his reach, quickly shucking off the rest of his clothes himself.
“Just—get on the bed,” HiMERU says.
Tatsumi does, sitting naked on the edge without question, and this could be intoxicating, having Tatsumi obey him like this. The room is so quiet.
Tatsumi reaches out a hand toward him, and HiMERU has to physically force himself not to recoil from his touch. Tatsumi notices, damn him, and he reassures HiMERU, of all things, as though HiMERU is someone who needs reassurance.
“I won’t hurt you,” he says, hand outstretched but not reaching, not grabbing. Not doing anything but holding itself out in invitation. “I won’t do anything you don’t want. I promise.”
Where were your promises before!
HiMERU forces himself to smile, and then, finally, to take Tatsumi’s hand. “Thank you,” he says. “HiMERU trusts you.”
They should probably kiss.
They’re equally hesitant, albeit for different reasons. It isn’t at all easier to close his eyes.
He clambers onto the bed, bare knees against the covers. He reaches out to touch the side of Tatsumi’s face, to tilt it toward him, the better to slot their lips together. His lips are warm and soft. They part easily for HiMERU’s tongue that dips inside without hesitation. No sense in being precious about this, in taking his time. If he goes slow, it’s only the way a weasel is cautious of a snake.
Tatsumi tastes like tea.
He makes a soft sound at the first touch of HiMERU’s tongue against his, tilting his face up to help, to participate. His tongue ghosts along HiMERU’s, stroking it warm and wet, and HiMERU shivers. He shifts his hand to the back of Tatsumi’s head, grabbing a fistful of hair and pulling him back, his only thought that of getting him away, of giving him less. He keeps kissing Tatsumi through it, unprepared for the needy sound Tatsumi makes when his hair is pulled, the way his mouth drops open, warm and wet and pliant. It’s unfair, and HiMERU kisses him harder.
This would be less weird, probably, if they were still wearing clothes. As it is, it’s just so easy for HiMERU to wind up in Tatsumi’s lap, the final outcome of his pushing closer and closer until there’s nowhere left to go. They both groan at the initial shocking contact of so much skin on skin. He can feel Tatsumi getting hard against him, and it feels like he’s won something— not so pure now along with a sneering displeasure— how dare you?
He’s getting hard as well, and he grinds down on Tatsumi, pulling on his hair while they kiss, each kiss blending into the next one, turning sloppy and sharp with teeth. Are these rooms soundproof? They’re making so much noise, leaking sticky against each other’s skin and rutting messily. Tatsumi’s hands come up to HiMERU’s hips, encouragement to slide forward, to keep going, to chase that friction.
“HiMERU never said you could touch him,” comes out snapped in the space beside Tatsumi’s skin, dragging his mouth away from Tatsumi’s just long enough to say it, and Tatsumi whimpers, his hips jerking up as he takes his hands off HiMERU as fast as he can.
He puts his hands down on the bedspread, the final outcome being that he has to lean back, and like this—vulnerable, unable to touch HiMERU, chest flushed and heaving like he’s been in dance practice for hours—HiMERU wants to eat him alive.
He starts with Tatsumi’s neck, nuzzling his nose into the sensitive place below his jaw and laying light, nipping kisses wherever he can reach. He kisses and licks and bites, finding the spots that make Tatsumi whine, that make him tilt his head back, giving HiMERU easier access for more.
His cock is standing hard and flushed between his thighs, leaking with neglect, and HiMERU ignores it. He fastens his mouth to the side of Tatsumi’s throat instead and sucks, hard enough to leave a bruise, and the reaction is instantaneous, Tatsumi’s hips coming off the bed as he groans, loud and long, HiMERU’s name broken in the sound.
HiMERU finally leaves his neck alone, bored with it now when there are still so many other parts of Tatsumi to play with—so many other opportunities to see what kinds of undignified sounds HiMERU can wring out of him.
“Are these sensitive, Tatsumi-san?” HiMERU asks, rubbing the pads of his thumbs lightly over Tatsumi’s nipples.
“I— ah!”
His answer is swallowed up in a strangled moan as HiMERU puts his mouth on one of them, sucking hard and using his teeth. Tatsumi’s hips buck wildly, and HiMERU didn’t know he could make sounds like that. He wishes he’d thought to record this.
“What was that, Tatsumi-san? HiMERU couldn’t understand you.”
“I’m not— I’ve never—”
He lets Tatsumi get a few more words out this time. He’s uninterested in the answer—interested only to the extent that watching Tatsumi struggle is delicious, holding Tatsumi’s every reaction in the palm of his hand even more so.
He fastens his mouth to Tatsumi’s nipple again, sucking hard while he pinches at the other one, showering both in cruel attention until they’re swollen and sore and pink and Tatsumi convulses at the slightest touch.
“Does this hurt?” HiMERU asks, touching one with the tip of his thumb.
“Yes,” Tatsumi gasps, the sound dissolving into a thin whine as HiMERU presses hard.
“But you like it,” HiMERU says flatly. “You’re making a mess all over HiMERU’s bed.”
It’s true. Tatsumi’s cock is leaking, a damp patch spreading out below him while HiMERU plays with his body. He thinks about rubbing Tatsumi’s face in it like a disobedient dog.
“S-sorry. I’m— nngh..”
“It’s fine,” HiMERU says, wrapping his fingers around Tatsumi’s neglected cock to watch him yelp.
He is annoyed at the mess, but he’s more interested in shaming Tatsumi for it—for dripping like a common whore for having his tits played with. For being so eager to take off his clothes and let HiMERU do what he likes with him.
“Let HiMERU fuck you,” he says, accompanying the words with a few long strokes of his hand over Tatsumi’s cock—too hard, probably, but Tatsumi likes that.
He seems to like it when HiMERU hurts him, when he orders him around. Who knew he was this easy?
“Do you—do you not want my knot?” Tatsumi doesn’t sound offended so much as genuinely confused. HiMERU has heard the word ‘himbo’ before, and yes. What omega in heat doesn’t want a knot, Tatsumi? Come on, use your brain.
“I want to do it the other way,” HiMERU says sweetly, sucking another bruise into the tender skin of Tatsumi’s throat and making sure he can’t think at all. Demands really, and Tatsumi literally rolls over for him, letting his arms give out and landing himself square on his back, blinking up at HiMERU with eyes that are all blown pupil. Holy shit, how is he this easy.
He trails his fingers down to the hot, damp space between Tatsumi’s legs, nudging his balls aside to rub against Tatsumi’s hole that’s tight and dry and twitches at his touch. He presses against it, idly testing.
He wonders if Tatsumi would let him stick it in with no prep and thinks that he probably would. He’d probably love it, what a whore.
Still, the idea of hurting Tatsumi that way is—unsettling in a way he doesn’t really want to examine too closely. It’s easier to lean over to pull a small bottle of lube out of the nightstand next to his bed, easier to get his fingers nice and slick before hitching Tatsumi’s knee up and sinking two of them into him without warning.
Tatsumi moans, and he’s so tight and hot around HiMERU’s fingers that HiMERU can’t help the way his own dick twitches at the promise of things to come. He wants to be in Tatsumi with a greedy lust that surprises him—wants to bend him in half and see what kinds of stupid noises he can make Tatsumi make. He sinks his fingers in as far as he can, fucking lazily into Tatsumi’s hole and seeing how far he can reach.
One of Tatsumi’s hands snakes down to grab him by the wrist in a stunningly strong grip, and HiMERU thinks this is it—this is the end, it was fun while it lasted; of course he could always keep going, but that would be something else entirely—but Tatsumi only uses his grip on HiMERU’s wrist to shove his fingers in deeper.
HiMERU’s eyebrows raise.
“H-harder,” Tatsumi says weakly.
“Ask nicely.”
Tatsumi’s cheeks turn such a pretty shade of red when he says, “Please, HiMERU-san, do it harder.”
HiMERU can’t help the groan that falls out of his own mouth at that. It feels like a dangerous thing, to be encouraged right now, when all HiMERU wants to do is turn Tatsumi inside out.
“Stop touching me, then,” HiMERU says, and Tatsumi’s fingers flex before finally, reluctantly letting him go.
He tries not to think of it as a reward, the way he draws his fingers almost all the way out until they’re just stretching the rim of Tatsumi’s entrance before viciously plunging them back in. He doesn’t pause, doesn’t wait for Tatsumi to adjust—doesn’t really care if he likes it or not, honestly. He just starts fucking him on his fingers in earnest.
It’s not that he finds Tatsumi’s prostate on purpose. It’s just right there, and aiming for it with his pistoning fingers makes Tatsumi curl in on himself and writhe, legs doing something that could be construed as trying to keep HiMERU out, but it’s easy enough to grab one of Tatsumi’s knees with his free hand and pin it to the mattress.
He pours more lube over his fingers, the overall effect to make Tatsumi even stickier and more of a mess. He isn’t particularly careful, and the wet spot on his bed is spreading—he’ll have to sleep in this later—but it means he can squeeze a third finger inside on the next stroke, slotting it in beside the others with no warning as he stretches Tatsumi wide.
He expects that Tatsumi will yell, he’s so loud, but instead it’s like whatever sound was trying to come out gets trapped in his throat instead. He hiccups, breath stuttering as HiMERU pushes in hard.
This is. Fascinating.
“It’s almost like you’re HiMERU’s omega,” HiMERU says, palming the curve of Tatsumi’s ass and watching the way his fingers sink into Tatsumi’s body. “Would you beg for HiMERU’s knot? Do you want HiMERU to cum in you and get you pregnant?”
Tatsumi makes a high, thin sound, his face flushing as red as Tatsumi has ever seen it. He hides his face in both hands, and HiMERU thinks that perhaps he’s gone too far, that his fun’s about to get cut short right now, but Tatsumi nods from behind his hands.
“Please, HiMERU-san.”
It’s probably for the best that Tatsumi can’t see the face that HiMERU makes at that. He pulls his fingers out of Tatsumi’s ass with a suddenness that must be unpleasant for the way it makes Tatsumi whimper, the better to hook his hands around Tatsumi’s flexible hips and drag him down the bed.
It’s too easy to slot himself in the wet, damp space between Tatsumi’s legs, the head of his dick catching on Tatsumi’s rim, and he pauses when he feels resistance but only for a second.
Tatsumi hisses as HiMERU rocks forward, the blunt head of HiMERU’s cock slowly spearing him open where he’s slick with lube but still so tight. HiMERU can’t help his answering groan or the way his body bucks forward of its own volition, stuffing Tatsumi full of several more inches of cock before he can rein himself back in, and then he’s buried all the way inside Tatsumi, arms braced on either side of him and their faces much too close when HiMERU pries Tatsumi’s hands away from where he’s hiding behind them.
“Is this what you wanted?” he asks, looking up at HiMERU with his eyes so wide.
“I don’t know,” HiMERU says, his own eyes just as wide.
It’s easy to wish that he’d left Tatsumi’s hands where he’d found them. Easier to forget that thought and every other one when he pulls back out, the soft glide of friction good enough to obliterate everything else in his head.
He aims for that spot inside Tatsumi that he’d found earlier, and maybe it’s a small kindness—the smallest—to hope that Tatsumi forgets, too.
He’s so easy, so responsive.
“You’re such a whore,” HiMERU says, a little smug, and his fingers make little indents in the soft skin at Tatsumi’s hips when he grips it hard, fucking him and making him moan to prove his point.
Tatsumi sucks in air, strands of his hair sticking to skin now lightly glazed in sweat, shaking his head. “I haven’t— I’ve never—” He gulps on nothing. “HiMERU-san, you’re the first.”
The words shock HiMERU enough that he stops moving entirely.
“You’re a virgin?” he demands, the question coming out an indignant squawk.
“Yes,” Tatsumi pants, the end of the word getting lost on a stuttering, hitched moan. His eyelids flutter as HiMERU stills inside him. He squirms on HiMERU’s cock, practically unable to keep his eyes open, and he is. Absolutely going to kill HiMERU. “I’m s- sorry, should I have told you that?”
He moans like something out of an AV, looking like nothing has ever felt this good in his entire short, miserable life, and it is going to kill HiMERU.
“It seems relevant, don’t you think?” HiMERU hisses through gritted teeth, now concerned about actually hurting Tatsumi, trying to fight the impulse to rut into him and ruin him. “What kind of a virgin goes around offering to have sex with people as a favor?”
“You said you were going to be in pain!”
HiMERU blinks down at Tatsumi’s flushed face, trying to make sense of what he sees.
There’s nothing. Nothing that makes sense, no reason that he should be like this, tripping over himself to martyrdom when no one even asked. It’s so presumptuous. HiMERU hates him.
“…you can hold onto HiMERU,” he relents without thinking too hard about the reason.
The hands that had been fisted into his bedspread come up to circle HiMERU’s ribs, coasting along their notches on his back before pulling him close. HiMERU huffs. Whatever he feels for Tatsumi, it isn’t fondness. He spreads Tatsumi’s legs wider and starts fucking him again.
Tatsumi seems to like touching him, and HiMERU can bear it. He chases the friction and heat and pleasure, smothering the sounds Tatsumi makes with his mouth, kissing him until they’re both bright-eyed and dazed.
“HiMERU-san.” Tatsumi’s grip goes tighter. He sounds frightened. “I’m going to—”
“Hush,” HiMERU says. “Shh, you’re fine.”
Tatsumi does not hush. He makes sounds like he’s dying, but HiMERU buries his face in the damp skin of Tatsumi’s neck, dragging his teeth over a sensitive tendon and laving the salt from his throat. He doesn’t look at the face Tatsumi makes when wetness blooms between them. That feels like it’s for someone else.
He’d deny the thought if someone asked, but no one ever will. He fucks Tatsumi harder to make up for it, fucks him into his orgasm and beyond, stuffing him full again and again until he’s twitching and gasping from overstimulation. Tatsumi squirms below him but only pulls him tighter, grip growing clawed and fervent against his back, scoring hot lines on either side of his spine, and HiMERU arches and comes with a muffled groan, spilling helplessly inside Tatsumi.
He pulls out quickly after that, everything so accusatorially clear now that he’s come. They’re sticky and disgusting, painted with a myriad of fluids, and Tatsumi is looking up at him, panting and winded, his face already settling back into a look of concern.
“HiMERU is fine,” HiMERU says shortly. “Worry about yourself.”
This is absolutely not how omega biology works. If he was really in heat, this would go on for hours. Fucking Tatsumi definitely wouldn’t do anything to help him—again, what’s wrong with this guy? He’s going to get himself hurt—but Tatsumi doesn’t ask, and HiMERU doesn’t explain. Maybe they don’t do sex ed in churches.
It’s a thought that makes a curl of something dark bloom in his gut. His dick twitches once at the thought of all the things Tatsumi might not know. HiMERU could tell him anything he wants, and Tatsumi would never know the difference. There’s a thought, there, about keeping Tatsumi all to himself, if he wants to reach for it.
He’s about to kick Tatsumi out. It’s right on the tip of his tongue.
He looks at him, skin still flushed and pink, looking healthier for the exertion. There’s a small, dopey smile hovering around the corners of his upturned lips, and HiMERU wants to groan. They’re both so stupid.
He pulls Tatsumi closer to his side of the bed, tucking Tatsumi’s back against him so he can bury his nose in the scent of clean skin at the back of his neck, arms looped around skinny ribs.
“Just don’t talk about it later,” HiMERU grumbles, and settles around Tatsumi.
It’s not like his roommates are coming back anyway.